Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay Night or High school DxD, just the original concepts and plot in this story. This Crossover is a complete AU

Author's Notes:

Ok, I'll keep this one short because I'm sure you're looking forward to the fight. First, let me thank 'Bigreader in The Omniverse' for all of his help, he's the reason why you're getting the chapter today and not tomorrow. Second…You know what, the rest can wait for the author's notes attached to the bottom. I just hope you enjoy the chapter.

*Story Start*

All Know Its Name

It was all I could do to bite back the scream that threatened to tear its way out of my throat, whether it was from pain or frustration I did not. I lost. As I laid on the ground, broken and defeated, I felt nothing but shame fill me at the thought. What made it worse was I had no one to blame but myself.

He was right. I did not know why I kept Durandal hidden for so long, but he was right. If I had just used it from the start I may have stood a chance of winning, no matter how small. At the very least I would have fought him with my full power, but instead I let the chance slip by without even getting the chance to use my sword.

It made so much sense when I had first thought of it. I felt so smart, so cunning, to have a hidden ace. One that would catch the enemy off-guard and allow me to turn the battle in our favor. But he was right. What's the point of having a trump card if I lost before I could even use it?

And now as I cradled my broken arm to my chest I laid defeated, helpless, on the ground. All I could do was watch the red-haired Devil, the same one who almost shatter my Excalibur in his bare hands, calmly stand as he was surrounded from all sides by the spears of the Fallen.

I did not understand the words he spoke or why he called himself a bone of his sword, but the Fallen around him decided to take it as a provocation and responded with deadly force.

It was over in an instant.

The dozen Fallen thrust their spear as one at his body. Surrounded, their attack came from every angle, leaving him no room to maneuver or escape. Even to my eyes there was no hesitation or imperfection in their form. Unlike the comrades I had trained with and fought with in the Church, there movements were flawless, their coordination was perfect, inhumanely so.

It was then, as I watched the unnatural gracefulness of even the weakest among them, that I truly understood what we faced were not human. These were Angels that have lived for millennia, who have fought and survived a Great War and have been training for the next one ever since. Warriors and veterans, every last one of them, and it showed as their thrusts flew unerringly towards the unmoving the red-head.

It was over in an instant.

Before I could so much as blink a bloody mist erupted into the air, painting the night crimson as the bifurcated corpses of the twelve Fallen fell to the ground around the Devil.

I didn't even see him move.

Fast! I could feel my eyes involuntary widening at the sight of the Devil standing in the middle of the corpses of Fallen, having not moved a step form his original fast, not even Griselda could move that fast! But that's-

"With a Body of Iron, And a Heart of Fire"

I felt the words reverberate through me like the ringing of a bell. I did not know why but those words, they felt heavy, magical. So much so, that I felt the thoughts in my head derailed and grind to a halt as they washed over me.

"That sword!" Irina yelled from where she fell just a few yards away from me.

It was then that I noticed the sword he held in his hand and I felt my eyes widen again, "But that's-"

"-Excalibur Rapidly!" Griselda finished for me, sounding equally unnerved as we did by the sight of the blade in his hand. I glanced at this down at the hilt she refused to relinquish from her grip, where only a fragment of the ruined blade remained attached, before I looked back up only to be stunned again.

That was not Excalibur.

I did not know what happened but the sword he held in his hand was no longer Excalibur Rapidly. Though the wooden hilt remained unchanged, the blade had not. It had elongated and broadened, turning the once elegant rapier into an unwieldy claymore. Its once smooth unblemished surface was fragmented, cratered by hundreds of splinters. It had become fragile, it had become brittle.

It had become broken.

Before any of the surrounding Fallen were even able to respond or comprehend what had just happened, not that I was in any position to fault them for their confusion, he flicked the Not-Excalibur into the air over his head. The blade shot in the sky faster than any arrow, flying unerringly towards the group of Fallen that hovered above him.

The Fallen were caught completely off-guard by his actions. Unprepared, they could do nothing to defend themselves in time, not when they were that close to him, not with the speed his sword was traveling.

Even as some of them called upon their spears or desperately tried to dodge, I knew it was already too late for them, there was nothing they could do to save themselves. The attack was too unexpected, the blade traveling too fast, for the Fallen to do anything but watch as the sword flew right towards them and…

"…he missed?" Irina gaped in disbelief as we watch the blade tear past them, flying between their numbers as it failed to hit any of them.

I could not blame her, I was pretty much in the same state as she was. I watched as the sword, our hope, soared past the first line of Fallen towards the second group that hovered behind them, higher up in the sky.

It looked like the sword was in the direct path of one of Fallen in the middle of the group but it was already too late. The surprise had been lost. While the first group had been caught unprepared and by surprise, this group was anything but. Being farther off they had far more time to react and by the time the sword reached them they were ready for it.

It shot towards a Fallen who flew near the heart of the formation. He already had a spear in hand and despite the speed of the sword as it approached him, he swung his spear at it with a perfect timing, with an almost contemptuous ease, to knock it out of the sky.

He was the first to die.

I barely turned away in time as a miniature sun was born in the skies above Kaou Academy. It was nothing but pure luck and reflex that made me look away in time to save my sight as the sword detonated, releasing a surge of fire so bright that I was certain it could be seen clear across the city.

A wave of heat, as real and dense as any tide of water, washed over me as the false sun bathed the school grounds in crimson light. It burned for but an instant before it extinguished, burning itself out, but by then the damage had already been done.

A crash, just a few yards before me, made look up. It was a Fallen, dead. No, it would be more accurate to say to it was half a fallen, as the entire left half of his frame was missing. Gone, his body ending in a line of crisp blackened flesh that ran down the middle of his body. His face, what remained of it, was frozen in an expression of pure surprise. I looked up to discover the fate of the rest of the Fallen, and most didn't fare much better.

The dozens of Fallen near the heart of the explosion are gone, completely incinerated, leaving nothing behind but clouds of ash drifting in the air. While those that were fortunate enough to not have been caught up in the blast were knocked clear across the sky from the shockwave of the explosion. Many had successfully regained their balances in the last moment while more than a few had found themselves crashing into the ground both within and outside of the school grounds.

Even the Fallen that were on the ground, thus completely safe from the blast, had instinctively leapt backwards and away from the fireball, leaving a clear open space beneath the heart of the explosion, and consequently around the red-haired Devil who now stood alone in the center of the space.

Billowing clouds of soot and ash, born from the explosion fell down from the sky, blanketing the grounds of the courtyard beneath it from sight, hiding both the ground and the Devil with it.

However, just before the clouds of soot blocked his form from our eyes, I caught sight of him. At how his eyes of solid gold shone in darkness, how they locked onto the line of Fallen before him and how the way he looked at them reminded me so much of a cat eyeing a mouse, of a hunter watching its prey.

In the very last second I saw his lips curved, as they formed out the words that he intoned.

"Utterly alone I forge my Steel"

Then he was gone, hidden behind the grey clouds, leaving behind the disordered mass of Fallen.

When I looked around at the surrounding Fallen, who fortunately were completely disregarding both me and the others, all I could see was the looks of complete shock and confusion on their faces and hear the sound of raising panic taking hold of the Fallen Host.

And how could blame them for their confusion? I barely understood what was going on anymore.

One moment they had already won, their enemy lay defeated beneath their feet and within only a single swing of achieving their goal of starting a war. Then the next moment, their barrage of spears were halted by a flower –I mean really! A flower! It was even PINK for Heaven's sake-, their comrades killed by the dozens, and what was practically a sun appearing in their midst. Even ones as ancient as them would not be able to maintain their composure after such events.

Disorientated, shocked by the both the suddenness and the ferociousness of the attack, the ranks of Fallen had dissolved into a confused mess. The order and composure they held was lost as chaos took hold, turning what was once a disciplined force into a disorganized mass of bodies.

However that only lasted for but a moment. In the next second I understood why Kokabiel's forces were among the most respected in the Three Factions. Say what you will of these accursed Fallen, and I tend to say more than a few unflattering things about them in my prayers, they were known as veterans for a reason.

Over the steadily rising murmurs of the panicked Host, shouts of commands and instructions were barked out as the senior and ranking Fallen Angel swiftly and ruthlessly took command of their men by using a combination of orders, threats and insults to get them to obey.

To my eyes, it occurred remarkably fast. The panic that was quickly building within the ranks of the Fallen was brutally and swiftly stomped out by pure discipline as their training kicked in and the Fallen snapped to attention like the soldiers they were.

Within a few beats of my heart, order had already been restored within the ranks of the Fallen and discipline had been reestablished. And it did not stop there. The instant it was clear that their men had calmed, several senior among them took command over several squads and had them surround the still lingering cloud that hide the Devil.

Once again the night was pushed back as spears of lights flickered to life in their hands, forming rings within rings of light as they circled the fading cloud. As ranks behind ranks of Fallen aimed their weapons to where their enemy lay hidden, all ready to attack the moment they caught sight of the Devil.

The flapping of wings caught my attention, drawing my eyes upwards to their source. There in the skies above the quickly settling cloud, hovered scores of Fallen blocking any means of escape from the air.

They too had their spears out, ready to take advantage of any opportunity to take down the Devil or block any attack that may come their way. I noticed how they hovered unusually close to ground and understood that this was how they intended to prevent the red-head from firing another bomb. It was clear that if he tried to fire another with the Fallen this close that he, along with the other Devils on the ground, would get caught up in the blast.

It was as I looked at this unusual formation that I remembered one of my lessons with Griselda on the history of the Great War. At the time I had just turned thirteen and was still in the middle of my training as an exorcist, having been handpicked by Griselda herself to become her student along with Irina and Dulio.

I remembered wondering why Heaven had sent the low ranking Angels into battle during the Great War. What difference could they make in a war when compared the strength of an Archangel or Seraphs? What could they possibly do against the Maous or Ultimate-Class Devils? Would it not have been better to have remained in Heaven where they would be safe and out of the way?

I still remember her answer vividly.

"Xenovia," She told me, "while it is true that battlefields of the Great War were filled by existences that could only be described as monsters, even by the standards of the Supernatural. That those monsters roamed between the battlefields of the war in their hundreds, and even the least among their numbers had the power to slaughter the average Angel and Devil one after the other by the thousands. That did not mean that they could not be fought back and certainty it do not mean that they could not be killed.

