All Know Its Name (part 2)

=======Chapter 8 (part 2)==========

To any of the citizens in the city that had looked up at the skies that night, they would have seen the stars themselves fall from the very sky.

They were like shooting stars, those spears of light, streaking down from the heavens and onto earth. More numerous then drops in the rain, more captivating than any flame, and far more deadly.

It was the weapon that Heaven sends upon those that dare to defy it. With a hundred of its Angels, it brought down the Tower of Babel in a single wave. Now once again it came falling down upon the earth, this time by ten times that number and it was as if a waterfall of white light had tumbled down out of Heaven's gates.

It was a force so powerful that even the strength of the mountains themselves could not bear its weight. What can the might of a single Devil do against such a thing? It should have crushed him, swept him aside with the utmost ease before tearing through the crust of the earth that he stood on.

It did not.

It was stopped by steel.

Spear point met sword edge and broke upon it. Burning light fought against cold metal and was extinguished. They were the weapons of Heaven, a power God had bestowed on his Angels but they were surpassed by the power of a single man.

Blade of finest steel shot from the ground to the skies, tossed upward by invisible hands. And they greeted the spears of their enemies in an explosion of light. It filled the sky in endless stream of fireworks, sending shockwaves of noises echoing through the city.

Yet over the hundreds upon hundreds of blows have been exchanged, not a single blade has been destroyed. It was always the spear that shattered, split and fragmented on the unyielding edge of the blade.

Like the water of waterfall breaking upon the surface of the earth, so too did the light spears on the break on the curtain of steel swords that rose up to defy. They could not harm it, could not defy it, could do nothing but knock it away.

Light was stopped by steel.

It was then pushed back.

They tossed wave after desperate waves of spears but for every spear was they threw down another blade rose up to match it. However while a single sword was more than a match for any spear, the same could not be said for the reverse. The price of two or more was needed to be paid to deflect even the least among the blades, and it was a price the Fallen could not afford pay.

The toll began to tell.

It began slowly, barely notable to even the keenest of eyes, but moment after moment it began to pick up speed and soon all watched in disbelief as the great waterfall of light was pushed back, slowly reversing its course was sent back up into the Heavens where it came from, rejected by the earth itself.

The Fallen could do nothing but watch with uncomprehending eyes as their end approached them. Even as they continued to desperately conjure and cast more spears to fight back the tide of steel that rose up from the ground to drown them in but they could hold it back no longer.

Defeat has come for them at last, with their death following its wake.

After a millennia of fighting undefeated, the Fallen Host have has finally lost.

Then Kokabiel entered the battlefield.

============x===============x===============

He unhurriedly rose out of from his crouch, with all of his usual grace, as if there wasn't a battle going on over head.

He raised his head and revealed his face to the skies above him. The clash of swords and spear overhead released explosions of light, illuminating parts of his face for a moment before casting it back into shadow before repeating again.

Standing on top of the building's roof he gazed at the battlefield above him with empty eyes. No rage, no anger, no excitement, just emotionless pits of ice blue.

He did nothing for a moment, as he watched his troops fight and fail against the human clad in the flesh of a Devil. He watched as the might of their light was broken on the strength of his steel and did could not but feel bitter disappointment in his heart.

The boy was strong, remarkably so but it was not enough. Nowhere near enough.

Humanity could not be saved with this alone.

He then turned his eyes to the ground and looked down at his dead men. These were his friends, not even his Fall, not even after their Father's death did they leave him, such was their loyalty. They were his brothers, even had they not shared the same father he would have proudly called them that as he embraced them as family. And now they lay dead on the field bellow him.

But he did not mourn them.

Why should they be mourned? All of them knew what awaited them at their journey's end was neither heavenly rewards nor eternal Glory but the unforgiving embrace of death. Even he would be no exception. No matter if they win or lose, they would all be dead within the year.

Yet still they did not leave him, did not hesitate to walk down this road knowing what awaited them. They will fulfill their duty to their bitter end, knowing that they will be neither rewarded nor thanked.

So what reason did have to mourn them? He would be joining them all soon enough, just as he promised them he would. They will all be untied in the end once again.

But still, somewhere in his heart he felt pain. Only the knowledge that he would see them soon enough allowed him to carry on.

He shut his eyes as he bowed his head in regret at what must be done. For a long moment of silence, he did nothing but pray. And when he did move, when he finally open his eyes to the world again, they were no longer empty.

They shone with absolute power.

On the battleground beneath him, all but one of the Devils and humans were forced down to their knees. Pushed down by the mere presence he was radiating, crushed as if a hand of some invisible God forced them down. Some were forced flat on the ground, unable to lift their head before his might.

He turned his eyes back up to the skis again and this time raised a single hand up high, fingers stretched open, as if trying to grab the Heavens themselves.

Then he clenched his hand.

The world light up with all the brightness of day. Not a single shred of shadow marked the world until the white skies.

It was as if the morning dawn had come and gone, and a new day was well on its way. The light that filled the sky was so bright that it reflected off the floating clouds, painting them a pure white as if it hung in the day's sky not the night's.

Or at least, what little bits of clouds one could see past the spears.

There were countless of them. They filled the entire sky by the tens of thousands, each shining like a sun. They painted the entire sky a glimmering white, as if a shimmering lake of liquid light hung in the skies above and flooded it from horizon to horizon.

The night was turned into day as the entire city was illuminated brighter than the light of a single sun ever could.

Kokabiel lowered his hands, and it was as if the sky fell.

They fell by the thousands and pushed back the steel. The blades that shot to the sky, looking to pierce the Heavens, were pushed back to the ground by the might of one of its children.

Though even his spears broke on the swords' edge, they too were shattered in turn. Fragments of metal rained down from the sky, pelting the ground bellow as they met their end on his spears.

And when the swords could not be broken, when their power were too mighty even for him to match, they were pushed aside by sheer number.

For each of the boy's mightiest of sword, he called upon a dozen or more to match it. And when that were not enough he called on a hundred, then a thousand and more of his spears to push it back down. And still more rained down upon them in a never ending downpour.

This was the power of a twelve-winged Angel. The strongest of God's soldiers, the mightiest of Heaven's children.

The world had forgotten their might. Not since the Great War had the world witnessed their true power. Not with Michael laboring behind Heaven's Gates and Azazel hidden in his labs.

