Jayr POV - Nasuverse, Moon, Far Side, Sakura Labyrinth - 2030 AD
As the battle between Lucas and Kang Yaling continues, Nero stands beside me and asks, "Praetor, should we take advantage of their distraction to make our move?"
I keep my gaze fixed on the ongoing battle as I lightly shake my head and say, "No, that would be a great mistake... As we will likely fall into our enemies' trap."
After saying that, I don't have to turn my head to see the confusion on her face as I can feel it through our bond, so I explain, "Don't forget that no matter how much it was twisted, this is still a Holy Grail War within the Moon Cell. There are still rules that must be followed. The most important one is the 1v1 Mandate. This war is designed for one-on-one battles between Masters, so interference by outside parties, including other Masters, is absolutely forbidden. And such crucial rules aren't enforced by the Moon Cell, but by the Concepts themselves. Yesterday it wasn't such a big problem, but today it coincides with the same day as the Elimination Battles usually take place, and that is quite easy to forget. So it is very likely that if we join that battle, we will likely fall into a trap and be punished and removed from the Holy Grail War. Maybe even my own Blessing will be stripped."
Hearing that, Nero narrows her eyes, clicks her tongue and says, "I see... So that's why those two seem to completely ignore our presence and even carelessly expose themselves at times. They want to tempt us to jump in and be punished... How devious..."
Soon, we focus back on their fight as they clash once more, making the battlefield shifts while Kang Yaling makes her move again.
There is no declaration, no shift in posture, no warning as Kang Yaling simply steps forward and the air breaks.
Not metaphorically, not as an impression. It truly fractures. The space between her and Lucas splinters like glass under pressure, invisible cracks racing outward in jagged lines that distort everything they pass through. Sound lags behind the motion, reality struggling to keep pace with the simple act of her advancing.
Lucas reacts, but only barely.
A blade is already there.
It arcs toward him in silence, too fast to track, too clean to read. For a fraction of a moment, it seems like a natural extension of her movement, but instinct screams otherwise.
That isn't her attack, it's something else, something far more absolute.
Behind Kang Yaling, a presence resolves itself, not summoned with fanfare, but revealed, as if it had always been standing there, just outside perception.
The silhouette of the samurai warrior Yoshitsune.
There is no wasted motion in him, no excess intent. He does not posture, does not threaten. He simply exists within the flow of the strike, perfectly aligned with it, like the concept of the cut given form.
And then eight strikes fall in a single breath as they overlap, intersect, and fold into one another, compressing time itself into a singular instant of execution. Each cut occupies the same space, the same moment, yet carries a different trajectory, a different inevitability.
There is no room to evade, no room to counter, only the instinct to survive.
Lucas' hand rises by reflex sharpened through countless stolen abilities. His fingers flex, and in response, space fractures in front of him.
A golden ripple unfolds.
At first, it's only a shimmer, like light reflecting on disturbed water, but then it tears open.
Dozens, no, hundreds of portals bloom into existence, each one radiating ancient authority, each one carrying the weight of something that should not be replicated. Weapons spill forth in a violent cascade, not drawn, not wielded, but unleashed.
Blades, spears, chains, constructs beyond simple classification.
A storm and a distorted imitation of the legendary king's treasury. The Gate of Babylon.
They erupt outward to meet Yoshitsune's impossible assault.
Steel meets inevitability, and the impact is catastrophic.
Blades crash against incoming strikes that don't behave like physical objects. Sparks burst into existence in clusters, then scatter, then linger too long, like dying stars refusing to fade. Shockwaves ripple outward, distorting the already fractured battlefield, sending chunks of broken terrain drifting further into the void.
For a brief instant, the space between them becomes a graveyard of halted motion, then it gives way.
Lucas is forced back.
His boots carve into the fractured ground, dragging through floating debris that grinds and shatters under the pressure. Each step leaves a visible distortion behind, the residue of force that hasn't fully settled into reality yet.
