* Fate/Grand Order Babylonia – Hero's Mission

* Umineko – Grey Empty Smile

Chapter LXXXVI: Judgement/Insurgence

* Babylonia – Hero's Mission

There was not a single doubt in Ruler's mind anymore.

His vision, Ivan's unknown scheme, the reason why the Grail had summoned him – it was all because of the Servant looking down at him from the top of a three-stories building.

The last time Ruler had come to the Ark, he had been chased off by that same Servant. And because of his priorities at the time, he had chosen to run away instead of investigating further. But perhaps that wasn't a bad thing: had he faced him back then, the Servant of the Grail would have most likely lost.

"So you've come to die first." The ashen giant spoke softly with a malignant smile adorning his face. "I wouldn't have it any other way. A feeble old man you appear to be, but I would recognize that reek of holiness anywhere."

Nimrod.

A mighty hunter of all beasts as well as a king who led men astray. Simply hearing that name would put Ruler on his guard; as a man of God and one who wielded holy judgement, he stood in front of a tyrant who had devoted his entire being to rebeling, going as far as to have a great tower built to unite humanity in defiance of Heaven. That was the Master of Babel, the King of Tyrants Nimrod.

But however unsavory a Servant might be, it would be unbefitting of an impartial overseer to be prejudiced against them (not to mention, this current Grail War was not lacking in distateful individuals). In normal circumstances, there would be no reason for Ruler to worry about him. However, it was precisely because of how abnormal the situation was that a Ruler had to be summoned. And no one incarnated this abnormality as well as Nimrod.

The Avenger class – an anomaly that shouldn't exist in this Holy Grail War.

Up until now, Ruler had never seen the hunter with his own eyes, and like the rest of the Masters and Servants he had been under the illusion that Nimrod was a Lancer. If it had been any of the other six classes, he wouldn't have batted an eye; if one could mess with the summoning system enough to triple the amount of Command Seal, duplicate classes were not farfetched.

But this was different. It was something that shouldn't exist in the first place. In fact, Ruler had never heard of the Avenger class before, and only once he laid eyes on Nimrod did the Grail feed him information.

"Heroic Spirit of Vengeance..." The old man muttered to himself. "Certainly, I would have been able to tell in any case – you do not intend to participate in the Holy Grail War. You are little more than a blood-starved fiend."

"You say amusing things." Nimrod's voice deepened to become like a rumbling storm. Those were words that reached not only the ears but also the souls – the Words of Babel. "What do you understand about my wrath? What do you know, you who received the blessing of a cowardly god? I would rather not taste your blood, lest it could be poisonous! But I don't care if you understand or not – you'll be the first of many to disappear."

"...Your words have no effect on me, King of Tyrants." Ruler didn't so much as flinch even as his soul felt the bite of Avenger's tongue; there was an even higher power defending him. "I am a simple prophet tasked to see the future and record it, a mere man among others. However, I am also Judgement! I understand know why I was chosen to face you, Avenger! Since you've returned to this world as a vengeful evil, you shall be struck down by divine justice once again!"

"I didn't need you to tell me! Do you believe I wouldn't recognize the impudence of God?!" Nimrod pulled on the string and a black mass formed on the bow. "Come! Try to bring the justice you so dearly believe in to me! This isn't your time! This isn't your realm! I do not acknowledge your judgement!"

The ashen giant released the bowstring.

Though he had only fired once, an entire volley of black arrows shot out toward the holy man. As projectiles, they were most peculiar: they were not following a straight path as a regular arrow would, but instead curved in an unnatural way as though they weren't bound by their own momentum. Thus, instead of a single barrage coming from above, Ruler was assailed from every side.

But that didn't matter to him – a second before the hunter had fired, the Servant of the Grail had summoned as many holy shrouds as he could and formed a barrier around himself. This was something he had already gotten to test before: Nimrod's attacks were particularly harmful to the holy, but the latter in turn was just as effective against him. It was a relation of mutual destruction and thanks to that fact Ruler's artifacts could buy him some precious seconds.

And he did not waste that time: he pulled something out of his ragged clothes.

It was nothing impressive, only a small piece of bread as well as a bottle of wine. For the record, they hadn't been created with magical energy but were items he had brought with him. The bottle in particular came directly from Orianna's cellar. That being said, it wouldn't be correct to say they were just regular food and drink. Otherwise, they would be of little help here.

