Aozaki Aoko Case File

Credits: Khenom

The sound of clashing blades echoed through the night as Artoria clashed furiously with one of her former Knights of the Round Table—Lancelot, the Knight of the Lake.

Artoria had already dismounted her steed, gripping her sword with both hands as she struck blow after blow at her opponent, each swing of the holy sword unleashing a tempestuous gale.

Her adversary, Berserker Lancelot, though still ferocious in his demeanor, was undoubtedly battered and broken in appearance.

The once beautiful, intricately crafted armor was now shattered, his body covered in horrifying wounds. Blood gushed from the simulated flesh of his servant vessel, and one of his arms hung limply at his side, rendered completely immobile.

His full-faced helmet was gone, revealing the countenance of the perfect knight who had once been handsome enough to steal away Queen Guinevere. Yet now, his face was twisted into a ghastly expression, his eyes glowing red with madness, and his mouth filled with jagged, shark-like teeth.

"How disgraceful, Lancelot," Artoria said calmly as she parried his attacks, her voice laced with scorn. "You once swore your loyalty to your king, and now you show me such an ugly form. Why?"

But the Berserker's immense madness had robbed him of reason. Bound by the highest degree of Mad Enhancement, Lancelot couldn't comprehend Artoria's words, let alone respond to them. All that remained in his heart was regret and rage, driving him to attack and kill with unrelenting ferocity.

Even though the power provided by the Demon Pillar Barbatos flowed endlessly into him, the difference in power output between Lancelot and Artoria was stark.

In terms of regeneration and magical output per unit of time, they were simply not on the same level. Artoria's storm-like onslaught overwhelmed Lancelot's recovery rate, granting her an absolute advantage.

The power of the Red Dragon of Britain, amplified by the blessings of Magician and Grand-ranked Magus, shone through in her every move. Even the smallest gestures were elevated to a peak far beyond what a mere servant could normally achieve.

Despite the intensity of the battle, Artoria's mind was calm. Her powerful intuition allowed her to seize a fleeting opening, and with one decisive strike, she severed Lancelot's sword arm. Both Arondight and his arm flew high into the air, landing far away.

Artoria showed no mercy, following up with a swift, powerful kick to Lancelot's chest. The unyielding knight was sent flying, carving a deep trench into the ground as he landed.

The King of Knights crouched slightly, then leaped into the air, tracing a graceful arc before landing heavily upon the ground. The impact utterly crushed Lancelot's legs, and even his spiritual core could not withstand the damage, shattering under the tremendous force.

The contract and binding curse between Barbatos and Lancelot dissolved as his spiritual core disintegrated. The once-mindless Berserker's eyes cleared, and reason returned to them at last.

"To... die by my king's sword... is... an honor..." The broken knight lay on the ground, his voice faltering as he spoke his final words. His gaze, filled with guilt and relief, fell upon the cold and dignified figure of Artoria before him.

"These words are meaningless, Lancelot," Artoria said, gripping her holy sword in one hand and pointing it at the fallen knight. "If you truly regretted your actions, you wouldn't have committed them in the first place."

"I understand... my king... I... am but an unworthy sinner..." Lancelot replied painfully, golden particles of light beginning to emanate from his body—a sign that his spirit was returning to the Throne of Heroes. "Please... grant a sinner... the punishment... he deserves..."

Artoria did not reply. Instead, she shifted her grip, holding the holy sword with both hands. She raised Excalibur high, gazing coldly at the broken knight lying before her, and delivered the harshest judgment of a king.

"Lancelot, the sinner! You betrayed your king, defiled the queen, and killed your comrades. Your sins are unforgivable! Today, I shall grant you death!"

Golden light radiated from the holy sword, blazing with an intensity that was both dazzling and warm. Yet the voice of the one holding it was cold and authoritative.

"What I grant you is yours. What I do not grant, you shall not take."

As the sword descended, a torrent of golden light surged forth like a merciless flood, obliterating everything in its path. The remnants of the Knight of the Lake, along with the trees and rocks in the area, were reduced to dust, leaving behind a deep scar upon the earth.

Artoria exhaled softly, casting one final glance at the site of Lancelot's demise before summoning her steed, Dun Stallion. Mounting her horse, she departed without looking back, heading toward the battlefield where Aoko Aozaki and Makiri Zolgen were locked in combat.

...

"Ah!"

Inside Einzbern Castle, Irisviel suddenly let out a cry of pain, clutching her abdomen and doubling over. Beside her, Kiritsugu Emiya immediately dropped what he was doing and supported her worriedly.

"What's wrong, Iri? Did something happen?" Kiritsugu asked anxiously.

"A Servant... has been killed..." Irisviel said weakly. "Just now, their soul was absorbed into the Lesser Grail..."

"Was it Berserker?" Kiritsugu frowned.

"Iri, you should rest," Kiritsugu said with concern. "The pressure from absorbing a Servant's soul is too much for you. You need time to recover."

"I'm fine, Kiritsugu," Irisviel replied with a gentle smile. "One Servant's soul isn't too much. My condition hasn't worsened significantly."

"But..." Kiritsugu hesitated, his expression filled with pain and worry.

"Everything we're doing is for Illya, Kiri," Irisviel said softly, her voice full of love. "Whether it's Miss Aozaki or you who wins this Holy Grail War, Illya will no longer have to endure my fate, isn't that right?"

"Yes," Kiritsugu replied quietly.

Hearing her husband's answer, Irisviel, though still enduring physical pain, felt a sense of peace in her heart. She trusted in her husband's love for her and their daughter and believed that they would succeed in fulfilling the Einzbern family's long-held wish.

What Irisviel didn't know, however, was that deep in Kiritsugu's heart, if he were forced to weigh her and Illya's lives against his dream of saving the world, he would abandon them without hesitation.

Kiritsugu was a man who had severed his emotions from his ultimate goal. If, amid his tragic life, he had ever sought the counsel of a psychologist, they would undoubtedly diagnose him with severe obsessive-compulsive personality disorder or even split-path psychopathy.

But, tragically, Kiritsugu was oblivious to this truth about himself.