They were creature of power, who could stand up to Maou's of the underworld and not be found lacking. In Heaven, they were second to none but God himself. They could destroy nations whole and raze entire continents. But it had been a Millennium since their true power was last witness on this earth.

The world had forgotten their might.

Kokabiel reminded them.

The gains the swords from the Earth have made against the spears from the Heavens was lost in seconds. In one heartbeat their advance was slowed, in the next it was haltered, and by the third it was reversed. Soon it was steel that was pushed back, sinking back down to the ground that birthed them.

An endless curtain of white was pulled down from the skies and when they fall to the ground, like how they brought about the end of the plays since the times of old, so too would this bring about the battle's end.

And yet though his victory was assured, his desired war soon at hand, Kokabiel could only look down in confusion at the face of the boy who he faced. The one whose soul was bathed in the Devil's tainted magic yet remained unspoiled. The child who he placed his faith in but had been found lacking.

The boy did not look defeated. Not angry nor even defiant as he face his coming doom.

He was smiling up at him peacefully, arms held out in welcome. And then spoke,

"It is my only path.

My whole life had been,"

The spears of light had broken down the last of his swords, and now they were tearing at him, ready to pierce through his flesh and bones but still he did not look away. His eyes locked unwearyingly on to the Fallen Lord's as he called its name.

"Unlimited Blade Works"

And the world disappeared behind a wall of flames.

=========x=============x===========

I crinkled my face, as something tickled the end of my nose.

It still wouldn't disappear so I cracked my eyes open to glare at it but regretted it almost immediately as sunlight shone directly into my eyes, forcing me to shut them again and grimace in pain.

This time prepared, I forced my eyes open and glared at the culprit. A single blade of grass, paint gold by the light of the setting sun or the coming dawn. It fluttered in the slight breeze, rubbing against the tip of my nose as it did so.

Taking a deep breath before I puffed the offending grass away, observing with contentment as it leaned away. Watching it for several more seconds to make sure it won't be blown back, I let loose a sigh of contentment as I buried myself deeper in the patch of warm grass beneath me, my tired aching body demanding rest.

Just as I was about to shut my eyes and fall back to sleep again, I caught sight of a pair of yellow eyes looking back at me. It took me a couple of seconds to realize they were my own when I noticed the strands of blue hair framing it.

Before me, just inches away from my eyes was a blade, buried tip first into field of grass beneath it. I dumbly stared back at my startled face that was reflected on its surface for a few moments before I gathered my wits about me and tried to remember what had just happened.

Placing my hand one good hand beneath me, careful not to jolt my broken arm too much, I pushed myself into an upright position and examined the sword that was planted onto the grassy field before me.

"…Beautiful." The words slipped past my lips, as I stared in disbelief at it. How can a sword like this possibly exist?

I could feel the power radiating from it, far more than any sword I had ever seen before, yet it was not oppression or overwhelming. It was warm, almost welcoming, something that I had only sensed from Holy Swords in the past, yet I knew each and every single Holy Sword in the world and this was not one of them.

It was sword without peer, without equal. I had walked through the vaults of the Vatican and witnessed all of its treasures, yet none could match this one's splendor.

Its edge was flawless, free from any blemishes or imperfections and looked sharp enough to split light itself. I stared at the patch golden grass that was reflected on flat of its blade, its polished steel acting better than any mirror. Its hilt was the colour of the purest gold, wrapped around by a fine green hide I could not recognize and ending a jeweled pommel.

Yet for all of its beauty and almost delicate appearance I knew that this was a sword crafted for war. Knew it had seen it, been wielded in it and thrived there as it bathed in the blood of its enemies and emerged victorious every time. Knew that its unchipped edge did not reflect its lack of use but was a testament to its power, that none it had ever faced had ever been able to leave its mark upon it.

And suddenly I knew the sword's name.

"Durandal."

That was its name, I was sure of it. But this blade was not Durandal, could not be it. It was not my Durandal, the Holy Sword that had chosen me as its wielder when I was eleven.

And yet, and yet the achingly familiar longing that I felt in the heart of my soul as I looked upon it, the way it called out to me left me in no doubt. This was Durandal, the blade of Saint Roland just as surely as my own was.

How? How can two swords, both of them originals exist?

*thud*

My back thumped against something slender and solid as I had leaned backwards without meaning to. I turned around to look at what I had ran into and found myself looking at another sword. Before I could so much as examine it I caught sight of another planted into the ground next to it, and another next to that one and still another after that.

I looked around to find myself surrounded by swords. Easily a dozen and more surrounded me, sprouting out of the ground as if they were trees. There were so many of them that they blocked the sight of the world around me, caging me between their blades and inadvertently creating a curtain of steel around me.

Cradling my broken arm to my chest I pushed off the ground with the other, forcing myself to my feet. I wobbled for a moment, my legs having trouble holding up my weight, before I regained my balance and planted both my feet firmly on the ground.

After sparing my feet one final glance, satisfied that they'll hold up for now, I raised my head and look at the scenery around me and what I saw was…

…a world of endless swords.

They rose out of the ground like tombs of a grave, standing tall, proud and ever vigil under the rays of the setting sun. Each one was an unparalleled masterpiece, a peerless blade. They were laid out before me in their thousands, stretching out in every direction towards the distance horizon and beyond, far father than my eyes could ever see.

Wars have been fought for such swords, entire nations were brought to their knees by their strength and legends were born on the might of their steel. History had been rewritten time and again by the ones who wielded them and kings who owned mountains of gold would look upon their owners with envy.

Men had died for the right to hold a single one of these blade. Heroes journeyed the globe to battled Devils and Demons alike to prove worthy of one. And now they were laid out before me in their untold thousands, in numbers beyond continuing, beyond understanding, even beyond limit.

An Unlimited Blade Work.

A gentle breeze flew past me, blowing the bangs of my hair past my face. The grass beneath my feet swayed with the wind, their calf-high stalks bending in the breeze, sending a slow rolling waves running through the fields of grass that surrounded me.

The grass rose out from the ground as far as I can see, standing side by side with swords of steel that littered the land they grew from. There was nothing else in this place, nothing but a land of rolling grass and sharpened steel. It should have been a world of green, this place of grasslands and blades.

But this world was anything but green.

Dyed under the rays of the setting sun, the world around me was painted the colour of crimson-gold. The steel of the swords reflected the rays of the sun, setting them ablaze with a crimson fire as they continued to stand over the fields of rippling gold.

