Day 9: ? — A Body Made Of Swords / Unbreakable Promise

The unseen Servant hastened its pace across the writhing mass of chains that blanketed the interior of the cavern. Nearly all of the other pieces were in play by now – the space was filled with the echoing clashes of multiple ongoing battles. The False Saber had been pulled into a ravine by the True Rider, and the False Archer was confronting the False Lancer. However, it couldn't spare any attention towards them; it needed to focus on the one conflict most likely to determine the fate of the world – the fight between Shirou Emiya and Kirie Kotomine. If it looked like the battle was tipping the wrong way, the Servant might have to intervene. Also, there was the False Assassin to consider – it still hadn't made itself known. Where would it strike – against one of the Masters, who were more vulnerable; or against one of the Servants, who were a more valuable target? It might also be aiming to interfere with the fight between Shirou and Kotomine – but for which side? While Emiya was a declared opponent of the False Avenger, the fact that Kotomine was not chained meant that the False Avenger could not rely on him as an ally. The dark god who bound the souls of its followers would certainly eliminate anyone who it could not control – but before or after Shirou?

Too many variables. The Servant couldn't act yet. A single moment, a single strike, could decide everything. It hunkered down to observe the course of events and await the perfect opportunity.

==Interlude: False Saber==

False Saber Kiyomasa "Crow" Senji was leaping over a ravine in the cavern floor when a nail on a chain pierced one of his legs. Going taut, it yanked him away from his allies and pulled him down into the darkness.

Crow's first thought was that he was done for: that the False Avenger had overcome whatever the True Avenger was doing to contest control of its chains, and managed to capture him. Instinctively, Crow began crystallizing his blood and trying to force the spike out of the wound, though he knew that there was probably no chance of success before the curse claimed him. To his surprise, however, he was able to push it out easily; it was not one of the barbed spearheads that adorned the False Avenger's chains, but a smooth nail that slid free without resistance. Freed, Crow was able to stabilize himself for the final part of his descent and land on his feet. Facing him from a short distance down the ravine was his opponent: the chain that had pierced him belonged not to the False Avenger as he'd feared, but to the True Rider.

"Ah, what terrible luck." Crow sighed. "All the Dark Servants on the enemy side, and I get stuck going up against the big-boobed one in a tiny tube dress. Why couldn't I have been matched against one of the decently dressed ones?"

Still, he had to admit: while this enemy was the least favorable match in terms of fashion sense, it was a potentially winnable pairing combat-wise. Crow was a pretty shitty Saber, having been summoned from a world where the mysteries of magic had been almost entirely eroded by the progress of human technology; against a full-strength opponent, he wouldn't stand a chance. However, the majority of a Rider-class Servant's strength lay in its mount, and this Rider's Pegasus had already been slain. With the boost in power he'd gotten from switching his contract to the False Caster chick with her bountiful supply of prana... they might actually be on even footing.

Rider lashed out again with her nail-chains, and Crow extended his blood-blades to counter: a sweeping wing-like blade from his whole arm, and a straight blade from his stump. He gauged the enemy's strength and technique as they fought. Rider's raw power was incredible: if she'd been armed with something like an axe, he'd have been in real trouble. These nail-daggers, however, seemed a poor weapon for taking advantage of her enhanced strength. They looked more suited towards finesse attacks: by controlling the chains, Rider could manipulate them to suddenly change direction and strike from unexpected angles. But even as the False Avenger's curse had boosted her strength, it seemed to have degraded her dexterity, giving her movements a stiff, mechanical feel. Crow was able to easily see through her attacks, and could block even the oddly-angled ones by liquefying his blood-blade and resolidifying it in different positions.

Grinning, Crow began to advance, smoothly deflecting every strike aimed at him. Life was full of surprises: here he'd gone and resigned himself to simply buying as much time as possible before dying in the hope that his allies could complete the mission for him, but it seemed like he'd actually be able to seize victory with his own hand after all.

The Rider initially retreated before Crow, but he knew it wasn't a strategy she would be able to maintain for long: though the cavern of the Greater Grail was riddled with cracks and fissures, they were relatively short. It wasn't long before his opponent had her back up against the wall literally was well as figuratively. And with Rider unable to retreat any further, Crow was finally able to begin closing the distance between them. He carefully measured the diminishing gap, until...

