Fate: How About a New Savior?

Everyone was gasping for breath.

Their Mana had been drained so heavily that it left them struggling to breathe.

Shiomi was. Morgan was. And even the King of Magecraft.

The fifth and sixth Reality Marbles had been torn apart in succession by Shiomi and Morgan.

Though it took the King of Magecraft only an instant to weave those layered constructs, maintaining them still consumed his Mana.

And because both sides wielded top-tier magical power, any lapse in focus could mean defeat. None of them dared hold back just to conserve energy.

"One after another... How many more are there?"

Shiomi muttered as he launched a tornado spell at Solomon—only to see it neutralized once again by opposing Magecraft.

As his breathing gradually steadied, Caster raised his head, a faint smile on his lips.

"No. Just one more. I didn't expect things to go this far," Caster said. "Under normal circumstances, most Servants would be spent by the third one at most."

"Your eyes, which see through past and future—can't they see how this fight ends?" Shiomi let out a dry chuckle.

Caster gave a slight shake of his head. "The era I lived in has long since passed. This is a time for those who live in the present. Only they can witness what comes next."

In other words, he hadn't tried to glimpse the outcome.

"Even if he did, he probably wouldn't lift a finger," Morgan said, scanning the surroundings.

The remnants of the sixth Reality Marble hadn't completely faded, and the scene beyond Fuyuki Church was still obscured.

Just as the King of Magecraft had said—only one remained.

Or perhaps "the last one" was another deception?

Caster gave no response to Morgan's suspicion. He simply raised his index finger, adorned with a golden ring, and pointed it at the two figures whose resolve and momentum remained unshaken.

The sound of a single drop of water falling.

It landed in a vast, dark void—and met with flickering, scorching flames.

Clouds rose. Rain fell. Mountains emerged. Oceans were born.

And upon the scorched seabed and crumbling stone, the first flower bloomed.

In that emptiness, life began to propagate.

And then came the human heart.

Streams ran red with blood. Arrows pierced blooming flowers. Iron hooves crushed the soil that bore sustenance. Flesh returned to earth, becoming food once more.

Morgan pressed a hand to her forehead.

It wasn't that the King of Magecraft's spell was particularly powerful—it was what she saw within it.

The wars of two thousand years past. The flames that had scorched every inch of the isle.

She had thought them long gone. But now, they were here again, right before her eyes.

"Morgan?" Shiomi turned back, concerned.

"No. It's nothing," Morgan replied, lowering her hand. "Just focus on the enemy."

What had passed for her was a choice yet to be made for him.

It was a distant future no one could yet see.

Before them, only endless steel and blades surged forth—an unstoppable tide of iron sweeping toward them.

War.

The ultimate battlefield.

A presence etched into human history, never fully erased across millennia.

Because behind it lies the boundless and insatiable human heart.

The seventh Reality Marble—Primordial War.

Shiomi felt as though he had returned to that moment ten years ago, standing before Enuma Elish for the first time.

That fear—deep in the marrow, as if carved into the genes of mankind.

But this time, what he faced wasn't a weapon.

It was the concept of war itself, in its most absolute form.

That the King of Magecraft—so calm, so mild—would wield such a Reality Marble... Shiomi couldn't help but marvel.

During Solomon's long reign, he must have borne witness to such wars.

And yet, even now, Shiomi didn't believe they would lose.

He wouldn't let this endless army crush him and Morgan.

"Sorry, but I'm going to steal the spotlight," Shiomi said as he twirled the magic spear in his hand. "Let me handle this."

"If my husband has made up his mind, how could I possibly object?" Morgan wiped the sweat from her cheek and brushed her hand gently through the air.

Shiomi pointed his crimson spear toward the sky. His roar tore through the clouds, filled with raw battle spirit and speed so intense it seemed to pierce the heavens, reverberating endlessly.

He was giving it everything—fighting with all his strength, pouring his full spirit into the clash.

The King of Magecraft hadn't disappointed him. So, he wouldn't disappoint the King either.

Eighteen Primordial Runes appeared one after another, shifting and intertwining until they formed a single, unified incantation.

War brings death—but it is the doing of the living.

So then, eliminate the very notion of life.

"All things live and perish," Shiomi murmured.

The instant before the wave of armored blades crashed down upon him, the crimson spear struck downward, tracing a blinding arc of light.

From that gash, the concept of death spilled forth—flooding outward, consuming the incoming tide of iron and steel.

The vague, mist-shrouded figures of the enemy—clad in indistinct armor and bearing ghostly weapons—began to crumble, as if weathered by ages untold. They eroded slowly, fragmenting, and drifted apart into dust.

All of it—along with the war-soaked, conquest-stained world itself—vanished at Solomon's feet.

Even the King of Magecraft was forced to raise a protective spell to ward off the deathly aura, its intensity reminiscent of Helheim.

The seventh Reality Marble—annihilated.

The darkness faded.

Once more, the quiet slope outside Fuyuki Church returned to view.

Both Shiomi and Morgan showed signs of weariness.

To shatter seven Reality Marbles in a row—for any Magus of this era, that was akin to destroying seven entire worlds.

The battle had pushed them both to the limit.

But it had also worn down Caster. He no longer carried the relaxed composure he had when they first met.

The fight was far from over.

The King of Magecraft slowly straightened, the light in his eyes burning like a spark resisting wind and snow—small, but unwavering.

"Looks like this won't end until one side is completely crushed," Morgan said, stepping forward to stand beside Shiomi, eyes fixed on Solomon.

"That's just how the Holy Grail War goes," Shiomi replied with a tired smile.

Suddenly, four dark shadows surged forth.

From within them emerged four Demon Gods—entirely different from those they'd faced before.

"Another four..." Shiomi shifted his spear slightly, then reached out with his left hand to clasp Morgan's. He shared his Mana with her, syncing their magical flow.

"You've got seventy-two Demon Gods at your command, and yet you only summon four? How long do you plan to underestimate us, King of Magecraft?"

"No. It's not about underestimation—I can only summon four," Solomon replied, shaking his head, his voice calm. "Under the structure of the Fuyuki Holy Grail War, if I deployed them all, I wouldn't be able to sustain the necessary power."

To bring out the full strength of the Demon Gods against these two, limiting the summons to four was the optimal choice.

"Even so... how many more times can you afford to summon them with your Mana?"

As Morgan spoke, her immense Mana wrapped around the two of them.

"That, I cannot answer."

With that, Solomon offered only silence.