IBHJ 1410

“He can’t be killed,” Shirou muttered, jaw clenched tight. The Azure Destruction was gone—annihilated by the transcendent attacks—but still, the Lord of Salvation remained.

“Figured it out, have you?” The Lord of Salvation let out a slow, rasping chuckle. “I’ll admit it. I lost, Shirou. You and your wretched allies cornered me. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. I am the Evil of the First Cause! No law, no concept, no god or ghost can extinguish me. I am beyond death!”

Shirou summoned the Azure Destruction again. Its form wavered—less refined, less stable. It could be reconstructed, yes, but its strength had taken a massive blow.

He knew it now.

The Lord of Salvation couldn’t be destroyed through brute force.

Only the light and the answer that Tethys once spoke of could accomplish that. But what were they? What did they even mean?

A horrible laugh echoed across the stars. The Lord of Salvation threw his head back, laughing in manic triumph—so loud and discordant that even the transcendents frowned.

Then something stirred behind him.

The Golden Gate rippled—and from within, darkness emerged.

Not just darkness.

An absolute void, vast and alive, surged out and lunged toward the Lord of Salvation.

—The Void Overlord.

“What?!” the Lord of Salvation recoiled. He tried to burn it away, slicing at the tendrils wrapping around his limbs. “No—! You idiot! Look! Can’t you see?! I am the First Cause! Not the Golden Universe! I—!”

His cry turned into a scream.

The Void Overlord drowned him.

Swallowed him whole.

Shirou and the others could only watch as the indestructible Lord of Salvation vanished beneath that roiling mass of nothingness.

It made sense.

The moment the Lord of Salvation stepped away from the Root and manifested in the universe, he was no longer part of the Root. He was once again a being of the Golden Universe.

Which meant he was prey.

The Void Overlord, like the void insects, was a force of cleansing—a creature belonging to the Root. If void insects were its white blood cells, the Overlord was its immune system and anti-pathogen weapon rolled into one.

It had devoured the last contaminant.

It should’ve ended there.

But—

“Unification... unification...”

A horrific chorus rippled out from the Overlord’s depths.

Darkness twisted and churned, condensing into something human-shaped—a face, cruel and mocking, emerged from the void.

Shirou's heart froze. “He’s merged with it…?!”

Yes.

The Lord of Salvation, origin of contamination, had fused with the Overlord meant to consume him. Root Evil itself had now manifested. A fusion of what should never be combined.

“Unification... unification...!”

It wasn’t conscious speech. It was instinct—one echoing endlessly. The leftover will of salvation.

It began to consume.

Everything.

Void insects dissolved without resistance. Even those born from the same substance were no longer immune. Cosmic Heroic Spirits who couldn’t escape in time were consumed on the spot.

An ocean of darkness spilled outward, blooming from the Milky Way and spreading like an infection across the Azure Universe—then beyond, to the greater universe.

The Enlightened One’s divine light? Nullified.

Cosmic Alaya’s quantum disruptions? Erased on contact.

The Azure Destruction’s destructive force? Not even a ripple.

“Stop it! STOP IT!” Shirou shouted.

Cosmic Heroic Spirits gathered once again, unleashing their Noble Phantasms in wave after wave. Stellar-scale weaponry tore across the sky.

And the darkness kept growing.

Unhindered.

…

Earth.

As the battle across the stars threatened to consume all of creation, a quiet moment unfolded on a different front.

Artoria approached Mash and asked for her white shield.

"Artoria-senpai?" Mash blinked. "Why do you need my shield?"

Artoria’s hand hovered above the white shield, her expression unreadable. “There’s something I need to do. Something only a wielder of the Holy Sword can accomplish.”

“And… please take good care of Ritsuka.” She offered those words softly, then turned and walked away without waiting for a reply.

She returned to the Ryougi residence and besides Shiki, several magi had assembled.

Von Hohenheim Paracelsus—the same Caster once summoned by Reiroukan during the Shinjuku Holy Grail War—stood near the window, lost in thought. Zelretch, the Second Magician, was seated nearby, half-listening while flipping through a book he’d already read a thousand times. Merlin leaned lazily against the wall, arms folded. And Manaka was also there.

Artoria’s eyes settled on Paracelsus. “What are the chances of success?”

The old alchemist paused, adjusting his gloves. His face was solemn.

“Perhaps less than one percent,” he said. “Even that might be generous. I’ve spent my entire life theorizing that this phenomenon—the so-called light that pierces the Root—is real. But theory and reality... they don’t always agree.”

Paracelsus was no ordinary magus. A master of the five great elements, his true value lay not just in his magecraft but in his intellect. Since the sixteenth century, his work had reshaped the foundation of magical scholarship. From The Rediscovery of the Five Great Elements to dozens of alchemical treatises still studied today, his legacy had transcended centuries. Few could match his achievements in either human or magical history.

His wish, the one he had entrusted to the Holy Grail, had always been singular: to reach the Root.

That was why he had been summoned to the First Shinjuku Holy Grail War.

And the moment he’d laid eyes on Manaka Sajyou—Arthur’s enigmatic Master—he’d submitted without protest. No hesitation, no pride. Just recognition.

Because he knew. He saw it.

Manaka Sajyou was already connected to the Root.

Paracelsus had never sought the Root for power, glory, or immortality. His desire stemmed from something far more obsessive—a need to prove a hypothesis. That something—anything—could pierce the Root.

“The Root’s light has been unable to reach this star region because of the Root Evil’s interference,” he said. “Now that the Root Evil has been ejected from the Root, there may be an opening.”

He pointed to a complex diagram projected midair by his magecraft—two radiant points aligned with a glowing node between them.

“If we use two Star Lights to form a resonant channel and place Shiki as a relay, we might be able to guide the Root’s light into this region. That may be the only viable path to victory now.”

His words hung in the air like the final card in a doomed game.

“Not even one percent?” Da Vinci asked, unable to hide her disbelief.

Paracelsus gave a slow nod. “We’re dealing with unknown variables far beyond magecraft. The math collapses under observation. All I can say for sure is this—whoever steps into the Root… won’t return.”

He turned toward Artoria. “Even as the wielder of the Holy Sword... will you still go?”

Artoria didn’t hesitate. “Since I came here, the answer was already decided.”

That was all she said. Nothing more.

Da Vinci looked like she wanted to argue, but the words caught in her throat. She shut her eyes instead, as if accepting something heavy.

Anyone could see it now.

If the world was to be saved—if there was still a sliver of hope—it lay in bringing the Root’s light back. And only Artoria could carry it.

Artoria raised a hand to her temple.

A flash of golden light and she knocked herself unconscious, collapsing gracefully in Da Vinci’s arms.

And then—her soul began to stir.

Merlin, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward and lifted a hand.

The spell he'd long prepared—the skill only he could grant—activated in full.

Independent Manifestation.

The legend of the Holy Sword transcended history. And now, it would transcend the cosmos.

From the dying Earth below, Artoria manifested once more—resurrected not as a mere servant, but as a Cosmic Heroic Spirit, wrapped in light so pure it made the stars dim.

The final hope of Pan-Human History had just taken the stage.