"Gotcha!"

Crow swung his straightsword. Rider probably still believed herself to be at a safe distance. However, Crow liquefied the blade and pushed more blood into it, expanding its length. Then, re-solidifying it, he added a lattice of holes in the structure so that the volume would cover a greater length.

An attack which the Dark Rider had thought was of no concern was now slicing down towards her head. Her connection to the limitless power of the Grail gave her impressive healing potential, but a cleaved skull would kill her instantly – there was no recovering from an injury that destroyed the brain. Unable to retreat, without the time to intercept the attack with her weapons, the Rider had no choice but to raise her left hand to shield her head. That desperate last-second block was enough to hold back the blade and prevent it from splitting her head open, but it still cut a bloody line down the center of her face and – more importantly – severed her left hand at the wrist. A non-fatal injury, one that would easily be regenerated in time – if Crow had been willing to permit her any, that is. But since the loss of her hand had disarmed her of one of her weapons, she would no longer be able to effectively defend against Crow's attacks. He had only to draw his lengthened blood-blade back in and recrystallize it for another strike, and her fate would be sealed.

"Sorry, lady, but that's what happens when you wear fetish gear instead of something sensible." Crow said. "Next time, try getting some armor – unh!?"

The blood-blade Crow was trying to pull back into his body wouldn't liquify. In fact, it felt like the blood inside his body was thickening and solidifying as well. It wasn't the controlled, proper crystallization of the Nameless Worm femtomachines that powered his Noble Phantasm, but something else; something turning the beautiful shining red crystal of his blood-blades into lifeless grey stone.

The two halves of Rider's face-masking blindfold, severed by Crow's last strike, fell to the ground. Rider's eyes were exposed: cold, inhuman eyes that fixed him in place like a bug on a pin. The petrification was advancing down his blood-blades, and he could feel his heart struggling as his blood turned thick and viscous. If he couldn't counter this attack, he would soon be turned into a statue. No, he didn't even have that much time: Rider was advancing on him, a nail-dagger clutched in her remaining hand. His body was going numb, and his limbs felt like they were made of lead; he couldn't parry an attack in this state. He would be forced to watch helplessly as she drove her nail into his skull and finished him off.

Crow knew he only had one chance – his final secret technique, which he had been holding in reserve for a moment like this. Pouring all hi remaining strength into his remaining arm, he swung his wing-blade at Rider. It was a futile swing, without a chance of hitting: with his blood turning to stone, he couldn't extend or reshape it, so Rider was easily able to dodge. But there was one thing she wasn't ready for–

"Invisible Black!"

Crow channeled prana through the edge of the blade, releasing it as a shockwave that sliced through the air. As an attack, it was sadly lacking: no more powerful than his Crow Claw, and costing far more prana. In his current state, his limbs heavy and unresponsive, he didn't have the speed or strength to create a pressure wave strong enough to slay Rider. However, that cutting wind was just strong enough to rupture her now-exposed eyes.

Instantly, Crow felt the horrendous mystical pressure that had been holding him in place lift from him. His blood began to flow freely again – inside his body, at least. The blood in his blades had turned to stone and crumbled away. He needed to draw out more blood to replace his blades – but having used so much on that strike against Rider's head and having been unable to retrieve it, he was running low. With a Servant body, he was far more durable than he had been as a human, but his heart wouldn't work without blood to pump. He needed at least a little time in order to regenerate the lost blood–

But Rider wasn't permitting him that. She was still pressing her attack, still striking at him with the nail-dagger in her one remaining hand. What a foolish mistake, to think that she would be disoriented by being blinded; with that mask across her face, she'd fighting blind from the beginning. Even down to one hand, she was pushing Crow back, now that he could only create short blades and didn't have as much freedom to extend or reshape them.

Crow was able to fend off her attacks, barely; but time was now his enemy. Each pulse of cursed energy that flowed down the chain into her heart gave her body more strength to repair itself, to regenerate those deadly Mystic Eyes. Crow had played his final trump card; he wouldn't be able to catch her off-guard with Invisible Black again. The moment those eyes opened again, he would certainly, certainly die.