He slides several meters before stopping himself, one foot planting hard enough to crack the fragment beneath him.
The golden storm behind him stabilises, hovering, ready.
He lowers his hand slightly, breath steady, eyes sharp, then he grins and mutters, voice low, edged with something dangerously close to excitement, "So you're not just reckless... This is so exciting!"
There's no fear in him; if anything, there's relief. Confirmation.
Kang Yaling doesn't answer because she's already moving again, and this time, the battlefield moves with her.
The fractured space aligns with her. Floating debris shifts subtly, unseen forces adjusting angles, distances, trajectories. The environment bends, not violently, but with quiet obedience, as if reality itself has begun to accommodate her advance.
The distance between them collapses.
A second presence manifests behind her, cold, grinning, crowned in frost.
The persona has a round, black body and a large, open mouth revealing sharp white teeth and a bright red interior.
Its eyes are glowing red slits. Jack Frost wears a large, pointed purple hood with blue accents and jagged edges, resembling frost or spikes.
A small, golden, cat-like emblem sits on the front of the purple hat. A jagged, purple collar adorns the neck area, extending outwards. The persona is also wearing pointed purple shoes with white tips and gold bands around the ankles and calves.
This is Black Frost, another persona summoned by Kang Yaling.
(Image Here - Black Frost)
Black Frost lets out a sharp, almost playful, "HEE-HO."
The sound echoes strangely, distorted as if multiple layers of reality are trying to process it at once, then it attacks, unleashing a wave of condensed magic that erupts outward.
The air folds inward before exploding in every direction, carrying with it a composite force that refuses to resolve into a single element. Ice forms and shatters within the same instant. Curses coil through the blast like living things. Raw, unrefined destructive energy binds it all together, compressed to the point of instability before being fired like artillery across the battlefield, dragging space with it.
Everything in its path fractures under the pressure; the already broken arena pushed further toward collapse as the wave expands, devouring distance, devouring structure, devouring anything that cannot withstand its layered nature.
Lucas doesn't move; he doesn't dodge. Instead, he opens his palm.
At first, nothing happens, but then something twists.
A spiral of energy forms above his hand, tightening inward like a vortex collapsing on itself. Gold bleeds into something darker, something far less stable. The structure of the attack flickers, stutters, as if it hasn't fully decided what it is yet.
It's violent. Unrefined. And dangerously incomplete.
The kind of power that feels like it could tear itself apart just as easily as it could erase everything in front of it.
And yet Lucas looks completely unconcerned, almost delighted as he calls out, "Enuma..."
He never finishes as the wave hits.
The layered magic slams into the forming spiral, and the reaction is immediate and catastrophic. The unstable construct collapses inward before detonating outward, the backlash ripping through Lucas' position in a violent surge.
The incantation is swallowed whole.
Lucas is thrown off balance, his body twisting sharply as he's forced to redirect the explosion. The redirected force tears upward, carving a jagged path through the floating fragments above, disintegrating entire chunks of the arena into drifting dust.
The shockwave ripples outward long after the initial impact.
For a moment, everything distorts, but the next, it stabilises.
Meanwhile, Kang Yaling watches, calm and silent.
Her gaze doesn't waver, doesn't narrow, doesn't react in any visible way. She observes, measures, processes. Every movement, every fluctuation in Lucas' output, every inconsistency in his control and she isn't the only one.
I'm doing the same. Tracking. Comparing. Understanding.
Lucas recovers almost instantly. Too fast.
The instability from a moment ago might as well not exist anymore. He straightens, rolling his shoulder slightly as if shaking off something insignificant, and then he smiles and says, voice low, thoughtful, but edged with growing excitement, "How interesting... You're forcing me to use things I haven't properly tested yet."
Behind him, golden light blooms again, but this time it's different. Heavier. More deliberate.