"Look at us, if the strong would always prevail over the weak than we humans will never stand a chance against even the weakest among the Devils or Fallen, Holy Swords or not. Yet that is obviously not the case. We who are physically weaker than any of the other races in the Three Factions are capable of fighting back. And how do we do it?

"By playing our strength against their weakness. By choosing when, where and how we fight. By using strategy, tactics and deceptions we, the weak, can fight back and overcome the strong. Remember Xenovia that in this world there are times that the strong fall before the weak. That who is truly 'weak' or 'strong' is not determined by the power they wield but by who remains standing victorious at the battle's end.

"Now tell me, what is the biggest advantage that a lesser Angel have over a High-Class or even an Ultimate-Class Devil?"

I though on it a while before I came up with the obvious answer, "Numbers. There are many more lesser Angels than higher ones."

She nodded in approval, "That's right. They had their strength in numbers, and they ruthlessly exploited that single advantage time and time again. They would gather by the hundreds or thousands and rain down their spears of light onto their enemies form afar when they could.

"And when they were unable to fight at a safe distance, when the enemy would come charging in, they would stand shoulder to shoulder and greet their enemy with a wall of spears. Kokabiel's Forces were famed for doing this."

"The Fallen?" I asked surprised.

"He was not always a Fallen. Once he was an Angel that stood on the side of Heaven and was among the greatest Generals in God's army. Back then his troops were held in high esteemed by all of Heaven despite being made up entirely of lower and mid-ranked Angels. And they earned that esteem by having the highest kill count of High-Class and Ultimate-Class Devils without the aid of any High-Ranked Angels. They achieved this with nothing but simple tactics and teamwork.

"When their enemies would not allow them to fight them from afar, when time came for them to fight their enemies head on, they did so behind a wall of spears forged through the strength of their numbers tempered by discipline and fortitude.

"They would stand shoulder to shoulder, organization their numbers into rectangular rows. They would then conjure spears of light that was far longer than the ones they would usually employ, and while it made them far more cumbersome in close combat it give them a far greater reach in return.

"They also made the spears far denser, infusing it with much more of their magic than usual. This made them heavier which prevented them from being thrown but gave them the ability to defect or disperse any spells they touched. And while a single one could not stop a high-ranked spell, a half dozen working together might, especially against Devil Magic.

"The front ranks of the Angels would stand shoulder to shoulder and face their enemy as one, using their spears to attack or hold back the attack enemy while the rank behind them will thrust their spears in between the front rank, filling any gaps that existed and combined with the spears in the front, will present a wall of deadly spear points to the attacking Devil.

"Those further behind them, when not ready to replace and help any injured comrades, would fire their spears overhead, either to bring down enemies that try to fly above them or rain their spears on the heads of the enemies before them."

"But," I interrupted her, "isn't that basically a Phalanx?"

"That is exactly what it is." Griselda confirmed, "What was most unusual of Kokabiel's troop's method of fighting was that it was clearly inspired by human warfare. Kokabiel has been famed for his fascination with mankind, and many speculated that he mimicked most of his military strategies from the Ancient Greeks and Romans."

And that was exactly what I was seeing before me. A Phalanx, a wall crafted from spears. Devils, both mighty and weak, found their death on the end of those spear tips.

They had slaughtered their enemies by the thousand with this method and I was about to witness as they once again brought it to bear against the new enemy that stands before them and just as the countless before him had done, they shall make him fall as well.

Even to me, someone whose only experience in large-scale warfare was within the walls of a classroom, their strategy was obvious.

Last time they were caught off-guard and unprepared, and they had paid dearly for it. It was clear that they were not about to make the same mistake again. Just like me they had seen both the Devil's speed and his wide range destructive spells and recognized them as the threats they were, and have quickly taken steps to neutralize both his advantages.

This time they will greet Serafall's Queen with a wall of spears, encircle and entrap him in its unforgiving embrace. They will leave no gap in their ranks, no weakness that can be exploited and allow no attack to slip by their gruad. He will be confined on the other side of their spears, where his speed will do him no good. And his explosive swords will not work here, not with the enemies this close to him. The cloud he had hidden himself in was barely a dozen meters wide, and even if you included the two yard gaps between its edge and the Fallen front rank, any attack strong enough to harm them will harm him in turn.

Next they will slowly close in on him step by step, shrinking what little space he had until he finds himself surrounded in all direction by their spears, where a single step down any path would cause him to fall upon their lethal tips, all the while the Fallen in the air will fire down carefully aimed attacks whenever he let his guard down or tried to attack.

It is then that he will be forced to either fly into the air where he will be venerable from attacks from all directions or remain on the ground and be skewered upon their spears. Either choice will lead to his doom.

And now the ancient Host of Fallen stood, patiently waiting for the already dissipating cloud to completely fade and reveal him to their sights so that they may come bearing down on him and drag him to his end.

If they attacked too soon they would have risked harming their own men or kick up more dust for the Devil to hide in. He had already proven himself capable of shielding himself and others from barrages of spears but it was unlikely he was capable of defending himself while simultaneously attacking.

So they waited for the perfect time to act, which was quickly approaching. Already the cloud was fading and in a few more seconds it will be gone completely, leaving the Devil nowhere to hide.

It should have been a flawless strategy, simple in both plan and execution. There was no reason to believe it will not work like it had a thousand times in the past but for some reason I could bring myself to believe that.

I did not know why but something within me, a deep subconscious instinct, told me that the Fallen had already committed a serious blunder. A fatal error that will cost them both their victory and their lives. They had decided to stand and fight but that was a mistake...

They should have ran.

I almost jumped in startlement as a scream of surprise rung throughout the courtyard. It was coming from my left and lasted only for a couple of seconds before it was abruptly cut off, leaving a foreboding silence its wake.

I turned to look but all I couldn't see anything but the backs of the Fallen that blocked my view. I didn't know why but I knew that this fight was something I need to see. So despite the my state I forced myself to stand, clenching my teeth tighter to silence the screams of pain that threated to spill as I felt the bones in my arm grind together.

Another scream rang out as was trying to stand, coming from the complete opposite direction of the first, which was soon followed by a third and a fourth. I had just barely gotten back on my feet in time to see what caused the fourth scream.

The yell came from a Fallen standing in the front rank. I had just caught sight of him before he disappeared, as something had pulled him off his feet and dragged him into the cloud. A heartbeat later his screams were abruptly silenced.

"Beneath us!" Another one of the Fallen yelled out as he leapt back, "To your feet, look to your feet!" Causing every eye to glance down.

It was then that I saw it.

They slithered around the ground like snakes, dozens upon dozens of them, crawling over and under one another in their haste to reach their prey. The light of the spears glinted off the smooth metallic surface of their thin bodies as they silently slid across the ground, quickly closing the gap between them and the feet of the Fallen.

Then without warning, like the vipers they resembled, they struck. When the vines of living steel touched the feet of the Fallen they leapt forward, blindingly fast, wrapping around the legs of their prey before pulling them down, off their feet, and dragging them screaming in the cloud that they emerged from.

The fallen line wavered and collapsed in an instant as they reacted instantly to sight. Some leaping back to escape the reach of the steel serpents causing them to slam in the Fallen behind them. Other took off to the air in their haste to escape, as the metallic tentacles searched blindly for their missing prey.

Some were too slow to escape, the tip of their toes just brushing their steel skin as they leapt in the air. That however, was enough for them to know that they were there. Like vipers striking at a bird, the leapt clear off the ground, wrapping themselves around the ankles of the Fallen before they could escape and pulling them back down to the ground and dragging them to their death like the others.

The braver or more aggressive among them attacked instead. They thrust their spears at the slithering steel serpents at their feet. Their spears of light would skid off their hardened skin and dig into the earth around them, scarring the ground with craters. And while their spears did not seem to damage the living steel much, it was enough to drive them back to where they came from.

However in their determination to harm the enemy at their feet they forgot about the enemy that stood before them.

Long thin blades of steel tore out of the cloud. They whipped forward tearing into the bodies of the distracted Fallen, piercing clear through the soft flesh of their chests and emerging out of their backs. A heartbeat later thy withdrew back into the cloud, leaving behind their stunned victims. Most of the Fallen just looked down at the holes in their chest in confusion before collapsing like puppets deprived of their strings.

A small handful of the Fallen had simply lost their nerve and flung their spears into the heart of the cloud, forgetting about their comrades on the other side. Half the spears tore through the cloud, hitting nothing, before emerging on the other sides and slamming into their surprised comrades on the other side. While some were able to block the spears in time many had not, too distracted by the writhing tentacles at their feet.

The other half of the spears did seem to hit something, however it did little better than the ones that tore clear through. The spears were somehow deflected, sending them clear up, where they were either blocked by the Fallen hovering above or went flying by them into the night sky. What I could not understand was how spears that were deflected upwards emerged from completely different location in the cloud, as if there was more than a single person in there.

The yells and clamour of the dying and alarmed Fallen army ripped me away from my thoughts, causing me to look around. As my eye scanned the battlefield and the remains of what was an organized army, a startling realization hit me.

This was the Phalanx of Kokabiel's army, a formation that has carved its way into legend on the blood and bodies of the countless of Devils and Demons that tried to break through its spear wall only to be broken instead. A tactic that till this day is taught to the exorcists of the Church, over a thousand years since it has at last been seen used in combat, due to its might in crushing Heaven's enemies.

And now that very Phalanx is falling apart at the seams, having been carved apart before my eyes by the power of a single Devil.

It took him ten seconds.

In ten measly seconds a legend was destroyed, crushed and ruined, and yet if felt like it had been hours. By the time it took me to take it all in, the cloud that hid the devil finally cleared enough to see through, revealing to all what was happening inside.

I couldn't have hidden my surprise even if I tried, "Irina! Isn't that-"

"That's my sword!" Irina yelled out, pushing herself upwards with one arm. Her eyes never leaving the swords the "That's Excalibur Mimic! Two of them!"

"No, there are more!" Griselda no longer looking beaten but as focused and serious as I had ever seen her. Her face was set in a mask of concentration as she eyed the Devil. "Six, no I count at least eight of them."

It was like a net of living steel. The wire thin metal threads that formed it whipped through the air like the tentacles of some monstrous sea beast. Constantly shifting and moving the threads came together into a shape of a sphere, no it was a hollow dome.

Hundreds of slithering metal branches covered the floor, hiding it from view. The way the countless featureless metallic serpents slithered on the ground, clawing over and under one another reminded me of a snake pit, and I involuntary took a wobbly step back at the sight of them.

