IBHJ 1347

Kiara finally caught up, breath ragged. “Master—what’s going on!?”

Mordred didn’t look at her. Her eyes were still locked on the fading light above. “It’s a Grand Summoning Ritual.”

Kiara froze. “A… what?”

“My father was tricked,” Mordred muttered, jaw tight. “That bastard lured him into the Gate. And now it’s trying to manifest into reality!”

“No way…” Kiara whispered.

The Grail’s voice cut in. Calm, but grim. “It’s possible. We can’t say for sure yet—countless transcendental entities are observing this moment—but everything the Lord of Salvation has done up to now was likely to prepare for this. By channeling energy through the planet’s leylines and the Council’s interdimensional connection points, it’s initiating a Grand Summoning Ritual. Something vast. Something we’ve never seen before. If you want to stop it, Mordred—this is your only chance.”

Mordred closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deep. Letting go of the anger, the helplessness that had gripped her since Shirou vanished into the Gate. Then she turned to the Grail. “Can you locate the ritual’s key points?”

“This is the core. It can’t be destroyed. But a system of this scale follows a familiar pattern. Seven anchors, spread across the planet. Together, they form the structure of the summoning circle.”

“…The seven anchors?” Mordred’s eyes widened.

And in that moment, the truth snapped into place.

The reason the Council had guarded the connection points so obsessively.

The reason so many connection points had been erased, rewritten, or sealed.

The connection points weren’t just tools of observation or control. They were the foundation of something far greater.

A summoning circle stretching across pan-human history, linking connection points, rooted in the Vortex itself. And when it was completed, it wouldn’t just summon a Beast.

It would end the world.

“The Beast’s goal is the connection points,” Mordred said. “She’s going after them one by one. If she completes the ritual—”

“Apocalypse,” the Grail finished for her.

Mordred clenched her fists. She had to move. Had to warn the others. Had to stop this before it was too late.

…

“I really didn’t expect this… You’re actually here to make peace?” Arcueid blinked in surprise, her gaze fixed on the figure standing before her—the Black Princess, Altrouge Brunestud.

“If it weren’t for those damn UOs…” Altrouge muttered, swallowing her pride. Then she looked Arcueid in the eye. “You may have inherited Crimson Moon, but your other half is with me. Only together can we form a true King of the Moon. That’s the only way to access that place.”

She extended her hand. “Now get over here. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“…Alright,” Arcueid replied without hesitation. Her voice was calm, almost cheerful. She smiled and stepped forward, taking Altrouge’s hand.

The moment their hands met, something ancient stirred. Like puzzle pieces long scattered finally aligning. A resonance echoed through the space, and a gate materialized in front of them.

Altrouge gave her a small tug. Without hesitation, they stepped through.

As they walked, Arcueid glanced over. “Didn’t you and your Dead Apostles settle at the South America Connection Point? Why come back to pan-human history now?”

Altrouge sighed. “I did follow your advice. We made South America our stronghold and stayed out of this mess. But then the UOs started breathing down my neck. Honestly, I didn’t want any part of this. And for the record—holding your hand is disgusting.”

Arcueid giggled. “Still, I’m glad. It’s nice to see you again, sis.” She leaned in and wrapped her arms around Altrouge.

Altrouge squawked in protest and tried to break free, but Arcueid’s grip was too strong. In the end, she was lifted clean off the ground, smushed into a bear hug like someone getting tackled by a prehistoric beast. Her face froze in silent despair.

“…You’re here.” A voice echoed around them.

Arcueid turned. “Who’s there?” she called out, scanning the shimmering expanse. There was no one—until her gaze landed on a soft cluster of lights glowing in the distance.

Her expression grew cautious. “Are you… Venus?”

“I am,” the voice replied. “It’s our first time meeting like this, King of the Moon of the new era.”

Altrouge took the chance to wriggle free, panting heavily and glaring at Arcueid, who didn’t even notice. Her attention was on the voice.

“I thought we were meeting the others. Why are you alone?” she asked.

“We’re all here,” Venus said. “But I’m the only one still capable of maintaining a stable self.”

A pause followed. Then, Venus’s voice softened. “In about a hundred years, even that will be gone.”

“…Your consciousness is fading?” Arcueid asked.

“Yes. Use your star-sense. You’ll see what remains of the others.”

Arcueid closed her eyes. When she opened her perception, the place lit up around them. Remnants of planetary consciousness flickered into view—fragmented personas, each carrying the memory of a celestial body.

“So why are you the only one left who can still speak?” she asked.

Venus answered after a pause. “Billions of years ago, the Golden Universe broke the treaty. They launched a sudden attack and destroyed our Star Brain.”

“But… even then,” she continued, her voice tinged with something bittersweet, “Gaia of that era was incredible. The moment she saw what was coming, she didn’t hesitate. She chose war. But that’s not the real reason you came here, is it? And Arcueid… Altrouge… we need your help.”

Arcueid tilted her head slightly. “Help with what?”

“Not interested,” Altrouge crossed her arms.

Venus didn’t flinch. Her tone grew more serious. “This isn’t just about pan-human history. It affects everyone. We need both of you to help Gaia finalize the node link for the Cosmic Alaya. No one else can do it.”

Arcueid blinked, caught off guard by the seriousness in her words. Altrouge frowned but didn’t immediately scoff this time.

...

“You’ve already made this many in such a short time…” Shirou’s expression tightened as he looked out over the hundreds of shimmering bubbles floating before him.

They weren’t just bubbles. Each one was a complete spiritron world—a private Interstice like the one used for the Star Council’s gatherings. And within every one of them grew a Great Tree of Origin. There was no doubt these had all been created by Tethys during his absence at the Star Council.

“Gaia’s about to move against the Golden Universe. Of course I had to prepare,” Tethys said, her voice matter-of-fact. “That place is terrifying.”

Shirou’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of place is the Golden Universe, if even beings like you are this cautious?”

She paused, then replied slowly. “It’s a material universe. Fundamentally different from ours. We chose the path of information-based life because, no matter how far we advanced as physical beings, we couldn’t stand up to them.”

“You mean… they’re still bound to matter?”

“They are,” she said, nodding. “And they’ve taken it farther than anyone else. Their bodies are tougher than any weapon we’ve ever made. Even high-order information attacks—things that rewrite causality itself—can’t touch them. Their technology works on such a fundamental level, we couldn’t even break it apart. We tried copying it… but that’s when we realized something. If we kept trying to follow their model, we’d always be one step behind—and eventually, we’d be wiped out. That’s why we created Alaya. We turned away from matter and chose information instead.”

She hesitated. “As for their emperor…”

“The Destroyer God. If we had a choice, we’d never face him. He’s the ultimate embodiment of matter—complete, untouchable, unstoppable. Nothing can disrupt his existence. Shirou, I don’t know what kind of being your so-called Lord of Salvation was… but as far as we know, there’s nothing more terrifying than the Golden Emperor.”

Shirou didn’t speak. But his expression hardened. If even Tethys spoke with fear, then this “Golden Universe” wasn’t just powerful—it was something else entirely. A place where even information, divinity, and causality lost meaning. A place ruled by the perfect, inviolable material lifeform.

And the Golden Emperor stood at its peak.