The portals that open aren't just releasing weapons. Chains coil outward, thick and ancient, carrying the weight of restraint and execution. Spears emerge that hum with a deep, resonant tone, like echoes of battles long since concluded. Blades follow, each one radiating presence, history, identity.
A curated storm of armaments that shouldn't exist together, and then they fire.
The onslaught descends all at once.
Not chaotic, but overwhelming in scale. Angles overlap, trajectories intersect, forcing Kang Yaling to move continuously, her footing shifting from fragment to fragment as the barrage presses in from every direction.
Yoshitsune moves with her.
Black Frost continues to unleash bursts of magic, intercepting incoming threats, detonating them mid-flight.
Still, the pressure builds, and then Lucas speaks again, "Gáe Bolg."
There's no flourish, no dramatic surge.
A single crimson spear slips quietly from one of the golden portals, and then it's launched.
Mid-flight, it twists but not physically, conceptually.
The trajectory collapses into inevitability before vanishing entirely.
For a fraction of a moment, it's gone.
Kang Yaling's head tilts, just slightly, a minimal adjustment, not enough to evade, but enough to acknowledge.
Then it reappears behind her, already striking.
There's no travel time, no approach, no warning, just the result.
The spear pierces through her back and out of her chest in a single, absolute motion.
Clean. Final. I feel it, not the impact, the concept.
The reversal of cause and effect. The declaration that the heart has already been pierced, and reality aligns itself to make that truth consistent.
For the first time, Kang Yaling stops.
Her body stills completely as the crimson spear remains embedded through her chest, its cursed presence anchoring the outcome in place. Dark energy coils around the wound, spreading outward in jagged lines, rejecting healing, rejecting resistance.
For a brief moment, silence as even the battlefield seems to hesitate.
Lucas watches, and then he exhales, a quiet, satisfied sound, "Got you."
But something feels off because Kang Yaling doesn't collapse, she doesn't stagger, she doesn't react at all, she simply stands there.
Then a soft glow begins to form around her. Faint at first, then growing.
Warm. Steady. And absolute.
A new figure appears behind Kang Yaling, and if I could use only one word to describe it, it would be "holy".
The Persona takes the form of a pure white statue. The central figure is a pale, almost translucent woman with closed eyes and a serene expression, draped in flowing white robes that are sculpted with sharp, angular folds. The robes are adorned with a repeating pattern of small, stylised triangles in a pale gold colour.
The woman is crowned with a large, golden, circular halo with concentric ridges radiating from the centre. Behind the woman are large, feathered wings that are spread open, also sculpted in white.
Surrounding the central figure are several distinct mythological creatures, all rendered in the same pale white material as the central figure, with some golden accents.
To the left of the figure, a creature with a lion-like head and sharp teeth is visible. Further down on the left, a fish-like head with an open mouth and sharp teeth emerges. To the right of the central figure, an eagle with detailed feathers and an open beak is depicted. Below the eagle, a powerful bull's head with curved horns, looking towards the right, is present. At the bottom right, a reptilian creature resembling a dinosaur or dragon with its mouth open, revealing sharp teeth, is prominently featured.
Interspersed around the composition are more golden, circular halos, similar to the one above the central woman, some appearing as if they are discs or shields. These halos have a textured surface with concentric circles.
It takes me only a single moment to recognise this persona, it is Maria, also known as the Virgin Mary, the Madonna, Myrhiàm or Maryam, who is the central female figure in Christianity and Islam.
(Image Here - Maria)
This is one of the most powerful Personas with unmatched supportive and healing abilities.
The glow surrounding Kang Yaling intensifies.
Light spreads outward from her body in a steady, overwhelming presence, washing over the embedded spear, over the wound, over the very concept that had already been decided.
For a brief instant, the two effects coexist.
The inevitability of Gáe Bolg and something that refuses to accept it.
Then the contradiction resolves, and the curse woven into the strike starts to unravel.
Thread by thread, the binding that declares her heart pierced is peeled apart, denied the permission to exist. The reversed causality falters, its foundation collapsing as the glow asserts something older, something absolute.