The bread was actually a communion wafer prepared specifically at Ruler's demand. As for the wine, he had personally sanctified it to turn it into a sacraments.

First of all, he ate the bread and swallowed it without chewing. Then he opened the bottle, which was an awkward task for him because he was missing his index finger on one hand and the ring finger on the other. But he simply snapped it open with brute strength and took a sip to wash down the bread.

The arrows tore into the wall of fabric and in turn the shrouds repelled their evil essence. Both the defense and the attack annihilated each other. But whereas Ruler only had one barrier, two more waves of arrows came to finish the first one's job. By the time they reached the old man however, the latter was surrounded by a veil of light. The fire in his eyes burned all the brighter and the veins of his arms lit up.

When the arrows threatened to stab into his body, a wave of light spread around the Servant of the Grail and reduced them to pieces.

"And finally, I am also a most faithful disciple of the Lord. I have the power to destroy you." With these words of warning, Ruler rose in the air to meet the hunter.

At the moment, the holy man was overflowing with power.

Whether it was his parametres or his rank in Divinity, his Saint Graph had evolved from that of John of Patmos'. That was all thanks to having John the Apostle as a component – a saint who had shared the body and the blood of the Christ during the Last Supper. And thanks to being composed of several saints, the effect was multiplied. On the other hand, there was a downside to such an alteration: it would only last for a while and, once it would wear off, Ruler might not be able to fight ever again.

But nevermind the cost – in this very moment, he could crush the King of Tyrants.

And that was something Nimrod understood as well: as he soared toward his enemy, Ruler raised his hand and unleashed a bolt of holy light at the hunter who swiftly jumped off the building. Even in the short span of time it took him to reach the floor, he managed to fire several salvos. But not a single one of them even got close to reaching the saint chasing after him; the power Ruler now wielded was befitting of one who dispensed the justice of God. With a waving of his arm, holy thunder and fire surged forth and disintegrated the obsidian projectiles.

It was true that the holy essence in him trembled at the thought of being struck by the ashen giant. However, the latter's affinity toward good was born of his hatred. It was resentment and curses but it wasn't the same conceptual advantage that Ruler possessed over him. As one who had received retribution from Heaven and had seen his greatest achievement reduced to smithereens, Avenger was fundamentally weak to 'holy justice'.

In other words, Ruler was his natural enemy.

With flawless confidence in that fact, the saint chased after the hunter while launching more attacks filled with holy power. Nimrod zigzagged between them and used the networks of streets to his advantage to run around while staying undercover. But the holy man could feel his presence no matter how much he hid; and even if that weren't the case, Nimrod kept harrassing him with arrows, thus exposing his position. In answer, Ruler kept menacing him with beams of light and tried to use the streets' narrowness to trap him.

The hunter had become the hunted.

But even when his movements were predicted, the King of Tyrant always managed to slip through the torrent of divine power. If there was one aspect in which Ruler was vastly inferior to him, it was speed. It was almost asinine to imagine that someone with such a gigantic body could be so fast and nimble. Yet Nimrod was honouring his reputation: despite being at a clear advantage, Ruler felt as though he couldn't lower his guard for one second.

Since he had the edge when it came to moving around, the hunter could choose to have Ruler chase him to a place that would be more favourable to him. The old man wasn't oblivious to that at all. Unfortunately, in order to strike down his enemy he had to follow after him, so there wasn't much he could do about it. But at the very least, he wouldn't blindly walk into a trap: joining his maimed hands together, the saint began a prayer; dark clouds were slowly forming in the sky above the Ark.

Although he lost in terms of speed, there was one irreplaceable trump card in Ruler's arsenal: his visions of the future. Even if he could only peer as far as one second ahead, that was a sizeable amount of time in a battle between Servants. As a result, he could remain one step ahead of Nimrod, no matter what the latter was planning. It was also this ability that allowed Ruler to track down the giant with precision and let him know where to attack to block his path.

If the battle kept going at this pace, the saint would surely have cornered him eventually.

But Ruler saw something in his vision and prepared accordingly: Nimrod stopped running away and made a sharp U-turn to bolt back toward his opponent. Then he jumped from roof to roof in the blink of an eye until he had reached a height that satisfied him. Finally, a great quantity of mana gathered in his bow before he fired an absurd amount of arrows at once. A great wall made of hundreds of projectiles; even with foresight, one couldn't avoid it.