I could see the corpses of the Fallen that were dragged in. Their limbs would occasionally stick out from beneath the slithering mass as gaps in their numbers revealed them to the open air before they were gone, sinking back into the writhing mass as if it were a bottomless sea.

And there, standing in the middle of the sea of living metal, was the Devil.

He had his eyes close, head slightly-tilted back as his red hair fluttered in the wind created by the whipping steel. Thick cords of steal climbed up his legs and ending at both of his hands where he held the shrunken hilts of Excalibur Mimic between each of his fingers.

Slowly he opened his eyes, revealing the spheres of gold to the world once again, as he released the words;

"Knowing only Victory

Tainted with bitter Defeat"

Just as the words cleared his lips streaks of white shot down from the sky as several of the Fallen fired their spears at the now unhidden Devil.

He didn't bother to even look towards them. He didn't need to.

Just as the spear tip of the touched one of the fragile strings that made up the sphere that surrounded him, a thick tentacle shot out of the ground and whipped across the spear. It bashed it aside, deflecting it and sending the spear flying off to the side.

The scene was repeated a dozen time over in the next handful of seconds as again and again the spears were knocked to the side with an almost unbelievable ease. The attacks only stopping when the whipping steel began to accurately send the spears flying into the remaining Fallen that surrounded it.

It was when the attacks tapered down as the fallen tried to work out what to do that he struck back. Without warning, the entire mass of withering steel shot straight up in the air like geyser. It enveloped the Fallen that hovered too close, entangling then drowning them in its writhing metallic mass.

The mass of steel kept rising higher and higher in the air, forcing me to tilt my head back to keep it in my sight. It also kept getting bigger as more of the serpents from the sea of metal joined and fusion with the rising column. The sea of steel near my feet was drawn back like a tide, revealing the paved ground that was hidden beneath it.

When the upsurge of steel had finally reached its peak, dozens of yards upwards, the mass seemed to pause of a single moment, as if it were a giant beast pondering its next action, before it reversed its course and came surging back down into the earth.

Like the sprouting water from a fountain, it split as it reached its peak and fell down around. The once united mass of metal divided into hundreds of branches, thick pillars of steel, as it came shooting back down into the ground.

The Fallen tried to move, tried to run but they had not where to go. The skies above them was filled with living steel, and while those that tried to escape on the ground kept running and tripping over the mass of their fellow Fallen around them, having gathered up too close together.

Pillars of steel slammed into the ground by the hundreds, tearing through the bodies of the Fallen with ease. They filled every conceivable stretch of space, leaving no room to sand without touching one.

Dozens if not hundreds of Fallen were slain in that moment. Almost every Fallen on the ground that stood anywhere near to the Maou's Queen died. The only ones that survived the attack were those that stood even vaguely near to either the others Devils or even Irina, Griselda and myself. The attack avoided us by a large margin, leaving wide circles of open space around us.

I felt my eyes water, irritated by the dirt in the air, when a thin cloud of dust washed over me and I barley withheld the urge to break out coughing as I was forced to breathe it in. I looked around and instantly felt grateful that the air around me wasn't as bad as it was elsewhere.

The rest of the ground was filled with a thick clouds of dust and debris, having been knocked in the by the attack. When the hundreds of steel bars slammed into the paved courtyard it shattered the bricks beneath it, sending up its fragmented remains into the air.

It was thick too, preventing me from seeing anything more than a few yards away and I realized that this was probably what the Devil had intended. This was exactly the same situation that the Fallen had to face at the start. He had completely reset the battlefield back to beginning, only worse because this time over half the courtyards was clouded. He could be anywhere.

"Enough!" An angered voice called out. A six-winged Fallen quickly soared high up into the sky, before halting his ascent and glaring down at the field bellow.

"Everyone to me!" He ordered, "Take to the skies and bombarded him until he's dead." His eyes were filled with an unholy mixture of hatred and fury as he scowled at the veil of dust that hid the Devil, "And If he fires another one of his swords," A streak of light flashed into his hands as he conjured a spear of light, "just shoot it down before it gets anywhere near us."

There was a moment of complete silence as everyone absorbed his words, then the courtyard was filled with the flutter of wings as the Fallen took the skies. There were hundreds of them, easily a thousand strong.

Despite the losses they just suffered at the hands of the red-haired Devil they haven't lost any more than a small fraction of their total strength. And that fact couldn't have been made clearer to me than right now, as the entire world around me completely disappeared behind their raven wings.

They filled the sky, rising up from the ground like a swarm of locusts. Already the numbers the filled the skies were beyond what I could count and still they came, until even the moons and the stars themselves were hidden behind the pitch-black of their wings.

It was then, as my eyes followed the flight of the Fallen swarm as they soared to the night skies, that I caught of sight of Kokabiel.

He was perched on one of the peaks of the school building. He was squatting down, one hand place firmly on the floor before him while the other one was draped over his knee, as he looked down on over the courtyard.

It was like watching one of the gargoyles on the cathedral's roof. Completely unmoving, he blended in so well into the rooftop that it looked like he was carved from the stone of the building. I almost didn't see him, and if it weren't for his eyes I'm wouldn't have.

The only thing stone-like in those eyes were the coldness in them.

I felt my heart stop in my chest in and the air freeze in my lungs as I caught sight of them. They were terrifying. My body reacted on its own, moving several panicked steps backwards, trying to get as far away as I could from those eyes.

I must have caught his attention because the next thing I knew, those cold ice blue eyes turned towards me and - ohmygodimgonnadieimgonnadiediediedierunIhavetorunjustrunawayorimgoingtodiediediedie- and looked away after a moment.

I couldn't hear a thing, the sound of my heart beating so painfully in my chest drowned out everything else. My breaths came out in short shallow pants and my throat felt painfully dry as I swallowed. I could feel myself shaking, my entire body trembling but I didn't move, didn't dare take so much as a single step in case I drew those eyes back to me.

What…What the hell was that? What happened to his eyes?

Even when we fought Kokabiel before, he when it looked like he was trying to kill us, there was something warm about him. When we traded blows it he was almost playful about it, not in condescending manner but as if he was truly enjoying himself and held himself back just to draw the fight out.

Back then it just made me angry. Insulted that after all my years of training, my countless hours of practicing with my sword, he saw my best attempts to kill him as nothing but a game, as if I were just a little child trying to whack my father with a foam sword. But now, now I no longer felt insulted, just grateful that he never decided to take me seriously.

Because if the price I had to pay was to look into those eyes, I didn't want to pay it.

I understood now, he was never trying to kill us before. When he attacked us he always held back, using just enough force to put us down without truly hurting us. Always using the absolute minimum to take us out of the fight.

But it was different now.

There was no restraint in those eyes, no hint of mercy, no holding back. This was not the Kokabiel that we faced before. The one filled with helpful advice even as he crushed us, who was disappointed in our failing as if they were his own. No, this was Kokabiel the Killer. Whose death toll in the Great War was so high that it was enough to mention him in Bible on that merit alone. The Kokabiel whose took a bunch of Low-ranked unexperienced Angels and turned them to a trained force that were feared and respected by friends and enemies alike. The one whose exploits in the field of combat has dubbed him a battle maniac.

And now that very killer has chosen the red-haired Devil as his latest prey, and there was no doubt in my mind that he was going to kill him. He will call on every scrap of power under his command, use every bit of battle knowledge and experience he has gathered in his millennia of existence, and every drop of skill in his body and bring it down on him.

That was what he was going right now. Perched like some great hawk on the ledge of the roof, he was watching his prey. Examining every attack, analyzing every detail, noting every strength and flaw in his form.

His face a cold detached mask while his glimmering blue eyes glinted like ice picks in the night gloom as they slowly drifted left and right as he scanned the battlefield for the red-head, and all the while he looked for potential weakness to attack, holes in his guard to exploit.

And when he's done finally done. When he collects every bit of information, analysis every data, thinks up plans and counter plans, and forge them in his minds into the tools he needed to win, he's going to descend on the battlefield and kill him.

A bright light caught my attention and I turned towards it, welcoming the distraction no matter what it maybe. Anything was better than looking into…those…eyes…

…Fuck my life.

As I started up into sky where the source of the light originated from I could not help but wonder if I had just jinxed myself. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse. I was wrong, Kokabiel wasn't going to kill us after all. We'll all be long dead before he gets the chance.

"We're dead." A voice off to my side coolly stated. The other male devil of the Sitri group seemed to have regained conciseness and he was calmly looking up at the sky as he lay spread eagle on the ground. "So dead."

They outshone the light of the long distant suns and have taken their rightful place as the night's true stars. They gleamed in its darkness, hundreds upon hundreds shinning jewels on a backdrop of black. From horizon to horizon they stretched, filling the sky whole, a painting of glimmering lights with the sky itself as the canvas.

A thousand and more spears crafted from the light of the planet itself hung above the skies of Kaou Academy. So bright that they illuminated the world beneath them with their light.

There before me stood the full might of the Fallen Host. Their tactics have failed, their Phalanx lay broken and so they have abandoned it. Instead they will lay to their enemy from afar, they will rain down death and destruction, and scorched the earth itself if they must to take down their foe.

This was the most basic attack for all Angels, Fallen or not. A tried and true method that was never replaced or abandoned since it was created at the dawn of time. That was because it worked, overwhelming the enemies by pouring down destructions from the Heavens until nothing but ruin was left behind.

And now we're about to experience its power first hand.

The six-winged angel who took command of the Host raised his spear over his shoulder as the rest of the Fallen around him did the same.

"On my call we fire as one." He commanded, his eyes never leaving the cloud beneath him. He cocked his arm back, "Ready!" The stars above us rippled as the entire swarm of fallen prepared their spears.

"Aim!" A thousand and more light spears shifted slightly in the grips of the Fallen, as they adjusting their lengths so that the tip of each spear was aimed at the courtyard bellow. And when the next command was given they will let loose the spear, raining death and destruction upon-

"Having seen the ending, I continue to walk down this road"

The words rippled across the battlefield, the undeniable weight it held gave pause to even the Fallen Angels high above. And as if they were pushed back by his words, the clouds of debris that hid from the Devil from our eyes quickly cleared, revealing…

The silence that fell upon the courtyard was almost deafening with intensity as every as every eye there gazed in wonder at what was they saw.