What has been decided is no longer valid.
The crimson spear trembles; the wound that should define the outcome loses its authority, and then Kang Yaling moves.
She turns, calm and unhurried, as if the fatal strike had never truly concerned her. Her hand rises, closing around the shaft of the spear still lodged through her chest.
For the first time, resistance meets it.
Her fingers tighten, and the spear breaks.
It simply collapses in her grasp, the cursed construct crumbling into fading fragments as the last traces of its inevitability are erased.
Lucas stares for a fraction longer than he should before he casually comments, "Right. You're one of those. It was foolish of me to believe that Gáe Bolg would actually kill you..."
Shortly after that, the tempo of the battle changes instantly.
Lucas stops holding back.
The air around him distorts, not from heat or pressure, but from excess. Layers of power begin stacking over one another, too many to properly resolve. My senses catch fragments of it, glimpses of structure buried within the chaos.
Divinity. Data. The residual echoes of countless beings. Stolen authorities. Borrowed existences. Half-digested concepts forced into coexistence.
It shouldn't work, and yet it does.
His presence swells, expanding outward in unstable waves that press against everything nearby. Space bends around him, not in submission, but in strain, like it's being forced to contain something that doesn't belong within it.
Then the flood begins.
Golden portals tear open across the battlefield in numbers that defy counting, layering over one another until the sky itself is consumed in fractured light.
And from them a storm.
Noble Phantasms pour forth without restraint like a deluge.
Weapons of legend, of myth, of impossible origins crash into existence and are immediately launched, their trajectories overlapping, colliding, correcting mid-flight as if guided by a will that no longer needs precision to be effective.
At the same time, something cuts through it all.
A single line. Clean. Absolute.
I instantly recognise it, it is the Sword of Paracelsus.
It doesn't emerge from a portal like the others, but it carves its way into existence, slicing through space itself as though reality were nothing more than a thin veil. The blade gleams with a purity that sharply contrasts the chaos surrounding it, a construct of principles rather than power.
Lucas reaches out and takes it.
The moment his hand closes around the hilt, everything shifts.
Then they appear.
Hundreds of small orbs emerge from his body, slipping free like fragments of something contained for too long. Each one pulses with immense, concentrated power, dense to the point of distortion.
They orbit him at first, then they move, drawn toward the blade.
One by one, then all at once, they converge, spiralling inward, syncing with each other as they collapse into the Sword of Paracelsus. The air screams under the pressure as incompatible energies are forced into alignment.
The blade begins to change as light fractures along its edge.
Cracks spread across its surface, thin at first, then widening as more and more power is forced into it. The weapon trembles from excess, from being pushed far beyond what it was ever meant to contain.
The battlefield reacts.
Fragments drift further apart. Gravity fluctuates. Distance loses consistency.
Even the storm of Noble Phantasms falters for a fraction of a moment, as if everything instinctively recognises what is about to be released.
Lucas looks at Kang Yaling and smiles before he mutters, his voice low, absolute, "It's over..."
Then the storm falls.
Weapons rain down in impossible trajectories, bending mid-flight, converging from angles that shouldn't exist. There is no safe direction, no clear path, only an ever-tightening cage of destruction collapsing inward.
Kang Yaling steps forward, right into it.
Black Frost moves first.
Waves of magic erupt outward in rapid succession, intercepting incoming weapons, detonating them before they can complete their paths. Explosions chain into one another, filling the space around her with bursts of fragmented force.
At the same time, Yoshitsune advances alongside her.
Each movement precise. Each strike is placed exactly where it needs to be.
Openings are cut apart before they can form, trajectories disrupted at their origin rather than their endpoint. The impossible barrage begins to lose cohesion under the sheer perfection of timing.
For a moment, it looks like she might push through it.
Lucas' expression sharpens as he abandons refinement and yells, "… DIE!!"
