"10——"
"9——"
"8——"
"7——"
Shirou began the countdown, and the expressions of the Servants lying on the ground varied.
Some faced death fearlessly, waiting quietly for its arrival;
Some stared fiercely at the pair before the Greater Grail, venting their anger and unwillingness through their gaze.
Some bowed their heads, their eyes flickering as if calculating something.
Others silently gathered and focused their magical energy, preparing for a final struggle.
No one spoke. The palace housing the Greater Grail was eerily silent.
Shirou paid no attention to this, concentrating solely on the countdown.
"6——"
When he counted to "5," Black Caster, Avicebron, raised his hand, trembling.
"Avicebron?"
Shirou casually addressed the Black Caster by his true name.
Avicebron nodded.
"I have a question."
"Go ahead."
"According to you, killing five more Servants will activate the Greater Grail, your wish will be granted, and the Holy Grail War will end. We Servants will then leave this world—I don't see the point of your persuasion."
As Avicebron said, if they didn't surrender, they'd die in a few seconds; if they surrendered, the Holy Grail War would end soon, and they'd still disappear from this world, which was equivalent to death.
Dying sooner or later made no difference. Was Shirou just toying with them?
"I see, I forgot to explain."
Shirou scratched his cheek apologetically.
"As the creator of the Kabbalah system, you're aware of the concept of Counter Force, correct?"
Avicebron nodded again.
"That makes it easier. The Counter Force exists to prevent the world's destruction. If I aim to destroy the world, they'll inevitably try to stop me. The most likely method is to send monsters or guardians. They might be unknown, but they possess combat power equal to heroes. So, I hope you join me to help fight against the Counter Force's agents."
"Dream on!"
Achilles, lying on the ground, sneered at this.
Avicebron's face was hidden behind a mask, making his attitude unreadable.
Shirou didn't mind and continued, "Honestly, I hope you join, Avicebron. The Greater Grail's wishes are limited, so I'd like to prioritize those who have no wishes to entrust to it. Of course, this is based on the assumption that your wish aligns with what I've inferred—"
Hearing this, Shinji, who had fallen into a state of despair due to Jeanne and Artoria's kneeling, felt a momentary stir.
Shirou's conditions fit him perfectly.
A wish to entrust to the Greater Grail? Take it or leave it.
What the world would become didn't particularly matter to him either.
The only thing that troubled him was Jeanne, Artoria, Justeaze, and the other Black Faction companions who trusted him. He didn't want to betray that trust. But if he didn't, he couldn't break the current stalemate and reclaim Yggdmillennia.
However, just as Shinji was hesitating on what decision to make, Shirou glanced at him suddenly and said,
"I almost forgot to mention, Ruler, Black Lancer, and Black Assassin must die."
"Why?"
Shinji's vision went black, nearly collapsing.
"Ruler and Black Lancer bear the marks left by the Counter Force. As for you—as someone similar to me, you're already a primary target for the Counter Force. If you were to join me in destroying the world, the Counter Force's backlash would be even greater. More importantly—one transmigrator is enough. A world doesn't need two protagonists! So, for the sake of my grand cause, please die!"
As Shirou spoke, he drew his katana and began walking towards Shinji.
Each step was like the approach of death itself, stomping on Shinji's heart, accompanied by the countdown to the final harvest.
"Master!"
"4——"
"Black Assassin!"
"3——"
Artoria's and Jeanne's shouts were mixed in, but Shinji could no longer hear them.
He was engulfed in despair.
He still couldn't contact Yggdmillennia.
His body was severely injured, rendering him immobile.
Now, even surrender was not an option.
His vision went dark, and his mind was filled with thoughts of "It's over," "It's all over," "Everything is finished."
In a daze, he saw the white-haired boy approaching, saw the gleaming, coldly flashing tip of the katana.
The flash of cold steel snapped Shinji's mind back to clarity, and a savage glint appeared in his eyes.
If you want to kill me, I won't let you get away with it!
He clenched his left hand tightly, and Indra's Thunder materialized above Shirou's head.
Magic power eroded and sealed by poison?
No problem, I still have Command Spells. If I'm going to die, there's no point in keeping them.
I command Indra's Thunder with a Command Spell—
Without the verbal declaration that most Masters use, just a single thought caused the second red mark engraved on his wrist to emit a dazzling light.
This was one of Shinji's research achievements from the past few years.
As a transmigrator and the grandson of Zouken Matou, the creator of the Command Spells, how could he not study this crystallization of magecraft that has reached the realm of magic and can evoke miracles?
If he could mass-produce and flexibly use them, he would dare to challenge anyone, except for those planetary-level monsters beyond standard specifications!
Of course, Zouken hadn't achieved this in the 120 years since the development of the Command Spells, so it was even less likely that Shinji, who had only studied them for five years, could do so. However, he had made some progress, such as the instant and silent activation of Command Spells when fighting Ortenrosse and now.
The sudden surge of magical energy drew everyone's attention. The intense sense of crisis hanging over his head made Shinji's whole body tingle, and it also wiped the usual composure from Shirou's face.
Without giving the enemy a chance to react, Shinji unleashed the full power of the Command Spell's magic.
—Broken Phantasm: The Destroyed Illusion!!!
In an instant.
All sounds disappeared.
No, they didn't disappear; it was just that the overwhelming noise numbed his hearing.
His vision was also taken away. The lightning radiating from the golden artifact outshone the sun's brilliance, leaving only a blinding white in front of his eyes.
The only sensations left were the atmospheric vibrations shaking his entire body and the heat scorching his skin.
The turbulent air currents dragged his body, causing him to tumble across the uneven ground.
Fragments of debris, kicked up by the fierce wind, scattered everywhere, striking the ground and piercing flesh with heavy, muffled sounds.
When his sight and hearing returned, all that remained was a sea of fire. The ground where the Noble Phantasm had struck was gouged out, forming a crater, and much of the palace ceiling had been blown away.
This place, specially built to house the Greater Grail, was now unrecognizable in an instant.