"That's enough."
Those three words cut through the chaos of the battlefield like a cold blade. The Servant of Chaldea, embroiled into battle only a moment before with the soldiers of the Holy City, found themselves watching with surprise as the soldiers fell back as one.
Archer, following his veteran instinct and the istructions of the Master, fell back at once. The other Servant did the same and, together, they formed into a group, ready to take on whatever surprise was coming.
Still, nothing came. The soldiers of the Holy City remained in defensive formation, their enclosing helms and stiff postures making them look as inanimated machines.
Still, tension. Archer could feel it in the air, thick as a shroud.
Something was coming.
He frowned, then, as a familiar yet frigthengly different kind of aura hit his senses, his eyes widened.
Despite everything, it was almost nostalgic.
The shield wall opened, the soldiers stepping disciplinately out of the way.
The Lion King came forward.
The Divine Spirit wearing Artoria's face had an impassive expression, but her eyes gleamed with the chill of winter, even as they glinted with gold. A soft glow emanated from her slim figure, the air itself shimmering from it, like under a snowfall. Her aura was an enormous thing of silence and cold majesty; it wrapped around her like her royal cape did and covered everything around. It was like witnessing a star suddenly fallen between mortals; not life-giving, but uncaring, blinding, bleaching everything to its own color.
Archer frowned, feeling a knot in his throat not only because from the heaviness of that aura. For a moment, he had seen her like someone else; just a moment, before the terrible coldness of those eyes shattered the inner glow of his blurred vision.
The Lion King marched with slow firmness, assessing each of the Servant in turn. Archer felt her gaze boring into him like a ice blade. It lasted only for a moment, a cursory consideration, before moving to the next. He felt a twinge of mismatched emotions, but shoved it back. At his side, Hide gave a small grunt and shook his head, like a dog trying to get rid of water in his fur. Mephistopheles, the always smiling demon, hissed like an angry cat.
From beyond the King, the Knights came. Gawain, Mordred, Lancelot, Agravain, Tristan, Gareth. Covered in their full armours, they formed a semi-circle behind their King and planted their swords into the ground, a bulwark of spirits and steel. Archer couldn't help but think that even they seemed to have taken a bite from that bleaching light.
"Invaders." The Lion King's voice was cold as winter's breath. Almost bland in its intonation, and still firm and imposing. She didn't talk loud, but they all heard her like she was whispering directly in their ears. "We have grown tired of your foolish meddling."
Archer felt those words slip along his spine like a cold blade. He gripped his swords tighter.
"We hoped that the resistance offered by our soldiers would have been enough to turn you back, but your stolid conviction has convinced us otherwise." A wave of her hand, not even a glance. The soldiers step back further, disengaging completely from the fight. "Now, you shall face the mightiest force of our Kingdom. Our knights shall see to the end of your intrusion." Another gesture. The Knights of the Round Table stepped forward, each of them raising weapons as one.
Archer felt the wave of prana coming out from them as they passed into a real fighting stance like a boulder settling on his shoulders. They weren't remembered as history's greatest knights, each and every single one of them, just for show.
But they were Chaldea, and not even that was for show.
He exchanged a glance with Mephistopheles. The demon-homunculus grinned wildly in answer.
The smoke bomb exploded without warning, coming out from the demonic Servant almost magically fast hands. Without losing composure, the knights stepped back, avoiding getting caught in the blast.
The Servant of Chaldea dashed out of it just a moment later, each of them taking on a single knight in a clash of weapons and Noble Phantasms.
Archer barely glanced to take notice of his comrades entering in combat. He had come to put his trust in them and he knew that they trusted him. For that reason, all his concentration was on his target.
The Lion King stepped back from his slash, her impassive expression not changing in the slightest. Unfazed, Archer followed the attack with another. Kanshou blazed in a lightning-fast trust, too fast to be dodged, and clashed with a blade of light appeared from nowhere.
Even as surprise twinged, Archer kept moving. A crushing backhanded blow passed just barely above his head as he twisted down, just to return to attack with Bakuya. The blade of light intercepted it as well, and Archer found himself staring into the Lion King's cold eyes.