"He told me yes." The voice of the Sitri's heir drifted out a few seconds later in the absolute silence that had taken hold of the world, sounding just as shocked and disbelieving as I felt. "I asked him if he had a lot swords and he told me yes. Just yes. The jerk has been hanging around my sister for far too long."

They hung in the air, held up by invisible hands, by the hundreds, by the thousands they numbered. Enough to match each spear and more. They lined up row over row, spanning the width of the courtyard and still more kept appearing, conjured from thin air. Even the least among them radiated so much power I could almost feel it warming my skin like the heat of a bonfire.

Unlike Griselda or even Irina, I had no talent in sensing magic but I have always had an unnaturally good eyes for swords, sensing their nature far better than anyone Griselda had ever seen before. And I only needed a single glance to tell what masterpieces these swords were.

Swords with powers that could match the Excaliburs were made mundane as they hung next to swords so beautiful that I can look upon it for a day and night and still not have enough of its sight. Swords more pure than a mother's loved hung next to blades so hideous that I felt them stain my soul simply by the knowledge of their existence.

And still more came, filling the air with every passing heartbeat, all pointed upwards towards the Fallen host.

Now those swords straight out of legend, wielded by villains and hero alike, lined the air as they were brought to existence by the red-haired Devil that stood in the middle of it all. His golden eyes shone with an unmatched resolve as they locked onto the hate filled greys of the six-winged Fallen above him.

His spoke out the words just as the Fallen repeats his command, "Trace bullet-" / "Aim-"

""Fire!"" Their voice rang out as one.

From the Heavens they descended.

From the Earth they ascended.

And in between where the Heavens began and the Earth ended, they clashed.

To any of the citizens in the city that had looked up at the skies that night, they would have seen the stars themselves fall from the very sky.

They were like shooting stars, those spears of light, streaking down from the heavens and onto earth. More numerous then drops in the rain, more captivating than any flame, and far more deadly.

It was the weapon that Heaven sends upon those that dare to defy it. With a hundred of its Angels, it brought down the Tower of Babel in a single wave. Now once again it came falling down upon the earth, this time by ten times that number and it was as if a waterfall of white light had tumbled down out of Heaven's gates.

It was a force so powerful that even the strength of the mountains themselves could not bear its weight. What can the might of a single Devil do against such a thing? It should have crushed him, swept him aside with the utmost ease before tearing through the crust of the earth that he stood on.

It did not.

It was stopped by steel.

Spear point met sword edge and broke upon it. Burning light fought against cold metal and was extinguished. They were the weapons of Heaven, a power God had bestowed on his Angels but they were surpassed by the power of a single man.

Blade of finest steel shot from the ground to the skies, tossed upward by invisible hands. And they greeted the spears of their enemies in an explosion of light. It filled the sky in endless stream of fireworks, sending shockwaves of noises echoing through the city.

Yet over the hundreds upon hundreds of blows have been exchanged, not a single blade has been destroyed. It was always the spear that shattered, split and fragmented on the unyielding edge of the blade.

Like the water of waterfall breaking upon the surface of the earth, so too did the light spears on the break on the curtain of steel swords that rose up to defy. They could not harm it, could not defy it, could do nothing but knock it away.

Light was stopped by steel.

It was then pushed back.

They tossed wave after desperate waves of spears but for every spear was they threw down another blade rose up to match it. However while a single sword was more than a match for any spear, the same could not be said for the reverse. The price of two or more was needed to be paid to deflect even the least among the blades, and it was a price the Fallen could not afford pay.

The toll began to tell.

It began slowly, barely notable to even the keenest of eyes, but moment after moment it began to pick up speed and soon all watched in disbelief as the great waterfall of light was pushed back, slowly reversing its course was sent back up into the Heavens where it came from, rejected by the earth itself.

The Fallen could do nothing but watch with uncomprehending eyes as their end approached them. Even as they continued to desperately conjure and cast more spears to fight back the tide of steel that rose up from the ground to drown them in but they could hold it back no longer.

Defeat has come for them at last, with their death following its wake.

After a millennia of fighting undefeated, the Fallen Host have has finally lost.

Then Kokabiel entered the battlefield.

He unhurriedly rose out of from his crouch, with all of his usual grace, as if there wasn't a battle going on over head.

He raised his head and revealed his face to the skies above him. The clash of swords and spear overhead released explosions of light, illuminating parts of his face for a moment before casting it back into shadow before repeating again.

Standing on top of the building's roof he gazed at the battlefield above him with empty eyes. No rage, no anger, no excitement, just emotionless pits of ice blue.

He did nothing for a moment, as he watched his troops fight and fail against the human clad in the flesh of a Devil. He watched as the might of their light was broken on the strength of his steel and did could not but feel bitter disappointment in his heart.

The boy was strong, remarkably so but it was not enough. Nowhere near enough.

Humanity could not be saved with this alone.

He then turned his eyes to the ground and looked down at his dead men. These were his friends, not even his Fall, not even after their Father's death did they leave him, such was their loyalty. They were his brothers, even had they not shared the same father he would have proudly called them that as he embraced them as family. And now they lay dead on the field bellow him.

But he did not mourn them.

Why should they be mourned? All of them knew what awaited them at their journey's end was neither heavenly rewards nor eternal Glory but the unforgiving embrace of death. Even he would be no exception. No matter if they win or lose, they would all be dead within the year.

Yet still they did not leave him, did not hesitate to walk down this road knowing what awaited them. They will fulfill their duty to their bitter end, knowing that they will be neither rewarded nor thanked.

So what reason did have to mourn them? He would be joining them all soon enough, just as he promised them he would. They will all be untied in the end once again.

But still, somewhere in his heart he felt pain. Only the knowledge that he would see them soon enough allowed him to carry on.

He shut his eyes as he bowed his head in regret at what must be done. For a long moment of silence, he did nothing but pray. And when he did move, when he finally open his eyes to the world again, they were no longer empty.

They shone with absolute power.

On the battleground beneath him, all but one of the Devils and humans were forced down to their knees. Pushed down by the mere presence he was radiating, crushed as if a hand of some invisible God forced them down. Some were forced flat on the ground, unable to lift their head before his might.

He turned his eyes back up to the skis again and this time raised a single hand up high, fingers stretched open, as if trying to grab the Heavens themselves.

Then he clenched his hand.

The world light up with all the brightness of day. Not a single shred of shadow marked the world until the white skies.

It was as if the morning dawn had come and gone, and a new day was well on its way. The light that filled the sky was so bright that it reflected off the floating clouds, painting them a pure white as if it hung in the day's sky not the night's.

Or at least, what little bits of clouds one could see past the spears.

There were countless of them. They filled the entire sky by the tens of thousands, each shining like a sun. They painted the entire sky a glimmering white, as if a shimmering lake of liquid light hung in the skies above and flooded it from horizon to horizon.

The night was turned into day as the entire city was illuminated brighter than the light of a single sun ever could.

Kokabiel lowered his hands, and it was as if the sky fell.

They fell by the thousands and pushed back the steel. The blades that shot to the sky, looking to pierce the Heavens, were pushed back to the ground by the might of one of its children.

Though even his spears broke on the swords' edge, they too were shattered in turn. Fragments of metal rained down from the sky, pelting the ground bellow as they met their end on his spears.

And when the swords could not be broken, when their power were too mighty even for him to match, they were pushed aside by sheer number.

For each of the boy's mightiest of sword, he called upon a dozen or more to match it. And when that were not enough he called on a hundred, then a thousand and more of his spears to push it back down. And still more rained down upon them in a never ending downpour.

This was the power of a twelve-winged Angel. The strongest of God's soldiers, the mightiest of Heaven's children.

The world had forgotten their might. Not since the Great War had the world witnessed their true power. Not with Michael laboring behind Heaven's Gates and Azazel hidden in his labs.

They were creature of power, who could stand up to Maou's of the underworld and not be found lacking. In Heaven, they were second to none but God himself. They could destroy nations whole and raze entire continents. But it had been a Millennium since their true power was last witness on this earth.

The world had forgotten their might.

Kokabiel reminded them.

The gains the swords from the Earth have made against the spears from the Heavens was lost in seconds. In one heartbeat their advance was slowed, in the next it was haltered, and by the third it was reversed. Soon it was steel that was pushed back, sinking back down to the ground that birthed them.

An endless curtain of white was pulled down from the skies and when they fall to the ground, like how they brought about the end of the plays since the times of old, so too would this bring about the battle's end.

And yet though his victory was assured, his desired war soon at hand, Kokabiel could only look down in confusion at the face of the boy who he faced. The one whose soul was bathed in the Devil's tainted magic yet remained unspoiled. The child who he placed his faith in but had been found lacking.

The boy did not look defeated. Not angry nor even defiant as he face his coming doom.

He was smiling up at him peacefully, arms held out in welcome. And then spoke,

"It is my only path.

My whole life had been,"

The spears of light had broken down the last of his swords, and now they were tearing at him, ready to pierce through his flesh and bones but still he did not look away. His eyes locked unwearyingly on to the Fallen Lord's as he called its name.

"Unlimited Blade Works"

And the world disappeared behind a wall of flames.

I crinkled my face, as something tickled the end of my nose.

It still wouldn't disappear so I cracked my eyes open to glare at it but regretted it almost immediately as sunlight shone directly into my eyes, forcing me to shut them again and grimace in pain.

This time prepared, I forced my eyes open and glared at the culprit. A single blade of grass, paint gold by the light of the setting sun or the coming dawn. It fluttered in the slight breeze, rubbing against the tip of my nose as it did so.

Taking a deep breath before I puffed the offending grass away, observing with contentment as it leaned away. Watching it for several more seconds to make sure it won't be blown back, I let loose a sigh of contentment as I buried myself deeper in the patch of warm grass beneath me, my tired aching body demanding rest.

Just as I was about to shut my eyes and fall back to sleep again, I caught sight of a pair of yellow eyes looking back at me. It took me a couple of seconds to realize they were my own when I noticed the strands of blue hair framing it.

Before me, just inches away from my eyes was a blade, buried tip first into field of grass beneath it. I dumbly stared back at my startled face that was reflected on its surface for a few moments before I gathered my wits about me and tried to remember what had just happened.

Placing my hand one good hand beneath me, careful not to jolt my broken arm too much, I pushed myself into an upright position and examined the sword that was planted onto the grassy field before me.

"…Beautiful." The words slipped past my lips, as I stared in disbelief at it. How can a sword like this possibly exist?