But there was no need to run – numerous though they might be, those were still the same arrows that had failed to hurt him before.

With a blast of holy light, the saint sweeped aside the approaching black swarm. And just as he had foreseen, this extravagant attack was actually just a cover for Nimrod's approach: when the light and the arrows vanished together, the King of Tyrants dashed through and swung his massive bow like a sword. Because the edge of his weapon were as sharp as a blade, it might very well be able to cut like one. Thanks to his foresight however, the saint was able to block it by catching the non-sharp area.

Then, he slammed his fist brimming with light into Nimrod.

"Khhr...!" The Avenger's face was painted over with pain.

Because of the hunter's impressive height, it was hard to call it a major injury. Nonetheless, Ruler's fist split the dark armour covering his skin apart and left a bloody wound just below his chest.

"The sin you've wrapped yourself with will not protect you!" The old man declared. "I've learned about the details of your fight against the Rider of Red; you are only protected from the hands of humans! Before His holy wrath, you are as good as naked!"

However, Nimrod's pain vanished from his face and was replaced by a carnivorous grin. Letting go of his bow, he brought both of his hand to the wound Ruler had just inflicted – then, he pried it wide open. But instead of crimson blood, what erupted from it was a black mass, the same he made his arrows from.

That was not something Ruler had foreseen – an attack that had slipped between the gaps in his visions. But even if he had known about it, there was nothing he could do at this distance. He tried to push the Avenger away but the dark liquid metal reached him first and ruthlessly bit into his flesh.

He used his holy power to repel it before it could inflict mortal damage, but he couldn't claim he had gotten away unscathed: a gaping wound ranged from his stomach to his right shoulder. Thanks to the state close to divinity he was currently in, his injury was already closing up. However, even that miraculous healing came to a sudden stop eventually. The skin around his injury looked like it had gone into necrosis as well. This wasn't a wound the divine could easily recover from.

Meanwhile, the ashen giant plumetted back toward the City with a smirk, even though his own wound was still bleeding profusedly. He seemed to be taunting the saint; a reminder that whatever Ruler could do to the hunter would never impair him as much as what the hunter did to him. And when the Avenger's feet touched the floor, he disappeared in a blur as he bolted away.

Ruler estimated he had recovered enough to go after him. Even so, he winced when he started chasing. His wound was burning intensely. But that was something he had experienced before, so he did his best to ignore it. However, what was more alarming was that his movements had gotten sluggier. That was something he noticed when he repelled the next few waves of arrows the hunter fired at him.

"...I cannot allow this battle to last too long."

Trying to slowly back Nimrod into a corner was futile. Small wounds didn't seem to bother him in the slightest; what Ruler needed was to deal decisive damage in one fell swoop. And he realized full well that this wouldn't be easy. Regardless of what advantages Ruler had over him, it couldn't be denied that the Avenger was taking the lead in their battle. That was true even now: the holy man knew where Nimrod was headed – the Tower at the centre of the Ark.

When Nirod had reached the foot of the spire, he fired a volley of arrows on its wall and used them as an improvised stairway. Once he had gotten halfway up, he waited for Ruler with piercing eyes. The saint had no choice but to get closer. But while he soared in direction of the Tower, he summoned clay figures which flew alongside him. They had vaguely the shape of of angels carrying lances – those were exorcisms given shape. After forming a flock of them, Ruler sent them ahead of him.

He didn't expect them to be able to neutralize Nimrod; after all, there was no better marksman than he regardless of if he was hunting on the ground or in the air. And surely enough, the ashen giant began taking down the clay figures two by two, and at such a rate that Ruler's legion had disappeared in a few heartbeats. But by that time, the old man had created another comapny of angels and had them charge the huntsman in the exact same way.

Even if they would get shot down like doves, they made for a perfect distraction. With his second clay division, Ruler managed to bridge the distance separating him from Nimrod.

Two clay angels had survived the giant's nourished fire. Ruler had them selfdestruct once they were close to the hunter, who was forced to flee higher up the Tower. But the saint was soaring after him like a genuine angel: he brandished Black Keys and filled them with power in such a way that, when he hurled them at Nimrod, they were less knives than they were holy bullets.

One of them hit the giant in the shin and brought his ascension to an abrupt end.

Even so, Nimrod didn't lose his mocking expression.