That's when Crow felt it. An invisible thread was severed; his bond with his Master was broken. The Caster Lina Inverse must have perished in a battle of her own. Now, without a source of prana, he wouldn't be able to recover his strength. Forget about winning the battle, he wouldn't be able to even remain in the world much longer.

Such a circumstance might have made another Servant fall into despair. Crow, however, began to laugh. Now that the dazzling hope of victory had faded from his eyes, he could finally see the truth. He'd let that light blind him with prideful dreams, of defeating the Dark Rider and proving he wasn't inferior to his fellow Servants despite his weaker parameters. However, that was just a pointless fantasy. His mission here wasn't to slay his adversary; it was to keep the opponent away from his allies while they saved the world. As long as he stopped the Dark Rider from regrouping with the enemy forces and joining the assault on his allies, it was a mission he could succeed at even if he was defeated. He could win even if he lost.

Yeah, that had always been the way for him, hadn't it? Though he'd fought in many Carnival Corpses over his years at Deadman Wonderland, the most important one of all had been the one that he'd lost. If he'd won, he'd have killed that kid instead of becoming friends with him; and then he'd have spent the whole rest of his life as nothing but a dog fighting for the amusement of others instead of becoming a genuine hero.

So... he'd show the Dark Rider. Show what it really meant to fight a dead man walking.

The next time the Rider thrust with her nail-dagger, Crow dropped his defense and let it pierce his chest. Since he was about to die anyway, any attack that wasn't instantly lethal could just be ignored. While the Rider was off-balance from the unexpectedly successful strike, Crow swung down his blade. The enemy immediately leapt back, thinking that Crow had been attempting to entrap her weapon within his flesh so as to hold her in place for a strike; but she wasn't Crow's target. He ripped his blades down through his own chest, splitting his torso open. From the gaping wound, he pulled forth every last drop of his lifeblood, crystallizing every last bit of it into a massive blade that stretched up to the heavens – turning his whole body into a sword.

"This is a blade so heavy, it could cut the very world in two." Crow said. "Behold my final attack: the ultimate sssssssssslice!"

Crow had killed himself in order to draw forth this final blade, so he didn't even have the strength to swing it. However, with a blade so large and heavy, there was no need for such an exertion. All he had to do, was let it fell.

Too large to dodge to the side, too long to dodge to the back, too heavy to block – there was nothing the enemy Rider could do to evade the attack. Still, she tried. In the last moment, she took the only possible action that could save her – she leapt up to meet the blade. A Servant supplied with enough magical energy to heal wouldn't die unless their head or their heart were destroyed – so instead of waiting for the massive guillotine to fall on her, she deliberately drove herself against the leading edge of the wedge, controlling the location of the cut so that her head, neck, and upper left chest would stay in a single piece. Seeing her resolve, to sacrifice everything for that last remaining opportunity to survive, without a single moment of hesitation that would have been fatal... for the first time, Crow felt respect for his opponent.

And so, the Dark True Rider won her battle against the False Saber Crow. He had sustained a fatal injury and would perish, while the magical energy being fed to her through her chain would allow her to survive and even regenerate her body – eventually. But even with all the power of the Holy Grail flowing into her, the rate at which she could reconstruct her form was limited; by the time she was able to function again, the battle would already be decided. She had won the fight... but Crow had succeeded in his mission.

"Bang." Crow whispered with his last breath. "Dead-center."

Then the last vestiges of life left his body, and he dispersed into a cloud of golden dust.

==Interlude Out==

==Interlude: False Archer==

False Archer Homura stood facing the Dark Servant which had ended up being her opponent: False Lancer Rei, who had formerly been contracted with Luviagelita Edelfelt, who was now their ally. A cursed chain was now embedded in Rei's heart, and the seething darkness that flowed through it had stained her once-white suit as black as tar. There was no trace of compassion in the dark, cold eyes that stared at her. Still, Homura could not help but feel a little bit of pity for this opponent. Had she come up against one of the other Dark Servants, Homura would have been able to fight without hesitation; but this Heroic Spirit was a young girl. After her own personal experience seeing young Magical Girls forced to spend their lives fighting until inevitably dying in despair, Homura could not help but feel some compassion in her heart for another child who been forced to become a hero at too young an age.

