IBHJ 1198

"Agravain..."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty." Agravain looked into his Emperor's eyes one final time, his sword still buried deep in that gentle heart. Then, without hesitation, he turned and knelt before the other Emperor, bowing his head in submission.

"Agravain, how could you?!" The other Apostles shouted, their voices breaking with rage and betrayal.

"Well done, Agravain," said the new Emperor. "You've truly proven yourself worthy of being the Empire's loyal Apostle. Because of your sacrifice, our empire will remain eternal."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he answered carefully. "Where will you keep him imprisoned?"

A cruel smile spread across the new Emperor's lips. "Imprisoned? He wounded me badly and tried to destroy my eternity. Now I've taken his eternity in return. Your blade has already sealed his fate."

Agravain's breath caught in his throat as the full weight of his actions crashed over him. His hands grew cold and started to shake slightly, but his voice stayed steady as he looked directly at his new Emperor. "Then for the sake of the Empire's future... none of the Apostles here can be allowed to live."

"Indeed." The new Emperor agreed quickly and coldly.

Agravain turned to face his former companions, whose eyes now burned with hatred. "Apostles of the Empire, make your choice."

"Agravain—!" They spat his name like poison, but their uncertain glances gave them away. Agravain could see it clearly—they were still caught between staying loyal to their Emperor and doing their duty to the Empire.

Then Lucius stepped forward, breaking the heavy silence.

"Lucius, no!"

"I'm sorry, everyone." His whispered words hung in the air as he drove his blade into their gentle Emperor's chest, right next to Agravain's sword.

And with that, the dam broke. After another moment of hesitation, the remaining Apostles made their choice. One by one, they stepped forward—each sword, each spear finding its target in the heart of the Emperor who had once saved them all. With each strike, they watched another spark of life fade from his eyes.

Agravain would never forget that final gaze. After the initial shock of pain and disbelief, their Emperor's eyes had become strangely peaceful, almost calm, as he watched his beloved Apostles turn their weapons against him.

In the end, the new Emperor ripped out his heart, taking his Holy Spirit power for himself. Without a heart, their gentle Emperor started to crumble like clay, dissolving into mist right before their eyes.

When Bedivere finally returned, there was nothing left to find.

They never talked about what happened that day. Like so many destroyed histories before it, they buried the memory deep—pretending it was just another story that never really happened.

From that point on, their new Emperor—that monster wearing their friend's face—took complete control. He started developing strange technologies and created the Imperial Armor, all to prepare for his invasion of Pan-Human History.

Things got even worse when, not long after, Bedivere saw Demonic Bodhisattva present their Emperor with the Holy Grail and then watched in horror as he devoured a member of the Council.

…

Agravain squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn't escape the memories. No matter how much time passed, he could still see those peaceful, serene eyes of their gentle Emperor in his final moments.

The irony wasn't lost on him. They labeled Bedivere, Garand, and the Hope Alliance as traitors to the Empire, but he and his fellow Apostles carried a much deeper shame: they had betrayed their Emperor. Maybe that explained why they reacted so strongly to Bedivere's defection—why everyone from Lucius and Morgan to the normally distant Aife had responded with such intense anger. And after Ector fell, the Hope Alliance fell apart and the members finally accepted reality and chose the Empire.

But there was one exception.

Garand, that clever unpredictable rebel, had kept his faith until the very end, staying loyal to their true Emperor even in death.

Agravain knew Garand had never found out about that fateful day, yet somehow he'd sensed the truth through pure instinct. Maybe they'd been wrong all along—perhaps the most loyal among them had actually been Garand, the very person they'd dismissed as crafty and unreliable.

‘Between Empire and Emperor, I chose the Empire, while Garand chose the Emperor,’ Agravain thought to himself. ‘But what about you, Bedivere? If you'd been there that day, where would your loyalty have gone?’

The question kept bothering him. Bedivere, once empty and numb, had really come alive under their Emperor's care. After joining the Apostles, his bright smile and gentle personality had earned him the nickname "The Empire's Sun." Their Emperor had saved his life, sure—but it was the Empire that had given him purpose, meaning, and glory.

So what would Bedivere have chosen, faced with that impossible decision?

Agravain sighed. It didn't matter anymore. Some questions were better left unanswered, buried along with all their other regrets.

Their true Emperor was gone, replaced by this absolute ruler who controlled the Empire with an iron grip. With Hope destroyed, there was only one job left to do: eliminate Bedivere, which would finally silence anyone who dared question their path.

After that, everything would fall into place. Once they wiped out the last of Pan-Human History's Heroic Spirits and defeated their enemies across the continent, the Empire would rise again. But this time, its glory wouldn't be limited to just their world—it would spread across the entire universe!

Agravain stared at his reflection, watching his eyes grow cold and determined as he strengthened his resolve.

"The Empire will always be eternal!"

…

"To think the Emperor visited Pan-Human History in 2003..." Shirou's eyebrows shot up. Seeing Bedivere's confused look, he asked, "You didn't know about this?"

"No," Bedivere shook his head gently. "I haven't seen His Majesty in a very long time."

Shirou nodded thoughtfully. It made sense. Both Bedivere and Garand were convinced that the current ruler of the Eternal Empire wasn't actually their Emperor, but some impostor who had stolen his throne. That belief had led to the creation of the Hope underground alliance.

But their logic had a serious flaw. Nothing in this world stays frozen in time - everything changes, evolves, and transforms. Humans were living proof of that, and even gods weren't immune to change. When you really think about it, even the tiniest particles in the universe are constantly moving. So wasn't it more realistic that their Emperor's personality had simply changed over time, shaped by the years and his experiences?

History was full of these transformations - saints who fell from grace, villains who found redemption. Change, for better or worse, was just part of the human story.

Only the Lord of Salvation living in the Root, and those who'd reached true enlightenment could see the absolute truth of right and wrong. For everyone else, those lines remained blurry. Even after judgment was passed, what seemed right in one time period could become wrong in another as society evolved and viewpoints changed.

Shirou understood this deeply. The world wasn't just black and white—it was countless shades of gray, where willpower clashed with faith, where personal dreams got tangled up with grand ideals. Sometimes these forces collided, sometimes they contradicted each other, and sometimes they merged into something completely new.

In this complicated web of gray, you'd find all sorts of people: kindred spirits who shared your vision, bitter enemies who opposed everything you stood for, and people who just rubbed you the wrong way from the moment you met them.

In a world like this, pursuing your ideals meant drawing others into your path—allies who believed in what you believed, enemies who tried to stop you, and bystanders who either watched with cruel amusement or carefully stayed out of it.

The path to achieving those ideals often meant defeating your opposition, sometimes even having to strike down people you once cared about. You needed weapons—not just swords, but tools of every kind. A sharp mind was essential. Gentleness could attract those who'd only known harshness. Moral principles could draw in people driven by ethics. Raw power and fear could force weaker spirits to follow you.

This was the harsh reality behind every great achievement. The winners wrote the laws of justice.

Strip away all the fancy words and noble ideals, and you'd find the world's true nature: an endless competition where only the strongest survived.

That's why Shirou couldn't bring himself to care whether this Emperor was real or an impostor. None of it mattered anymore. The Empire and Pan-Human History had already crossed the point of no return—they were enemies now, locked in a fight where only one side could come out on top.