IBHJ 1394

“My, how passionate you are, my dear prince.”

“What are you after, Manaka?”

She smiled, as if flattered. “Why, I came to welcome you, of course. You’re my prince, aren’t you? And I…”

She placed a hand on her chest.

“I’m the beautiful princess you love so dearly.”

“Beautiful?” Gilgamesh gave a short, dry laugh.

Manaka blinked, tilting her head slightly, as if confused by the reaction. “Isn’t that true?”

“You’re just like Ishtar,” Gilgamesh said, arms crossed. “Convinced of your own beauty—but it’s all ugliness underneath.”

Manaka didn’t flinch. She smiled as if he’d paid her a compliment. Then, slowly, her gaze drifted back to Arthur.

He said nothing. Just tightened his grip on his sword. His stance didn’t change, but the cold in his eyes made it clear—he wasn’t playing along.

“So that’s a no, then?” Manaka sighed lightly, her voice still soft. “Oh well. It doesn’t matter. We’ll all meet again in that world, eventually. But first—”

She paused. Her smile returned, gentler this time.

“I have a mission. One given to me by Father.”

Before anyone could move, reality twitched.

Like a skipped frame in a broken reel, Manaka appeared directly in front of Ayaka. Her hand closed around Ayaka’s wrist.

“When did she—?!” Arthur stepped forward.

But it was too late.

Manaka’s free hand swept wide—and blackness surged around them like water rushing into a vacuum. Arthur and Gilgamesh vanished without a sound.

Ayaka staggered back, breath caught in her throat.

The street, the rain, the city—all gone.

Only Manaka remained, smiling softly in the dark.

“It’s been a while, Ayaka.”

Ayaka’s skin went pale. Her lips parted, barely able to form the words. “You… you’re…”

“Yes,” Manaka said, taking a small step closer. “It’s me, your sister.”

Ayaka stiffened. Her fear gave way to something harder. She clenched her teeth, flicked her wrist—and half a dozen black feathers shot from her sleeve, slicing through the air like blades.

They never made it.

Each one dissolved before impact, like ink vanishing into water.

“It’s no use,” Manaka said calmly. “Nothing in this world—or any world—can harm me now.”

She tilted her head again, like a teacher mildly impressed by a student’s failed trick. “Still… I’m surprised. That you’d try to fight. Brave of you.”

Then her smile changed—just slightly.

The warmth faded. Something colder peeked through.

“But you… you’re the one person who isn’t allowed in that world.” Manaka raised her hand toward Ayaka—

And then—

“Blaze: Burning Holy City!”

“Hm?” Manaka blinked at the spiral of fire tearing through the dark, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ve already awakened… and this thing still thinks it can reach me?” She smiled softly. “It’s pointless. Something like this can’t hurt me.”

“—I know that!”

The voice didn’t come from the direction of the flames. It came from her side.

Reality bent. Like space had been quietly swapped out, a figure stepped through it—appearing right beside her.

A woman. Older. But unmistakably the same.

Another Manaka.

The one born from Ayaka’s wish, forged by victory in the Shinjuku Grail War.

“Substitution?” the original Manaka murmured.

Before she could do anything else, the older version struck with a knifehand to the crook of her elbow.

The hit landed. Manaka flinched, and her grip on Ayaka loosened. Without missing a beat, the older Manaka yanked Ayaka back, one hand on her collar, pulling her close to retreat—

But the original was already recovering.

Her hand lashed out again, glowing black, aimed straight for the older version’s face.

“Mash!”

“Right!”

From above, a streak of silver.

Mash Kyrielight descended like a comet, her white shield crashing down toward Manaka.

“It’s useless. Nothing in all of creation—” Manaka started, smiling calmly.

Then her eyes widened.

The moment before impact, something flickered behind them.

And then she vanished.

Boom!

The cathedral floor buckled. Dust and broken stone flew in every direction. The Virgin Mary’s statue cracked down the middle, pieces falling like brittle snow.

Off to the side, Manaka reappeared. Her expression was still calm—but her gaze had sharpened. She stared at the shield, eyes narrowed in calculation.

“That was close…” she murmured. “That shield… what is it?”

She had felt it. For a single moment—she couldn’t erase it.

“The final legacy of the Empire!” Mash shouted, raising her white shield high.

And then—

A sharp rush of air broke the silence.

A figure burst up from beneath the shattered floor, fast as a bullet. A blade crackling with infernal flame punched straight through Manaka’s chest from behind.

Mordred stood behind her, grip tight on the hilt. “And this—this is the sword that ends empires.”

Manaka’s smile didn’t falter. “So there’s more than one little rat.”

She turned just enough to glance at Mordred, then reached for her with one glowing hand.

Mordred jumped back on instinct—fast, but not fast enough. That hand wasn’t aiming anymore. It was following.

Like a curse of causality. Like it had already touched her in a world a few seconds ahead of this one.

And it was closing in.

Then—

The older Manaka came up beside her and placed a hand on Mash’s shoulder.

Light shimmered between them, and suddenly, Mash and Mordred switched places.

The moment the transfer finished, Mash brought her shield down, slamming it toward Manaka’s hand just as it reached the spot Mordred had occupied.

Manaka clicked her tongue and pulled back.

“Even the sword of hell couldn’t kill her?” Mordred muttered, scowling.

“You’re lucky it even made contact,” the older Manaka replied.

Manaka exhaled slowly, still smiling, but the warmth had thinned.

She turned her attention back to her older self.

“How boring.” Her tone was airy, almost dismissive. “You’re actually worried about Ayaka? She’s useless in this war—just like she was in Shinjuku.”

“Useless? No. That’s you.” older Manaka’s eyes narrowed. “You had everything—and you turned up with nothing.”

For a moment, nothing moved.

Then Manaka let out a light laugh. “What an irritating thing to hear from a fake doll.”

She tilted her head again, that same too-sweet smile on her lips. “But fine. Let’s leave it at that.”

Her eyes flicked to Ayaka one last time. “We’ll meet again—in that beautiful world.”

And with that, she vanished.

“She’s gone?” Mordred asked, eyes scanning the room like she half-expected something to slither out of the shadows.

“She’s gone,” the older Manaka said quietly.

Mordred let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Tch… she’s more of a headache than a Beast.”

The older Manaka didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. As the echo of Manaka’s mind, she knew better than anyone what they were dealing with.

And now that Manaka was fully awake—truly awake—she wasn’t just a singular threat. She was the vessel of the so-called Lord of Salvation.

Fighting her was like brushing up against the underside of reality. Like staring too long at the face of something that had never wanted to be seen. No wonder even the strongest couldn’t bring her down.

For a second, she just stood there before blinking, as if pulling herself back to the present. She loosened her arms around Ayaka and stepped away with care.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

Ayaka shook her head. “No… it’s okay. And… thank you. Sis.”

That last word hit like a bell in an empty room.

The older Manaka blinked, as if it took her a moment to believe she’d heard it.

Ayaka couldn’t meet her eyes. Not fully. Not yet. But she also couldn’t lash out at her—not when this Manaka had come into the world because of her.

If she treated her like a monster, just for looking like the one that hurt her… what would that make her?