Chapter 115: The Conclusion of the Battle at Fuyuki River

Chapter 115: The Conclusion of the Battle at Fuyuki River

The light surged.

The light roared.

The magical energy, accelerated by the unleashed dragon factor, transformed into a torrent of light.

The spiraling current shot out, engulfing the Sea Demon along with the darkness of the night.

On the surface of the river, every molecule of the monstrous and fearsome creature was fully exposed to the scorching impact, emitting a piercing scream.

Caster, within the heart of the Sea Demon's massive flesh fortress, remained silent, silently observing this moment of annihilation. It was as if his body and mind had been seized by that pure radiance.

"...Oh... OhYes — that was the radiance he had witnessed before.

In the past, hadn't he, as a knight, also raced across the battlefield in pursuit of that radiance?

The memories were vivid and intense, pulling Caster back to the days gone by.

At the long-awaited coronation ceremony of King Charlemagne in France, a beam of light pierced through the stained glass of the cathedral.

That pure white radiance, like a blessing, gently enveloped Jeanne and all the others present as heroes of salvation. It accompanied the joyous music of Ars Nova.

Ah, yes — that was the light.

He still remembers it vividly to this day. Even though he had fallen into the path of corruption and was covered in evil, the memories of that day remained unchanged, deeply imprinted in his heart.

Despite the humiliation, hatred, and scorn he faced in the end, only the glory of the past still existed within him, unassailable and undeniable by anyone.

Something that neither gods nor fate could take away or defile...

Two clear tears streaked down his cheeks as Caster sat there, lost in confusion.

What was he bewildered about? What had he missed?

Just by looking back at the past and acknowledging his mistakes, wouldn't that be enough?

"Who... am I...?"

Before he could finish muttering those words, the pure white light carried everything away to another world.

...

Seated atop the clouds, Archer gazed down upon all things, wearing a smile on his face as he watched the light of destruction consume everything.

"Do you see it? Conqueror King, that is Saber's radiance."

He spoke to the empty air beside him. Rider, who had just experienced a fierce battle, halted his chariot in mid-air and also gazed at the aurora of "Excalibur, the Sword of Promised Victory" in the distance.

"After witnessing such radiance, are you still unwilling to acknowledge her?"

Upon hearing Archer's question, Rider let out a cold snort. However, the expression on his face was not one of contempt but rather solemnity, as if he was witnessing something tragic.

"Only by carrying the hopes of an entire era's people can such power be unleashed. It is precisely because it is so dazzling that it brings anguish."

"It is because she carries the hopes of all the people of this age that she emits such radiance - though it is dazzling, it is precisely because of that, that it is unbearable. Willing to bear such a heavy burden, she proves that she is nothing but a dreamy little girl."

Looking down at the river's surface, one could see Saber's petite figure panting after a fierce battle. After the questioning and answering last night, Rider had come to understand the weight of the burden those fragile shoulders carried, a way of life he could not tolerate.

"Such a little girl, giving up on the joy of singing and dancing, giving up on love, bound by the curse called 'ideal,' and ending up in such a state, it truly pains me. I can't bear to watch."

"That's what makes her lovely, isn't it?"

Contrary to the melancholic expression of the King of Conquerors, the smile of the golden Heroic Spirit was filled with wickedness, not concealing the decadent desire in his smile.

"An ideal that is too sublime will inevitably consume the dreamer herself until nothing is left. The tears of lamentation that will flow at that time must surely taste so sweet when licked."

Archer indulged in his imagination, while Rider cast a sharp gaze at him.

"It seems we truly cannot get along, King of Heroes of Babylon."

"Oh? You only realize that now?"

Hearing Rider's address, Archer smiled slightly.

"Well then, what will you do? Rider, will you unleash your anger through force right here and now?"

"If I could, I'm sure it would be quite satisfying. But to become your enemy, this king has already exhausted himself tonight."

Rider spoke frankly, and a mocking gaze was directed at Archer.

"Of course, if you insist on taking action and not miss the opportunity, this king is ready to accompany you at any time."

