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Chapter 29 : Fgo English Lostbelt 03 : The Crypters

Suddenly, Bellion moved.

His sword, still resting calmly by his side, twisted—shifting in shape, morphing like a serpent. The solid blade unraveled into a long, coiling chainsword, black and segmented like a predator made of shadow-forged steel snake .

The whip-like blade lunged forward, moving faster than sound—chasing Barghest with relentless precision. She leapt back, then sideways, her large frame surprisingly agile, but the chainsword snapped after her, slashing through air, and stone

She ran, moving around the arena in wide, arcing paths, the chain pursuing her like a hungry beast.

"So that's how it is…" she muttered through gritted teeth. "My instinct warned me. If I had taken one more step forward—I would've been ensnared."

She turned sharply, flipping backward over a spike of broken arena floor, and for a second—just one—she saw it. Momentum.

Bellion had just slightly turned his body. His whip coiled back to his hand. Now!

With a roar, Barghest charged, Galatine ablaze, black flame spiraling down its edge as she dove straight toward Bellion's chest, aiming for the heart with all her might.

She brought the blade down—direct hit. CLAAANG!

The sword slammed into Bellion's armor… and stopped cold.

It didn't even scratch.

Her eyes widened. "No way…"

Bellion didn't move."Wrong move, big girl."

With a sharp flick of his hand, the chainsword snapped forward—not as a whip now, but a binding chain. It surged up and around Barghest's limbs, around her waist, her legs, her neck—binding her like a raging bull caught mid-charge.

The more she struggled, the tighter it gripped.

Bellion stood still, towering over her, the chain connecting them like a leash forged from shadow.

"You rushed with your heart," he said calmly, "but forgot who's holding the leash."

His voice remained cold, steady.
"You said you had one trump card. Then show it. This Black Dog Galatine you speak of."

Still bound in chains, Barghest gritted her teeth. Her muscles flexed against the hold, but she didn't move yet.
"…Permission to activate Black Dog Galatine, my queen."

From the royal platform, Morgan narrowed her eyes.
"Jin-Woo," she said evenly, "I'm not responsible if your Bellion dies."

Jin-Woo just smirked, arms crossed. He didn't speak.

Suddenly, the binding chains wrapped around Barghest shattered into smoke, dissolving into nothing.

Barghest rose, flames erupting from her feet, but before she could charge—

Bellion raised his sword to his own throat. And slashed his head clean off. Gasps echoed through the arena.

Barghest blinked, frozen. "What are you doing?! You're killing yourself—!"

But before her shout could finish, the shadow-black mist gathered at Bellion's neck. And in seconds—
his head reformed. Perfect. Untouched.

All across the skies, the soldiers of the Shadow Army lifted their weapons to the heavens in eerie synchronicity. Their unified voice shook the world:

"WE ARE ETERNAL. WE ARE IMMORTAL."

Jin-Woo, finally spoke. "There's your answer."

His purple eyes shined brightly .

"They are unkillable. That 'eternal' phrase you just heard? . It's not a boast. It's a fact."

Morgan stood silent, her gaze locked onto the battlefield, then lowered slightly as understanding clicked behind her eyes. So that's why…
Now she knew exactly why Jin-Woo warned Barghest to fight at her fullest.
If she held anything back—she wouldn't just lose. She'd be humiliated.

Her voice rang clear, laced with regal authority.
"Permission granted. Use it—Demon Hound, Barghest."

Barghest's body trembled as the tension exploded from her throat.
"HUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
She roared, the sound primal and deafening.
"COME, BELLION!"

The crowd burst into praise, clapping, stomping, cheering.
"Barghest! Barghest!"
"Our pride! The Black Dog Duchess !"

Barghest's fingers reached for her horn. She grasped it, twisted once—
And snapped it off.

A violent shockwave pulsed from her. Her Saint Graph's limiter broke. Her body twisted and expanded, her skin steaming with heat, eyes burning wild. She towered even further, now a giant engulfed in black fire, her armor nearly unrecognizable, her movements twitching with raw instinct.

Galatine ignited in black flames, its edge now radiating pure wrath. Barghest had become something else. Not a knight. Not a warrior. A beast.

With a ground-splitting roar, she charged, swinging the flame-wrapped greatsword with everything she had— All of her strength, all of her fury—
Slamming it down onto Bellion with a force that tore up the entire arena floor.

But as the dust cleared— Her eyes widened.

Bellion stood there. Unmoving. He held her massive, flaming greatsword—with one arm.

Black mist seeped from his mouth, a trail of smoke escaping like breath. He exhaled, a few shadowy teeth clattering to the ground from the hit, but his face remained cold, steady.