I could feel the power radiating from it, far more than any sword I had ever seen before, yet it was not oppression or overwhelming. It was warm, almost welcoming, something that I had only sensed from Holy Swords in the past, yet I knew each and every single Holy Sword in the world and this was not one of them.

It was sword without peer, without equal. I had walked through the vaults of the Vatican and witnessed all of its treasures, yet none could match this one's splendor.

Its edge was flawless, free from any blemishes or imperfections and looked sharp enough to split light itself. I stared at the patch golden grass that was reflected on flat of its blade, its polished steel acting better than any mirror. Its hilt was the colour of the purest gold, wrapped around by a fine green hide I could not recognize and ending a jeweled pommel.

Yet for all of its beauty and almost delicate appearance I knew that this was a sword crafted for war. Knew it had seen it, been wielded in it and thrived there as it bathed in the blood of its enemies and emerged victorious every time. Knew that its unchipped edge did not reflect its lack of use but was a testament to its power, that none it had ever faced had ever been able to leave its mark upon it.

And suddenly I knew the sword's name.

"Durandal."

That was its name, I was sure of it. But this blade was not Durandal, could not be it. It was not my Durandal, the Holy Sword that had chosen me as its wielder when I was eleven.

And yet, and yet the achingly familiar longing that I felt in the heart of my soul as I looked upon it, the way it called out to me left me in no doubt. This was Durandal, the blade of Saint Roland just as surely as my own was.

How? How can two swords, both of them originals exist?

*thud*

My back thumped against something slender and solid as I had leaned backwards without meaning to. I turned around to look at what I had ran into and found myself looking at another sword. Before I could so much as examine it I caught sight of another planted into the ground next to it, and another next to that one and still another after that.

I looked around to find myself surrounded by swords. Easily a dozen and more surrounded me, sprouting out of the ground as if they were trees. There were so many of them that they blocked the sight of the world around me, caging me between their blades and inadvertently creating a curtain of steel around me.

Cradling my broken arm to my chest I pushed off the ground with the other, forcing myself to my feet. I wobbled for a moment, my legs having trouble holding up my weight, before I regained my balance and planted both my feet firmly on the ground.

After sparing my feet one final glance, satisfied that they'll hold up for now, I raised my head and look at the scenery around me and what I saw was…

…a world of endless swords.

They rose out of the ground like tombs of a grave, standing tall, proud and ever vigil under the rays of the setting sun. Each one was an unparalleled masterpiece, a peerless blade. They were laid out before me in their thousands, stretching out in every direction towards the distance horizon and beyond, far father than my eyes could ever see.

Wars have been fought for such swords, entire nations were brought to their knees by their strength and legends were born on the might of their steel. History had been rewritten time and again by the ones who wielded them and kings who owned mountains of gold would look upon their owners with envy.

Men had died for the right to hold a single one of these blade. Heroes journeyed the globe to battled Devils and Demons alike to prove worthy of one. And now they were laid out before me in their untold thousands, in numbers beyond continuing, beyond understanding, even beyond limit.

An Unlimited Blade Work.

A gentle breeze flew past me, blowing the bangs of my hair past my face. The grass beneath my feet swayed with the wind, their calf-high stalks bending in the breeze, sending a slow rolling waves running through the fields of grass that surrounded me.

The grass rose out from the ground as far as I can see, standing side by side with swords of steel that littered the land they grew from. There was nothing else in this place, nothing but a land of rolling grass and sharpened steel. It should have been a world of green, this place of grasslands and blades.

But this world was anything but green.

Dyed under the rays of the setting sun, the world around me was painted the colour of crimson-gold. The steel of the swords reflected the rays of the sun, setting them ablaze with a crimson fire as they continued to stand over the fields of rippling gold.

It should have been a beautiful sight, a wonder to behold but I felt no joy at the sight of it. Instead my eyes water and vision blurs as an emotion I could neither name nor understand swelled in my chest. For a reason I did not understand my soul ached at the sight of those swords.

I knew that they were just swords, unloving and unfeeling steel. But as I continued to watch them standing with their hilts help up to the sky, as if they were waiting for someone to come and wield them, as if they were patiently waiting for the arrival of the one who may never appear, my heart just broke and I felt a single teardrop run down the side of my cheek.

Lonely.

That's what I feeling, they looked lonely. Though they were countless of them, those swords unmoving and unbending as their hilts reached out for the sky, they looked as if they stood utterly alone.

Before I could ponder more on the matter, I was distracted by the sound of grinding gears coming over head. I looked up, my eyes scanning the sky but there was nothing unusual there. Just the red and orange hues of the dusk sky.

Still, I knew I heard something, so I kept looking. I kept looking until-

"Oh my God," I almost lost my balance as I leaned my head further back to look at them, "what happened to the sky?"

In the gold and crimson skies above me, hung massive metal gears. Larger than any building, they must have weighed thousands of tones easy, but they hung there in the sky above me as if they were weightless, suspended above me like the clouds themselves.

With nothing holding them up they turned ever slowly, rotating and grinding against one another. Their metallic exterior was so smooth that it act like mirrors, reflecting the sky and the clouds around them on their surface, allowing it to blend in with the rest of the sky.

"Xenovia," a voice called out from my left. I turned and found Irina standing next to me, looking around in bewilderment, "where…where are we?"

She wasn't the only one who was there either. I could see Griselda sitting on the ground a little further off, and the rest of the Devils from the Gremory and Sitri Peerage not too far behind her. Many of them were too injured to move, and instead remained were they sat or lay on the ground.

I turned my head as I caught a flicker of movement off the side and spotted the Host of Fallen drifting not too high off the ground much further away from where we were, with Kokabiel standing firmly on the ground beneath them. They too were looking around in confusion.

When did they get here? Were they always there and I didn't notice or did they just appear?

"What is this place?" Despite the words, Kokabiel did not sound confused so much awed as he looked around him. His eyes locked onto a sword before him and, after a moment of contemplation, he tentatively reach out his hand towards the hilt but a voice called out, interrupting him before he could grab it.

"My soul." The voice answered.

I ran my hand across the blades of grass growing from the ground of my Reality Marble, feeling oddly giddy as I did so.

Something grows here.

This was no desolated landscape, a desert of nothing but iron and steel where little lives or grows and never for long, not without withering and dying. This was not Archer's Reality Marble, it was mine. And as I continued to run my fingers through the blades of grass I felt content with that thought.

Something can live here.

I was not wrong, this path while a hard one was not a wrong one. This land maybe a place of eternal twilight, a world where the sun will never truly set nor the promised dawn ever appear but it was a world where something other than me can live.

I still remember vividly Archer's reactions when he first saw it. How he looked around in disbelief before staring at me for a long moment and told me 'you really are different'. Then he smiled. It wasn't his usual ones, his harsh mocking sharper than broken glass of a smile that he would often give me. This was different, watching it was like watching a new dawn, bright innocent and so very warm.

It was such a smile.

Pulling my hands away from the grass, I rose up and turned towards the horizon. I looked past the fields of rolling glass and endless swords that filled them and stared at the distant horizon that hid the sun from sight.

It will come. One day my dawn will come and this world will be bathed under the light of a sky the colour of clearest of blues. I will make sure it happens, after all what kind of Hero would I be if I couldn't even save myself. That is why I will make sure that one day, the dawn will come.

…but that was for another day.

I turned my back to the horizon. Right now I had something else to do, someone else to save. I shut my eyes and focused, searching for the others. This was my realty marble, a manifestation of my very soul, I knew it better than I could possible know anything else. I knew where every sword lay, where every blade of grass swayed in the wind as easily as I knew where my fingers were. And finding them all in this place was almost child's play.

When I brought them into my world, I made sure to scatter them all across my Reality Marble, a helpful little trick I learned to do not too long ago. It wouldn't do to draw them all in here but place them side by side to an enemy that was just trying to kill them. After all-

I frowned as I noticed something wrong. Someone was in here that wasn't supposed to be. Whoever they were I couldn't recognize them. And it definitely wasn't one of the Fallens or Devils, this person was human. And not one of the Exorcists, I already have all three of them accounted for.

It didn't matter, I didn't have time to waste with whoever this was. While I couldn't identify much about them, not even their gender, I could sense the magic coming from the intruder so at the very least whoever this human was they were at least magically aware. That meant I didn't have to worry about erasing their memories. So for the time being I'll let them wander alone away from everyone else but keep them away from the fight. I'll deal with whoever it was when this was all over.

That decided, I mentally pushed the matter to one side as I searched for the others and quickly drew them to me, while making sure to keep the Fallen separate from the rest.

I felt them come to me in an instant. In this place distance had no meaning to me. It wasn't teleportation or anything like that but rather, it felt like floding the pages of a map together to bring two objects closer to one another.

And just like that, I felt them arrive all around me. There was no distortion, no loud nosie to herald their arrival. They simply took one step someplace else and by the time they set their foot down they found themselves here. First the exorcist, then Sona and Gremory with their Peerages and final Kokabiel with his army of Fallen.

"What is this place?" I heard Kokabiel question as I opened my eyes, though it didn't seem like it was directed at me. I wasn't sure he even noticed me. Nevertheless, I decided to answer him.

"My soul."

In any other circumstances it would have been funny to see so many heads, especially those of all three factions, whip around as one to face me. So fast that I was sure more than a few of them suffered from whiplash.

As it was I only allowed myself a mildly amused smile to make its way to my lips as I greeted them, "I welcome you all to my soul, to my Unlimited Blade Works."

I was greeted by a wave of confusion filling faces, though I could see a flicker of comprehension dawning on Kokabiel's face. But it was the blue-haired exorcist's reaction that caught my attention the most. She didn't look confused or surprised, just sad as she started at me with…was that pity in her eyes?

"Shirou," I turned to see Sona cautiously approaching me. She was looking around her as she did so, her eyes opened so wide that I could see the white of her eyes. She wasn't the only one either. While the exorcists being humans could neither sense nor properly comprehend the scale of the magic flowing out of the world around them, that wasn't the case with the Devils or even the Fallen.

They were surrounded by thousands of swords, where even the least among them was radiating enough power to match an Excalibur, and more than a few of which could bring down an entire mountain, and each and every one of them knew it.

"Shirou," Sona repeated and even now she could not stop looking about herself, only stopping to stare at the great gears that hung without support in the sky as even now they continued to slowly turn and grind against one another, "Where are we?"