Raw output replaces control.
The power gathered within the Sword of Paracelsus surges past containment.
Reality bends violently.
The surrounding space warps inward toward the blade, drawn by the sheer density of energy being forced into a single point. The cracks along its surface widen, light spilling through them in unstable bursts.
Then it releases.
A beam erupts forward. Multicolored. Blinding.
A convergence of everything he has gathered, everything he has stolen, everything he can force into alignment for even a single moment.
It consumes everything.
The beam tears through the battlefield, erasing everything in its path as it expands, growing wider with each passing instant. Its edges ripple and distort, barely contained, barely directed.
Control slips and power increases.
The attack becomes less a strike and more a moving collapse of reality itself.
For the first time, Kang Yaling is forced to adjust.
Her footing shifts.
The fragment beneath her disappears, erased completely by the advancing beam, but she doesn't fall.
Another piece of the battlefield is simply there beneath her next step, as if it had always existed in that position, as if the concept of "falling" had been quietly removed.
The beam continues wider and stronger. More unstable.
Until it breaks. Not the target. The weapon.
The Sword of Paracelsus fractures completely, unable to contain the overwhelming, incompatible mass of power forced into it. The cracks split open in an instant, and the blade shatters under the strain.
The beam collapses with it.
Energy disperses violently outward, tearing through what remains of the surrounding space before dissipating into unstable fragments.
And just like that, the attack ends.
Despite that, Lucas starts to smile as he suddenly figures out something. He glances in my direction, then at Tiamat, who is still calmly standing some distance away from the battle, before he focuses back on Kang Yaling and says, "I see it now. You're efficient. Careful. You're still holding back something... Are you perhaps worried about conserving your energies for the next battle?"
His gaze sharpens as he adds in an almost deranged tone, "Unfortunately for you, I don't have to worry about such a small issue. My reserves are INFINITE!"
In response to that, the battlefield trembles as he once again unleashes his immense power.
At the same time, behind him, something massive begins to take shape, not a Noble Phantasm, not a construct, but a convergence.
The hundreds of orbs that previously empowered the Sword of Paracelsus are now sinking back into his body.
I immediately understand what those orbs represent. Those are the remains of all the Masters and Servants that have been eliminated during this Holy Grail War.
Everything he's absorbed. Everything he's stolen. All of it condenses into a single point. Into him.
Kang Yaling calmly watches in silence; she is clearly unimpressed by Lucas' display.
Then Lucas softly calls out, "... BB."
Lucas doesn't raise his voice; he doesn't need to, as the response is immediate.
The air glitches. Colour distorts, and then she's there right beside him, leaning sideways in midair like gravity forgot how to work with a bright smile on her face.
BB's voice drips amusement as she says, "Senpai~ finally calling for help? How unromantic."
Her eyes flick toward Kang Yaling, her gaze is sharp, curious, and dangerous, then she says, "So this is our opponent... Quite the scary one."
Without waiting, she lifts a hand.
The change is immediate.
Not visual, at least not at first, but structural.
The battlefield shifts at a fundamental level. Gravity spikes unpredictably, pulling in uneven directions, dragging at the body in sharp, disorienting bursts. Space tightens in subtle increments, distances compressing just enough to throw off timing, just enough to disrupt rhythm.
Movement becomes heavier. Every step carries resistance. Every motion demands correction.
Not enough to stop Kang Yaling, but enough to matter.
Lucas moves the moment the shift stabilises.
This time, the coordination is absolute.
Weapons descend in perfect sync with BB's interference, their trajectories no longer merely overwhelming, but precise. Each angle closes in tandem with the fluctuations in gravity, each strike arriving at the exact moment space tightens.
Options narrow. Paths disappear. Pressure builds.
For the first time, Kang Yaling is forced into a full defence.
Yoshitsune intercepts, his strikes landing with flawless timing, cutting down incoming threats at the exact point where they become unavoidable.
