FATE: As Illya, I was summoned by Kotomine Kirei?!

Chapter 43: Fight! Fight! Fight! The first battle must be the last battle!

"Go! Caster! Hold my spear tightly! Lead us to victory!"

That was Diarmuid, whose forehead and torso had been injured by the torrent of Noble Phantasms, his muscles and head bleeding. He threw the dangerous spear given to him by his foster father Druid Aengus Óg through the bridge that the swordswoman had opened for him and Miss Illyasviel, lending his own Noble Phantasm in this Holy Grail War destined to leave only one victor.

'You were never a weak Viper, Caster, you just lacked a decent weapon.'

'You ignited the fire of hope and brought the possibility of victory. Just as you believed that we could make Archer reveal his flaws and were willing to keep your promise by returning to the battlefield, I believed in you, entrusting my survival and honor to your glory.'

'So, go ahead and win. Take my spear and trust me with your back.'

'I also entrust my survival and back to you.'

'Lead us... to a beautiful victory over the golden tyrant!'

"Of course, Mr. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne."

She felt a cool touch in her hand. It was a spear Noble Phantasm, about 1.4 meters long, named the The Golden Rose of Mortality.

A dangerous weapon cursed with "Cannot Heal Wounds." Damage inflicted by this Noble Phantasm causes irreversible trauma; neither "healing magecraft" nor "regeneration abilities" can remove the "injured state" it causes.

This permanently activated Noble Phantasm exerts its effects without chanting its true name. Previously, talismans had concealed its ability and true form.

But these effects were secondary. Its true importance lay in being a B+ ranked Noble Phantasm, several levels superior to the black blade Miss Illyasviel wielded!

What had Miss Illyasviel lacked most? A life-saving mechanism? Enough numbers to briefly fight the three knights after activating the Heart of the Lesser Holy Grail?

No! What she lacked was merely a weapon—one worthy of matching her A+ agility, trading blows with enemies and inflicting fatal damage. Now, with this weapon in hand, the flame for victory began to burn brightly!

Clang! Clang! Clang! Boom!

Magical flames from the torrent of Noble Phantasms scattered, engulfing the silver-haired fairy who caught the yellow spear.

The Golden King, already missing an arm, gained a brief respite. But his enemies, undeterred, attacked with relentless ferocity, preventing him from retrieving a potion to heal his injuries.

They're mad, all of them—these Heroic Spirits, these defiant mongrels.

But this was fitting—this was a war of heroes, a true Holy Grail War worthy of epic retelling.

"Lend her your weapons? Hahaha! Mongrels huddling for warmth, thinking you can wield such ancient Noble Phantasms! You, a venomous snake driven by resentment and malice!"

Ridiculous—using borrowed weapons on the battlefield.

If the silver-haired girl were a true hero, it might make sense, but she was merely a cunning serpent, already struggling against him.

Switching to dual-wielding black blades mid-battle would be folly.

"Well, I didn't think I could either, but it seems I can use a spear just fine."

A single spear pierced the explosion's smoke, mana sweeping away the dust.

Standing five or six meters away, the Golden King gripped an axe and laughed mockingly. The silver-haired girl, undeterred, maintained vigilance, guarding against his sudden assault.

Half of the hooded girl's face was burned and ulcerated by heat. One hand held a dagger behind her back, the other grasped the yellow spear aimed squarely at the Golden King.

Explosions roared around them, fading into mere backdrop for their standoff.

"King of Heroes, won't you recover? Surely your treasury holds potions and other treasures?"

"Venomous Snake, I only have one functioning arm. Should I attempt to retrieve a treasure, you'll pierce me. Your agility rivals A+, perhaps higher. My pride is not matched by stupidity."

From the moment one arm was severed, Gilgamesh was disadvantaged.

Some Noble Phantasms required free hands to wield. With both hands, he could defend with the axe while retrieving treasures. But now, attempting to "take out a treasure" would expose him to attack.

The silver-haired girl remained just meters away—baiting him. To fall for such a ploy out of rage would be foolish.

Both sides stood on guard, each ready to end the fight.

The girl had the agility to kill him within five meters.

"Heh~" The hooded girl, half her face exposed, smirked. Gilgamesh, axe in hand, pointed it defiantly at the venomous snake before him.

Boom!

The next instant, the girl lunged! Cement fragments blasted away underfoot, and her spear pierced the air, closing the distance in a blink. Gilgamesh swung his axe, intercepting the short spear, stirring mana vibrations as it struck the ground.

Moments later, a spear, cloaked in mana, struck from another direction. The blade cut toward the Golden King's neck but sparked against the raised axe handle—blocking the attack with precise martial prowess.

"Is this the hero's weapon you boasted of...?"

Before Gilgamesh could finish mocking, the yellow Noble Phantasm, seemingly discarded, flew back into Illyasviel's hand.

Miss Illyasviel lifted the spear with her nimble toes and took the spear from the ground back into her hand.

