[memory: knight of fate III]

[beginningofwisdom]

"I've been waiting for you."

Prana hums through the wards behind you, your final line of defense. You watch as he approaches, that knight in blue and silver, your magecraft-enhanced eyes piercing the darkness as though it were mere twilight. Saber approaches with a steady cadence, his footsteps the only sound.

In his hand, he holds a radiant golden sword.

You wonder, briefly, whether he expended the enchantment that normally veils the blade from sight, or if he simply deemed it unnecessary. He must have overcome Assassin, loyal to your Master to the last; perhaps she forced him to discard it. But concealment no longer has any benefit once a Servant's identity is known, and you know his True Name, as he knows yours.

"Welcome," you greet Arthur Pendragon, "to the gate of fear and despair. You arrive at last, Sir Knight."

"Stand aside."

"I will. But before that, indulge my questions. Even now, are you still the same King of Knights who wished for the salvation of his homeland?"

"No." His answer comes swift and certain.

"And are you still the same clown who danced bound to the Holy Grail, clinging to the past?"

"No."

"I see." You nod, slowly. You'd hoped for these answers, even as your own depravity drowned you. You're proud of him, this virtuous knight, as if he were a student who'd scored perfectly on an exam. He's truly a man worthy of being the unlikely hero of this story. Now all that remains is for both of you to play your final parts.

His as the hero, and yours as the villain.

"The Holy Grail War," you muse. "As you faced your issues, I relished the ecstasy of darkest depravity. Were my soul to be devoured by the Greater Grail beyond, it would hardly change; it's already been dyed jet-black. But I think I'm glad of your visit on this occasion; will you do me the favor of killing me?"

You're buying time, in part, gathering the prana you'll shortly need, tapping into arrays you laid down in readiness for this moment. But it feels poisonously good to speak of yourself this way, to admit the hideous crimes you committed. To ask, as you have before, for the mercy of Saber's holy blade; to reveal your sins and be condemned for them as you deserve.

So you smile, and call forth your sword. The photonic crystal blade gleams in the golden light of Excalibur, casting prismatic shimmers through the cavern.

"Do you wish to kill me, Magus?" Saber's voice is calm and intent, his composure unruffled by your unseemly display.

"No, not at all." You truly don't. He's the only one who has any chance of stopping the thing that lies within the Greater Grail, waiting to be born. But you laugh, anyway, scornful. "Don't get me wrong, Saber. I'm already a traitor, someone who knows the depths of his own wickedness. I'm no more than a demon who's already devoured everything precious to me. Shall I simply offer my neck to your blade? I think not. Why are you just standing there, champion of the modern era? Take my head--"

The words pour out of you like a tide, cleansing and befouling at once, but Saber doesn't move to attack. He should. He should, and it's almost infuriating, the way he just stands there and listens.

"I see. It's because I'm not a proper enemy for you, is it? Well, I killed a magus who called me friend with my own hands. His daughter was my friend and student, and I laid the killing curse on her myself. And as you should know, I've offered up the countless lives in this city to the Greater Grail!"

Your Circuits activate, channeling power to your sword; it drinks deep, as it always does, storing away the prana for later use. Almost ready, now. But you're still talking, the torrent of confession undiminished.

"Even now, even now...! You're only looking towards what awaits you beyond me! Those girls were made into suicidal automata, their awareness stolen, their minds sealed, all for the sake of the Grail's hunger! And those who were determined to give up their lives for love -- I killed them, efficiently, endlessly!"

Power surges through you, a wildfire, an avalanche ready to unleash. Your cheeks are wet. Why are your cheeks wet?

"....then why are there tears in your eyes, Caster?"

You can't be crying. Demons like you don't shed tears. It's only when Saber's eyes narrow that you realize you said that aloud.

"Caster."

His eyes meet yours. You can't look away.

"Answer me one last question, Alchemist, self-proclaimed villain. Why do you seek the Holy Grail?"

"A foolish question!" You're shouting now, a sharp contrast to Saber's calm. You can't help it. "I seek the Grail to reach the Root, to learn the truth of this world, to save all people far and wide--"

And to save all my beloved children.

The thought brings your mind to a crashing halt, your breath catching in your throat.

Yes; that's what it was. The reason that had brought you into this world. The reason you'd had before, that you still have deep down. The reason you'd forgotten.

"So that's what it was," you murmur, almost against your will. "I...was I blinded, then, by the radiance of the Grail? By the power of the Root? While speaking of love, while waiting for my just punishment, I..."

Your Elementals rise around you, each glowing with its own light. They form a loose ring around your wrist as you raise your sword, the Sword of the Elementalist, orbiting faster and faster.

"How unsightly -- my vision has erred!"

The ring of spinning Elementals synchronizes with the photonic crystal of the sword, your Noble Phantasm, the culmination of your dreams and obsessions, and as you scream with emotions you can't even name you bring the blade down. Light of every color erupts from the blade, a nearly perfect replication of the True Ether of the Age of Gods, enough destructive power to carve through a fortress from end to end.

It stops cold, unable to penetrate the radiance of Saber's holy blade.

"A defensive skill," you hiss, eyes narrowing. You pour more power into the simulacrum. "But that can't be the Holy Blade's true power...!"

"I wonder." Saber's voice is light, as if you're merely sparring instead of unleashing the strongest attack you're capable of. Your eyes narrow further. You should maintain the simulacrum while sending your Elementals forward; with his blade occupied, they can strike unhindered. Even his body can't withstand the weight of a mountain, the heat of an inferno, the force of a tsunami or the emptiness of vacuum. But you don't.

"You bear the same sins as me," you state flatly, finally calm again. "You served the same evil. So this is personal, for me."

And in that moment, Saber strikes. His blade cuts your True Ether in two, split by the unbelievable strength of edged prana that races outward like a shockwave. It even has the strength to carve into your body, almost reaching your spiritual core.

"So this," you gasp, struggling to maintain the simulacrum, "is the light of the stars...!"

It's what you've been waiting for.

"Saber...I've received your light."

You activate the true function of your Noble Phantasm, and it starts to devour Excalibur's light. In seconds, the process will complete, and you'll learn what you've wanted to learn all this time -- the nature of that light, whether it's the True Ether you've searched for all your life, the fundamental truth of the world. You'll wield it, if only until the end of your life. And when you die, you'll take that answer with you, a shining light in a miasma of darkness. For you know that this battle is over; your core is cracked, and you can't hope to withstand Saber now. Even so...if this is all the power he can muster...

"You, whom I could never destroy!" You can only warn him, in the only way you can. "You can't hope to slice your way through the evil of the Greater Grail--"

"No." His voice is almost gentle. "This is the end."

His blade brightens, and your Elementals shatter. Your sword vanishes, and your arm with it. Your mind reels in shock. Did you make a mistake? Was your computation flawed? No -- the physical blade might be gone but you can feel the process continuing, slowed but not stopped.

There's simply too much prana to subvert.

Behind you, your wards shatter, bursting like fireworks one after the other as they try and fail to contain the overflow. The light of the blade washes over you. It's beautiful. Like hope given form.

There's nothing more you can do. Nothing more you want to do. Everything is, at last, in his hands. All that's left is to look at the light with open eyes.

"Misaya." It's your own voice, hushed, as quiet as a prayer. "So this is the star's..."

There is light, and then there is nothing.