It should have been a beautiful sight, a wonder to behold but I felt no joy at the sight of it. Instead my eyes water and vision blurs as an emotion I could neither name nor understand swelled in my chest. For a reason I did not understand my soul ached at the sight of those swords.

I knew that they were just swords, unloving and unfeeling steel. But as I continued to watch them standing with their hilts help up to the sky, as if they were waiting for someone to come and wield them, as if they were patiently waiting for the arrival of the one who may never appear, my heart just broke and I felt a single teardrop run down the side of my cheek.

Lonely.

That's what I feeling, they looked lonely. Though they were countless of them, those swords unmoving and unbending as their hilts reached out for the sky, they looked as if they stood utterly alone.

Before I could ponder more on the matter, I was distracted by the sound of grinding gears coming over head. I looked up, my eyes scanning the sky but there was nothing unusual there. Just the red and orange hues of the dusk sky.

Still, I knew I heard something, so I kept looking. I kept looking until-

"Oh my God," I almost lost my balance as I leaned my head further back to look at them, "what happened to the sky?"

In the gold and crimson skies above me, hung massive metal gears. Larger than any building, they must have weighed thousands of tones easy, but they hung there in the sky above me as if they were weightless, suspended above me like the clouds themselves.

With nothing holding them up they turned ever slowly, rotating and grinding against one another. Their metallic exterior was so smooth that it act like mirrors, reflecting the sky and the clouds around them on their surface, allowing it to blend in with the rest of the sky.

"Xenovia," a voice called out from my left. I turned and found Irina standing next to me, looking around in bewilderment, "where…where are we?"

She wasn't the only one who was there either. I could see Griselda sitting on the ground a little further off, and the rest of the Devils from the Gremory and Sitri Peerage not too far behind her. Many of them were too injured to move, and instead remained were they sat or lay on the ground.

I turned my head as I caught a flicker of movement off the side and spotted the Host of Fallen drifting not too high off the ground much further away from where we were, with Kokabiel standing firmly on the ground beneath them. They too were looking around in confusion.

When did they get here? Were they always there and I didn't notice or did they just appear?

"What is this place?" Despite the words, Kokabiel did not sound confused so much awed as he looked around him. His eyes locked onto a sword before him and, after a moment of contemplation, he tentatively reach out his hand towards the hilt but a voice called out, interrupting him before he could grab it.

"My soul." The voice answered.

=========x=============x============

I ran my hand across the blades of grass growing from the ground of my Reality Marble, feeling oddly giddy as I did so.

Something grows here.

This was no desolated landscape, a desert of nothing but iron and steel where little lives or grows and never for long, not without withering and dying. This was not Archer's Reality Marble, it was mine. And as I continued to run my fingers through the blades of grass I felt content with that thought.

Something can live here.

I was not wrong, this path while a hard one was not a wrong one. This land maybe a place of eternal twilight, a world where the sun will never truly set nor the promised dawn ever appear but it was a world where something other than me can live.

I still remember vividly Archer's reactions when he first saw it. How he looked around in disbelief before staring at me for a long moment and told me 'you really are different'. Then he smiled. It wasn't his usual ones, his harsh mocking sharper than broken glass of a smile that he would often give me. This was different, watching it was like watching a new dawn, bright innocent and so very warm.

It was such a smile.

Pulling my hands away from the grass, I rose up and turned towards the horizon. I looked past the fields of rolling glass and endless swords that filled them and stared at the distant horizon that hid the sun from sight.

It will come. One day my dawn will come and this world will be bathed under the light of a sky the colour of clearest of blues. I will make sure it happens, after all what kind of Hero would I be if I couldn't even save myself. That is why I will make sure that one day, the dawn will come.

…but that was for another day.

I turned my back to the horizon. Right now I had something else to do, someone else to save. I shut my eyes and focused, searching for the others. This was my realty marble, a manifestation of my very soul, I knew it better than I could possible know anything else. I knew where every sword lay, where every blade of grass swayed in the wind as easily as I knew where my fingers were. And finding them all in this place was almost child's play.

When I brought them into my world, I made sure to scatter them all across my Reality Marble, a helpful little trick I learned to do not too long ago. It wouldn't do to draw them all in here but place them side by side to an enemy that was just trying to kill them. After all-

I frowned as I noticed something wrong. Someone was in here that wasn't supposed to be. Whoever they were I couldn't recognize them. And it definitely wasn't one of the Fallens or Devils, this person was human. And not one of the Exorcists, I already have all three of them accounted for.

It didn't matter, I didn't have time to waste with whoever this was. While I couldn't identify much about them, not even their gender, I could sense the magic coming from the intruder so at the very least whoever this human was they were at least magically aware. That meant I didn't have to worry about erasing their memories. So for the time being I'll let them wander alone away from everyone else but keep them away from the fight. I'll deal with whoever it was when this was all over.

That decided, I mentally pushed the matter to one side as I searched for the others and quickly drew them to me, while making sure to keep the Fallen separate from the rest.

I felt them come to me in an instant. In this place distance had no meaning to me. It wasn't teleportation or anything like that but rather, it felt like floding the pages of a map together to bring two objects closer to one another.

And just like that, I felt them arrive all around me. There was no distortion, no loud nosie to herald their arrival. They simply took one step someplace else and by the time they set their foot down they found themselves here. First the exorcist, then Sona and Gremory with their Peerages and final Kokabiel with his army of Fallen.

"What is this place?" I heard Kokabiel question as I opened my eyes, though it didn't seem like it was directed at me. I wasn't sure he even noticed me. Nevertheless, I decided to answer him.

"My soul."

In any other circumstances it would have been funny to see so many heads, especially those of all three factions, whip around as one to face me. So fast that I was sure more than a few of them suffered from whiplash.

As it was I only allowed myself a mildly amused smile to make its way to my lips as I greeted them, "I welcome you all to my soul, to my Unlimited Blade Works."

I was greeted by a wave of confusion filling faces, though I could see a flicker of comprehension dawning on Kokabiel's face. But it was the blue-haired exorcist's reaction that caught my attention the most. She didn't look confused or surprised, just sad as she started at me with…was that pity in her eyes?

"Shirou," I turned to see Sona cautiously approaching me. She was looking around her as she did so, her eyes opened so wide that I could see the white of her eyes. She wasn't the only one either. While the exorcists being humans could neither sense nor properly comprehend the scale of the magic flowing out of the world around them, that wasn't the case with the Devils or even the Fallen.

