Hey, friends, I'm back after dying at school. Anyways, I'll be fixing up my Prototype story, so please bear with me as I make my changes. I know this is called "Epilogue" but it's slightly necessary for the story as it reveals the history of the final moments of the Third Fuyuki Holy Grail War which would lead into the Prototype universe (Yes, I am connecting the Prototype universe to the canon storyline by way of the Third Holy Grail War!). I hope you will enjoy this (slightly) revised version as much as the original.


The Nineteen Hundred and Thirty-Fourth Year after the birth of Christ.

In this year, after many weeks of battle; of traps, assaults, ambushes, surprise attacks, and betrayals, the Heaven's Feel Ritual of Fuyuki City, Kyūshū, better known as the Holy Grail War reached the conclusion for the third time.

And, for the last time.

-*Shink*

-*Clang*

-*Swoosh*

Those sounds were the vibrations put out by the last two Servants clashing weapons for one last honorable bout to end the ritual and reach the Root. The death of one more Servant was all that was required to finally open the Holy Grail. The Lesser Grail was already filled with the mana essence of the defeated. The Greater Grail only needed to be filled with its contents, and yet it was still not enough for the surviving competitors.

With six Servants, all wishes would be within one's grasp.

With seven Servants, the Root of the world will be within a delicate touch.

The original hopes of Nagato Tohsaka, Zouken Makiri, and Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern would, at last, be realized.


The Servant of the Sword, Saber Major - Ivan Tsarevich, Prince of all the Rus.

The Servant of the Shield, Shielder - Galahad, Knight of the Grail.

These are the True Names of the final two Servants as they fight to the death. Only one would remain and live through the night. Below is a list of Servants that have been called upon by the wishes of their Master, fought for the wishes of their Master, and died for the wishes of their Master.

The Servant of Murder, Assassin - Hassan-i-Sabbah (of the Swift Feet).

The Servant of Spells, Caster - Väinämöinen.

The Servant of the Mount, Rider - Manfreda von Richthofen (the Red Baron).

The Servant of the Bow, Archer - Wilhelm Tell.

The Servant of the Spear, Lancer - Fionn mac Cumhaill.

The Servant of the Sword, Saber Minor - Jack Ettinsbane (the Giant-Killer).

Many Heroic Spirits great and small had perished before Saber Major and Shielder. By fate or just by sheer bad luck. A grand myriad of battles was fought and many a blood was spilled upon the streets, and in the woods, and on the beaches too.

Yet there would be another to join the ranks.

The last necessity required to open the way to the Root.

And that is the death of another Servant.

"Hah! Hath thou finally realized that one who fights single-handedly with a shield cannot go on the offense?"

Saber Major continued to taunt his opponent. It was one of the few alternate skills he had left to include on himself after having lost his Phantasmal Beast to Lancer, and Caster having bested his ability to call upon other woodland critters to his side.

Long and proud silvery-gold hair that dipped the tips in red. His face was cropped with facial hair that emphasized his jaw. Eyes like jade and lapis-lazuli co-mingling within his irides that never took their sights from the opponent before him.

His sword was swinging itself against the unbroken shield continuously. Never ceasing and never to rest.

"Is this what constituted for bravery in your Kingdom; hiding one's self behind a great wall and waiting for the enemy to come knocking? Your King must have been a great fool if many like minds followed his constitution."

"Speak ill not against my liege again, Saber. He was a King who none would wish but to serve beside. A Prince you may be, but a King you will never become."

Silver-haired Shielder stood in silence with his mauve eyes that couldn't help but remain relaxed even at such a crucial moment. His great and heavy shield was a mere stack of paper sheets as he swung it in defiance against the onslaught of the Self-Swinging Sword: Kladenets.

Saber Major was aware of this. Despite his sword's magic, a magic that allowed him the skill of using the will of the blade to attack at each and every opening it could conjure, Shielder would neither bend nor falter. Every blow was inhibited by the shield he took with him to battle.

This was not a fight he could win as easily as the previous.

Caster was barely worth a mention after exhausting himself against Rider and Assassin.

Lancer left the battle to play with Rider until he left his back on Saber Major only after Saber Minor had been killed by the end of his spear.

Assassin shouldn't have left his guard down.

Shielder was not just some other Servant.

He was a true warrior.

A true knight in shining armor.

Unlike Saber himself. Not that he wished to acknowledge such things now that his other half was gone.

"It seems thus that I will have to force your submission. Come, Shielder; no more of these petty sports. Heroic Spirits need only answer with their Noble Phantasms."

He pulled from the fight and gained distance from the Servant of the Shield. His sword took on a glow as he put in the last of his mana into his blade. He was exhausted as since only a day ago, he had fought tooth and nail against the brood of Lancer's Noble Phantasm, and his Master had yet to recover much herself.