"My King!" He heard a voice call with what could be worry. He didn't know whom it belonged to.
"Enough." The Lion King replied. "Take care of the rest. We will deal personally with this one."
"Y-yes!": was the gruding reply, and then there was only the sounds of battle.
Archer, his concentration not faltering not even a second, managed to keep their blades locked for another moment yet. Then, the blade of light broke the contest with a swing, and he jumped back.
Landing at some distance, he rapidly took stock of the changed situation. The other battles were getting farther, probably his comrades trying to giving him time to defeat the one at the center of that distorted Singularity.
So, that was how it was. A 1 versus 1.
Good.
Since the Master had led them there, he had felt his usual cool being polluted by a strange mix of rage and sadness. The more he saw what those "knights" were doing, upon what their so called "Holy Kingdom" was built, the more it had grown, so much that even his iron-hard selfdiscpline was starting to get frayed by it.
And all that rage and sadness was directed without other chances to the figure now standing before him, like a river raging toward the sea.
"You did well to withstand my attack." The Lion King, still wrapped in her royal mantle, wielded a long sword that seemed made of light. Her pose exuded perfection. "… red bowman."
Hearing that calm, composed voice, feeling those cold eyes on him, made him set his jaw.
"Of course. I am not ready to lose to you." He took a stance. Energy began coursing though his magic circuits. "Besides, this is personal."
The Lion King cocked her head by a side. "Is that so?"
For some reason, Archer felt his sadness spike at those words. "Yes. Something inside of me…" He tightened his muscles. More and more energy flooded his body as his magic circuits flared to life. Something powerful and defiant was surging from inside of him, something made of rage and sadness and outrage. "…is telling me…" He raised his eyes toward the King, anger, pure and undiluted pouring from him like waves of heat. "…to not lose to you!"
The earth splintered and cracked under his dash. In a breath, he was upon his opponent, Kansho and Bakuya slashing the air like thunderbolts.
The Lion King was a pond of frozen water before that rage, her blade of light raising to intercept the attack.
Archer lost himself into combat, years and decades of battle experience guiding him blow after blow. His swords moved as fast as lightning, flowing effortlessly from an attack to the other like parts of him. He sharpened his rage and sadness into piercing points and sharpened edges and made them come crashing down into his opponent as a thundering river of slashes and stabs and strenght.
And still, it seemed all useless before the Lion King. No matter how complex the pattern, how quick the slash, accurate the movement or fast the prediction, wherever Kansho and Bakuya went the King's light blade was there to deny passage. Archer almost had the impression that there was a wall of swords to separate him from his opponent. And still, more than the way to the King's heart, he felt the burning wish to break those cold eyes, and the vice of pain that they clamped around his own heart. He wanted to… reach…!
A last clash, and he jumped back, retaking distance.
With a flick of will, he pushed back the growing frustration. He had to remain calm and focused.
Making his prana flare, he banished Kansho and Bakuya, now cracked and useless, and summoned another fresh pair.
He squared off his opponent. The Lion Kink looked absolutely unfazed, her blade point pointed toward the ground into a poised defensive stance. She still wore her luscious mantle.
"I heard that the Lion King wielded a lance, not a sword." He said, readying himself for another clash.
"Our will itself is a blade." She replied smoothly. "What you see now is just a materialization of it."
Archer frowned. So, her will given form was enough to destroy Kansho and Bakuya? As expected from the one standing at the top of the Round Table, that copy of it, at least. And that meant that she was taking him lightly, not even using her main weapon to fight him. That realization didn't give him the expected satisfaction. He wanted to reach to her, somehow, move her, break that damn gaze of her. He didn't even know why, but his soul itself was screaming for him to do it and like that he wouldn't have been able to do it.
"You won't be able to defeat us by bladework alone, red bowman." The Lion King's cold voice broke his train of thougths. "Defeat us and the Holy Kingdom will fall. Be late on it and our knights will slaughter all of your comrades. We know that you hide more than just little swords in your sleeve."
Archer didn't like that tone of her, but there was no denying those words. His comrades weren't strong enough to fight off all of the Round Table at the same time.