Ruler saw the hunter's shadow expand on the Tower's surface. But it didn't look thin and ethereal like a proper shade anymore; it was deep and dark like a bottomless abyss. From the shadow, many hands emerged and they reached toward the saint. There were voices accompanying them, desperate calls for help or a guiding light. However, Ruler couldn't answer their plea.

"I cannot guide those who have lost their way. For I am merely Judgement – my hand can only move to punish!"

And he did raised his arm abovehead before bringing it down like a sword. The light gathered at his fingertips turned into a blade that cleaved through the forest of hands and cleared a path. The begs for help turned into cries of pain and outrage.

More hands emerged as a result, but instead of reaching out they were carrying spear which they hurled at Ruler.

Although a myriad of javelins whistled toward him, the sain didn't relent. They didn't seem too different from Nimrod's arrows; probably that they were both fueled by the same hatred. If that was the case, then they meant nothing to him: Ruler joined his hands and a halo of light surrouded him. While the light reduced the spears to ashes, more and more magical energy was concentrating in his hand. With his wounded leg, Nimrod wouldn't be able to run left and right as well as before: this was the occasion for Ruler to deliver a decisive blow.

However, a vision from the near future came to him – he looked up at the top of the Tower.

The ashen giant, rather than making an escape, lifted his hand up toward the spire before swinging it down toward the saint. It was a strange motion the purpose of which was hard to guess. But before soon it became clear: the Tower wriggled and twisted. All of the sudden, the citadel had turned into a giantic white stone snake from the top down to the middle. And that snake turned its empty eyes toward Ruler – Nimrod's signal just now had been an order for it to attack.

Ruler had been confident in his ability to guard himself against the hunter's unholy attacks, but the Ark was merely made of clay and stone. Thus, he was defenseless when the Tower slammed into him and sent him plumetting down toward the ground.

On the other hand, the one second of foresight he had been granted would not go to waste: when he was struck, Ruler unleashed the energy gathered in his joint hands. But instead of making it an attack that would most likely miss, he turned it into two long arms of light. In a way, he was taking a page out of Samson's book – the pillars of light grabbed Nimrod and Ruler dragged him along.

Both sinner and saint crashed into the City below.

The first to get back on his feet was Ruler; the Avenger tried to stand up but was hindered by his wound. The place they had landed in was a wide street. In fact, it was the main avenue which connected both ends of the Ark with the Tower. But it was only so for an instant: in an instant, the street crumbled into pieces. The tiles under the old man feet were blown away and replaced by a sea of black hands.

Some were trying to grab his ankles to drag him into the black mass they originated from. Others were brandishing swords and spears to maim him.

"This anger is what blinded you to begin with!" Although they had no ears to hear him with, the saint admonished them. "This battle does not concern you! Your time has ended and you belong not in this world anymore – return to dust!"

He destroyed the hands holding him and wanted to rise up in the air again, but more of them latched onto him desperately. Meanwhile, the hunter was also ascending, lifted up by the sea of hand like some sort of dreadful throne.

"That's where you are wrong, prophet!" Then, the hands brought him closer to Ruler in the blink of an eye and the giant raised his bow. "Those wishes have not vanished yet – they will subsist no matter how many eons come to pass! They are the prisoners of your selfishness and of my anger! We haven't forgotten our promise toward this world!"

Nimrod aimed for the old man's neck and swung with both of his arms. The saint raised his hand in front of himself as a his only shield, and with it he intercepted the blade that wanted his head. However, he didn't manage to brush it off: sparks flew between them as the obsidian bow's resentment and his holy light devoured each other. The two Servants were locked into a contest of strength.

"That is not for you to decide!" Ruler said. "The dead may not decide the future for the living! Hope and determination lead humanity forward; hatred and grievance are buried and eventually forgotten. If you intend on bringing devastation even after thousands of years have passed, I will stand in the way of your grudge!"

"I know that!" Nimrod pushed with more vigor. "And that is why destroying you is the first thing I must do! I will break your god's haughtiness – the arrogance that wants to keep men crawling on the ground and hopes to go undefied! This is my return, my eternal curse for you lot! No fire will extinguish this rancor, no flood will wash away your sin!"

In the end, neither the white holy light nor the black metal blade could win – as they preyed on yet feared each other, eventually the two repelled one another. Ruler and Avenger were blown away in opposite directions. But whereas the huntsman disappeared into the sea of black, the saint tried his best to stay afloat; an endeavor made nigh impossible by the hands inexorably pulling him down.