This was a do-or-die maneuver.

His last gambit, to secure him and his Master the victory that they had fought tooth and nail to obtain where many others had failed before.

His Noble Phantasm: Hoard of Hidden Magic Swords.

"Mech . . . "

As he began to call out its name. The white light duplicated itself.

And again.

And again.

And again, until a great magnitude of his fabled sword were erupting in the air around him. Their combined light was a supreme accumulation of his many legends and victories with that sword.

And thus, he gave life to the existence he had breathed into.

"Kladenets!"

He swung downwards, and so did all the apparitions. The hivemind of blades moved as one, and their attacks combined as they unleashed themselves against Shielder.

However, he was not the only Servant to possess a great miracle of their being.

From his shield, as he raised it above his own head, just as Saber had done before, he set up his counter.

His Noble Phantasm: Fortress of the Distant Utopia.

"Lord . . . Camelot!"

A great wall arose around the Servant as he struck his shield upon the earth. A fortress that once housed the greatest knights of their day. The most powerful fo barriers to which no evils could assault.

The keep of the King of Knights himself.

When Saber Major's attack struck against the walls, all that energy did nothing. The stone remained unscathed and the castle stood firm and proud over the swordsman. The shieldbearer who stood at the gate as the caster continued to resist.

He felt the last of his energy drain from him, as the artillery barrage of light lost itself in the night's darkness when it had no other fuel to burn.

His perished song had come at last.

The Noble Phantasms died down once all had been spent.

Shielder survived, panting after having endured such power with his own trump card.

Saber Major, did not breathe. He had no need to when he was no longer anchored to this world once the last of his Master's command over him began to splinter into nonexistence.

His tether to the world broken as his exhaustion from mana deprivation took hold of him.

He knew, deep within himself, that he had been bested.

"I see. So, this be how I encounter my final demise."

Shielder praised his fallen opponent. "You fought with great strength to have made it to the last bout. Return to the Throne of Heroes knowing that you at least survived until the final night."

"In spite of thy apparent youth, there is great wisdom behind those eyes."

"I have been told as such."

"Claim your prize. Use it well, Shielder."

Saber Major dissolved into the air. His body becoming a floating cloud of glittering light until each individual spark snuffed itself out and became one with the wind.

Invisible.

Gone.

Defeated, without regret save having lost victory within his reach.

"The Lesser Grail has been filled in its entirety. The Heaven's Feel ritual may now commence at last."

The androgynous homunculus, Midenaught von Einzbern, declared as he held the cup of his forebears' thaumaturgy between his palms. With Seven Servants now contained within it, it resonated with a glow unlike anything otherworldly. It overflowed with the purest of mana concentrations.

The Overseer, Risei Kotomine. Young and in his twenties.

Though blasphemous as it was, to be there to bear sight upon the rebirth of a miracle of their times: the Cup of Heaven reborn. What man of the cloth would dare shy away from what could only be described as the touch of God?

The last of the founders, Zouken Makiri.

Wheelchair-bound as his body decayed and withered until he was a dismembered voice within a husk. He had kept himself alive for this long only so that he may, at last, see the dream he and his friends once believed to make real.

Soon enough, he would be close to moving his conscience among a hoard of his familiars.

But first, he wished to see it with his own eyes.

The former Masters that, unfortunately, did not earn the right to take part in this miracle.

Tassaru Tohsaka, of Archer. And Ceresfleur Edelfelt, of Saber Minor.

Two enemies who in spite of their opposition, found a connection among the violence and death of the War. Even with the demise of both their Servants, what they gained over the course of their first meeting had yet to diminish.

Perhaps better to say, it had cultivated.

The defeated Master, Severaroia Edelfelt.

Bitter from victory having been stolen from her grasp at the final moments. However, to witness the rebirth of the Third True Magic. This was more than enough compensation, at least for her personal and contractual desires.

And of course, the victors of the Third War.

Shielder, and his Master, Myriasviel von Einzbern.

"My lady. I have won with your favor. This victory... belongs to you."

He knelt to her, as a knight does for a lady. A custom from his land of renowned chivalry, blessed by the reign of the King of Knights.

She answered without emotion, having never been born to use them as they were not a necessity to her functioning as a homunculus.

But, for her knight, she made a smile. A skill she taught herself as the slightest consideration to the Hero who fought for her side for almost half a month. Never wavering and never hinting of defiance nor betrayal.

For him alone, a smile was worth more all the gold of Heaven.

"Yes. Thank you, Shielder."

And thus the Third Holy Grail War and the entire Heaven's Feel Ritual in Fuyuki reached its final, penultimate conclusion.