I smiled at her, not the least surprised that she did not understand what I meant. Most didn't after all and Sona had always been a realistic and practical sort. Logic and reason were what ruled her mind. Something like this that not just borders on the impossible, but runs over logic like a truck before backing up and running over it again, would not have been something she could easily accept.

Only someone with an extremely flexible and imaginative mind could accept something like this easily. A mind like Serafall's for instance.

Oh Hell, Serafall. When she visited my Reality Marble for the second time she ignored all my attempts to explain it to her and declared that as the owner of my soul that it was her right to redecorate the place, as the Unlimited Blade Works was the literal embodiment of it. She then somehow managed to produce thousands of pink ribbons from who knows where and proceeded to tie it around the hilt of ever sword she could find.

I shook my head in an attempt to dispel the memory from my head, having never been more gratefully that nothing could remain in my Reality Marble that was not a part of it. I would be too ashamed to bring anyone in here otherwise.

"I already told you," I answered Sona, "this," I waved a hand around us, "is my soul."

"But what does that even mean?" Her frustration at my not answer finally breaking thought her shock, causing her to turn and glare at me. I had to resist the urge to pinch her check at how adorable she looked trying to be so commanding.

"It means exactly what it sounds like, this is my soul. Everything in here, every blade of grass, every sword and even the ground you walk on, everything is a part of my soul. All that your eyes are can see and everything it cannot is the physical manifestation of my soul.

"All of this Sona," I indicated the world around me with my arms, "is my Reality Marble, the Unlimited Blade Works, and it is the manifestation of my inner-world, my very soul given form."

"A world?" a voice whispered out. I turned to find Kokabiel staring at me with a look of utter awe, enough that it made me feel more than a little uncomfortable. "You've created a world?" He looked around himself one more time to make sure he what he was seeing was real before he turned back to me, his face no less reverent than before.

"Shirou…Do you realize what you've done?" He questioned, seemingly almost in a state of shock "You've created a world Shirou, a world! That is something only a God can do. Something that only they can accomplish.

"Father with Heaven, Odin with Valhalla, Hades and his the realm of the Dead. That is a power belonging to the Gods alone. To forge an entire realm, where only they rule and everything in it falls under their command. That is something only the can do, and you…you did this?"

He titled his head to one side as he looked me in the eyes. I felt him scrutinized me, dissecting me with his eyes as he searched through me. Then he acted.

It came without warning. No tells whatsoever. So fast that I was sure that I was the only one who could see him move. In less time it took most people could blink, Kokabiel conjured a spear and hurled it at me, moving nothing but a single arm as the rest of him stood stock still. It crossed the space between us before anyone else realized what was happening.

I didn't dodge, didn't block, didn't so much as move. I didn't need to. Not here, not in this place where only I ruled. Nothing could hurt me here unless I allowed it.

A sword shot down from the sky and slammed onto the oncoming spear. It tore through it, shattering it to pieces before it buried itself on the ground between us.

It was over before anyone else could even comprehend what just happened.

"So it true." he breathed out in disbelief, ignoring the sounds of alarm from around us as the others finally reacted. The uncomfortable looks of reverence returned to his face. "You can control everything in here. You've breached the realm of the very Gods themselves and you did this…with just your soul?" He continue to stare at me for a time before he began to laugh.

It started out small, soft breaths that could hardly count as laughter, but it quickly grew. His shoulder began to shake and shake as the sound of his laughter began to grow faster before he simply threw his head back and laughed. By the end of it his entire frame shook from the force of his laughter and still it went on until he seemed to run out of breaths and his laughter began to taper off to the soft breaths for laughter that he started out with.

"This is it." He began after he finally got a hold of himself, flashing me a wide smile. "This is what Father spoke of, what he saw in man that day. This is the power of the mankind, the potential of the human soul-"

"No." Kokabiel stopped, then turned and looked at me in surprise at my interruption.

"No?" He parroted, tilting his head in incomprehension.

"No," I repeated with a slow shake of my head, "while the Unlimited Bladeworks is many things, the pinnacle of mankind it is not. The thing that you seek is something greater, something far more sublime than this world of steel."

"You-" he asked with a face filled utter bewilderment, "You mean to say there's more?"

"Kokabiel," I admonished him with a smile, "you should know better than anyone that when it comes to humans, there is always more."

Again he looked completely bewildered before "Pfft-" a muffled laughter escaped his lips "Hahahaha! You're right, you're absolutely right. Of course there is more! I had forgotten, with your kind there is always more. What else can I expect of a race that embodies potential?" Then he laughed again.

I waited for him to finish, watching as has he announced his joy to the world with guileless innocent laughter, so happy for the accomplishments of race that was not even his own. When he was finally done I spoke.

"So?" I asked.

"So?" he asked back, a mischief smile on his lips as his eyes twinkled with unconcealed amusement.

I shook my head at his sudden bout of childishness, "Will you surrender?"

"Will the Devils leave humanity be? Will the Three Factions withdraw from the world of man and let them live in peace?"

"No," I could not lie to him, not even if it meant that it might stay his course and save his life. He deserved better than that, "That will never happen. So long as there is something for them to gain, those that are not humans will never leave humanity alone." It has always been that way.

He slowly shook his head had at me, a fond smile still adorning his face, "Then I'm sorry my friend but that is something I cannot do."

I nodded in understanding, not having expected anything else. "So we fight?"

"We fight." He nodded in response.

Then he took a moment to look me in the eyes and I stared back in turn. There was no need for us to say anything. We both understood without words that this will be last time we'll ever meet. Then as one we turned away from each other and began to walk away.

As I made my way forward, striding past the calf high grass that brushed against my legs as I did so, I sensed him taking flight behind me. When I had reached a reasonably distance from everybody else, I turned around and faced the fallen army that had were still soaring in the sky, just in time to see Kokabiel take his rightful place at the head of it.

Kokabiel hovered in the air for a moment, doing nothing but gazing across the sword filled landscape beneath him. He turned his eyes skywards, towards the colossal gears the continued to toil and turn in near silence before turning to look towards the distant horizon the hid the sun from view. "Yes," even with the distance between us I heard as clearly as if I stood next to him, "this would do. This isn't such a bad place to die."

He turned around to face his army of Fallen, all of whom stared back at him expectedly. "BROTHERS," He called out to them, "in the time beyond counting that we have known each, fought by one another, we have faced many foes. From the accursed Devils to our fellows Angels in the Great War, and even the servants of other pantheons in the time before that."

A sword in the ground before me began to rattle for a moment within the grip of the earth that held it, before it was slowly lifted out of the ground, pulled up into the air by an invisible hand.

"But tonight, we face an enemy unlike any other. What stands before us brothers is not a Devil, but a man. Though his soul has been bathed by the depth of their corruption it has emerged untainted, his spirit remains unbroken and pure. In that soul brothers, I see hope. For the first time since our Father's demise hope exists for mankind."

A second sword off to my left was raised off the ground and joined the first in the air. Then a third off to the distance began to rise and another from behind. Then they rose in their twos, then threes then in their dozens.

"But is it enough? Will the spirit of a single man be enough to survive the coming storm, to lead the rest of humanity to prosperity in these dark times, or will this hope be extinguished like the many that came before it? "

By their hundred, by their thousands, the swords continued to raise, filling the sky with their steel and still more kept following after them, in never ending numbers.

"That is why we shall test it. Here and now we shall test the steel of his soul and judge its worth. We shall strike it with all of our might and see if it can emerged unscathed. And if it does, if it is we who break and fall on his steel, we can die knowing that at long last our solemn duty has been fulfilled. That the day has finally come that man no longer needs us to guide and protect them, and we can at we can at last put down our arms and let our weary souls rest."

No matter how many swords were pulled from the earth, there were more to replace. Soon the sky filled with swords, numbering more than the land beneath them could possibly had held, and still more came.

"However if he loses, it means the time for us to lay down out burden has yet to come. That we must still continue to fight on in order to fulfill our duty, to see out Father's final wish fulfilled." Kokabiel turned around and stared unflinchingly at the sky full of swords that greeted him.

"But no matter the result, whether we win or lose, this will be our final war. By its end, be it on this day or another, we will all be dead." He look on without fear at the swords before, even as they continued to rise in number. He and those that followed him were limited yet still he would dare face the unlimited.

"So I ask you," He turned back to face his men, "knowing this, will you still fight?"

A thousand and more spears of light erupted to life into hands of the Fallen was their answer.

Even from as far away I stood I could still see the expressions on the faces of the Fallen as they were illuminate by the light of their spears. Not one among them faltered as they stared resolutely at both me and up towards the swords the filled the world around them, they were committed to the last.

"I see." There was no dissuading them was there? All of them were willing to surrender their life, all to honor a Father's final wish.

One's life is a treasure, a gift beyond all measure. I truly believe that. But that doesn't mean that it is the most valuable thing you'll ever have. It is far from surprising that sometime during the course of your life, in this world filled with so many wonders, that you'll eventually find something you'll treasure even more. Be it a cause, an ideal or even a friend, for that most precious of treasures you'd willing give your life up a thousand times over. And do it with a smile every time.

I can't even ask them to stop can I? Not without insulting even more. Any mercy I show them will be unwanted and unneeded. If that's the case then I will offer them none. These people have done too much, sacrificed themselves too many times only to be insulted by someone like me. They deserved far better than that.

So instead I will grant them the only thing I could.

I raised my left hand up into the air and as I did so every sword that filled the sky rotated in place, moving in time with my arm, until they were all pointed point first at the Host of Fallen before me.

I will grant them their journey's end, so that they may find rest at last.

I tried to think of something profound to say but nothing came to me, nothing but meaningless platitudes. So instead I uttered a simple, "Goodbye." and brought my hand down.

Then the swords descended.

And then they died.

It fell upon them in number beyond continuing, beyond numbering, a limitless rain of sword and steel. So many that they matched all treasures held within the Gates of Babylon and more. So powerful that they can bring down even the mightiest of Servants to their knees.

It could destroy the vastest of armies, this rain of swords and steel. Numbers against it held no meaning. Be it one or a thousand, before the unlimited all is made equal.

And at the face of such an onslaught-

Not a single one ran.

Even as their spear shattered in their very hands when they clashed with the torrent of steel, they fought on. Calling forth another spear when they could, or fighting on with their bare hands when they could not. A dozen and more swords would pierce their body yet still they would continue flinging their spears ahead, trying to fight back the unending tide of swords.