They were surrounded by thousands of swords, where even the least among them was radiating enough power to match an Excalibur, and more than a few of which could bring down an entire mountain, and each and every one of them knew it.

"Shirou," Sona repeated and even now she could not stop looking about herself, only stopping to stare at the great gears that hung without support in the sky as even now they continued to slowly turn and grind against one another, "Where are we?"

I smiled at her, not the least surprised that she did not understand what I meant. Most didn't after all and Sona had always been a realistic and practical sort. Logic and reason were what ruled her mind. Something like this that not just borders on the impossible, but runs over logic like a truck before backing up and running over it again, would not have been something she could easily accept.

Only someone with an extremely flexible and imaginative mind could accept something like this easily. A mind like Serafall's for instance.

Oh Hell, Serafall. When she visited my Reality Marble for the second time she ignored all my attempts to explain it to her and declared that as the owner of my soul that it was her right to redecorate the place, as the Unlimited Blade Works was the literal embodiment of it. She then somehow managed to produce thousands of pink ribbons from who knows where and proceeded to tie it around the hilt of ever sword she could find.

I shook my head in an attempt to dispel the memory from my head, having never been more gratefully that nothing could remain in my Reality Marble that was not a part of it. I would be too ashamed to bring anyone in here otherwise.

"I already told you," I answered Sona, "this," I waved a hand around us, "is my soul."

"But what does that even mean?" Her frustration at my not answer finally breaking thought her shock, causing her to turn and glare at me. I had to resist the urge to pinch her check at how adorable she looked trying to be so commanding.

"It means exactly what it sounds like, this is my soul. Everything in here, every blade of grass, every sword and even the ground you walk on, everything is a part of my soul. All that your eyes are can see and everything it cannot is the physical manifestation of my soul.

"All of this Sona," I indicated the world around me with my arms, "is my Reality Marble, the Unlimited Blade Works, and it is the manifestation of my inner-world, my very soul given form."

"A world?" a voice whispered out. I turned to find Kokabiel staring at me with a look of utter awe, enough that it made me feel more than a little uncomfortable. "You've created a world?" He looked around himself one more time to make sure he what he was seeing was real before he turned back to me, his face no less reverent than before.

"Shirou…Do you realize what you've done?" He questioned, seemingly almost in a state of shock "You've created a world Shirou, a world! That is something only a God can do. Something that only they can accomplish.

"Father with Heaven, Odin with Valhalla, Hades and his the realm of the Dead. That is a power belonging to the Gods alone. To forge an entire realm, where only they rule and everything in it falls under their command. That is something only the can do, and you…you did this?"

He titled his head to one side as he looked me in the eyes. I felt him scrutinized me, dissecting me with his eyes as he searched through me. Then he acted.

It came without warning. No tells whatsoever. So fast that I was sure that I was the only one who could see him move. In less time it took most people could blink, Kokabiel conjured a spear and hurled it at me, moving nothing but a single arm as the rest of him stood stock still. It crossed the space between us before anyone else realized what was happening.

I didn't dodge, didn't block, didn't so much as move. I didn't need to. Not here, not in this place where only I ruled. Nothing could hurt me here unless I allowed it.

A sword shot down from the sky and slammed onto the oncoming spear. It tore through it, shattering it to pieces before it buried itself on the ground between us.

It was over before anyone else could even comprehend what just happened.

"So it true." he breathed out in disbelief, ignoring the sounds of alarm from around us as the others finally reacted. The uncomfortable looks of reverence returned to his face. "You can control everything in here. You've breached the realm of the very Gods themselves and you did this…with just your soul?" He continue to stare at me for a time before he began to laugh.

It started out small, soft breaths that could hardly count as laughter, but it quickly grew. His shoulder began to shake and shake as the sound of his laughter began to grow faster before he simply threw his head back and laughed. By the end of it his entire frame shook from the force of his laughter and still it went on until he seemed to run out of breaths and his laughter began to taper off to the soft breaths for laughter that he started out with.

"This is it." He began after he finally got a hold of himself, flashing me a wide smile. "This is what Father spoke of, what he saw in man that day. This is the power of the mankind, the potential of the human soul-"

"No." Kokabiel stopped, then turned and looked at me in surprise at my interruption.

"No?" He parroted, tilting his head in incomprehension.

"No," I repeated with a slow shake of my head, "while the Unlimited Bladeworks is many things, the pinnacle of mankind it is not. The thing that you seek is something greater, something far more sublime than this world of steel."

"You-" he asked with a face filled utter bewilderment, "You mean to say there's more?"

"Kokabiel," I admonished him with a smile, "you should know better than anyone that when it comes to humans, there is always more."

Again he looked completely bewildered before "Pfft-" a muffled laughter escaped his lips "Hahahaha! You're right, you're absolutely right. Of course there is more! I had forgotten, with your kind there is always more. What else can I expect of a race that embodies potential?" Then he laughed again.

I waited for him to finish, watching as has he announced his joy to the world with guileless innocent laughter, so happy for the accomplishments of race that was not even his own. When he was finally done I spoke.

"So?" I asked.

"So?" he asked back, a mischief smile on his lips as his eyes twinkled with unconcealed amusement.

I shook my head at his sudden bout of childishness, "Will you surrender?"

"Will the Devils leave humanity be? Will the Three Factions withdraw from the world of man and let them live in peace?"

"No," I could not lie to him, not even if it meant that it might stay his course and save his life. He deserved better than that, "That will never happen. So long as there is something for them to gain, those that are not humans will never leave humanity alone." It has always been that way.

He slowly shook his head had at me, a fond smile still adorning his face, "Then I'm sorry my friend but that is something I cannot do."

I nodded in understanding, not having expected anything else. "So we fight?"

"We fight." He nodded in response.

Then he took a moment to look me in the eyes and I stared back in turn. There was no need for us to say anything. We both understood without words that this will be last time we'll ever meet. Then as one we turned away from each other and began to walk away.

As I made my way forward, striding past the calf high grass that brushed against my legs as I did so, I sensed him taking flight behind me. When I had reached a reasonably distance from everybody else, I turned around and faced the fallen army that had were still soaring in the sky, just in time to see Kokabiel take his rightful place at the head of it.