Then, it seemed as though not only him but the City itself was being dragged down. The avenue caved in while the buildings lined up on each side either rose up or sunk in absolute chaos. It was hard to make a sense of this sudden upheaval in his position, yet Ruler had at least one certitude: this commotion was centered around the place where Nimrod had disappeared.

There was no ground anymore in the middle of the streets, only two slopes descending toward dark depths, lined up with more hands and spikes. In a way, this gigantic breach looked like a monstrous mouth ready to swallow the rest of the Ark as it collapsed on itself. And at the bottom, looking up at the saint with his bright red eyes was the King of Tyrants himself.

"This is your end. Your struggle will never outlast my torment." He aimed his bow at the binded saint.

"...I agree." But Ruler simply raised his hand toward the firmament. "This is where this battle ends."

For the first time, he had managed to break the hunter's satisfied expression and to make him look up to the sky. There, the thunderclouds Ruler had summoned earlier had grown large and numerous, rumbling in anticipation. And as it happened, they were mostly gathered right above where the two Servants were fighting.

It was time to use it – after all, Nimrod had finally stopped running and was stuck in one place.

"Behold and be struck in awe! The time for repents and laments is long over, forgiveness shall not be granted henceforth! Hear! The time of purging has come!"

The clouds moved and formed a celestial spiral at the centre of which a blaze could be seen. This was the judgement that would cleans sins with fire and lightning, a pure divine destruction that could erase an entire city off the map. But the only one that had to be destroyed here was Nimrod; Ruler was aiming this attack at the dark crater where they both lied. Even if it meant he would be caught in his own attack.

The judge had called for destruction and so at last fire rained from heavens.

But the hunter would not accept it – he had the sea of hands close up above their head like an alcove to act as a shield. But even this cocoon wouldn't stand a chance against Ruler's attack and the giant understood that. Once again, he reached out toward the Tower and forced the white snake to move. The animate stone construct twisted and coiled over the crater. Those were the only barriers he had the time to set up before the heavenly destruction struck; the snake only lasted for a second before being shattered with a loud clatter.

The ceiling of darkness over Ruler and Avenger's heads slowly split apart as light and fire seeped in.

Finally, the hunter's last line of defense was reduced to ashes and everything disappeared in the blinding blaze.

* Stop music

...

...

"Do not make me laugh! I will not die!"

Though he couldn't see anything, Ruler heard a clangorous sound apart from the deafening destruction surounding him. Then, in the midst of the light a black spot appeared and all sound vanished.

When the heavenly fire stopped pouring down and everything settled down, Ruler opened his eyes and saw the aftermath.

He was surprised to notice that he had gotten away with minimal injury; perhaps that was thanks to his own status as the one who called down judgement. However, a hunch was telling him there was more to it. The defenses Nimrod had set up, although they had failed to stop the saint's attack, had at the very least absorbed a part of the damage. Then, there was what had happened at the very end.

Looking around, the black mass had been vaporized and Ruler was no longer bounded.

Then, when he looked down at the bottom of the crater, he saw he wasn't the only one who had survived.

But Nimrod could hardly smile anymore: though he had escaped with his life, his body had paid the price for it. As far as the saint could tell, about 40% of the hunter's body had been destroyed and he could barely stand up. That was more damage that the vast majority of people, Servants included, could withstand. In that sense, the fact that he still drew breath was a testament to his persistence and refusal to disappear.

However, those would only carry him so far: Ruler hovered high above the weakened Avenger and, when their gazes crossed, he pronounced his verdict:

"I am the judge, the jury and the executor. The number is seven, then three, then one – the courtroom will be set, let the judgement begin! Apocalypsis!"

Ruler deployed his Noble Phantasm.

A layer was superposed onto the world and the courtroom appeared; the attendence took place in their seat all around the breach where the accused lied. Once the main seat was filled and the tribunal was complete, a hole appeared beneath Nimrod. This was an attack that targeted the soul directly, a death sentence for Servants. There was only one destination for a soul so foul, and that was into the bowels of the earth.

The central figure raised their sword above the hunter.

"With this, I have fulfilled my role." Ruler sighed. "Begone, Avenger. There is no place for you in this world. Even if you let your hatred and your fury lay waste to everything, there would be no sola–..."

But his voice trailed off.

