Chapter 97: It Matters Not Even if You Take Revenge on Me
At the center of the battlefield, magical energy of differing natures continued to overflow.
The throbbing prana now acted like solid wind, sweeping aimlessly in every direction. It was as if an abnormal tornado had been whipped up, with the combatants serving as the eye of the storm.
Initially, it was Alcides unilaterally releasing his aura; then, to avoid being overwhelmed by this pressure, Shirou and Saber released their own magical energy in turn. The final result was that both sides remained unscathed. This meant the intimidating pressure merely curved in opposite directions, forming a whirlwind.
The actual problem lay less than a hundred meters from the gale, where people were waiting in the "spectator seats."
John was positioned at the very front of Clan Calatin and thus bore the brunt of it. Without warning, he was struck in the face by gusts of wind so physical they felt like solid slaps. The extraordinary wind pressure served as a direct warning to everyone: do not approach that area.
It was a tempest that created the illusion of being capable of blowing a human away.
It wasn't that they didn't want to enter the hospital to save people; it was that the combat zone between Alcides and the other two was wedged directly between them and Snowfield Central Hospital. Countless rays of different colors, representing different factions, were dynamically leaping between the two ends.
How were they supposed to get into the hospital?
Consequently, the members of the Police Department could only huddle at the periphery of the tornado. Whenever they tried to draw even slightly closer, the atmospheric pressure—enough to make one's skin crawl—would spike sharply. The air was thick with a killing intent that raised one's body temperature, forcing them back.
They could only endure the wind while struggling to watch the life-and-death struggle to its conclusion.
"Wait, who did you say just arrived!? Raise the camera angle a bit!"
On the other end of the body-worn monitors, the Chief, back in his office, shouted in a distorted voice.
The female secretary tilted the lens upward slightly. Since John wasn't equipped with a monitor, he simply looked up with a stunned expression.
Before their eyes, arrows crossed.
Arrows sped toward one another from opposite starting points. Sword scars met the arrows.
The shots from the expressionless Heroic Spirit were defined by surging violence, yet even a single shot possessed terrifying magical energy sufficient to kill. Conversely, after a long period of charging, what Shirou fired was a single, straight line.
However, the moment the intricately decorated arrow was released, the supposedly invincible Heroic Spirit—at maximum speed and as if he didn't even want to touch it—violently parried the shot away. He then faced the next arrow from above with a stiff attitude, his expression even appearing strained.
Though they didn't fully understand it, the commonality in the lethal effects caused by those arrows was obvious: if any ordinary person present were caught in the crossfire of this battlefield, they would be reduced to nothingness regardless of which side's attack hit them.
John had never known before that a person who had once entered their police station could actually create a scene of mutual exchange with that God of Death.
Only three rounds had passed since the start of the battle, yet the result of the exchange seemed to have emerged. The magical energy of both sides climbed steadily; it looked as if they were about to use their Noble Phantasms.
However, after making the motion to draw his bow and nock an arrow, and seemingly after a long period of deliberation, Alcides made a new move. His rising magical energy dissipated.
"?"
The Heroic Spirit capable of easily slaughtering John suddenly did something John didn't understand. He withdrew the magical energy originally intended for the liberation of a Noble Phantasm—and he did so just as the two opponents were almost certainly about to unleash theirs.
If the two holding Noble Phantasms of intense magical energy insisted on striking down, Alcides would, without exception, die here.
He was essentially declaring his defeat and surrendering his resistance.
Why? He still had the terrifying firepower that had crushed Berserker unused. Why default to defeat before even releasing a Noble Phantasm? John felt that he could break through the current predicament with that one move! Why had he suddenly abandoned the intention to block the opponent's attack?
"If you harbor a desire for revenge, it matters not if you fulfill it here."
Alcides lowered his bow indifferently.
As Shirou frowned at the lack of resistance, Alcides spoke: "I remember the words you said, but that is impossible, 'Emiya Shirou'."
Even though Shirou had forced the situation to a point where he could be eliminated at any moment, there was no fear in his tone; it was as if he were discussing someone else entirely.
"Once these flames are lit, they cannot be stopped. For the sake of revenge, I have built a road of corpses. There is no nobility to be found in it; do not harbor any expectations for it. Eliminating me with all your might is the only correct action."
He spoke as if his life were not currently in someone else's hands: "However, I will also resist to the end against anyone who obstructs this way of existence."
Shirou had many concerns regarding what he said. But what Shirou cared about most was the contradiction between Alcides' words and his actions.
"If you won't give up resisting, then why?"
Why not stop the Noble Phantasm currently aimed at him—the one that, in his view, was about to kill him?
"Because I judged that adopting this method is advantageous to me. That is all."
He uttered words that would baffle anyone.
The head behind the hide tilted upward. After a silence, Alcides suddenly said to Shirou: "This body is but a dead man returned from the mud of humanity. I am no hero, nor is there anything worthy of respect... I may involve all existences in my revenge, not just in the past, but in the future as well."
Alcides stood his ground; these were the last words he spoke to Shirou.
Allowing the attack that could pierce his heart and vaporize his flesh to remain pointed at him, he suddenly reached out a hand toward John's direction.
Eh?
John, who had been silently observing the dialogue between the two sides, found himself the focus of attention. Before he could figure out what was wrong with having a palm pointed at him, a sensation of chattering teeth surged in his heart.
A massive signature of magical energy remained above Alcides, but he didn't show even a hint of an intention to block it. It was as if he were signaling that even if he were destroyed for it, it was only natural, and he wouldn't stop them—provided they were willing to prioritize his elimination above all else.
'DO IT... Stop that mud.'
He merely raised a single hand, aiming it at John on the right.
"I offer my apologies for making use of you."
In that instant—black mud suddenly overflowed from his hand, swelling without warning to form a red-black torrent.
"A hero is one who, in order to minimize damage, swings their blade swiftly and without hesitation to cut away those humans who are beyond saving." Someone had once said this.
The black mud within Alcides was extremely troublesome, but whether it would truly hold Shirou and the others hostage according to his ideal plan was uncertain. The "justice" of hardening one's heart to eliminate the Holy Grail, abandoning the victim not far away to force his exit, surely exists somewhere in reality.
Then, the thing that should be done is—
The sound of feet leaving the ground seemed to come from somewhere. But it wasn't the sound John made.
John could do nothing. Caught off guard with the reaction speed of a human, he couldn't even run two steps.
Naturally, it was impossible to dodge. The skin-crawling sludge swarmed over the ground, spreading like a spiderweb and hunting its prey like a sentient creature. The distance to John closed to fifteen meters in a flash; at this distance, even using a long-range Noble Phantasm to stop it would easily involve John in the blast.
Even without saying any extra words, from the moment Alcides had this intention, even if he were to exit via a Noble Phantasm afterward, there was plenty of time to deliver a "gift" to the other side before the enemy's Noble Phantasm could activate.
A giant cloud of mud-smoke swallowed its way toward John. Within it, John seemed to see an unknown malice, as if all the humans in the world were slaughtering each other.
Before John could accept his own death, two familiar silhouettes stood before him.
The youth no longer held a bow; he simply gripped an arrowhead and held it out in front of him.
A rainbow light dispersed the sludge.
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