Kokabiel hovered in the air for a moment, doing nothing but gazing across the sword filled landscape beneath him. He turned his eyes skywards, towards the colossal gears the continued to toil and turn in near silence before turning to look towards the distant horizon the hid the sun from view. "Yes," even with the distance between us I heard as clearly as if I stood next to him, "this would do. This isn't such a bad place to die."

He turned around to face his army of Fallen, all of whom stared back at him expectedly. "BROTHERS," He called out to them, "in the time beyond counting that we have known each, fought by one another, we have faced many foes. From the accursed Devils to our fellows Angels in the Great War, and even the servants of other pantheons in the time before that."

A sword in the ground before me began to rattle for a moment within the grip of the earth that held it, before it was slowly lifted out of the ground, pulled up into the air by an invisible hand.

"But tonight, we face an enemy unlike any other. What stands before us brothers is not a Devil, but a man. Though his soul has been bathed by the depth of their corruption it has emerged untainted, his spirit remains unbroken and pure. In that soul brothers, I see hope. For the first time since our Father's demise hope exists for mankind."

A second sword off to my left was raised off the ground and joined the first in the air. Then a third off to the distance began to rise and another from behind. Then they rose in their twos, then threes then in their dozens.

"But is it enough? Will the spirit of a single man be enough to survive the coming storm, to lead the rest of humanity to prosperity in these dark times, or will this hope be extinguished like the many that came before it? "

By their hundred, by their thousands, the swords continued to raise, filling the sky with their steel and still more kept following after them, in never ending numbers.

"That is why we shall test it. Here and now we shall test the steel of his soul and judge its worth. We shall strike it with all of our might and see if it can emerged unscathed. And if it does, if it is we who break and fall on his steel, we can die knowing that at long last our solemn duty has been fulfilled. That the day has finally come that man no longer needs us to guide and protect them, and we can at we can at last put down our arms and let our weary souls rest."

No matter how many swords were pulled from the earth, there were more to replace. Soon the sky filled with swords, numbering more than the land beneath them could possibly had held, and still more came.

"However if he loses, it means the time for us to lay down out burden has yet to come. That we must still continue to fight on in order to fulfill our duty, to see out Father's final wish fulfilled." Kokabiel turned around and stared unflinchingly at the sky full of swords that greeted him.

"But no matter the result, whether we win or lose, this will be our final war. By its end, be it on this day or another, we will all be dead." He look on without fear at the swords before, even as they continued to rise in number. He and those that followed him were limited yet still he would dare face the unlimited.

"So I ask you," He turned back to face his men, "knowing this, will you still fight?"

A thousand and more spears of light erupted to life into hands of the Fallen was their answer.

Even from as far away I stood I could still see the expressions on the faces of the Fallen as they were illuminate by the light of their spears. Not one among them faltered as they stared resolutely at both me and up towards the swords the filled the world around them, they were committed to the last.

"I see." There was no dissuading them was there? All of them were willing to surrender their life, all to honor a Father's final wish.

One's life is a treasure, a gift beyond all measure. I truly believe that. But that doesn't mean that it is the most valuable thing you'll ever have. It is far from surprising that sometime during the course of your life, in this world filled with so many wonders, that you'll eventually find something you'll treasure even more. Be it a cause, an ideal or even a friend, for that most precious of treasures you'd willing give your life up a thousand times over. And do it with a smile every time.

I can't even ask them to stop can I? Not without insulting even more. Any mercy I show them will be unwanted and unneeded. If that's the case then I will offer them none. These people have done too much, sacrificed themselves too many times only to be insulted by someone like me. They deserved far better than that.

So instead I will grant them the only thing I could.

I raised my left hand up into the air and as I did so every sword that filled the sky rotated in place, moving in time with my arm, until they were all pointed point first at the Host of Fallen before me.

I will grant them their journey's end, so that they may find rest at last.

I tried to think of something profound to say but nothing came to me, nothing but meaningless platitudes. So instead I uttered a simple, "Goodbye." and brought my hand down.

Then the swords descended.

And then they died.

It fell upon them in number beyond continuing, beyond numbering, a limitless rain of sword and steel. So many that they matched all treasures held within the Gates of Babylon and more. So powerful that they can bring down even the mightiest of Servants to their knees.

It could destroy the vastest of armies, this rain of swords and steel. Numbers against it held no meaning. Be it one or a thousand, before the unlimited all is made equal.

And at the face of such an onslaught-

Not a single one ran.

Even as their spear shattered in their very hands when they clashed with the torrent of steel, they fought on. Calling forth another spear when they could, or fighting on with their bare hands when they could not. A dozen and more swords would pierce their body yet still they would continue flinging their spears ahead, trying to fight back the unending tide of swords.

Some laughed in wonderment and joy at the power of the foe they face, while other screamed out in rage and unwavering defiance as they swung their spears but till the last they fought on, never surrendering nor despairing.

And when they were forced to the ground, dragged down by the sheer weight of the steel that clung to their flesh, still they fought on. Dragging their broken body across the ground, staining the grass with their blood, and forcing themselves to their feet, only stopping when another barrage of swords tore through their body and even then they only did so when the hearts in their chest stopped beating.

From a thousand that they began with, their numbers quickly dropped down to their hundreds and then dozens. The dead bodies of the defeated rained down around the still defiant living, and yet still they did not falter.

But defiance and spirit meant nothing against the hard unforgiven edge of cold steel. And so they continued to die until there were only a handful left, barely clinging to life as the swords continued to fall in unending numbers.

And in the heart of it all was Kokabiel.

It was like grace given form, talent personified. Though it was like watching a whirlwind, there was no chaos, no disorder. Every move had a purpose, every action a goal, not a single motion wasted. I thought I had seen talent during the Holy Grail War, that I had seen the pinnacle of skill in arms that can be achieved, but I was wrong. For in the end Servants, as mighty as they are, were still human. Mortal.

Even Assassin, who had spent a lifetime honing his skill, had only spent a fraction of time training that this Angel had. This was a being that have lived for eons and dedicated the entirety of the last Millennium honing his skill in arms and it showed.

The spear in his hands blurred, leaving trials of shimmering white, afterimages even my eyes cannot dispel. It was like a perfect dance, how each move flowed seamlessly to the next as all around him steel continued to crash with light.

Spears of light formed in the air by their thousands, hurled forward by unseen hands and crashing against the swords that threated to drown them. They created a sphere around him, where sword and spears clashed, while he fought on in the heart of it all.