He looked up at her. "So much… just to become a beast, huh?"

Then, with no motion at all, Bellion activated his Ruler Authority.

A crushing, unseen force erupted around him—like gravity itself bent at his will. Barghest, in her monstrous form, was slammed down onto the arena floor, her flaming blade skidding uselessly to the side as the sheer pressure pinned her like an animal under the weight of an entire mountain.

Before the dust could even settle—

Melusine appeared out of nowhere in a blinding flash of blue. Her speed shattered the air as she struck like lightning, Arondight gleaming with dragonfire.

The blade stuck fast halfway into his armor—not piercing, not even cracking the plating.

Her voice snarled in fury.
"Where did you take the Queen?! Huh?! Where are you hiding her?! Say it—!"

Suddenly, she paused.

From the royal viewing platform,

Morgan calmly lifted her hand and gave a polite wave.
"We're here. Just watching a tournament."

Melusine blinked. Looked back down. Her sword was still stuck in Bellion's chest.
She blinked again. "...Ah. Sorry. My mistake."

Bellion didn't even look at her.
His voice stayed deadpan. "Are we done here? Someone calm the big bull."

Morgan sighed. "That's the second problem."

She tilted her head toward the struggling form of Barghest, still growling, her body twitching violently beneath the force that held her down.

"When she uses her Black Dog Galatine, she tends to rampage for a while."

She turned her gaze toward the arena.
"Clear out the field. I'll handle—"

But before she could finish,

Jin-Woo was already standing beside Bellion, his presence quiet but absolute. "Release her."

Bellion immediately bowed his head. "As you wish, my liege."

The invisible pressure lifted. The ground stopped trembling.

Barghest, now free, snarled and lunged—her blazing blade drawn, aiming straight for Jin-Woo.

But he didn't simply snapped his fingers.

The world changed. In an instant, complete darkness flooded the entire Lostbelt.

The sky collapsed into shadow. Light itself vanished.

The ground groaned. Faerie magic flickered out.

Jin-Woo had activated his Monarch Domain.

Barghest froze. Her instincts screamed, but her beast-mind couldn't comprehend the scale of what surrounded her. Jin-Woo stepped in. Calm. Silent.

And with a precise chop to her pressure point, he struck her neck with surgical accuracy—light enough not to harm, exact enough to override her rage.

Barghest staggered, then dropped to one knee, panting—her eyes slowly losing the wild flame.

Jin-Woo exhaled quietly. The shadows receded. Light returned. The Monarch Domain vanished, as if it had never existed.

He turned his head. "You can make the announcement now."

Baobhan Sith, still shaken, stepped forward and raised her voice.
"The winner… is Bellion!"

Silence. Not a cheer. Not a whisper.

The crowd of faeries—all thieves, schemers, and killers by nature—didn't dare to speak.

They had just witnessed a man summon darkness with a snap of his fingers, pin down a rampaging monster with a glance, and command an army that hovered over the sky like gods ready to descend.

Igris stepped forward from the line of shadows. His sword planted firmly, voice loud and sharp:
"Hail Grand Marshal Bellion. May his sword never break in service to the Monarch."

The entire army of millions roared back— "HAIL GRAND MARSHAL!"

But amidst the chaos, high above and unnoticed,

Beryl Gut stood further back in the shadowed edge of the arena, a devilish grin creeping across his face. One eye glinted with his personal recording device already active, projecting a live hologram behind him.

"Did you get that?" he said with a chuckle, biting his nail lazily.

"Ehh, Kirschtaria, you're watching this, right? That new player, Jin-Woo—he just showed up and casually flexed more than ten million soldiers, made darkness with a snap, and knocked out Barghest like she was a toddler on fire."

"Also, please underline the word 'magic'—real magic, not magecraft. Haven't seen that in forever. This guy's a freak. Thought you'd like it."

Scene transition: Atlantic Lostbelt – Crypter Meeting Room

A cold chamber layered in obsidian and gold, flickering with magical panels and crystalline projections. Most members were present via hologram. But seated at the long table in person, his arms folded behind his back, stood Kirschtaria Wodime. Beside him, lounging on a throne she likely brought herself, was Koyanskaya, legs crossed, tail flicking lazily.

On the surrounding screens hovered the faces of the remaining Crypters—
Kaddoc Zemlupus, tense.
Peperoncino, fanning himself.
Ophelia,Stoic as ever .
Hinako Akuta, adjusting her glasses.
Daybit Sem Void, unmoving—expression unreadable.

Kirschtaria watched the footage Beryl sent, arms slowly lowering as the final echo of "HAIL GRAND MARSHAL" played.