"Greetings, Rei Ayanami." Homura said.

It was obvious that it would be futile to attempt to reason with the Berserkers, which had become mindless engines of destruction since being chained by the False Avenger. However, the girl Sakura Matou had still been able to speak coherently even after being chained. Her mind and heart had been perceptibly warped by the curses flowing into her; but it had been clear that, on some deep level, her soul had still been intact – painted over by the False Avenger's darkness, perhaps, but not fully corrupted. Therefore, though she judged the odds of success to be slim, Homura decided to at least make an effort at diplomacy before resorting to violence. She still kept her bow at the ready, though; she had no illusions about the likely outcome.

"I do not wish to have to fight you as an enemy." Homura said. "I think it would be best for us all if you could be freed from False Avenger and return to being Luvia's Servant. Luvia explained your Noble Phantasm to me: the barrier of the soul, which blocks all outside interference. Therefore, it is my hope that if you raise your AT Field, it will sever the cursed chain with which the False Avenger has bound you."

Rei slowly shook her head, then finally spoke:

"Impossible." she said.

"Then you won't mind if I put it to a little test?" Homura asked.

She drew back the energy string of her black bow and fired off three bolts of purple prana in rapid succession: one aimed straight at Rei's head, one corkscrewing towards the exposed head of the spike buried into her heart, and one swerving wide to strike the dangling chain at a lower point.

"Absolute Terror Field." Rei intoned in a flat, passionless voice.

The Noble Phantasm manifested around her, an invisible barrier which pulsed with concentric hexagonal rings of orange light where Homura's attacks struck it. The energy projectiles splashed harmlessly against the impenetrable wall – but as she observed the chain that hung from Rei's heart, Homura saw that curses were continuing to flow down through it. The chain itself, and the dark energy it carried, passed through Rei's AT field as though it were no more substantial than light.

"Your Noble Phantasm isolates you from the world... why doesn't it sever your connection to the False Avenger?" Homura asked.

"God's soul and mine have been joined as one." Rei said. "That is the nature of this chain – an eternal vow which binds us for all time. My AT Field is a manifestation of the barrier of my ego, the boundary that exists between the "self" and the "other". However, God is omnipresent; there is no separation between a worshiper and her God. My heart, my soul, my AT Field: all are promised to God, and opened to God's power."

Homura shook her head.

"That False Avenger is no true god." she said. "It is just another Master, controlling you, forcing you to fight on their behalf. Based on your Servant form having the body of a child, I'm guessing that you were like me: a child soldier, burdened with saving the world at far too young an age. You were forced to give up your family and your ordinary life to become a warrior without fear, to resign yourself to a future of endless fighting. Isn't that the case?"

"You are wrong." Rei said. "I am not like you at all. I never had any ordinary family, any ordinary life. From the moment of my birth, I existed for the sole purpose of fighting. Fighting was the sole thing that was expected of me, and I fought solely in order to fulfill those expectations. I never stopped to considered whether the world was worth fighting for. When God's chain entered my body and bathed me in the curse, I finally saw the truth. Having seen All Evils of This World, it is not worth fighting for."

"...Yes, that is true." Homura agreed. "The world is hopelessly filthy and corrupt, beyond any possible redemption. However... somehow, despite that, Madoka was still able to see beauty in it. She could suffer under the weight of all the world's despair, and even then still claim that it was a world worth fighting to preserve. I honestly don't see it myself... but in honor of her memory, I will fight on behalf of a world she might have been able to find beauty in."

"Fighting is futile; you cannot penetrate my AT Field." Rei said. "All you can do is die."

Luvia raised the lance and drew back her arm, and the tines of the weapon's forked head coiled together into a single point. Then she flung it at Homura. Though her throw seemed weak, the lance continued accelerating after it had left her hand, crossing the distance between the two Servants like a bolt of red lightning.

"Faust Buckler."