And through it all he laughed.

The spears could only hold back the tide but an instant before they failed but an instant was all he needed. When the swords broke through, as they inevitably did, he would be ready for them. He danced and weaved around them as he whooped with joy, his laughter filling the air even as he barely avoided death only to face it once again.

Ducking under high blows and flying over the low, spinning and side-stepping the ones that came at his sides, he avoided the swords that broke through his barraged. When it was not possible for the strike to be dogged, even for one of his ability, he would deflect them with the spear in his hands.

Against a swords of legend, a Noble Phantasm in their perfect form, even his spears would be no match. They shattered in his hands but even with their destruction their purpose was fulfilled and the sword would be diverted, flying harmlessly away. He would then promptly conjure another spear in preparation to deflect the next sword.

And still it wasn't enough.

Skill can only do so much in the face of endless steel. All around him the rain of steel continued to fall, steadily pushing forward even as his spears vainly tried to hold them back. They kept closing in all around him, shrinking the space he had at the heart of his formation, as all the while the number of swords that broke through his spears would steadily rise.

Then the inevitable happened. He slipped up.

He had positioned himself incorrect, placing himself in the line of fire of two different swords that broke through his spears. They came at him one after the other, blocking his line of escape, and they did so at his most vulnerable moment. He was unarmed, having lost his previous spear deflecting a sword and did not have enough time to conjure another before they were upon him.

He could have avoided one sword but not the other. Not without throwing himself in between the swords and spear that battled all around him. He could neither evade them nor deflect them.

So instead he intercepted them.

It was one of the most remarkable example of swordsmanship I had ever seen. Moving so fast that even with my reinforced eyes I could barely see him move. He spun in place, counterclockwise, allowing the first sword to fly through where his left shoulder would have been as he turned. But before the sword could fly out of his reach his hand reached out and snatched the sword out of the air.

Using the momentum of his spin to carry the sword with him, he brought it overhead and swung it down onto the approaching second sword, intending to deflect it with the first.

It was a brilliant maneuver, one that would have impressed even the most experienced of fighters. It should have been impossible to achieve during the chaos of live combat, yet he pulled it off seamlessly. It was something I had never seen before and may never see again.

It was a shame that I couldn't allow him to complete it.

Just before the two swords clashed, I willed the first one out of his hands. And it complied immediately, eager to obey, disappearing from his grasp like it was never there. That should have ended him then and there but once again Kokabiel's inhuman reflexes came to play.

The slight widening of his eyes was the only sign he allowed to show of his surprise as he twisted his body out of the way, bending almost painfully to get out of the sword's path, and what should have been a mortal blow through his chest was turned into a deep gash in his side instead.

"Remarkable!" He laughed as if his blood did not spill out of his side and stained the ground far beneath him. "Truly remarkable! No one can use these swords but you, can they?" The curiosity and pure glee in his voice was unmistakable. It was if his death had no meaning to him.

"But," he turned his eyes towards me, just as he side-step a sword that came bearing down at him and used a newly summoned spear to knock away another, "this is not all of it. You found it, haven't you? The light Father spoke of?"

He was cut-off as he had to weave around another barrage of swords, but he soon carried on. "I want to see it. I want to understand what Father meant all those years ago. I want to know. Show it to me." For the first time I saw a true sliver of fear flash onto his face, something that even his dead could not bring, just as his voice turned imploring, "…Please?"

I shut my eyes as I answered, "…Of course." It was the reason why I brought him here after all. Without opening my eyes I reached out to my side, towards the sword that I knew was there.

Unlike any other sword I hadn't called for it, didn't summoned it, I didn't need to, never did. It was always there, always waiting. It had never left my side ever since that day, even after its master no longer remained here with me, it stayed.

This was a sword that I always kept closest to my heart, thus it was always by my side.

As I wrapped my hand firmly around its hilt, I opened my eyes and smiled up to the Angels. "You didn't need to ask." I told him, "I promised to save you didn't I?" Then I pulled the Sword from the earth-

-And the world was bathed in all the colour of the morning dawn.

It shone in my hands like a second sun, as if it held a one within its very steel. It blazed to life the moment I freed it from the ground, shining like a sword forged from light itself. It should have been painfully to look, lifting the sword up as I did and holding it by my face, it should have blinded me shining as brightly as it was but it was anything but painful. I could stare right into its heart and all I felt was its warmth, it was as if my soul was bathed under the light of the warmest of summer days.

In the grass fields of my Reality Marble, motes of gold began to appear. Little sphere of golden fire, they moved like fireflies in the air, called forth by the sword.

They danced around in the fields of grass, weaving around and over stems like playful children as their numbers continued to steadily grow until they appeared to match every blade of grass with their number, forming an illusion that I was surrounded by a lake of rippling gold.

Slowly, so gently it felt they were carried by the wind, they began to drift into the air before they turned and began to gather towards the sword, swirling around its blade, drawn in by it.

From the skies above the rain of steel lessened before tapering to a halt, their strength no longer needed. The Fallen, the handful that remained, finally having a reprieve from the unending barrage of swords had their first opportunity to attack. Committed as I was to wielding this sword, they may have even succeeded.

However none of them took advantage of it. No, perhaps it simply never occurred to them to. All of them were staring widely at the sword I held in my hand. They couldn't look away, unwilling to look away, captivated as they were by its radiance.

"I…I know this," Kokabiel, taking a step forward from where he, along with the remaining Fallen, had drifted to the ground. He reached out a hand before him, looking at the light that was reflected in his palm as if it was physical thing. He stared down into his hand with such frail look of hope on his face, his expression so fragile as if he dare not believe it was real, before looking back up into the sword. "I know this light."

"You should," I told him, raising the blade even higher as I did so, allowing all to see it, "it was what you were looking for after all."

Though it radiated a holy light, it did not harm any of the Devils around me. I could see the looks of disbelief and awe on their faces, the wonder reflected in their eyes as they stared at the Holy sword. Entranced by a blade too beautiful to be called beautiful, they looked on despite knowing they shouldn't.

Some stared at the little fireflies that had gathered around them, before running past them towards my sword. Some of them reached out a hand to catch one of them, only to find them slipping through their hands as it was never there.

As Devils, they should have died under its light. It should have blistered their skin, burned their flesh to the bone, bathed as they were under the light of this holiest of swords. It did no such thing, instead it welcomed them with its light. Greeting them like a long lost friend, filling them with a warmth that could only be found in a mother's embrace.