The spear burst forth with the light of death, piercing straight into the broken arm of the Golden King, trying to bypass the golden armor's defenses and strike a lethal blow. Miss Illyasviel's proficiency in wielding the spear was no bluff; she genuinely knew its use. Though lacking the grandeur and aura of a heroic figure like Diarmuid, her martial arts skills were still formidable.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

 The continuous collisions sparked bursts of mana against the golden armor and the golden battle axe. The clever combination of the spear and black twin blades seemed perfectly in sync.

Even without fierce spear thrusts, the battle demonstrated the adage: a shorter reach increases the danger!

With each clash, the disparity in strength became clearer, causing the silver-haired fairy's hand bones to fracture from the impact.

She was wounded. Her martial prowess, though remarkable, fell short of the Golden King's overwhelming might. Iskandar's thunder altered the sky, bombarding the battleground. Diarmuid unleashed his spear, and King Gilgamesh was left with scars from the ambush. Countless twists of fate accumulated here.

Yet she still couldn't completely defeat the Golden King. It was as if the gods were mocking her.

She was no hero—how could she challenge true legends?

A sickening crack echoed as her fingers dislocated one by one.

Dazed, her senses overwhelmed, and distant voices or the eerie whispers of the world's malevolence invaded her mind.

"You stand against happiness. If there were a world where Illyasviel could be happy, where everyone had a happy ending...

In that world, there would be no Illyasviel."

"Be miserable," the whispers mocked, "This is your fate, and the fate of the girl called Illyasviel."

"But why?"

Why must she suffer? Why was happiness always beyond her reach, why had true warmth eluded her?

She refused to accept it. She was as relentless as a madwoman in her pursuit of survival and happiness.

If fate decreed her misery, then she would shatter this vile destiny.

Illyasviel would be happy—even if the world itself became unhappy, she would seize a life of joy!

Anyone who stood in her way, anyone who denied her happiness, deserved death!

Destroy every force that caused her suffering. Like heroes who pursued ideals in the Holy Grail War, she would forge her own path, overthrow misfortune, and seize happiness. If the world opposed her, then she would become the only one left standing!

Kill, kill, kill! No hesitation!

Heroes had their ideals, but her resolve was no weaker. Even if she stood alone in the end...

She still sought that radiant happiness she'd pursued for a lifetime!

Most of her pupils darkened as pain ravaged her body, yet her mind sharpened with clarity. Her movements became faster, her skills inching above even King Gilgamesh's.

Clang! Clang! Clang! 

Gilgamesh's eyes burned with fury, feeling as though he fought a living shadow. Were it not for his golden armor deflecting many of the attacks, his body would have mirrored his opponent's: riddled with wounds.

"Hoo! Ohh...Fight, fight, fight!"

In this chaotic battlefield where the killing had already commenced, everyone except the Berserker resembled more of a Berserker themselves.

The true Berserker, who had seemed defeated, now rose with a roar from beneath the Mountain-Slaying Sword. Gripping the heavy divine weapon with both hands, he let out a wild war cry.

Fueled by his frenzy and empowered by the Command Spell, his terrifying strength lifted the Ig-Alima as heavy as a mountain itself.

"Get out of the way, Caster!"

The swordswoman, whose mana had begun to deplete and whose head was oozing blood, shouted loudly.

The next moment, above the battlefield where the two servants clashed, a massive shadow appeared on the horizon, blocking the falling bombardment like a colossal umbrella. It descended in a slanted crescent slash aimed at Illyasviel and the Golden King. This mighty stroke, delivered with unparalleled force, was a testament to the Berserker's feral determination, intimidating even the heroes present.

The beast's deafening roar echoed like an enraged Asura, briefly drowning out the continuous sounds of battle. The silver-haired girl did not flinch or dodge.

Instead, she bit down harder on the Golden King, who had attempted to leap free, further enraging him.

"Venomous snake! Are you insane? Do you want to die? Get out of my sight!"

The King brought down his axe with full force, attempting to drive away the relentless serpent.

Clang!

 Yet Illyasviel did not evade. With a calculated side strike, she absorbed and redirected the force, causing the battle axe to embed itself firmly in her shoulder.

Tear! The golden axe ripped through flesh and bone alike, lodging deep into her body.

"Brother, do you wish to kill me? I'm not afraid. Why should you be?"

Her bloodied hand gripped King Gilgamesh's arm, exerting all her strength to keep him restrained, even for just a second or two.

It was enough for the Ig-Alima devastating strike.

King Gilgamesh's eyes widened; he hadn't anticipated that this cautious serpent would risk everything to drag him down with her.

"You damned mongrel snake!"

Boom! Boom! Boom!!!

The shadow crashing to the ground detonated with a thunderous impact. Sharp pain radiated from King Gilgamesh's shattered arm and broken golden armor, forcing blood from his lips.

The sheer power of the Ig-Alima combined with the Black Knight's formidable stats shattered the defenses of his golden armor, launching him like a cannonball across the battlefield. In contrast, Illyasviel stood firm beside the Ig-Alima, less affected.