"No need to tell me." He murmured, taking back a battle stance. His magic circuits flared to life once more, the prana weaving into complex patterns as he summoned powers hidden within.
He wanted… he wanted to.. Reach…
An image of a young, blonde woman. Her lips moved, but he couldn't hear what she was saying.
Archer frowned, a twinge of pain mixing with his memories, but kept the prana steady nonetheless.
"Something's wrong, red bowman?"
"Mph." He dashed forward once again, Kansho and Bakuya whirling once again.
"We told you already." The Lion King raised her sword. "You cannot defeat us with…"
The Lion King's phrase was cut off as Archer suddenly threw both his weapons like boomerangs. Unfazed, she raised her sword to block, but, as soon as the weapons made contact, Kansho and Bakuya exploded. The blast enveloped the Lion King and rose dust and debris, cutting off her vision for a moment. Making her prana burst outward, she blew away it all away, freeing her camp of vision.
"Clever." She murmured.
The battlefield was empty, but she didn't lose time searching for her opponent. Instead, she just raised her eyes up. Archer was there, almost invisible in the distance, but his prana shined as brightly as the sun. He pointed a bow against her, a twisted and spiraled sword nocked and ready as the arrow, crackling, bursting with energy.
Still, even as his expression was an emotionless mask, a conflict raged inside of him.
She could still see that woman in his mind, her image super-imposing itself on the small figure of the Lion King into the distance. It meant something for him, it meant almost everything. He wanted to reach for her, to listen to her once again, but… but… how!
Caladbolg!
The Broken Phantasm was shot with a defeaning thunderclap. Roaring as lightning, it devoured the distance toward its target, space bending and twisting before its power.
The Lion King didn't even try to dodge. "As well as a sword, our will is a shield too." She said, raising her weapon high. The light forming the sword dissipated into a nimbus, only to reform itself above the King as a cloud of golden ribbons. "One around which even space and time find anchor."
Caldabolg impacted against the King's shield. The explosion shook all of the battlefield, engulfing the King and everything around her.
Archer watched it rage, his heart being painfully squeezed by the vision as more memories ran through his mind.
I am Saber and i answer to your summon. Are you my Master?
I don't need a reson to save a girl!
It's troublesome for a Master to harbour such thoughts.
The explosion eventually ended, and the dust settled. Archer widened his eyes.
Under the cover of her shield, the Lion King was unfazed.
"Not with swordplay nor with archery. You won't be able to defeat us with neither." The King said, the particles of light returning into her raised palm. "Time is passing by, red bowman. What…" She slightly bent her knees.
Eyes wide, Archer summoned Bansho and Bakuya.
"… will you do?" In a heartbeat, the King was above him, whipping around to slash with her sword.
Archer barely managed to block the blow with both hands, the sheer power of the impact reverberating through his bones. Teeth gritted, he managed to resist only for a moment, then he was blown away.
"Tch! Mana Burst…" He hissed as he raced toward the ground, cursing himself for not having kept that detail in the proper account; and to think that he knew very well that was the basic of the combat style of…
A blonde woman before him. Her lips moved, but he couldn't hear her words.
Shirou!
I won't stand aside and let people get killed!
My True Name is…
Archer flinched in pain as images and words flooded his mind. The Lion King appeared at his side, sword ready to strike. He barely managed to block and was knocked aside.
He gathered his body, trying to take control of his fall, to…
I failed, as a king and as a knight.
The Grail will fix this.
The past is…
Those memories kept on bombarding him incessantly, spoiling his concentration. The Lion King appeared again, underneath this time. He barely had the time to dodge a grazing blow that would have taken his head.
This is my dream! Even if i fail, i…
A faker is all you'll ever be.
Nothing of yours is real.
Following his istincts, he raised Kansho and Bakuya and braced himself. The Mana Burst from upwards almost smashed his guard aside, making him speed toward the ground like a projectile.
Gritting his teeth against pain and confusion, he saw the Lion King standing calmly close to where he was speeding to. She raised her sword, ready to cut him in two as he passed. The speed he was going was too much. He couldn't stop…
The Utopia she was reaching to was…
Even if a faker's dream, i will keep chasing it. I want to be…
Saber.