Some laughed in wonderment and joy at the power of the foe they face, while other screamed out in rage and unwavering defiance as they swung their spears but till the last they fought on, never surrendering nor despairing.

And when they were forced to the ground, dragged down by the sheer weight of the steel that clung to their flesh, still they fought on. Dragging their broken body across the ground, staining the grass with their blood, and forcing themselves to their feet, only stopping when another barrage of swords tore through their body and even then they only did so when the hearts in their chest stopped beating.

From a thousand that they began with, their numbers quickly dropped down to their hundreds and then dozens. The dead bodies of the defeated rained down around the still defiant living, and yet still they did not falter.

But defiance and spirit meant nothing against the hard unforgiven edge of cold steel. And so they continued to die until there were only a handful left, barely clinging to life as the swords continued to fall in unending numbers.

And in the heart of it all was Kokabiel.

It was like grace given form, talent personified. Though it was like watching a whirlwind, there was no chaos, no disorder. Every move had a purpose, every action a goal, not a single motion wasted. I thought I had seen talent during the Holy Grail War, that I had seen the pinnacle of skill in arms that can be achieved, but I was wrong. For in the end Servants, as mighty as they are, were still human. Mortal.

Even Assassin, who had spent a lifetime honing his skill, had only spent a fraction of time training that this Angel had. This was a being that have lived for eons and dedicated the entirety of the last Millennium honing his skill in arms and it showed.

The spear in his hands blurred, leaving trials of shimmering white, afterimages even my eyes cannot dispel. It was like a perfect dance, how each move flowed seamlessly to the next as all around him steel continued to crash with light.

Spears of light formed in the air by their thousands, hurled forward by unseen hands and crashing against the swords that threated to drown them. They created a sphere around him, where sword and spears clashed, while he fought on in the heart of it all.

And through it all he laughed.

The spears could only hold back the tide but an instant before they failed but an instant was all he needed. When the swords broke through, as they inevitably did, he would be ready for them. He danced and weaved around them as he whooped with joy, his laughter filling the air even as he barely avoided death only to face it once again.

Ducking under high blows and flying over the low, spinning and side-stepping the ones that came at his sides, he avoided the swords that broke through his barraged. When it was not possible for the strike to be dogged, even for one of his ability, he would deflect them with the spear in his hands.

Against a swords of legend, a Noble Phantasm in their perfect form, even his spears would be no match. They shattered in his hands but even with their destruction their purpose was fulfilled and the sword would be diverted, flying harmlessly away. He would then promptly conjure another spear in preparation to deflect the next sword.

And still it wasn't enough.

Skill can only do so much in the face of endless steel. All around him the rain of steel continued to fall, steadily pushing forward even as his spears vainly tried to hold them back. They kept closing in all around him, shrinking the space he had at the heart of his formation, as all the while the number of swords that broke through his spears would steadily rise.

Then the inevitable happened. He slipped up.

He had positioned himself incorrect, placing himself in the line of fire of two different swords that broke through his spears. They came at him one after the other, blocking his line of escape, and they did so at his most vulnerable moment. He was unarmed, having lost his previous spear deflecting a sword and did not have enough time to conjure another before they were upon him.

He could have avoided one sword but not the other. Not without throwing himself in between the swords and spear that battled all around him. He could neither evade them nor deflect them.

So instead he intercepted them.

It was one of the most remarkable example of swordsmanship I had ever seen. Moving so fast that even with my reinforced eyes I could barely see him move. He spun in place, counterclockwise, allowing the first sword to fly through where his left shoulder would have been as he turned. But before the sword could fly out of his reach his hand reached out and snatched the sword out of the air.

Using the momentum of his spin to carry the sword with him, he brought it overhead and swung it down onto the approaching second sword, intending to deflect it with the first.

It was a brilliant maneuver, one that would have impressed even the most experienced of fighters. It should have been impossible to achieve during the chaos of live combat, yet he pulled it off seamlessly. It was something I had never seen before and may never see again.

It was a shame that I couldn't allow him to complete it.

Just before the two swords clashed, I willed the first one out of his hands. And it complied immediately, eager to obey, disappearing from his grasp like it was never there. That should have ended him then and there but once again Kokabiel's inhuman reflexes came to play.

The slight widening of his eyes was the only sign he allowed to show of his surprise as he twisted his body out of the way, bending almost painfully to get out of the sword's path, and what should have been a mortal blow through his chest was turned into a deep gash in his side instead.

"Remarkable!" He laughed as if his blood did not spill out of his side and stained the ground far beneath him. "Truly remarkable! No one can use these swords but you, can they?" The curiosity and pure glee in his voice was unmistakable. It was if his death had no meaning to him.

"But," he turned his eyes towards me, just as he side-step a sword that came bearing down at him and used a newly summoned spear to knock away another, "this is not all of it. You found it, haven't you? The light Father spoke of?"

He was cut-off as he had to weave around another barrage of swords, but he soon carried on. "I want to see it. I want to understand what Father meant all those years ago. I want to know. Show it to me." For the first time I saw a true sliver of fear flash onto his face, something that even his dead could not bring, just as his voice turned imploring, "…Please?"

I shut my eyes as I answered, "…Of course." It was the reason why I brought him here after all. Without opening my eyes I reached out to my side, towards the sword that I knew was there.

Unlike any other sword I hadn't called for it, didn't summoned it, I didn't need to, never did. It was always there, always waiting. It had never left my side ever since that day, even after its master no longer remained here with me, it stayed.

This was a sword that I always kept closest to my heart, thus it was always by my side.

As I wrapped my hand firmly around its hilt, I opened my eyes and smiled up to the Angels. "You didn't need to ask." I told him, "I promised to save you didn't I?" Then I pulled the Sword from the earth-

-And the world was bathed in all the colour of the morning dawn.

It shone in my hands like a second sun, as if it held a one within its very steel. It blazed to life the moment I freed it from the ground, shining like a sword forged from light itself. It should have been painfully to look, lifting the sword up as I did and holding it by my face, it should have blinded me shining as brightly as it was but it was anything but painful. I could stare right into its heart and all I felt was its warmth, it was as if my soul was bathed under the light of the warmest of summer days.

In the grass fields of my Reality Marble, motes of gold began to appear. Little sphere of golden fire, they moved like fireflies in the air, called forth by the sword.

They danced around in the fields of grass, weaving around and over stems like playful children as their numbers continued to steadily grow until they appeared to match every blade of grass with their number, forming an illusion that I was surrounded by a lake of rippling gold.

Slowly, so gently it felt they were carried by the wind, they began to drift into the air before they turned and began to gather towards the sword, swirling around its blade, drawn in by it.

From the skies above the rain of steel lessened before tapering to a halt, their strength no longer needed. The Fallen, the handful that remained, finally having a reprieve from the unending barrage of swords had their first opportunity to attack. Committed as I was to wielding this sword, they may have even succeeded.

However none of them took advantage of it. No, perhaps it simply never occurred to them to. All of them were staring widely at the sword I held in my hand. They couldn't look away, unwilling to look away, captivated as they were by its radiance.

"I…I know this," Kokabiel, taking a step forward from where he, along with the remaining Fallen, had drifted to the ground. He reached out a hand before him, looking at the light that was reflected in his palm as if it was physical thing. He stared down into his hand with such frail look of hope on his face, his expression so fragile as if he dare not believe it was real, before looking back up into the sword. "I know this light."

"You should," I told him, raising the blade even higher as I did so, allowing all to see it, "it was what you were looking for after all."

Though it radiated a holy light, it did not harm any of the Devils around me. I could see the looks of disbelief and awe on their faces, the wonder reflected in their eyes as they stared at the Holy sword. Entranced by a blade too beautiful to be called beautiful, they looked on despite knowing they shouldn't.

Some stared at the little fireflies that had gathered around them, before running past them towards my sword. Some of them reached out a hand to catch one of them, only to find them slipping through their hands as it was never there.

As Devils, they should have died under its light. It should have blistered their skin, burned their flesh to the bone, bathed as they were under the light of this holiest of swords. It did no such thing, instead it welcomed them with its light. Greeting them like a long lost friend, filling them with a warmth that could only be found in a mother's embrace.

They had nothing to fear from this sword, it would never harm an innocent no matter what form it took. This wasn't a sword of God but of Man. And be it Devil or man, it rejected no one from its light, denied none the warmth of its embrace.

It was such a sword.

No matter how far they have fallen, so long as a splinter of good still shined in their soul, it would call out to it. I have seen it happen, reading the history etched in its blade. How looking upon its light made even Caster of the previous Holy War remember the memories and glories of his past, before his descent to murder and occult, back when he served alongside Joan of Arc, evoking tears and even regret in his final moments.

It was a sword that, by merely existing, made the world a better place.

"Can you see it Kokabiel?" I asked him, as the sword radiated in my hands, illuminating one side of my face. "Can you see it engraved on its blade? Our hopes, our dreams, the desperate wishes of mankind that's reflected in its light?"

This is the manifestation of mankind's great desire, it the crystallization of the prayer named "glory" and everything etched in the hearts of those who are scattered at the sword's radiance;

Xenovia watched as the sword of legend, the blade of the mightiest of kings was held in the hands of the red-haired boy before her. She could not look away as she listened to his words, captivated by the beauty of the sword's radiance.

Though the boy had not called its name, he did not need to, for she already knew it. She realized what it was the moment she was caught sight of its light. How can she not? After all-

All know its name.

It was E-

She felt a pair of arms warp around her, interrupting her thoughts and encasing her in a familiar warmth.

"You hold it like this," a nostalgic voice, one she hadn't heard for so, so long, told her as the hands that embraced her adjusted her grip of the wooden sword she held in her tiny hands, "That's how you do it."

She turned her head to look over her shoulders and a seven year old Xenovia found herself looking into the honey brown eyes of one she lost long ago. "Mom?"

The blue-haired women smiled down at her daughter she held in her arms. "Hello my little blue bird."

-the nostalgic, sorrowful, and hallowed dreams of those who were placed on the bloody hell called a battlefield, of all warriors past, present, and future fully exposed to the fear of death and despair, and yet who still cling to a desire: 'to be exalted.'

"Stop it! It tickles."

A young girl with hair of purest white squealed with laughter as she pulled on the raven locks of an older girl who rubbed her face against her belly while she was held her in her arms.

She tilted her head from where it still remind on her stomach, revealing eyes gold that sparkled under the morning's light.