They had nothing to fear from this sword, it would never harm an innocent no matter what form it took. This wasn't a sword of God but of Man. And be it Devil or man, it rejected no one from its light, denied none the warmth of its embrace.

It was such a sword.

No matter how far they have fallen, so long as a splinter of good still shined in their soul, it would call out to it. I have seen it happen, reading the history etched in its blade. How looking upon its light made even Caster of the previous Holy War remember the memories and glories of his past, before his descent to murder and occult, back when he served alongside Joan of Arc, evoking tears and even regret in his final moments.

It was a sword that, by merely existing, made the world a better place.

"Can you see it Kokabiel?" I asked him, as the sword radiated in my hands, illuminating one side of my face. "Can you see it engraved on its blade? Our hopes, our dreams, the desperate wishes of mankind that's reflected in its light?"

============x=============x=============

This is the manifestation of mankind's great desire, it the crystallization of the prayer named "glory" and everything etched in the hearts of those who are scattered at the sword's radiance;

Xenovia watched as the sword of legend, the blade of the mightiest of kings was held in the hands of the red-haired boy before her. She could not look away as she listened to his words, captivated by the beauty of the sword's radiance.

Though the boy had not called its name, he did not need to, for she already knew it. She realized what it was the moment she was caught sight of its light. How can she not? After all-

All know its name.

It was E-

She felt a pair of arms warp around her, interrupting her thoughts and encasing her in a familiar warmth.

"You hold it like this," a nostalgic voice, one she hadn't heard for so, so long, told her as the hands that embraced her adjusted her grip of the wooden sword she held in her tiny hands, "That's how you do it."

She turned her head to look over her shoulders and a seven year old Xenovia found herself looking into the honey brown eyes of one she lost long ago. "Mom?"

The blue-haired women smiled down at her daughter she held in her arms. "Hello my little blue bird."

===========x=============x==============

-the nostalgic, sorrowful, and hallowed dreams of those who were placed on the bloody hell called a battlefield, of all warriors past, present, and future fully exposed to the fear of death and despair, and yet who still cling to a desire: 'to be exalted.'

"Stop it! It tickles."

A young girl with hair of purest white squealed with laughter as she pulled on the raven locks of an older girl who rubbed her face against her belly while she was held her in her arms.

She tilted her head from where it still remind on her stomach, revealing eyes gold that sparkled under the morning's light.

"Shirone, my little white sound, you are my treasure. You know that right?" She smiled up into the girl in her arms that looked down at her with eyes so similar to hers. "My most precious treasure. For you, I pray that your life will be filled with the music of your laughter, my little white sound. May the sound of your name be woven to that of eternal laughter." She looked so sincere, so happy at that moment as she stared into the eyes of her little sister before she buried her face back into the girl's stomach.

"Ahahaha, Nee-san that tickles" The little girl giggled in the older girl's arms as she rubbed her face on her tummy, half-heartedly trying to fight free from her embrace before she found herself gentle hauled up in to the air.

Held straight out before her sister's face, she had a clear look at her tender expression as she spoke. "I love you Shirone, more than you can ever know and I always will. Till the sun and the stars in the sky extinguish themselves and forever after, I will always love you. And I'll never stop."

"Hm!" The little girl nodded at her older sister's words, never doubting it for second. "Neh, Nee-san. You and me, we'll always be together right?"

"Right." She promised without hesitation, nodding back with a smile. Before a squeal of laughter erupted from the little girls as her sister began tickling her sides.

Tears drops glistered under the light of sword as they pooled under her eyes before spilling down the side of Koneko's listless face.

Her broken body was set down on its side on the grass filled ground, as her frame occasionally shook with entirely silent sobs. Her empty unseeing eyes, wet with her tears stared blankly ahead, lost in long gone memories of better days.

===========x===================x=============

It is the light that continues to shines in the darkest of nights. Our defiance at those who will try to extinguish the good in us all. Our honor that will never be stained.

Though forged by inhuman hand, by the will of the planet itself, it was crafted from the desires of mankind, the crystallization of our wishes. Born from our very hearts and it is the greatest of mankind's fantasy given form.

"Hahahaha, look at you! You've grown into an old Granny, Griselda!"

"Shut up Luka" She muttered at the apparitions before her though the fondness in her voice was unmistakable as she gazed into the forms of her three lost friends.

Once they were four and they traveled the globe, going on adventure after adventure. Rescuing innocents, battle monsters and defying Evil before partying the night away after every battle. They were Heroes in every meaning of the word. Such was their adventures that their tales have been made legend.

But even legends must end sometime.

"Truly time has taken its toll on you oh fair Griselda." The well well-dressed man in a green tunic with a pair of old specs adoring his face gave her a bow. Even as he bent his body forward he never released the old leather-bound book from his ink-stained hands.

"Are you two sure that's really Griselda? She looks so old with all of those wrinkles, there is no way it can be her." Though the teasing smile on the raven haired beautify belied her words. Her long curled tresses ran down her back down to her waist where a pair of swords hung off her belt.

"It's been 40 years since you guys died. Of course I've grown old." Though her voice was gruff, she wore a fragile smile on her face as she stared up at them. A pair of old callused fingers rubbed against her tear filled eyes.

"Hahahaha, yeah well sorry about that." A brown haired youth laughed out, as if their death was only a mere inconvenience. Dressed up in an old pilot jacket, with a pair of goggle on his head. Over his back he strapped a large claymore that was almost as long as he was tall. "Well, we're here right now, all together again at last." He stretched a hand "Well come on, let's go, another adventure awaits. It's been too long since we've been on our last one."

She smiled forlornly back up at him but didn't take his hands "I'm old Luka, my Adventure is long over."

"What are you talking about?" he shot her a perplexed look before throwing his arms in the air. "The Adventure is NEVER OVER! As long as we keep on fighting, it will never end. Because even when we have completed this one, what awaits us at our journey's end is merely the start of another!"

"So stop your complaining Griselda and let's GO!" He thrusts his hand out towards her again, "Let's return to our high sea of adventure. The start of our new journey has just begun."

Exasperated laughter escaped her lips, while a far younger Griselda smiled fondly up at the idiot before her. "Still an idiot I see." But still, this time she did not hesitate to reach out and clasped her hand with his.