Saber.
Saber.
I… want to stay at your side.
I love you.
With a roar, Archer made his prana flare. His bow appeared in his hands and he shot a powerful blow against the ground, the blowback reversing his momentum. Gritting his teeth against the pain that seemed about to break his bones as the forces grabbing hold of his body collided, he forced himself to spin into the air. As the Lion King's blade grazed his side, he whipped his arm outward, Bakuya appearing between his fingers…
… and slashed!
The counterattack arrived a moment later, blowing him away. Complete focus returning after the onslaught of memories, he rolled into the air, and slided against the ground, stopping at some distance. Panting heavily, blood and burning pain marring him in various points, he watched his opponent.
Blood dripped to the ground.
The Lion King touched her cheek, right where a cut marred it. She passed a finger upon it, then watched the blood on it.
Her face was an expressionless mask.
"Marvelous." She said, with that cold, uncaring voice of her. "You survived our onslaught and even managed to land a hit on us. No, even more." She turned to look at him, almost appraising. "Having judged our superiority in raw strenght and speed, you moved our theater of battle to the sky, so that we wouldn't be able to attack you properly. A most wonderful use of prediction, battle senses and cold blood. We're thoroughly impressed." A flick of her hand, and the cut was bathed into golden light. As it disappeared into particles once again, it was gone.
Despite everything, Archer couldn't help but smile grimly. "I didn't think you would be so fast and powerful, though, catching up to me so quickly. You are… stronger."
The Lion King nodded. "Of course."
A moment of silence fell.
Archer felt it as a stiffling knot in his throat.
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
The Lion King cocked her head by a side, almost looking encouraging.
"Sab…" He paused, shaking his head. "No." He glared at her, even as painful emotions filled his chest. "You're not her."
The Lion King nodded. "That is so."
"What are you? Who are you?" He asked, every inch of him dreading the answer.
"We are what has come beyond death, and destiny. We are the oak sprouted by the dying seed. We are what has bloomed when everything useless has been left behind."
"Even…" Archer struggled to accept the meaning of those words. They couldn't come from her, not with that winter voice and cold eyes. "Even your dream? Even that has been left behind?"
The Lion Kinh shook her head. "It hasn't. We're still going to save humanity."
"By…" Anger was rising once again inside of him. "By sealing them in your spear? By giving to only a few an existence as… as statues?"
"Yes."
The glacial certainty of that single word hit him like a spear thrust.
"Why?"
"Because we see farther than you and your allies, and we know that this is the only way."
"It's not!" Archer shot out. "We're gonna save Humanity! Chaldea is gonna prevent this end!"
"You lack the strenght for it."
"You don't know that." He shouted.
The Lion King didn't answer immediately.
"From the beginning we knew that we wouldn't have been able to sway you." She said slowly, almost thoughtfully. "That is why we're not even going to try. You wouldn't ever be able to under stand, to accept. You're too innocent. Too ignorant. Too arrogant. Your Master, and you. You've always been like that."
Archer blinked. For a moment, only for a moment, instead of that figure of frigid light and majesty, he had though to have seen…
He gritted his teeth.
"End it! Now!" He screamed.
"No." The Lion King replied, unfazed.
"If you're not gonna listen, then i will…"
"Why are you still hesitating, Shirou?"
Archer paused, eyes widening. The Lion King had closed her eyes.
"The woman you're searching for isn't here anymore. There's the only the Lion King now." She watched him. There was no hate in her eyes, no rage, no remorse. Only that endless cold. "Our mind is set. We call upon you to do the same. Remain steadfast in your loyalty, Servant."
Archer flinched. For a moment, he remained stiff, his thoughts running back to his comrades. He left out his breath slowly, tension draining out of him. When he turned to glare at her again, there was no doubt in his gaze.
He raised a hand. His swords disappeared in flashes of light as he pointed the palm against his opponent. His prana surged as never before.
I am the bone of my sword.
The Lion King nodded in approvation. Her sword disappeared into light once again, and the nimbus gathered behind her.
Steel is my body and fire is my blood.