The lance passed through the space where Homura had been standing, but she was no longer there; in less time than a blink of the eye, she had shifted to the side. She used one hand to flip back her long dark hair, as though in contempt of her opponent's aim. Rei, however, simply clenched her hand. Behind Homura, the lance flipped end over end, then reversed direction. This time, Homura didn't have time to dodge. It struck her in the small of the back and erupted from her stomach in a spray of blood, skewering her. Homura looked down at the twisted spearpoint protruding from her belly, clutching the shaft in both hands... then looked up at Rei and smiled wryly.

"An unfortunately predictable move." Homura said. "Disappointing."

"That's impossible." Rei said, confusion flickering over her normally stoic features. "The Lance of Longinus is a weapon that destroys the soul itself. Nothing should be able to survive being hit."

"I suppose I'm fortunate, then, that my soul doesn't occupy this human shell." Homura said. "What you've mistaken for my body is just a piece of exterior hardware. Perhaps if you'd known where to aim... But more importantly, I see your weapon can pass through your own AT Field."

Rei's eyes widened as Homura leapt forwards. The hexagonal barrier of orange light sprang up between them, but cracked the moment the head of the lance struck it: it was a manifestation of the boundary of the soul, and the Lance of Longinus was made for piercing it. As Homura pushed forwards, the AT Field faltered and collapsed, breaking into glittering shards, and Rei gasped as she was skewered on the tip of her own weapon. The girls stood face to face for a moment, both transfixed by the same spear; then Rei's body crumbled in a shower of golden sand, erased in an instant by her own Noble Phantasm. The barbed head of the chain which had been embedded in her heart fell to the stony ground with a desolate clatter.

The lance embedded in Homura's stomach disappeared along with its owner, leaving her with a gaping hole through her body, but that was easily repaired. The gemstone on the back of her hand glowed with purple light as she drew forth the power to patch up the shell of a body she operated. She didn't really have enough prana stored up for a thorough reconstruction of her body; but that didn't matter much at this point. She had never been anything but a transient being in the world: summoned to fight until her body burned out. As in her past life, she existed only to fight – not for herself, but for the dreams and wishes of others, without reward of her own... because it was what Madoka would have done. Now that this Holy Grail War had reached its climax, her term of service was close to being fulfilled, and her time in this world would soon end – one way or another.

The end was close... but she wasn't done yet. This world wasn't her world, but she was sure Madoka would have loved it anyways, would have defended it until the very last moment and her very last breath; and so, in respect of her, Homura would do the same. The sounds of battle echoing throughout the cavern told her that her allies were still fighting; there might still be something she could do to aid them. The one most critical to their plan for stopping the evil within the Grail from being born was the boy, Shirou Emiya, who would be heading for the throne in the center of the cave; so Homura set off in that direction.

Shirou Emiya... while Homura shared her Master Rin's opinion that the boy was somewhat of a dimwit, she couldn't bring herself to hate him. That innocent yearning of his to be a hero, even if it meant sacrificing himself for the sake of an uncaring world... it reminded her too much of Madoka for her to resent him. Homura hadn't cared one whit about whether Rin would win the War or not, and had been prepared to spend the whole time sponging off her prana while doing the minimum amount of work necessary, seeing Shirou earnest desire to save his world had stirred her memories of Madoka and made her feel compelled to seriously commit to his plan to defend it.

Perhaps it was the battle and its promise of potential immanent death that had brought thoughts of Madoka flooding to the surface of Homura's mind. Whatever the cause, she was so immersed in her nostalgic memories that she nearly didn't react in time when the False Assassin attacked.

She sprang up directly in front of Homura, leaping out from a small crevice in the stone floor where she had been hiding, protected from sight by the darkness and from spiritual detection by her Presence Concealment ability. Her leap was so fast, so sudden, that it was as though she had materialized from thin air. Before Homura had a chance to correct her course, they were so close that their faces were nearly pressed together, and the Assassin's knife was thrusting towards her heart.

"Faust Buckler!"