Still, without the protection of golden armor, his chopped arm twisted grotesquely, with bone piercing through exposed flesh.

"Damn beast...!" King Gilgamesh spat out another mouthful of blood, crashing into the industrial zone wall a hundred meters away. The collision impact, akin to a high-speed train crash, was nearly enough to rob him of consciousness. Only his will as a king kept him from succumbing.

That accursed Black Knight had dared to wield his own Noble Phantasm against him!

How was it possible for the Black Knight to rise after such a direct blow from the Ig-Alima and then retaliate with such devastating strength?

Their abilities were too bizarre, their numbers overwhelming.

If he had activated the Sha Naqba Imuru, he would naturally not be afraid, but unfortunately his pride did not allow him to be so serious about the bastard heroes under the gods

"Very good! Very good! You bastards!" King Gilgamesh's voice surged with renewed fury as golden waves erupted around him—not for pride alone, but necessity in front of Tohsaka Tokiomi, a minister he acknowledged.

As a king, failure was unacceptable.

"You dare defy me? Tonight, I grant you a glorious death."

From the golden waves emerged a strange cylindrical long sword: Ea, the weapon of the great god Enki from Babylonian mythology, wielding the destructive might of the world's creation itself.

King Gilgamesh, despite his injured arm, extended trembling fingers toward his weapon.

Puff!

But the moment he discarded his golden axe, defeat became inevitable.

"Aaaaaaaah!"

His shattered wrist bled profusely as the yellow spear pierced through!

The curse was activated, agony overwhelming even his ability to grasp the sword hilt.

A silver-haired girl rushed to him, wielding a spear in one hand—a venomous snake coated in filth and corrupted mana turned tangible mud!

Her blackened eyes gleamed madly, echoing the Berserker's ferocity.

"Caster!"

Their clash shattered walls and factory buildings alike, drawing every gaze to the chaotic dock bay.

Diarmuid, clutching only his crimson spear, roared in defiance despite his pain.

"Victory must be ours! All our lives depend on this!"

"Caster! You must prevail!" Weber Velvet trembled as he shouted, fists clenched tightly.

"Hahahaha! That's it! Conquer him and conquer the world by my side!" King Iskandar laughed even through his wounds, his gaze fixed on the silver light piercing the sky.

"Show the glory of a magi from the Age of Gods!"

Even Kenneth, far from the battlefield at his Fuyuki hotel, clenched his fists despite his outward composure.

Failure was unacceptable. Victory was imperative.

"You must win—no matter what!"

"Ilya..."

Irisviel, evacuated by Maiya, felt a sudden sharp pang in her heart. Eyes red, she stared longingly into the distance.

"Illyasviel, you must prevail! The Holy Grail War ends here!"

"I hope it will be a fair fight between you and me!"

The swordswoman gritted her teeth, speaking to herself as she observed the stream of light racing toward the edge of the pier. The misunderstanding between Iri and the other party had yet to be resolved.

She hadn't even fulfilled the agreement with her allies—how could they retreat now?

"You saved me, Iri, and Emiya Kiritsugu. I believe the previous assassination attempt was just a mistake. We can still talk after achieving victory."

'So, don't falter, don't fall here!'

"Ahhhhh! Viper! You poisonous snake! I will kill you a thousand times—ten thousand times!"

King Gilgamesh, with one arm severed and the other pierced by a yellow spear, bleeding profusely, roared in rage. In the next moment, countless gates to his treasury opened in the sky, each brimming with Noble Phantasms aimed at him and Illyasviel!

Miss Illyasviel had prepared herself for a sacrificial battle, but as the oldest Heroic King, did he not also bear such resolve?

"This king demands your death!"

Nearly a hundred A-ranked Noble Phantasms hovered, ready to rain down like a meteor storm.

Previously, he had refrained—his enemy was too close, and even Gilgamesh would suffer from the resulting bombardment.

But now he couldn't think so much, because he was blinded by anger and just wanted the other person to die.

Puff!

"So you're just playing."

'Others risk their lives, but you treat this as mere entertainment?'

The pressure in his chest lifted as the yellow spear pierced the Golden King's throat, silencing his anger.

He was blasted toward the coast by the magical force wrapped in black mud, his eyeballs swollen and bloodshot. The heavens responded with divine wrath, a golden tsunami surging toward her broken form.

'Die!'

'Die!'

'Die for me!'

"...It hurts so much." With blurred vision, Miss Illyasviel watched the descent of the golden wave. Summoning her last reserves, she clutched the Yellow Spear tightly.

In a final surge of strength, she hurled a yellow beam that shattered the sound barrier!

King Gilgamesh's eyes widened—his pupils fixating on the spear of death growing larger and nearer, swift as lightning!

"Who on Earth are you....!"

The King of Heroes never completed his furious question.

 The head of the Golden King was pierced directly by the Demonic Spear of Death!