Archer felt sadness and fury flood his heart. One after the other, the memories moved once again before his eyes, and he left them, even as his prana kept increasing.
I have created over a thousand blades.
Their first meeting, in an old shed of all the places. He still remembered the awe at seeing that ethereal figure, how her determinated expression had hit him.
Unknown to death, nor known to life.
How they had battled, side by side, enemy after enemy in that terrible Grail War. The blooming of his dream, his under standing of how he wanted to spend his life, what path he wanted to follow. And at the same time, his coming to understand her, the massive pain hidden behind those unflinching eyes, the terrible weight set upon her shoulders.
The prana, coursing upon his body into bright lines, expanded forward like a tital wave. The world itself was warped by its contact, changing, changing, changing.
I have withstood pain to create many weapons.
And now, those eyes that he learned to know and love, now they held nothing but endless winter. There was nothing of alive anymore beyond the unflinching steel. The heart was gone, and the sword that once was swore to protect was now revolved to despoil and suffucate. Knowing it hurt him more than anything else.
What would she say at seeing that mockery of her dream? For her soul and for his, he would put an end to it.
Yet, those hands will never hold anything.
The prana burned as a strong as a wildfire, the world itself made blurred and distorted by it. It just waited, at his beck and call, what form to assume, what vision to give form to.
Still, Archer had to ask.
"Do you remember everything?"
The Lion King watched him for a long moment before answering. "Yes."
"And, even so…?"
"Yes. I am sorry."
Archer lowered his gaze. A wet trail ran on his cheek.
No more doubts.
Unlimited Blade Works!
The world stood still for a moment. Then, it changed, with a rush. A new world came, brought into existence by the struggles and prayers of a warrior soul. The Sky was covered by gigantic gears, rusted and worn-out, but still they grinded on. The Earth was a wasteland without end, barren and devoid of life. Weapons, of all shake and forms, littered it, but, even as they were encrusted by dust and age, they were still ready for battle.
At the center of it all, the center of that new world, Archer stood, his expression grim and determinated.
The Lion King slowly took account of that new sight. "This bring us back memory, even to us." She commented. She turned to Archer, coolly appraising him. "It looks like your hesitation is gone."
"Yes." There was a flash of light, and a long, golden blade appeared into Archer's hand. "No matter the cost, i will defeat you here." He pointed the weapon against her. "The dream that you have discarded… i will make you remember it." No doubt marred his steady voice. He was ready for the fight, once again.
"Ah, Caliburn." The Lion King nodded at recognizing the weapon. "A marvelous copy. Maybe you think that seeing it once again would somehow restore us to our previous incarnation? What a naive thinking. All the same…" She reached at a side with a gauntleted hand. The space warped under her fingers, then they sank into it, into the air itself like it was water. "You showed us your determination. We shall show you our regards for it…" She grabbed something, in the beyond where her hand was, and pulled it back. The space broke as glass, falling into pieces as the Holy Spear was dragged by its owner into that reality. "…by fighting you with all our might."
Archer set his jaw as the King's prana washed over him. It was deep, and heavy, and frigid cold, like the northern sea had just erupted inside of his Reality Marble. Still, he wielded Caliburn, and the light of his courage, determination and memories sustained him.
He was ready.
The Lion King unclasped her mantle and left it fall, revealing her bright-white armour. "Come." She said, pointing her lance against him.
Archer didn't need to be said twice.
Setting his magic circuits to blaze with power, he began to recall all the powers hidden inside of his Reality Marble.
With a sharp wave of his hand, lances and blades embedded into the earth raised up like pulled by an invisible hand and shot out.
The King's spear whipped around, destroying them all with ease. "Is that all?"
Archer didn't answer. He raised both his hands. More weapons erupted from their resting places, raising up and then coming down like a rain of steel.
The nimbus of light of the King whipped and twisted, before taking the form of a shield. The projectile smashed themselves to pieces against it, not even grazing it. Suddenly, the King narrowed her eyes. A moment later, one of the weapon exploded against her shield, leaving a dent on it. Another did the same, and another, and another, and another. A rain of exploding weapons, all blazing with prana, came down on her shield, breaking it more and more.
