Shirou, who returned from the Fairy Kingdom

Hmph, fine, your arrogance ends here.

Putting aside the land, this is my territory. Don't think you can get back alive.

The empress issued a threatening statement with great confidence.

However, her confidence was not unfounded.

The Noble Phantasm type of "Vainglory's Hanging Gardens" is "Anti-World Noble Phantasm".

It is a "world" that embodies the (misconception) legend of the Assyrian queen building the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

The Hanging Gardens itself is a battleship with overwhelming firepower at the EX level, and its interior is also the most powerful magic workshop of the witch Semiramis.

Possessing infinite space and the rule of "inversion," it can elevate all of Semiramis's abilities to the highest level, while also achieving near-magical abilities such as "spatial transfer."

As long as she remains within the Hanging Gardens, Semiramis is absolute, and everything is in her favor. Even the great Indian hero Karna can be easily suppressed by the Empress.

Therefore, when Shirou proposed setting the final battle in the Sky Garden, most people objected.

The "Black" faction, which was already at a disadvantage in terms of overall strength, has now taken the initiative to enter the enemy's home ground, which is clearly walking into a trap.

In the end, it was Fiore, the clan leader, who stood up to support Shirou.

She overcame all opposition and persuaded the magicians of the Thousand World Tree.

"So... the 'Red' assassin! You're hiding somewhere in this fortress right now, aren't you?"

Can I speak with your Master, Amakusa Shiro Tokisada?

I already know his identity! I came here to find out his purpose!

Joan of Arc raised her voice and shouted into the void.

Perhaps the sound reached them, for Semiramis's voice, a mixture of contempt and mockery, echoed all around.

"Heh, you're really going all out, little girl... Do you think I'll answer honestly?"

If that's true, then your head is adorably naive... no, that's not right?

Perhaps that's why they can spout nonsense about hearing divine pronouncements, hahaha!

As expected, Semiramis refused to engage in dialogue and launched an attack on the invaders.

The first thing to greet them was a monster from the age of mythology.

In Mesopotamian mythology, two of the eleven sons of Tiamat, the creator goddess, were Mushhuhushu, the Babylonian dragon, and Ugal, the giant lion.

The hordes of attacking monsters scattered the heroic spirits, forcing them to fight individually.

Shirou drew his holy sword and fought the monster while observing the surrounding situation.

For Shirou, fighting these monsters wasn't too difficult, but for someone like Frankenstein or Astolfo, it was extremely tough.

Frankenstein was originally a weak modern Servant, and only by relying on the "Madness" skill to improve his own attributes could he barely reach the average level of a Heroic Spirit.

However, if we consider only their strength, each of these magical beasts surpasses even the heroic spirits.

They are the wrathful manifestations of the Mother Goddess, biological weapons created by Tiamat to destroy gods who betrayed their mother.

Even a fraction of a second of negligence could tear apart the spirit core of the heroic spirit that accompanies the ethereal physical body.

"------!"

Shirou pierced the heart of a Mushuhuxiu with his holy sword, which was wreathed in raging winds, and soon new monsters pounced on him.

It seems that the "Red" faction intends to use these monsters to weaken us first.

Once our forces are nearly exhausted, they will wait in comfort and then launch a counterattack to reap the rewards.

This situation was completely unexpected for Shirou; Semiramis had surprisingly retained such formidable strength.

If she had such a powerful army of magical beasts, why didn't she use it from the beginning, instead of sending out those Dragon Fang Soldiers who could only serve as cannon fodder?

Shirou felt that something was wrong, but he didn't have time to think about it any further.

The battle lasted for twenty minutes, and the situation became increasingly dire.

Shirou, Chiron, and Mordred all have extensive experience fighting against fantasy creatures, so they only feel some pressure, but Frankenstein and Astolfo are on the verge of collapse.

This is not only because their own strength is slightly inferior, but also because of the Master himself.

They went all out in both avoiding and attacking the monsters, holding nothing back.

No matter how powerful a Heroic Spirit's own magical power is, what determines its endurance and activity is nothing more than the magical power of its master magician, that is, the magic circuits of humans—and their masters are not particularly outstanding either.

If the threat were only from Warcraft, that would be fine.

Furthermore, the curse from the oldest poisoner, which permeates the Hanging Gardens, is also eroding everyone's bodies.

Those are various toxins that can kill any ordinary creature within seconds. Although they cannot directly kill Heroic Spirits, they will reduce all of their stats by one level, and even some skills—such as Shirou and Mordred's "Intuition"—will be weakened.

How much longer can it hold out?

Just as Shirou was considering whether to activate his Reality Marble, at least to counteract the curse that the Hanging Gardens itself had placed on everyone—

The monsters that had been attacking the group like madmen retreated in an orderly fashion as if they had received a command.

"What the hell...!"