"Shirone, my little white sound, you are my treasure. You know that right?" She smiled up into the girl in her arms that looked down at her with eyes so similar to hers. "My most precious treasure. For you, I pray that your life will be filled with the music of your laughter, my little white sound. May the sound of your name be woven to that of eternal laughter." She looked so sincere, so happy at that moment as she stared into the eyes of her little sister before she buried her face back into the girl's stomach.

"Ahahaha, Nee-san that tickles" The little girl giggled in the older girl's arms as she rubbed her face on her tummy, half-heartedly trying to fight free from her embrace before she found herself gentle hauled up in to the air.

Held straight out before her sister's face, she had a clear look at her tender expression as she spoke. "I love you Shirone, more than you can ever know and I always will. Till the sun and the stars in the sky extinguish themselves and forever after, I will always love you. And I'll never stop."

"Hm!" The little girl nodded at her older sister's words, never doubting it for second. "Neh, Nee-san. You and me, we'll always be together right?"

"Right." She promised without hesitation, nodding back with a smile. Before a squeal of laughter erupted from the little girls as her sister began tickling her sides.

Tears drops glistered under the light of sword as they pooled under her eyes before spilling down the side of Koneko's listless face.

Her broken body was set down on its side on the grass filled ground, as her frame occasionally shook with entirely silent sobs. Her empty unseeing eyes, wet with her tears stared blankly ahead, lost in long gone memories of better days.

It is the light that continues to shines in the darkest of nights. Our defiance at those who will try to extinguish the good in us all. Our honor that will never be stained.

Though forged by inhuman hand, by the will of the planet itself, it was crafted from the desires of mankind, the crystallization of our wishes. Born from our very hearts and it is the greatest of mankind's fantasy given form.

"Hahahaha, look at you! You've grown into an old Granny, Griselda!"

"Shut up Luka" She muttered at the apparitions before her though the fondness in her voice was unmistakable as she gazed into the forms of her three lost friends.

Once they were four and they traveled the globe, going on adventure after adventure. Rescuing innocents, battle monsters and defying Evil before partying the night away after every battle. They were Heroes in every meaning of the word. Such was their adventures that their tales have been made legend.

But even legends must end sometime.

"Truly time has taken its toll on you oh fair Griselda." The well well-dressed man in a green tunic with a pair of old specs adoring his face gave her a bow. Even as he bent his body forward he never released the old leather-bound book from his ink-stained hands.

"Are you two sure that's really Griselda? She looks so old with all of those wrinkles, there is no way it can be her." Though the teasing smile on the raven haired beautify belied her words. Her long curled tresses ran down her back down to her waist where a pair of swords hung off her belt.

"It's been 40 years since you guys died. Of course I've grown old." Though her voice was gruff, she wore a fragile smile on her face as she stared up at them. A pair of old callused fingers rubbed against her tear filled eyes.

"Hahahaha, yeah well sorry about that." A brown haired youth laughed out, as if their death was only a mere inconvenience. Dressed up in an old pilot jacket, with a pair of goggle on his head. Over his back he strapped a large claymore that was almost as long as he was tall. "Well, we're here right now, all together again at last." He stretched a hand "Well come on, let's go, another adventure awaits. It's been too long since we've been on our last one."

She smiled forlornly back up at him but didn't take his hands "I'm old Luka, my Adventure is long over."

"What are you talking about?" he shot her a perplexed look before throwing his arms in the air. "The Adventure is NEVER OVER! As long as we keep on fighting, it will never end. Because even when we have completed this one, what awaits us at our journey's end is merely the start of another!"

"So stop your complaining Griselda and let's GO!" He thrusts his hand out towards her again, "Let's return to our high sea of adventure. The start of our new journey has just begun."

Exasperated laughter escaped her lips, while a far younger Griselda smiled fondly up at the idiot before her. "Still an idiot I see." But still, this time she did not hesitate to reach out and clasped her hand with his.

It was the blade of mankind's most beloved Lord, the greatest of all Kings. The actualization of her ideals and the symbol of her heroism, it was, and still is her greatest and most powerful Noble Phantasm.

To look upon its light is to gaze upon the Glory that mankind can achieve. And so long as it shines, we shall remember and never forget what we had once achieved, so that we can strive for it again.

As Kiba looked upon the sword, its light bathing his form in a warm gold, his face held a look of utter in incomprehension. "Was that… was that what I wanted to destroy?"

"Live."

He looked down at the scene before him, as the ghost of his old friends laughed with innocent joy and played in the fields of grass, chasing the golden fireflies in some game of tag.

One of them, Lillian, the oldest and big sister of his old group of friends, had walked out of the throng of playing children and approached him. And now as she stood before him, she repeated her words.

"Live," she urged as she smiled kindly at his kneeling form, "Kiba- Live. Please for us, you must live."

He stared dumbly at her, as comprehension dawned on him while tears continued to fall down his face.

"What…what have I been doing?" He asked himself, looking down at his empty palms. "Have I…Have I really been living? Have what I been doing can really be called living?"

Kokabiel looked on in wonderment at the boy that stood with a sword crafted from the light of the human soul in his hands, a light that he had only seen the like of come from one other individual before.

"You claim to seek the spirit of Man. Then rejoice for you're gazing upon it.

"Here in my very hands, I hold what you have been searching a millennia for." The red-haired boy called out as he looked into the eyes of the Fallen before him. "It was what God saw in us, the very pinnacle of the man's spirit. Now, hear its name-"

He raised the sword over his head and he yelled out,

"EX-

It pierced the heavens, clearing the very skies from clouds. The light that shot out of the blade was incomparable to what it was before, unmatched by anything else the Fallen had seen before as it brushed the very end of sky with its light.

And as Kokabiel looked upon it, the nostalgic light that reminded him so much of his father, an old memory from long ago came unbidden.

"You've taken their form again." A melodically voice echoed through a roofless Hall that exposed itself to the clear blue skies overhead.

An inhumanly beautiful man walked from around one of the marble columns that decorated these hallowed halls. He had an ageless appearance though anyone can tell he was young with a single glance. With such clear innocent blue eyes that adorned his face, unknowing of the worst of life's hardships, ones that belong only on the most of guileless of children, assured that.

"Are they really that interesting?" He asked as he approached a figure of an older man. He sat crossed legged near an edge of pool located in the heart of the hall. "Those humans of yours. Are they really that interesting that you never get bored watching them, Father?"

The elder man gave a clearly exaggerated sigh of exasperation before turning to look at his son. "Kokabiel, how many times must I tell you? When we are alone you're to call me Dad. Really, what did I do to deserve such an overly respectful son?"

The young Kokabiel shook his head in amused as he answered, "Right, right Dad. Another one of your human expression that you've picked up?"

Kokabiel walked up to the edge of the pool and looked down at the milling villagers that were reflected upon its surface before he shook his head.

"I don't understand, what do you find so fascinating about such beings?" He tilted his head to one side as he squinted down at the reflected image, as if by doing so he'll see something he couldn't before. "Even when you're needed elsewhere, I know that you always leave a part of you behind to watch over them. I've tried to look for what you see in them but I can't find anything remarkable enough for you to give more than a passing interest, let alone all the attention you've given them."

"That because you don't know that to look for." His Father didn't look up from the lake. "Give it time and you'll see, I'm sure of it. And if you give it even more time, one day these little humans that everyone keeps overlooking will outshine even myself. You'll see."

"Outshine you? Impossible." He spoke with all the surety of the young.

God let loose a small chuckle of laughter, "So naive, sometimes with all your wisdom I forget how young you really are Kokabiel." He held a hand out over the lake, fingers outstretched. "I am only one my son, while they are many. The sun may outshine a candle's flame but gather enough of them together and they will surely outshine the sun."

He lowered his hand, his expression and voice taking an oddly somber tone as he turned to look up to his son that stood dutifully beside him. "Hey, Kokabiel. These little children, they may grow strong one day but right now they're still weak. Until they're fully grown they're bound to get into a lot of trouble. When that happens be sure to watch out for them, ok?"

Kokabiel shrugged, "I don't see why I need to watch over them with you here." But when he looked down to see his Father still looking up to him he smiled.

"But sure Dad, I'll watch out for them. I'd have done so even if you hadn't asked." His cheeks flushed red as he blushed and his smile turned oddly embarrassed. "After all, just like me they're your child too. That makes them my little brothers and sisters right?" He thumped a fist to his chest, the wide yet embarrassed smile never leaving his face. "Then as their big brother there is no way I'm ever going to let them get hurt."

-CALIBUR!

The sword descend, sending a colossal beam of light straight at him.

Instead of dodging Kokabiel stared at it, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "Can you see them Father? Look at how they shine, brighter than you ever did." His voice almost disbelieving despite himself. Then laughter spilled from his lips.

"You were right!" He laughed with pure unadulterated joy and threw his arms out in welcome as if embracing the approaching light. He yelled out just as it enveloped his form, with tears spilling from his eyes. "Father! You were right!"

And then he was gone.

Disappearing within the light he spent most of his life seeking.

And at long last the loyal Son returns to his beloved Father's side.

It may have been but a trick of the light, nothing but a wishful illusion. But just for a moment before the light enveloped him it appeared that Kokabiel's raven wings had maybe, just maybe, flickered to the colour of purest white.

The air above the empty courtyard of the prestigious Kuoh Academy began to distort, twisting as if space was being folded into itself before, with a bright flash of light, the Devils, humans and the small handful of Fallen remaining were dumped into the ground.

Unseen by all, there was one other person that appeared along with them.

Standing on the rooftop from where they were deposited stood a slim-figured grey haired youth. The youth was dressed up in a new and immaculate male Kaou Academy uniform and had a long black hilted Nodachi attached at the waist.

A gust of wind blew over the rooftop causing the long ponytailed grey hair to drift in the wind and shimmer like silver under the moon-light.

"Well…" grey-eyes wide with surprise stared down at the red-haired Devil bellow before they narrowed to thin slits and a wicked smile came over the youth's face. "Wasn't that something?"

On the back of the figure's left arm, a small emerald jewel flashed twice in apparent agreement from where it was embedded in a crimson red gauntlet.

*Story End*

Author's Notes:

So, how did I do? Did you like the fight, when Saber's Excalibur was pulled out, and most importantly did Kokabiel received the ending he deserved? Please tell me, any and all feed-back and constructive criticism is appreciated.

PS. The UBW has an unusual but subtle effect that it did not have in Canon, and it's due to Shirou's second Origin. Can any of you guess what it is?