IBHJ 1152

—[Broken Phantasm]!

The Gae Bolg that she had blocked exploded, blasting her away.

Though the surprise attack landed, Shirou felt no satisfaction. Against Dead Apostles with their eternity, moves like this were pointless. As if to prove his point, she emerged from the billowing smoke without a scratch, landing with a butterfly's grace.

The moment her feet touched ground, Merlin struck. Having quietly gathered magical energy, he unleashed a devastating holy sword beam from behind—a completely dirty move. Brilliant white light engulfed her body.

As a magus from the Age of Gods, Merlin commanded a terrifying amount of True Ether. His full-power holy sword beam rivaled even Goetia's Noble Phantasm in raw power.

"Boom boom boom—"

The white beam tore through everything in its path, shattering ice sheets and splitting seawater.

Yet faced with Merlin's sudden attack, she showed no fear; only mocking amusement played across her face. Divine light blazed in her eyes, and the Gae Bolg in her hand blazed with crimson flame as she brought the spear down in a savage arc.

In that moment, ghosts wailed and wolves howled across the land. Like the defiant roar of a Fomorian god trapped for endless ages, everything vanished, leaving only a crimson glow in the vast snowy field. In a single breath, Aife cleaved through Merlin's holy beam, making it dissolve into nothingness as if swallowed by darkness.

Aife then turned to Shirou, disappointment flickering in her eyes. "So that's it. You're just another magus who happened to learn Fomorian spear techniques."

She was disappointed. She had hoped to find a kindred spirit, a pure warrior devoted to Fomorian combat arts, not some magus dabbling in them.

"I never claimed to be a warrior," Shirou replied evenly.

Aife's power went beyond anything Shirou had imagined. While she might not match the strongest Norse God in raw strength, their brief clash had shown him that her combat skill and technique were on another level entirely.

"What I crave is the rush of battle—a worthy opponent who holds nothing back. When I heard there was another master of Fomorian spear arts like myself, I came here full of hope. But now I see how foolish that was. Even if I wait for another million years, I doubt I will ever be able to find anyone who can give me a good fight." The weight of disappointment was heavy in Aife's voice.

Although the Emperor's word was absolute, she hadn't come here on Agravain's orders. Morgan had told her about Shirou's mastery of Fomorian spear arts, and that was enough. She hungered for, searched for... a true equal in combat. Because being alone at the summit was a crushing solitude.

Only a powerful warrior of pure skill could make her smile in battle again, bring life back to a world that had grown stale and colorless.

Just like Scathach once had...

"Time to end this!"

Her eyes blazed with crimson streaks as she fixed her gaze on Shirou and Merlin, dark mist pouring from her body.

Twisted ghost faces writhed in the darkness as lightning crackled around her, transforming her into something like a demon god from the abyss.

Crack crack crack—

The ice plains splintered beneath them as the very air turned solid.

Merlin's expression changed. "Divinity!"

Shirou's eyes narrowed. The power surrounding Aife was indeed divine. But this wasn't like any divinity he knew and definitely not something she was born with, or granted by the Throne of Heroes. No, this was divinity taken by force, through the killing of gods. Deicide!

Fomorian Divinity!

In Pan-Human History, the Celtic gods had locked the Fomorians in the abyss, and the Land of Shadows was the fortress guarding that accursed place. When Fomorians tried to flee the abyss, Scathach slew them, earning her the powerful [God Slayer] skill. But in the Eternal Empire, Aife killed the Fomorian gods and obtained [Fomorian Divinity] instead.

Unlike normal divinity, this power was closer to something demonic—a dark force carrying the very essence of the abyss!

Just as Aife unleashed her Fomorian Divinity and prepared to strike at Shirou and Merlin, her face suddenly froze.

"Pull back now? You can't be serious! ... Tch! Agravain, you're throwing your weight around as usual!"

She shot one last frustrated look at Shirou as her body began to fade, vanishing from Tír na nÓg.

"She's gone?" Merlin stared in surprise at the empty space where she had been.