The Lion King stood her ground for another moment, then, just as cracks was starting to form on her protection, she moved out of the way. Archer followed her with his palm and gaze, the rain of weapons following suit.
The Lion King flew close to the ground, zigzaging between explosions as fast as a bullet as more and more weapons came raining down. She traced a long curve, her cold expression matching Archer's focused one, before turning to fly in his direction.
Archer pointed both his open palms against her. More and more prana emitted from him as he awoke more and more of his arsenal. The weapons all around him answered his call, and he shot them toward the rapidly approaching opponent.
"I won't lose to you." He thought, not leaving his concentration falter not even for a moment.
The Lion King dodged and weaved, the projectiles speeding past her or smashing to pieces against her own weapon's swings.
"I wont…" Archer tightened his muscles, increasing the amount of weapons darting forward.
The Lion King dodged less and destroyed more of them, but didn't slow down.
"…lose…" The shooting weapons solidified into an almost continuous stream of steel and power. Archer focused more and more.
The Lion King stopped dodging completely, and pointed her lance forward. Light enveloped its point, and she dashed forward with renewed speed, crashing through any opposition.
The weapons were destroyed as quickly as they set out, only managing to slow her down, but still Archer kept on his onslaught.
"…to you!" With a roar, he focused himself at the maximum, the weapons now forming directly in the air around him and shooting forward. And still, relentlessly, the Lion King came forward. She struggled and almost ground to a halt, the continuous explosions almost repelling her back, but then her prana burst through, and she pierced through the last defence.
Fragments of broken and burned weapons raining around, she pierced forward… and found herself denied, as Archer had already dodged aside.
The King stumbled forward, her own momentum making her struggle to keep her balance.
Caliburn slashed, but, even if unbalanced by her charge, the Lion King smashed the attack aside, and pushed forward, searching for his opponent's heart.
The ground exploded under the assault, a cloud of dust raising to envelop both of the attackers.
Archer emerged from it first. His get-up was dented and broken, his torso was covered with cuts and bruises and his left arm hung limply by a side. Still, his expression was still a mask of grim determination, and he speed toward the gears-covered sky riding a broad sword like a surf board.
He stopped, right at the center of the sky, and turned to look where he had come from. The dust was settling, revealing the Lion King. She was struggling now. Frgaments of weapons, the same she had destroyed during her charge clung to her armour like clumps of iron, weighing her down. As she stumbled, spears of iron shot from the ground, hitting her. They couldn't penetrate her armour, but they lodged themselves against the fragments, blocking her at the ground. Her spear itself was blocked, caught in the barren ground during her last attack. The weapons embedded into the earth gathered around it like a vice, and the Lion King, no matter how much struggled, didn't seem able to pull it out.
Archer watched her grimly.
"I will make you remember." He said. "At any cost."
Saying those words gave a painful squeeze to his heart, but didn't shake his determination.
"There's nothing to remember." The Lion King replied, stopping her struggles. "I told you: i remember everything."
"That's not true." Archer hissed. He raised a hand. One after another, blinking into existence as stars, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of weapons appeared into the sky, covering it. "Everything you stood for. Everything you defended during your life. You've forgotten it all." The smile, the final smile that she had given him before their farewell shone brightly into his mind, excruciantigly painful and wonderful at the same time. "The Artoria Pendragon i knew wouldn't have given up as you did. She would have fought to save everyone, she would have fought with us."
As he told those words, he raised Caliburn. A brilliant light engulfed the blade, and when it stopped, there wasn't Caliburn in his hands anymore, but Excalibur, the holy sword.
"Do you remember this? This was the weapon she wielded! And she wielded it as a simbol of hope!" The light of Excalibur grew, it filled Unlimited Blade Works, it shone like the sun.
The Lion King said nothing, but retook her struggles, her cold eyes fixed on that luminous blade.
Watching her, Archer only felt a great sadness, and a great anger. He expired slowly. Everything he had in his Reality Marble, every single weapon he had ever copied, every single bits of power he had accumulated during his life was there, ready to be unleashed, waiting for his commands. Saber was there too, holding Excalibur together with him.