Black Frost suppresses, bursts of layered magic detonating outward to break momentum, to create space where none should exist.
Maria stabilises, her presence anchoring Yaling against the shifting distortions, smoothing over the inconsistencies imposed by BB's control.
But even with all three, the margin is shrinking.
At this point, Kang Yaling exhales, a slow and measured one before she evenly says, "... So this is your peak."
It isn't a question, and Lucas doesn't answer because he's already attacking again, because BB is already smiling wider.
Because the battlefield is already collapsing further under the weight of it all.
And in response, Kang Yaling finally decides to escalate. The previous Personas all fade away, and a new presence begins to form behind her.
It isn't fully summoned, not yet, but it is waiting.
I feel it before I see it, not power, not pressure, something heavier, something final. In an instant, I realise what is about to emerge and mutter, "It's coming..."
Meanwhile, the battlefield hasn't stopped collapsing, and Lucas is still throwing everything he has at Kang Yaling. Blades, light, distortions, Noble Phantasms colliding into one another in a chaotic storm, but none of it matters.
Because she stops moving, just stops. No stance. No tension. Complete stillness.
Then she says quietly in a flat tone, like she's stating a fact that's already happened, "It's enough... You're done."
Right at that moment, the domino mask on her face burns away, and a new Persona appears right behind her, Arsène.
Arsène has, from top to bottom: a very tall top hat, a long-horned mask for its face, a cropped red eighteenth century-esque suit worn open with the collar popped, stitched heart designs on the shoulders, a white ruffle tie, a black, tailed corset running down its torso; large, black, feathery wings starting at around the small of its back; claws; red coverings on its legs resembling pants and boots with blade-like heels.
(Image Here - Arsène)
Then, Kang Yaling casually grabs some chains that suddenly materialised in front of her and breaks them, making Arsène unleash a burning pale blue aura and release a terrifying roar before it bursts into motes of light.
And then everything changes, the noise dulls.
The collapsing arena slows for a fraction of a second, as reality itself hesitates, and even Lucas falters.
I feel it then, not an attack, not even energy, but authority.
Something vast settles over the battlefield, pressing down on everything at once.
A ripple spreads beneath her feet; it is black, but it is not darkness, not like Ledram's. This is emptiness given direction.
Then the chaotic sky above us darkens, and a thunder echoes in the distance before a massive figure descends from the sky.
It is Satanael.
Satanael stand in the air as if gravity has long since surrendered to him. His form is both divine and profane, a towering figure wrapped in dark, intricately wrought armour that gleams with cold gold accents.
A jagged halo, black as a starless void, crowns his head, its spiked ring resembling a twisted coronet rather than any symbol of grace. Beneath it, a skull-like golden helm conceals his face, its hollow eye sockets and sharp contours lending him the stillness of a death mask.
His chest is encased in a heavy, shadowed breastplate trimmed in gold, a deep crimson sash cutting diagonally across it like a wound that refused to close.
Below, the armour gave way to a pale, almost luminous torso before dark plating resumed along his legs, fitted like greaves that climbed to his thighs. Gold traces the joints at his knees and ankles, catching the light in brief, deliberate flashes. His arms bear the same sombre craftsmanship, each movement measured and heavy with purpose, while dark feathers slip from beneath his pauldrons like remnants of something once pure.
Behind him stretched three pairs of vast, bat-like wings. Their leathery surfaces are etched with faint veins, their edges uneven and sharp, as though worn by countless unseen battles that loom, casting a presence that presses against the air itself.
It towers over the battlefield, massive beyond reason, its form barely contained within the fractured space. Chains snap one after another, echoing like the breaking of laws.
(Image Here - Satanael)
Then Kang Yaling materialises her gun, and at the same time, a weapon forms in Satanael's hand. It's huge, distorted, and absolute.
I know it not because of its shape, but because of what it represents. Rebellion given form.
Seeing that, Lucas moves, of course, he does, he's not stupid, he feels it too.