"…Magic," he murmured. "Actual magic, not reconstructed magecraft."

Koyanskaya chuckled. "Mmm… and here I thought we had the market cornered on overpowered anomalies. But this one—he's got style. That little shadow trick was cute."

Kaddoc leaned forward in his projection, swallowing hard. "Are we even sure he's human? That was more than ten million units. He didn't even chant anything."

Hinako remained still, her voice cold. "He moved like a ruler class . And not like the common servant class."

Pepe smiled faintly. "Oooh, scary scary~ The Ten million shadows and still room for manners? That Bellion was deliciously terrifying."

Ophelia Phamrsolone looked down, her expression thoughtful.
"Even his Servants react to him like he's above them. That chain-sword knight… his loyalty isn't artificial. It's earned. That's terrifying."

Then the feed shifted to

Daybit Sem Void. He didn't look at the screen. His eyes stared somewhere far off—calculating.

"He's not from this world," Daybit said plainly. "I don't mean in terms of alignment or loyalty. I mean… fundamentally."

Kirschtaria took a deep breath, eyes now fixated on the still image of Jin-Woo—standing alone with purple eyes and a legion behind him.

"A true anomaly," he said quietly. "One not bound by the Age of Man… or the Age of Gods."

He turned to Koyanskaya, his expression unreadable. "We'll need to watch him."

She grinned, resting her chin on her knuckles, eyes glinting with something between intrigue and hunger.
"Oh, don't worry. I already am."

Kirschtaria nodded once.
"I'll volunteer. Once your data's sufficient, Koyanskaya, I'll go meet this… Monarch. That's what he's called, right?"

Ophelia adjusted her eyepatch , her tone cautious. "The army chanted 'Shadow Monarch.'"

She glanced toward the recording, then back to Kirschtaria. "And I have a bad feeling. Even if you lure him into your Lostbelt, even there, where you're at your strongest… he might still be a calamity."

Pepe gave a nervous little laugh.
"Ahaha… I think I'd be dead in five seconds, but hey! Fun always finds room for me~"

Kaddoc shook his head quickly.
"Nope. I'm out. I don't want to be anywhere near that creature."

Hinako crossed her arms.
"Same. I'm not approaching him. But…" she paused, eyes narrowing.
"His shadows. There's something strange. It's like… they were already dead once. But now they serve him."

Fgo English Lostbelt 04 : The Crypters Part 2

Daybit had been quiet, unmoving—his hologram cold, almost surreal. Then, as he turned to leave, his eyes flicked back to the room.

Suddenly— A foreign symbol flickered on every hologram panel. Strange, angular, pulsing with ancient logic.

None of them recognized it. But it spread across the Crypter devices like a virus.

Daybit stopped. His voice finally broke the silence. "Our system is being hacked."

Hinako furrowed her brow. " What?!"

Koyanskaya straightened slightly, tail curling with unease. "This is the first time I've ever seen something like this in a Lostbelt… and I've seen a lot."

Kirschtaria turned to the side. "Beryl, if you've been compromised, I suggest—"

"Hey hey hey—" Beryl raised both hands, sweat now on his brow.
"No one's beside me! No tech. No trick. I'm alone."

Suddenly, every Crypter panel flickered—once, twice—before a new hologram assembled from distorted static. A layered voice broke through the hum of digital interference.

Jin-Woo's voice. Calm. Smooth. Almost amused.

"You sure they can still see me, Offensive Bias?"

Another voice answered—cold, mechanical, ancient. A tone stripped of emotion, forged from sheer pragmatism. Offensive Bias.

"A mockery is added. A race bound to a single planet, tangled in primitive culture, dares to challenge Forerunner superiority. The Lostbelts, meanwhile, are still formulations of variable-based probability trees. Predictable. Solvable."

Jin-Woo's hologram came into full clarity. He now stood before them—arms folded, purple eyes glowing faintly, shadow flickering behind him like coiled serpents.

"Good enough, Offensive Bias," he said without looking back. His eyes scanned the room of Crypters calmly.

"Greetings, Crypters. I believe this is the first time we've all seen each other… formally."

The silence from the others was immediate—tense, coiled, uncertain.

Ophelia narrowed her gaze. "How did you hack this? This chamber isn't even fully real."

Jin-Woo didn't answer right away.

Instead, he simply pointed—toward Beryl's projection.

"I have to admit," he said with a small grin, "I bet on myself a little."

He clasped his hands behind his back like a professor explaining a riddle.

"But I didn't expect Beryl Gut, the resident psychopath, to be so generous. Broadcasting valuable enemy intelligence across unshielded links?"

He tilted his head mockingly.