All of the sudden, Ruler had received a vision.

It wasn't anything new however.

He saw the horizon split apart by a dark line ascending toward the heavens.

* Umineko – Grey Empty Smile

That was the vision he had received first when he had been summoned, the one that had given him his mission.

"Why..." The future he had endeavored to prevent, the culprit of which he had just defeated. "Why are you showing me this again...?!"

"I've told you already, have I not?"

The being on the Throne brought down the sword of judgement on the King of Tyrants. But when it struck, a loud yet muffled noise resounded. It went without saying that this wasn't supposed to happen – when Ruler had purged the Creature in London, the only noise had been the beast's screams of pain. Instead of stabbing Nimrod and shoving him down the unfathomable void that awaited him, the ethereal blade was stuck just above his head.

No.

It was more than stuck – Ruler was sure he saw cracks spreading along its blade.

The next moment, it shattered loudly.

"I will not acknowledge it..." Nimrod's silhouette was practically impossible to discern because of the darkness below him. That was except for his eyes; he hadn't looked away from the saint a single second. "Your authority. Your judgement. I will not accept those things; I reject them!"

The attendence was in disarray. What should have been a solemn, orderly courtroom had been thrown into chaos. The being in the Throne did not call for order, as it too was at a complete loss. It only became worse as an ominous tremor shook the world around them; something emerged from the void beneath Nimrod's feet.

Those were hands.

They grabbed onto the rim of the hole and tried to crawl out of the abyss. What they were tied to was a giant mass of sludge, a pitch black goliath. But Ruler had to pull himself out of the stupor this horrendous sight had put him in. Nothing was truly dragging itself out of that void – in the first place, there was quite literally nothing on the other side, the souls that were sent down it would be erased altogether. What was currently happened was the doing of Nimrod; it was actively destroying Ruler's Noble Phantasm.

"How..."

"You stand inside my kingdom. That is not something I've merely decided – the remnants of our glory and our fall from grace sleeps deep within this ship. The place we hail from and where we return: Ark Babel. And do you believe I will accept any god in my dominion!?"

This was the mistake Ruler had made.

He had waged this battle based on the assumption that he had the upper hand on Avenger. For indeed, if the hunter had arms that could maim and poison the sacred, he was still a rebel who had been subdued by the justice of Heaven. However, that reasoning had been flawed. King Nimrod, a man who refused any force higher than himself with every fiber of his being. Certainly he was a rebel, but one who would rise up no matter how many time he was brought down to his knees.

A man who refuted and set out to destroy any form of authority – in other words, Ruler's natural enemy.

"'The Ark'... I see... from the very beginning, that was not a reference to its shape..."

But although the old man finally understood, it was all too late.

He could keep fighting. He could try and bring judgement unto this unholy place until the last drop of power had left his body. He was far from reaching his limit after all. Unfortunately, while witnessing the courtroom he had summoned being devasted and the attendants vanishing one by one, a dreadful feeling of powerlessness crept up from the depths of his heart.

And at any rate, he wasn't given the opportunity to do anything about it.

"The time has come!" Nimrod raised his hands toward the heavens. "This is my curse! Behold and repent for your sin! Migdal Bavel: Stairway to Heavens!"

The entire ship rattled.

The very air surrounding them trembled.

Then, all of the sudden, the black mass underneath the King of Tyrants soared up. Its shape changed and twisted until it had become a massive black pike headed straight toward Ruler. The latter raised his hands to purge it with holy light and thunder, but the pike pierced through all of it before finally stabbing through the saint. After it had skewered him, the spike of black metal branched into many barbs which in turn plit into branches and tore the saint's body apart. In the end, it looked like a ghastly whithered tree blossoming with blood.

The Ark... no, the Ark Babel was filled with a cacophony of fracturing sounds. It seemed parts of it were rising while others were falling, and others yet were crumbling. In truth, it felt like the ship was coming apart.

But all of that felt very distant to Ruler.

His consciousness was fading, the only thought on his mind was the realization that he had failed.

Ivan Pedilefey.

The other culprits behind this Holy Grail War.

Avenger.

Despite his best efforts, he had utterly and thoroughly failed to stop any of them.

His actions might not even have saved anyone.

"Sorry... I leave the rest in your hands..."

When his eyes closed, Servant Ruler vanished from this world.

Thank you for reading.

It happened.

~Legends Storyteller