He widened his eyes. "Remember what you left behind! Remember it! EXCALIBUR!"
A shout, that was a desperate prayer too, and, to it, all that power was unleashed. The thousands of weapons covering the sky, the holy blade; they all come crashing down, raining all together, with all the anger and sadness and wishes of Archer behind them.
The end of that mockery, once and for all.
The Lion King judged it, and found it wanting.
She gave a final tug to her bonds, then clutched her spear, closed her eyes and whispered a name.
Rhonghomyniad.
There was a light, coming from the farthest edges of the world, fastening the world together. It was a godlike power against which any mortal mean fell short. That light appeared into that reality, replying to the kind evocation of the King. It was a gentle light, and gently bleached and devoured everything it touched. The blades raining down the sky, the light of the holy sword. They touched it, and were undone. Like flowers caught by the winter wind, they just wilted silently, and in silence they faded away.
What it remained was only the lonely wasteland, the Archer without blades and without arrows, and the King, standing tall and unbowed, with her Holy Spear.
"Mph." The Lion King pulled the lance out of the ground with a sharp movement. Wisps of white smoke still came out of Rhongomyniad as its rotation came to an end.
Archer just stared, blank, unmoving.
The King turned to watch him. "We shall aknowledge your determination, but, in the end, you didn't learn anything." She pointed her lance against him.
Archer moved out of insticts, but his body, drained of energy, was barely able to move. He wasn't fast enough. The ray of light shattered the weapon keeping him afloat, and pierced his shoulder. Hissing in pain, he fell, but still managed to land on his knee. His hand shot to his shoulder, returning slick with blood.
His breath stalled as a lance appeared in his vision. Slowly, he raised his head, finding two cold eyes staring ruthlessly at him.
"A thousand weapons, indeed." The King's voice seemed to arrive farther than it should have been actually possible. Archer tried to move, but, to his dismay, found that his body didn't answer. His muscles were stiff as iron bands, his magic circuits overloaded and useless. "And still, they cried all the same to us, no matter how many you made." There wasn't hatred nor pity in the King's eyes. Only calm aknowledgement. Archer found himself unable to do anything but to listen. "Kill me." She said. "Destroy me. I deserve to die. I want to die. That's what all of your thousands and thousands of weapons were telling to us, every single one of them. The feelings etched on the core of your soul, etched upon each and every of them. That's why all you could ever do were only copies, and never something new." The Holy Lance fluttered closer. Archer found himself hold his breath. "I thought much about you after my ascension, my old friend, and many questions i have found asking myself." To his immense surprise, the King kneeled, bringing their eyes at the same level. Cold eyes, yes, cold as winter, and still, there was depth and knowledge in them, and a piercing understanding. Archer vaguely noted that she had put the us maiestatis aside. "Justice. Sacrifice. Saving everybody. You've always been saying those words, those precise words and never different. Why?"
Why. That simple question. Archer couldn't bring his mouth to reply. He felt his body as stiff as stone.
"You've never said: i want to defend my country; i want to protect children from being kidnapped; i want to save the victims of natural disasters; i want to bring comfort to those in pain. No. What you've said was: i want to be a hero of justice, i want to sacrifice myself, i want to save everybody." She cocked her head by a side, almost like she was trying to watch him better. "Who is this everybody you kept talking about, friend? All of humanity? Each and every humans? Even those undeserving? Even those that could be maybe undeserving? And who will decide who's deserving or not? You? You will be always watching, gazing, appeasing, deciding, judging?" Archer just watched her. The King continued. Their eyes were irrimediably locked. "Justice. What is justice? Preserving human life? That is laudable, but then, you would spare a criminal? A rapist? A thief, returning again and again to steal? He cannot find a job, nobody would give him a chance and he has to eat somehow, isn't? But he steals from poor families, struggling themselves to put food on the table. It would be justice to eliminate the thief? Or maybe it's society to be unjust, by allowing some people to feel hunger, poverty, despair? Will you fight society? Will you stand against everyone and everything? But then, if the majority wouldn't want for what you want, where justice would be? Will you save everybody? From what, and whom? Death? Poverty? Sickness? Pain? Suffering? Themselves? Will you be a hero? Will you stand before an adoring crowd, weaving your hand and smiling while people rot in dank cellars? Or maybe will you stand alone, pierced by blades, your words and actions nothing but a drop in the grand scheme of things, a useless life? Will you bring happiness to all of earth? Erase all suffering and death forever? Swirling a couple, a dozen, a thousand of swords? Will you defeat the evil dragon, save the princess and bring the happy ending? Or will you just drown in a world immensely more complex and difficult that this? What will you do?"