Aife's strength was very high, and she was about to go all out with that Fomorian Divinity. Why would she just leave like that?

"You think it's a trap?" Merlin's brow furrowed with suspicion.

"I doubt it. She's not the type for mind games," Shirou said, shaking his head.

You could tell a lot about someone from how they fought. That woman was a pure warrior, just like the Scathach he knew from Pan-Human History. He was sure of that much.

"Abigail and Goetia still haven't shown up to back us up. That Apostle Lucius must be more trouble than we thought. We should head back—something's felt off for a while now." Shirou turned toward the center of Tír na nÓg, where Ambrosius's temple stood, his expression serious.

He'd been getting a bad feeling in his gut. Something must have happened to Mordred—he was sure of it.

"Let's go," Merlin nodded.

Shirou took out the Vimana and brought Merlin along as they headed for Ambrosius's temple.

The golden vessel might not be as fast as Abigail's instant teleportation, but it still blazed through the sky at incredible speeds. Within minutes, they arrived in a flash of golden light.

Shirou jumped down from the ship onto the soft grass. What he saw made him freeze in place.

Bedivere was digging a grave, his movements heavy with grief as he gently laid Ector's body into the earth. Nearby, Xuanzang's voice drifted through the air, chanting sutras to guide the deceased.

"What's going on...?"

Shirou and Merlin exchanged baffled looks. None of this made sense. The immortal Ector should've been pinned down by Shirou's swords, and under Mordred's watch. Instead, here was Bedivere burying him while Xuanzang chanted funeral rites.

Something wasn't adding up.

"Mordred killed Ector."

The quiet voice beside his ear made Shirou turn. There stood Kama, her silver hair gleaming, holding an unconscious Morgan wrapped in black mud.

Avoiding looking at Morgan, Shirou kept his eyes on Kama. "Mordred... killed Ector?"

Kama nodded, her eyes lingering on Bedivere as he continued the burial. "It turns out Apostles can be killed after all... Even when Beast's power, immortal-slaying Noble Phantasm, the planet's laws, and death itself couldn't touch him—Mordred's blade somehow did."

After a moment of heavy silence, Shirou asked, "Where is Mordred now?"

"Holed up inside the temple," Kama said, gesturing toward it. "All alone."

Shirou's gaze drifted to Ambrosius's temple. He could only imagine the turmoil raging in that child's mind right now.

"A desperate wish became the shadow that erased a life," Merlin said softly. "The same sword that brought down a kingdom has now shattered eternity itself..."

And it was cruel. But that was the truth of it. Dreams are born from struggle, nurtured by pain, shaped by both wonder and despair—until they finally bloom into wishes.

And in the end, hope brings destruction once again.

Mordred's mind was already in shambles—first from the empire born of her beautiful dream, then from their invasion of Pan-Human History, built upon the ruins of her tragic life. Now she faced the cruelest truth of all.

If the Eternal Empire bloomed from her despair, her admiration, her desperate chase of a beautiful vision...

Then it made perfect sense that only her blade could cut down those grand hopes.

What did it all mean?

Nothing—it was just the messy but inevitable result of everyone's clashing desires.

The Lord of Salvation, Gaia, Manaka, Beast of Revelation, Tethys, the Holy Grail, the Eternal Kingdom, Shirou, Mordred, Crimson Moon, Merlin, Artoria... This wasn't fate. It was chaos, born from countless dreams crashing into each other.

In this tangled web of desires, no one could break free. They could only ride the chaos to its bitter end. And along the way, many had already fallen—Tethys, Crimson Moon, and now another.

So what would happen now?

Shirou had no answers, only a crushing sense of helplessness.

But he knew one thing—this wasn't some natural disaster. They had brought this on themselves.

And now Mordred had to confront the very thing she'd been running from, the question that haunted her nightmares:

After destroying her kingdom, cutting down her friends and family, leading countless people to their deaths—could she ever raise her sword again? To kill her friends and family for the second time?

Life had never been crueler.