Fate: How About a New Savior?

"A Noble Phantasm?" The Demon God lifted his head, his voice low and grim. "It's not a Noble Phantasm. Just Magecraft trying to graze the ed

"A Noble Phantasm?"

The Demon God lifted his head, his voice low and grim.

"It's not a Noble Phantasm. Just Magecraft trying to graze the edge of that ideal," Shiomi replied, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth.

"Is that so? Then…" The Demon God raised his gaze—only the glowing eyes embedded in his helmet could be seen. "It's nothing to fear."

He stared, then unleashed a blast of searing energy—capable of melting anything it touched. But the beam was blocked by a defensive array formed from primordial Runes.

At that level, it was nothing more than a probing strike—not nearly enough to be a threat.

From the northern front came the thunder of battle. The twenty-eight Demon God Pillars summoned by Medb were under assault—Master and Heroic Spirits fighting side by side.

Even though each Pillar held strength on par with a Heroic Spirit, it still wasn't enough against those with unwavering will.

"The northern front—half the Demon God Pillars have been destroyed," came Morgan's voice through Chaldea's communication line. "You needn't worry, my husband."

"Every time I hear your voice... I feel a little more at ease," Shiomi muttered, momentarily distracted.

He hadn't even finished speaking when the Demon God charged.

"Roadless Camelot: Reaching the Ultimate Utopia" fired—but the Demon God tanked it head-on.

After unleashing "Curruid Coinchenn," Cú Chulainn's Endurance had risen to EX. Now, bolstered by both the Holy Grail and Demon God power, he charged through even this Magecraft barrage—its force no weaker than a fully released Noble Phantasm from the King of Knights.

But it wasn't without cost.

As he forced his way forward, the armor of the Demon God Pillar began to peel away, slowly revealing the flesh and muscle beneath.

Shiomi wanted to expand the spell even further, but the battle had already stretched him thin. From his duel with Fionn and Diarmuid, to exploiting a crack to shatter Medb's Noble Phantasm from within...

He'd barely had a moment to breathe before being thrown into this final clash with Cú Chulainn—draining his Mana with continuous high-level Rune Magecraft.

Even with his massive reserves, he was nearing empty.

At last, Cú Chulainn reached him, his Noble Phantasm battered and his armor shredded. His face and chest lay exposed, claws shattered—just as Shiomi's spell faltered and died.

Both men stood gasping for air, teetering on the edge of exhaustion.

The instant their eyes met, they moved—fists flying almost simultaneously.

Cú Chulainn's straight punch landed squarely on Shiomi's body. At the same time, Shiomi's hook slammed directly into Cú Chulainn's liver.

The impact knocked both of them back a half step.

From there, it became a brawl—raw, brutal, unrefined. No Noble Phantasms. No Magecraft. Just fists, instinct, and grit.

They struck at cheeks, throats, stomachs—any place that might weaken the other.

"Damn... you're even more relentless than our master," Cú Chulainn said, voice hoarse and uneven, half in awe, half in weariness.

"This has nothing to do with what Master said. Or Chaldea's mission..." Shiomi gritted his teeth, ducked under a punch, and drove an uppercut into Cú Chulainn's jaw, lifting him off the ground. "I'm going to beat you. Deny you. Mad King!"

Even running on fumes, Cú Chulainn's fists should have crushed a human skull—but Shiomi remained unscathed.

Likewise, any punch from Shiomi could have liquefied a human's organs, shattered their bones—even a top-tier Servant wouldn't walk away intact.

Yet both men, disciples of the same master, still stood. Still fought. Blow after blow.

Cú Chulainn had once been no more than the embodiment of Medb's wish, summoned to be a king first—and only later seeking a reason for that title.

His memories as a hero, his life—sealed. And even if he knew them, they were as distant as someone else's biography.

But now—with Medb gone, with the Holy Grail and Demon God power spent—something began to stir.

Memories that shouldn't have existed in this version of Cú Chulainn came rushing back.

Even fragments of what no Heroic Spirit should carry—memories from when he lived as a Servant.

And he recognized the man before him.

A disciple of their shared master, living in a distant future two thousand years ahead. The one who had inherited more than anyone else. The one their master cherished most.

The thrill of combat. The fire in his veins. The unbreakable will.

None of it belonged to the Mad King. But now, it was all coming back.

If he retreated now, he could still use the Holy Grail's power to reset this Singularity.

But there was no need.

Here, now, there were only two warriors left.

They struck with everything they had.

Cú Chulainn's fist sank into Shiomi's abdomen. Shiomi's fist punched through Cú Chulainn's chest.

They stood frozen.

Then, Cú Chulainn's hand slowly dropped, powerless.

"...My Spirit Core's at its limit..." he said.

Shiomi didn't look up—his eyes were fixed on the blood pooling at his feet. "Your tone's gone back to the way it used to be. I figured... once Medb was gone, you'd start losing control and denying who you've become."

"Magus really are a pain... always pointing out what they shouldn't..." Cú Chulainn stood firm, locking eyes with Shiomi.

"Heh..." Shiomi let out a low chuckle.

Cú Chulainn grinned, a satisfied expression on his face. "Hell of a fight. No King of Magecraft showing up to ruin things this time…"

Shiomi remained silent, watching as Cú Chulainn's body began to turn transparent, slowly fading away.

Where he vanished, a golden double-pyramid hovered in the air—the Holy Grail of this Singularity.

"Alright... time to begin Holy Grail recovery—"

He activated his Magic Circuits as usual, but a wave of fatigue hit him like a tide. His legs gave out, and he collapsed backward.

"You did well. I'm proud to call you my disciple."

Scáthach caught him and used her Mana to help extract and recover the Grail.

"Master..."

Shiomi wanted to ask about the twenty-eight Demon God Pillars, but when he looked out across the field, he saw the Servants from the Northern and Central fronts standing amidst the broken terrain—gazing at him with quiet approval.

"Rest up. There's still time before the Singularity's Human Order Calculation finishes. Regain your strength—we'll initiate the Spiritron Transfer once you're ready," Scáthach said.

"I carried out your orders, Master."

"There's no need to say it. I saw it. Everyone did."

The Demon God Pillars had been destroyed before Cú Chulainn fell. The Servants had rushed south to aid Shiomi—only to witness that raw, unfiltered brawl.

It wasn't a fight they could join. Every Heroic Spirit stood back, watching Shiomi's battle with solemn respect.

"Well... now I'm just embarrassed," Shiomi said with a tired smile. "All eyes on me—it's really not my thing."