With a hint of panic in his tone, he yells, "Don't get ahead of yourself!"
His voice sharpens as he throws everything forward.
Golden portals tear open behind him with countless weapons firing at once as the Gate of Babylon unleashes its onslaught.
A spiralling distortion follows as a warped Enuma Elish tears through space.
A red spear that twists causality itself is launched, Gae Bolg.
And many more Noble Phantasms are all unleashed at the same time, turning into a chaotic mess where many of those even clash against one another.
Magic circles layer over each other, defensive barriers stack in rapid succession, and BB's interference floods the area with unstable data constructs.
Everything he has ever stolen, all of it unleashed at once.
And Satanael doesn't move, it doesn't dodge, it doesn't defend.
The attacks enter their range, and it makes a slow movement with its hand, then casually twists it, then they all disappear, erased before they can even exist properly.
I feel my breath catch, not because of the scale, but because of the implication.
They're not being blocked, they're being denied.
Kang Yaling doesn't even look impressed; she just watches like this is expected.
Then she raises her weapon, and Satanael does the same.
Slowly, deliberately, but the world around us reacts immediately as the data streams freeze mid-flow and fragments of the arena crack further apart, even BB's presence flickers.
For the first time since I've seen her, she hesitates, and Lucas sees it too, and for the first time, he looks uncertain as he stutters, "You... what is...!"
He cuts himself off because he understands that this isn't a simple attack; this is a judgment.
Then, Kang Yaling says calmly with no emotion or anger, just truth, "You stole power, you stole bodies..."
Lucas grits his teeth, power flaring around him as Kang Yaling continues, "... You stole outcomes."
She tilts her head slightly before she declares, "You never really earned anything."
Silence is all that meets that declaration, then she presses her finger on the trigger of her gun while saying, "Sinful Shell..."
At the same time, Satanael, who mimics her movement, also presses its finger on the trigger and fires.
There's no explosion, no dramatic surge of power, just a simple shot unleashing a beam of black and red colour.
A single point of distortion that tears through space as it moves, leaving nothing behind it. Not even energy, just the absence of everything.
The sound disappears. The battlefield holds its breath.
Lucas reacts instantly as everything goes up at once. Barriers. Weapons. Concepts.
BB pours power into him, the Moon Cell itself bending to reinforce his defence, but it doesn't matter.
The shot breaks through everything with no effort whatsoever, like everything in its path simply isn't allowed to exist anymore.
Lucas' voice finally cracks as he yells, "NOOO!"
Then the shot hits and everything stops. He freezes in place for a single, suspended moment.
Then cracks spread across his body. Black and red lines fracture through him, like something inside is breaking apart at a fundamental level.
All the power he stole leaks out quite violently at that.
Fragments of Servants flicker in and out of existence around him before collapsing into nothing. Distorted Noble Phantasms unravel. The very structure of his being destabilises.
BB's voice breaks through, "Wait...! WAIT! No, no, no! This isn't how it should have gone!! Everything was in our control!!! NOOOO!!!!"
They panic for real. Lucas reaches forward, as he can still do something, as he can fix it, but there's nothing left to fix.
His body begins to come apart, and I watch as pieces of him dissolve into motes of light, into data, into nothing.
Like he was never fully real to begin with. His presence fades away, his immense power scatters and then he's gone and shortly after, BB follows as her body too disappears
Silence falls over the battlefield.
Satanael lingers for a moment longer, towering above everything like an unspoken verdict.
Then it also disappears just like that as the domino mask on again covers Kang Yaling's face while she lowers her weapon with no other reaction, not even satisfaction, as if she just crossed out an item from her shop list, just done.
I exhale slowly, not in relief, not even in tension, but in clarity. The clarity of who my final opponent is going to be, 'She didn't overpower him. She didn't outlast him. She ended him. Efficiently. Decisively. And the worst part? I can tell that it wasn't everything she had. Not even close.'