The light faded.
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
When my vision cleared, I was still standing.
Of course I was.
Across from me, Merlin remained upright as well—but just barely. His robes were torn, his breathing uneven, golden light flickering erratically around him like a dying star.
Good.
That meant I was winning.
I lifted my hand, purple energy already gathering.
"Is that all?" I asked quietly.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead…
He looked past me.
For a brief moment, I felt it too.
A shift.
Something subtle—but wrong.
Then Merlin spoke.
Low.
Steady.
Dangerous.
"You've chained your power to the Grail," he said.
I smirked slightly.
"Of course I have."
"You've made your army immortal," he continued. "Bound their existence to your will… and your blood."
"Yes."
His gaze sharpened.
"And in doing so… you've made yourself vulnerable."
My smile faded.
That…
Was new.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
Merlin raised his staff slowly.
And the world changed.
The air grew heavy.
The shadows recoiled.
Even my magic—my magic—hesitated for the briefest moment.
That had never happened before.
"Long before you," Merlin said, voice echoing with something older than him, "before Camelot… before even the concept of kings…"
Golden runes began to form around him.
Not the refined sigils he had used before.
These were… ancient.
Raw.
Dangerous.
"There were spells that should never be used," he continued.
The ground beneath him cracked.
"Because they don't just destroy power…"
The runes turned red.
"They sever it."
My eyes widened slightly.
No.
I moved instantly.
A barrage of purple energy erupted from my hands, tearing toward him with enough force to annihilate the entire battlefield.
He didn't dodge.
He endured.
Golden barriers formed around him—but they weren't perfect. My attacks broke through, striking him, tearing at his defenses, forcing him to his knees.
But he didn't stop casting.
"Too late," he said through gritted teeth.
The spell completed.
And the world…
snapped.
I felt it instantly.
A sharp, violent rupture—
Not physical.
Not magical.
Existential.
My connection to the Holy Grail—
Tore.
I gasped.
It felt like something had been ripped out of me.
A thread. A lifeline. A foundation I hadn't even realized I was relying on.
"No—"
The backlash hit.
My magic surged wildly, unstable, flickering as the Grail's power slipped from my grasp. The overwhelming energy I had been channeling—controlling—owning—
Was no longer mine to command.
Far across the battlefield…
I felt it.
My army.
The Death Knights faltered.
Some collapsed instantly.
Others moved slower. Weaker.
The immortality—
Breaking.
"No…" I whispered.
Merlin forced himself to stand.
"It's done," he said, voice hoarse but resolute.
I staggered slightly, clutching my chest as the absence of the Grail's power echoed through me like a hollow void.
Impossible.
I still had power.
So much power.
More than enough to destroy him.
But something fundamental had changed.
The certainty was gone.
I looked up at him slowly.
"…You think this changes anything?" I asked.
Merlin didn't smile.
Didn't gloat.
He just raised his staff again.
"It changes everything."
Golden magic ignited once more—stronger than before, fueled not by balance… but by desperation. By loss. By rage.
And for the first time since this war began…
I felt it.
Not fear.
But something close.
Excitement.
Because now—
This was a real fight.
I straightened slowly, shadows gathering around me once more, my purple magic stabilizing despite the loss.
"Good," I said softly.
A slow smile returned to my lips.
"Then let's see what you can do without holding back."
And I raised my hand.
The battlefield trembled again.
Because even without the Grail…
I was still me.