Archer opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He couldn't speak. He couldn't think.
The King put a hand on his shoulder, the briefest flick of empathy gleaming in her gaze. "My dear, old friend, that still believes into fairytales. Where is the evil, just waiting for you to destroy it? Where are the loyal friends, ready to follow you into the blackest abyss? Where's the happy ever after?" She shook her head. "Why had you choose what it is impossible? Anything else you could have chosen, any other objective, and with your strenght you would have done great good to the world. And, instead, you aim for something that not even the Gods can ever hope to grasp." She gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "What is that you seek in truth? Beyond these empty words without meaning, what is that your heart really yearn for?" She thinned her lips into a line. "We'll tell you what the truth is." Archer would have flinched at the weight of those words, if he would have been able to. "You're still there, aren't you? A scared, lost child, trapped between burning rubble, waiting for death to come. Because that would be right, isn't? You should have died with all those people. The world stopped being right when you survived, and who'd want to survive in a crooked world? That's what all your copies cry for: give me death. Put the world right. Kill me. Destroy me. And still…" Her eyes hardened. "The son of Emiya Kiritsugu cannot die a meaningless death, can he? Because Emiya Kiritsugu was a hero, and heroes' thriumphs aren't spoiled like that. You wanted to die, you wanted to destroy yourself, but any death wouldn't do. As the one that the hero saved, you needed to go in pieces while chasing the greatest of endeavour: to save everyone. Not even once you thought you could fail: no, i will endure the burden. No, even if i remain alone. No, even if i didn't manage to accomplish anything. Not even once you thought that it could be a defect, coming from that arrow still lodged in your heart. Always so arrogant."
Archer felt a stab in his chest. Almost disbelieving, he turned to look down, to the spear sunked into his chest.
Mind reeling, he raised his head. The Lion King was watching him intently, her hand tightly grasping his shoulder.
"We shall free you, since you cannot free yourself."
Archer knew that he should be dead. Instead, he felt the prana of the Holy Lance radiate in his heart. And understood what was about to happen.
"Wait…!"
The Lion King didn't reply. The prana bursting from Rhangodomiant ripped through Archer's core. His muscles went crazy, but the King's grasp ddn't allow for him to move away. He felt it, that ripple of energy, as it resounded inside of him, deep, deeper, until touching his deepest core, where all of his life's work was stored. Unlimited Blade Works quaked under the touch of the Holy Lance. It rumbled and creaked, like an old casket come under a storm. For a moment, it seemed like it would withstand it.
Then all of its contents flew to pieces.
Every sword, every spear, every halberd, every weapon and Noble Phantasms; all the copies that Archer had ever made and stored during his life, each and every single one of them crumbled to dust like they never existed at all.
What remained was only a barren landscape, with a blue, empty sky.
The Lion King gave gim a nod, then drew back. Archer winced slightly as the Holy Lance was extracted from his chest, but, when he went to touch it, he found only unmarred skin.
He raised his eyes, looking almost surprised. Unlimited Blade Works was empty. There was a hole where there had always been something.
The Lion King was clasping her mantle back. She gave him a glance with those cold, unfeeling eyes of her. There was something that could be called severity in them though.
"No more copies." She said. "From now on, do something that it's really your own."
And just like that, her mantle whooshing around her, she gave him her back and walked away.
Archer would have wanted to call her back, to argue, to fight, but his body was devoid of energy, and his mind was empty and he was tired, so deadly tired.
He fell on the ground with a thump, darkness rushing to embrace him. He couldn't reach her. He couldn't stop her. He couldn't call her back.
He had been defeated. Completely.