============x===============x=============

It was the blade of mankind's most beloved Lord, the greatest of all Kings. The actualization of her ideals and the symbol of her heroism, it was, and still is her greatest and most powerful Noble Phantasm.

To look upon its light is to gaze upon the Glory that mankind can achieve. And so long as it shines, we shall remember and never forget what we had once achieved, so that we can strive for it again.

As Kiba looked upon the sword, its light bathing his form in a warm gold, his face held a look of utter in incomprehension. "Was that… was that what I wanted to destroy?"

"Live."

He looked down at the scene before him, as the ghost of his old friends laughed with innocent joy and played in the fields of grass, chasing the golden fireflies in some game of tag.

One of them, Lillian, the oldest and big sister of his old group of friends, had walked out of the throng of playing children and approached him. And now as she stood before him, she repeated her words.

"Live," she urged as she smiled kindly at his kneeling form, "Kiba- Live. Please for us, you must live."

He stared dumbly at her, as comprehension dawned on him while tears continued to fall down his face.

"What…what have I been doing?" He asked himself, looking down at his empty palms. "Have I…Have I really been living? Have what I been doing can really be called living?"

===========x===============x===========

Kokabiel looked on in wonderment at the boy that stood with a sword crafted from the light of the human soul in his hands, a light that he had only seen the like of come from one other individual before.

"You claim to seek the spirit of Man. Then rejoice for you're gazing upon it.

"Here in my very hands, I hold what you have been searching a millennia for." The red-haired boy called out as he looked into the eyes of the Fallen before him. "It was what God saw in us, the very pinnacle of the man's spirit. Now, hear its name-"

He raised the sword over his head and he yelled out,

"EX-

It pierced the heavens, clearing the very skies from clouds. The light that shot out of the blade was incomparable to what it was before, unmatched by anything else the Fallen had seen before as it brushed the very end of sky with its light.

And as Kokabiel looked upon it, the nostalgic light that reminded him so much of his father, an old memory from long ago came unbidden.

"You've taken their form again." A melodically voice echoed through a roofless Hall that exposed itself to the clear blue skies overhead.

An inhumanly beautiful man walked from around one of the marble columns that decorated these hallowed halls. He had an ageless appearance though anyone can tell he was young with a single glance. With such clear innocent blue eyes that adorned his face, unknowing of the worst of life's hardships, ones that belong only on the most of guileless of children, assured that.

"Are they really that interesting?" He asked as he approached a figure of an older man. He sat crossed legged near an edge of pool located in the heart of the hall. "Those humans of yours. Are they really that interesting that you never get bored watching them, Father?"

The elder man gave a clearly exaggerated sigh of exasperation before turning to look at his son. "Kokabiel, how many times must I tell you? When we are alone you're to call me Dad. Really, what did I do to deserve such an overly respectful son?"

The young Kokabiel shook his head in amused as he answered, "Right, right Dad. Another one of your human expression that you've picked up?"

Kokabiel walked up to the edge of the pool and looked down at the milling villagers that were reflected upon its surface before he shook his head.

"I don't understand, what do you find so fascinating about such beings?" He tilted his head to one side as he squinted down at the reflected image, as if by doing so he'll see something he couldn't before. "Even when you're needed elsewhere, I know that you always leave a part of you behind to watch over them. I've tried to look for what you see in them but I can't find anything remarkable enough for you to give more than a passing interest, let alone all the attention you've given them."

"That because you don't know that to look for." His Father didn't look up from the lake. "Give it time and you'll see, I'm sure of it. And if you give it even more time, one day these little humans that everyone keeps overlooking will outshine even myself. You'll see."

"Outshine you? Impossible." He spoke with all the surety of the young.

God let loose a small chuckle of laughter, "So naive, sometimes with all your wisdom I forget how young you really are Kokabiel." He held a hand out over the lake, fingers outstretched. "I am only one my son, while they are many. The sun may outshine a candle's flame but gather enough of them together and they will surely outshine the sun."

He lowered his hand, his expression and voice taking an oddly somber tone as he turned to look up to his son that stood dutifully beside him. "Hey, Kokabiel. These little children, they may grow strong one day but right now they're still weak. Until they're fully grown they're bound to get into a lot of trouble. When that happens be sure to watch out for them, ok?"

Kokabiel shrugged, "I don't see why I need to watch over them with you here." But when he looked down to see his Father still looking up to him he smiled.

"But sure Dad, I'll watch out for them. I'd have done so even if you hadn't asked." His cheeks flushed red as he blushed and his smile turned oddly embarrassed. "After all, just like me they're your child too. That makes them my little brothers and sisters right?" He thumped a fist to his chest, the wide yet embarrassed smile never leaving his face. "Then as their big brother there is no way I'm ever going to let them get hurt."

-CALIBUR!

The sword descend, sending a colossal beam of light straight at him.

Instead of dodging Kokabiel stared at it, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "Can you see them Father? Look at how they shine, brighter than you ever did." His voice almost disbelieving despite himself. Then laughter spilled from his lips.

"You were right!" He laughed with pure unadulterated joy and threw his arms out in welcome as if embracing the approaching light. He yelled out just as it enveloped his form, with tears spilling from his eyes. "Father! You were right!"

And then he was gone.

Disappearing within the light he spent most of his life seeking.

And at long last the loyal Son returns to his beloved Father's side.

It may have been but a trick of the light, nothing but a wishful illusion. But just for a moment before the light enveloped him it appeared that Kokabiel's raven wings had maybe, just maybe, flickered to the colour of purest white.

===========x==============x==============

The air above the empty courtyard of the prestigious Kuoh Academy began to distort, twisting as if space was being folded into itself before, with a bright flash of light, the Devils, humans and the small handful of Fallen remaining were dumped into the ground.

Unseen by all, there was one other person that appeared along with them.

Standing on the rooftop from where they were deposited stood a slim-figured grey haired youth. The youth was dressed up in a new and immaculate male Kaou Academy uniform and had a long black hilted Nodachi attached at the waist.

A gust of wind blew over the rooftop causing the long ponytailed grey hair to drift in the wind and shimmer like silver under the moon-light.

"Well…" grey-eyes wide with surprise stared down at the red-haired Devil bellow before they narrowed to thin slits and a wicked smile came over the youth's face. "Wasn't that something?"

On the back of the figure's left arm, a small emerald jewel flashed twice in apparent agreement from where it was embedded in a crimson red gauntlet.

===Chapter End======

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