Faust Buckler. The power to make a moment eternal. Homura was able to move through a frozen world, while everyone else was trapped in time like insects in amber. The offensive potential of this Noble Phantasm was unfortunately limited: Homura could not touch someone without drawing them into frozen time with her, so she could not outright kill opponents while they were defenseless. As a defensive tool, however, its power was unmatched. Provided she was able to see an attack coming, she had all the time in the world to dodge. Homura had not been able to sense the enemy Assassin's ambush, true; but wielding only a short blade, it lacked range. And having nearly fallen prey to the False Avenger's chains once before out of carelessness, Homura had kept her Noble Phantasm on a hair trigger since entering this cavern, ready to activate her buckler the instant she perceived an attack directed against her. Being momentarily lost in reflection meant the Assassin's sudden leap had been able to bring it within inches of Homura before she'd reflexively activated her Noble Phantasm; but now those inches might as well have been miles. Homura could take as much time as she needed to fall back to a safe distance and line up a shot with her bow...

At least, that should have been the case. But somehow, impossibly, the Assassin was still moving. Some kind of energy stretching from the corrupted Servant's empty left hand was tethering it to Homura, allowing it to steal the time that should have been Homura's alone. And the dagger clutched in its right hand, was continuing to move, striking out towards her.

Homura twisted her body, interposing the buckler between herself and the incoming attack. While she mainly used it for its properties as a Conceptual Weapon, it was also extraordinarily effective as a shield. It was, after all, a Noble Phantasm: the crystallization of a Divine Mystery – in this case, the physical embodiment of halted time. All change was a process which occurred over time; and so for an object for which no time passed, no change could occur. The Faust Buckler was therefore by nature indestructible–

With a single sharp metallic sound, the Assassin's knife penetrated the buckler. The knife's short blade wasn't long enough to reach all the way through its width to Homura's arm, but it sank into the metal as easily as if it had been thrust into empty air. There was a sharp snap, and Homura felt all of the power she had poured into the Faust Buckler dissipate. She was still trying to feed it prana, but it was like pouring prana into a rock: there was nothing to use the power. One single strike from the enemy, and her Noble Phantasm had stopped working.

Time abruptly resumed, and Homura was too stunned to react. The Assassin slammed into her and knocked her down to the cavern floor, straddling and pinning her. It lazily lifted the knife in its hand over Homura's body and began to move it uncertainly back and forth, as though as yet undecided over which particular vital point to plunge it into.

"How?" In her shock, it was all Homura could think to ask.

She wasn't expecting an answer. But after a moment, the False Assassin spoke.

"Everything in creation has a flaw." the Dark Servant said. "Life, air, intent... and even time. My eyes see the death of all things."

The explanation roused a memory in Homura's brain. It was nothing like any power that existed in her own world; but upon being summoned to this world, the Grail had bestowed her with information about certain relevant aspects of magic that existed here. And one of them had been...

"Mystic Eyes... of Death Perception?" Homura asked.

"Yes." Dark False Assassin looked her in the eyes. "My true name is Shiki Ryougi. And there is nothing I cannot kill."

Desperately, Homura tried activating Faust Buckler again and again, but the Noble Phantasm refused to activate.

"That's useless." Shiki said, "I've killed that Noble Phantasm's concept. It's ability to stop time is dead."

Homura could feel the change in her buckler. The mechanism within, the physical embodiment of its magical ability to stop time for her, was broken. And it wasn't simple damage that could be repaired given time and prana: that aspect of the device's nature was completely gone, like it'd been metaphysically amputated. Sensing the cold void where she'd once felt a connection to the shield's magic, she knew that it would never function again.

At least, not in that capacity. But Homura's Noble Phantasm had more than one function. It's most potent ability was freezing time; and since that was the ability Homura had attempted to use against the False Assassin, it was the one her opponent had targeted and killed. But the buckler had a second capability: to create an isolated pocket of space-time where Homura could store tools. The enemy hadn't seen that power, hadn't known to kill it; and even with the damage to the buckler, Homura could still access it. As the Dark Servant carefully positioned its knife, seeking the perfect spot to strike, Homura took the last chance available to her and let a grenade fall forth from the space within the shield. Caught be surprise, her concentration focused on Homura's body rather than her buckler, Shiki failed to react before the blast engulfed them both.

A conventional weapon couldn't do serious damage to a Servant, but the force of the explosion flung their bodies apart. The instant Homura hit the ground, she rolled to her feet and leapt backwards. Shiki had may have been taken by surprise by the initial blast, but she had quickly realized that the damage was light and begun leaping in pursuit. Homura dumped more explosives from her buckler, their fuses already primed: she had activated them before stowing them in that timeless space, ready to be deployed at a moment's notice. But Shiki was prepared, now; her knife darted back and forth in front of her with incredible speed, slicing each device that came her way. The bisected grenades fell inert to the ground, the very concept of their capacity to explode murdered by that small, innocuous blade.