"That's fine. This king allows you to escape, King of Conquerors. If I were to defeat you without you being in your best condition, this king would also feel unsatisfied."

Upon hearing Archer's calm declaration, Rider pulled the reins decisively.

"Until next time, King of Heroes. The showdown between the two of us will be the climax that determines the victor of the Holy Grail War."

The Heroic Spirit Iskandar left behind a fearless smile as he drove his chariot, gradually moving away.

"Is that so? ...Only one person is worthy of dying beneath this king's Noble Phantasm, and that person might not necessarily be you, Rider."

Should he completely abandon personal desires and pursue ideals, or should he disregard principles and cherish his loved one?

While he struggled and wasted time in his confusion, the worst outcome finally befell him.

To overthrow the king, someone devised a plan to reveal the queen's infidelity to the world. To save the queen from her death sentence, he had no choice but to become the enemy of the king. And so, he lost everything.

The betrayed knight—

Because of his disloyalty and betrayal, the harmony of the Round Table was disrupted, leading to war and the downfall of the nation. People sarcastically called him by that name.

Branded in the annals of history, an eternal and irreparable stain.

And so, her tears remained unshed, as she blamed herself for leading a man who was once a "perfect knight" astray.

In the end, what had he accomplished? He had only caused his beloved woman to forever mourn and weep.

At least, if he were not a knight, would their love have prospered?

If he were a shameless and lowly person, perhaps he could have boldly humiliated the righteous ruler and taken the queen for himself.

But he was a knight and an excessively perfect knight.

The king was his rival, the one who set his beloved woman on a thorny path. But he could never harbor even a trace of resentment towards the king.

Indeed, how could he condemn such a noble ruler? He was always braver than anyone, noble and righteous, the king who carved out a new world in an era of suffering.

Upright and just, valuing loyalty without succumbing to emotions, a king who had never committed a single mistake.

That king never blamed him. Even when he was expelled from the Round Table and they clashed in battle, it was a decision made out of necessity for the sake of fairness, not the king's intention. Although his act of betrayal was unforgivable, the king always treated him with noble friendship.

How could he hate, how could he resent such a "perfect" sovereign?

But then—what about his regrets and the woman's sorrow?

This remorse accompanied him into the afterlife, plucked from the river of time, tormenting him in a place with no beginning or end... Finally, a distant voice of prayer called out to him.

The voice said: O mad beast, come forth; O relentless spirit, come forth.

That voice summoned him from the end of time.

That voice awakened his past desires.

If he weren't a knight at all.

If he were merely a lowly and savage beast, a demon fallen into bestiality, could he fulfill the everlasting wish that haunted him?

Indeed, madness is the cradle of redemption.

As a wild beast, he would not feel lost. Without confusion, he would not feel pain. As a creature that could freely act on its desires without the expectations or commands of others—

This wish became a bridge, merging with the prayer at the end of time. At this very moment, he finds himself on an unknown battlefield.

He has forgotten his name and the vows of self-restraint, only knowing to unleash his perfected killing techniques. He has no pride, feeling no shame in this; he has no soul, feeling no regret. This is the present state of the one now called "Berserker."

There is nothing to regret. This corruption, this liberation, is precisely what he longed for in the past.

However—

However—

However—

Deep within his heart, there still lingers a profound wish—a desire to be judged by the king.

Deeper within that wish lies an unattainable longing—to once again fight under the king's command, to battle to protect the king.

Because—

Because—

Because—

He is not the "perfect knight," not the "Knight of the Lake," just a man who loves her, who loves his king.

Unconsciously, tears have welled up in the corners of his eyes, tears of regret, tears of self-mockery.

"Our love is truly alike, Lancelot. A love that yearns but cannot be fulfilled, that's why you were summoned by me."

But—

But—

But—

Even so, there are things we must accomplish, right, Lancelot?

We must protect the most important person in our lives.

So, endure a little longer, Berserker. I will fulfill your wish.

I just wonder, who will fulfill my wish?

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