Mordred rested his hands on his knees and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Let's go, Ruler. Go find Her Majesty the Queen and her Master and beat them up. I can't vent my anger without doing that."

Joan of Arc quickly followed.

"Ah, wait a minute, wait for me! Xiao Mo!"

"Didn't I tell you not to use that term?"

The time has come for us to go our separate ways.

Joan of Arc and Mordred shared the same goal: to reach the audience hall at the deepest part of this aerial fortress.

Ruler suddenly stopped and turned to look at Shirou.

"Altoris, I'm going over there... Be careful yourself."

The red-haired boy rolled his eyes and waved at her: "Okay, okay, are you my mom?"

I thought Ruler would show his usual cute angry expression, but instead he looked serious.

As if making a decision, Joan of Arc said, "If we can meet again after tonight's battle..."

"Um, there's something I want to tell you."

"Confession?"

"No! Hmm... not quite, but pretty much."

Shirou nodded: "Yes, I'll listen carefully to what you have to say after tonight's battle is over."

"Then, it's a deal."

Although they made the agreement, they both knew very well that it was impossible to fulfill.

When tonight's decisive battle ends, it will probably be the end of everything.

Heroes are like the morning dew in summer, vanishing before the sun rises.

Shirou and Jeanne will never meet again; this conversation is probably their last.

"Archer, what are you planning to do next?"

While treating Frankenstein's injuries, Shirou glanced at the strategist of the "Black" faction.

But his gaze shifted to another direction in the labyrinthine corridor—there, a magical power he had known all his life was defiantly releasing a fighting spirit.

"Excuse me, Lady Saber, I already have an appointment, and they are inviting me over."

Honestly, I just can't seem to shake my impatient nature.

"Oh, okay? Don't lose!"

The centaur sage nodded, then said to Shirou, "If I don't return, I'll leave Fiore in your care."

The red-haired boy retorted, "Are you kidding me? Didn't I tell you not to lose?"

"The 'Red' Cavalryman, Achilles, the hero of the Trojan War..."

He's one of my proudest students—of course, as his teacher, I can't possibly lose.

Arhcer left with a meaningful smile, then turned and left without looking back.

As a result, Shirou became the commissioner who took care of Frankenstein and Astolfo.

This is what they mean by "with great power comes great responsibility."

The three chose one of the several forks in the road and headed deeper into the courtyard.

The "Black" cavalryman walked at the front, his back showing no sign of tension, humming a song like a middle school student on a spring outing.

But at one moment, he suddenly stopped and his expression froze.

Even the carefree and cheerful Heroic Spirit Astolfo changed his expression in the face of that terrifying solar magic.

"The 'Red' Lancer...and two others!"

"Who is 'the others'?"

There were also three figures blocking the way for Shirou, Astolfo, and Frankenstein.

Karna, Atalanta, and the "Red" sorcerer, Shakespeare.

"Hi, everyone!"

The middle-aged gentleman in red greeted him cheerfully, but Shirou and the cavalry ignored him, keeping a wary eye on the more threatening spearman.

"Waaaaah... It's you!"

A beam of emerald green electricity shot through the corridor.

"Franc!"

The berserker recognized Caster, who had used the Nightmare Noble Phantasm on him a few days earlier, and charged at him without hesitation.

Upon seeing this, Shakespeare turned and ran.

"Don't run away!"

"Hahaha! I'm not planning to leave the stage until I see the ending!"

Shirou felt it was inappropriate to let the berserker go after the cunning con artist alone, so he wanted to follow him, but Lancer blocked his way.

"Excuse me, Saber... I am your opponent."

As he said this, Karna spun his spear with one hand, his entire body's magic power transforming into swirling flames, and leaped into the air.

Now that things have come to this, there's no point in testing each other anymore.

Karna knew all too well how powerful the "Black" Swordsman was.

If they were to spar, they could fight for a thousand days without a clear winner.

Since that's the case, let's leave the outcome of this battle to the Noble Phantasm, which is the most decisive thing for a Heroic Spirit.

Karna had given it much thought.

He had experienced many battles that were hailed as legendary—and of course, he could proudly and unequivocally say that he always fought with all his might, never held back, and never insulted anyone.

...But that was his full effort under certain limitations.

Just as he had done in the past at his mother's request, he said he would only fight the third of the five Pandavas (Arjuna).

It feels like all the battles I've experienced in the past have bound me with several layers of shackles.

A curse from the gods, a blessing from the gods, morality, or human sentiment.

That is of course, that is what it means to live, and that is what it means to fight as a warrior (Kshatriya).

These things can sometimes become strength, and sometimes they can become a burden.

However, either way is undoubtedly superfluous... Yes, there were objectives that had to be achieved in the past battles.

They must win a victory for King Nandi, whom they serve, and defeat the five Pandita brothers.

...No, more importantly, defeating the archenemy Arjuna.

He won the competition against his younger brother, who shared the same bloodline.