Homura drew forth her black bow and let loose with arrows of purple energy that twisted and corckscrewed through the air, trying to strike at Shiki from unexpected angles. However, being forced to constantly leap backwards to avoid the Assassin's attacks, Homura didn't have the time or concentration to spare to build up a truly potent attack. The Servant saw through the weak, hastily fired missiles with ease, casually swatting them from the air like flies with her knife while keeping up the pressure. And finally, spotting an opening, she struck. Diving forwards, she allowed several underpowered shots to strike her in order to clip Homura's bow with her knife. Homura's trusted weapon, which had served her for so long, shattered to pieces at the glancing blow – Shiki had struck not at its physical form, but its point of death. Only lightly wounded by the weak arrows that had impacted her, Shiki followed up with another stab that Homura was forced to block with her buckler. This time, the enemy did not make the mistake of holding back: she killed it entirely, causing it to shatter into fragments of scrap.

Sacrificing the buckler had bought Homura a moment of time – but only a moment. Shiki had been continually pushing her back, and there was only so far that Homura could retreat: the cavern was vast, but they were nearing its edge. Soon Homura would have her back against a stone wall, and there would be no way to prolong the chase any further. Victory was at hand for the False Assassin – and she could tell.

"I can finally see it — the foundation upon which the concept of your existence rests, the point of your death." Shiki said. "That crystal, on the back of your hand. Once I pierce it, you'll be done."

Now that the enemy had finally managed to see through her Soul Gem, the secret hiding place of her soul, the next strike would assuredly be fatal. In other words, it was no longer a question of whether or not Homura would die; the only question was what she could do to the enemy in turn. With that clarity, Homura was finally able to fully resolve herself. There was no move left for her to make except for her final resort, her last Noble Phantasm. It was, in many ways, a relief. After struggling for so long, fighting the temptation to give in for so long, she could finally end her journey and receive the reward that had been promised her so long ago.

As Shiki's knife bore down on her, Homura pulled the pink ribbon from her hair and held it taught before her. The Assassin drove her knife mercilessly down, intending to cleave right through it with a single swing – only for the edge to catch.

"You say that everything in creation has a flaw, but you're wrong." Homura said. "There is at least one thing that is pure and true. Something imperishable and incorruptible; something no blade can ever cut! And that thing is my final Noble Phantasm — the most precious of all my treasures!"

"Impossible." Shiki said. "Why can't I cut it? All things with form eventually break down. Even Noble Phantasms are subject to the concept of death. Why can't I see it?"

"This ribbon is the embodiment of a promise guaranteed by the very laws of the Universe; to destroy it would be to destroy the Universe." Homura said. "This is the ending of my journey, the final fate I was promised – The End of Time!"

Homura's back split open, and dark wings spread behind her. There was no substance to them; they seem not physical objects, but rather rips in the fabric of space itself. They were filled with a constantly shifting field of stars. Homura had opened a window to a place beyond the boundaries of the World: a gateway to the afterlife she had been promised once her service was finished. Gazing into that sparkling void, the Assassin let her knife fall from her fingers. Darkness bled from her form as a power far greater than the False Avenger's curse filled her.

"I'm home." Homura said, crying tears of relief.

"Welcome home." a soft, gentle, female voice whispered to her.

A great explosion burst from the starry darkness of the wings, in a single instant rending both Homura and Shiki's bodies to small clouds of golden sand, but neither any longer cared. False Avenger had bound Shiki to servitude by filling the empty half of her soul with curses, but now they all burned away along with her Servant body as she embraced her true other half: the will of Akasha, " ". Made whole again in her final moments, False Assassin Shiki passed from the world having at last attained peace. As for Homura, her body had long been nothing to her but exterior hardware. By the time it was blown to dust, The End of Time had already swallowed her soul and sent it on to its final destination: to a place beyond space and time, into the waiting arms of the girl she loved.

==Interlude Out==

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