"That gave Offensive Bias—the only AI in the galaxy capable of neutralizing interdimensional nightmares—enough to slide right in. Like a whisper through a door left slightly open ."

He smiled wider. "Just a shadow slipping through a crack."

Beryl turned pale. "You hacked us through me—?"

"Not intentionally. I just gambled on a flaw." Jin-Woo shrugged. "You delivered."

Ophelia clenched her jaw. "Smartass."

Jin-Woo gave a low chuckle. "I prefer the term tactician."

Kirschtaria opened his mouth to respond—

But before he could speak, Koyanskaya, ever the chaotic wildcard, leaned forward, resting her chin in one hand, smirking with fanged playfulness.

"Do you have emotions, darling Bias?" she purred. "Can I tempt you? Or are you just a big old mech with too many cameras and no sense of touch?"

For a moment, the screens went dead silent—until Offensive Bias responded, voice as cold as circuitry and war-scarred code.

"Query added. Supreme Executor—permission requested: may I dissect this specimen?"

Jin-Woo's eyes didn't blink.
"She can shift between Lostbelts. That's valuable."

He tilted his head slightly.
"Let's test it."

Suddenly— A blinding beam of energy ripped through the hologram chamber, fired from a crackling slipspace portal above them. A Sentinel Beam—blue, precise, deadly—grazed where Koyanskaya had just stood.

A second beam followed. Then a third.

Aggressor Sentinels from Zeta Halo—emerged like ghosts, mechanical wings spread as they fired from slipspace rifts with no regard for location barriers.

Koyanskaya twirled mid-air as she dodged, her heels skimming the floor, taunting with every movement.
"Careful! You might ruin my makeup, you photogenic toaster!"

Kirschtaria froze, his gaze fixed on the unnatural fissure hanging in midair.
That… wasn't teleportation. It wasn't rayshift. It was like… reality opened.
A corridor between realms? Between Lostbelts? No—impossible.

The other Crypters remained silent.

Even Daybit blinked once.

No one had ever seen something like this.

But just as Koyanskaya prepared another twirl—

A black hand, chitinous and gnarled like a dagger forged from bone and insect, erupted from another rift beneath her.

It pierced straight through her chest.

But no blood came. Her body flickered. And her grin cracked slightly.

The hand retracted instantly into the slipspace—along with its owner.

Beru's voice followed through the comms, guttural and calm.
"My liege… I have secured the bitch."

Jin-Woo remained silent. He lifted one hand—two fingers pointed in the air.

A spatial cube shimmered in front of him, crackling faintly with darkness. Inside it—Koyanskaya's heart, perfectly extracted, floated in stasis.

A quiet, tight seal around it.

Across from him, Koyanskaya's confident posture crumbled. Her grin vanished. Her eyes widened as she realized what was missing from her body.

She dropped to one knee. "You give me that back, you shitty—shadowy gigolo!" she hissed through her teeth.

Jin-Woo didn't flinch. He calmly clenched his fingers around the cube.

The spatial seal compressed The cube .

On the floor, Koyanskaya writhed, her body convulsing as invisible pain laced through every nerve. Her hands clawed at the ground, her back arching. She screamed between clenched teeth.

Jin-Woo's voice came slow and sharp.
"Very funny… someone like you, who takes pleasure in making people suffer in every way imaginable—"

He stepped forward.
"Now begging to have something returned."

Koyanskaya glared at him, still panting, rage boiling behind her amber gaze. But then—like flipping a mask—her expression changed. She smirked through the pain. "We can… do business," she gasped. "I mean it. I like profits. We both know I'm useful."

Jin-Woo tilted his head."No."

He lowered the cube slightly, shadows swirling tighter around it.

"You don't have what I need. Except to be a jester."

A tense silence followed, until Kirschtaria—still calm, still composed—spoke, his gaze never leaving Jin-Woo's projection.
"Before things escalate further… perhaps a conversation first, Shadow Monarch."

Jin-Woo gave a small nod.
"Just call me Jin-Woo. It's enough that my army calls me that."

Kirschtaria accepted the correction without pause.
"All right, Jin-Woo. Although I don't yet understand where exactly your… companion, Offensive Bias, resides… I want to ask something directly."

He folded his arms.
"Are you a metaphysical construct—or an artificial god?"

The silence was broken by a flat, mechanical voice:
"Supreme Executor, permission to reveal myself."

Jin-Woo blinked once and looked around. He was still standing in the arena, now silent and empty—save for three figures still present: Morgan, watching intently; Baobhan Sith, at her side; and Barghest, now conscious again, seated but alert.

Jin-Woo spoke quietly.
"Morgan… one of my subordinates wants to appear. You mind?"

Morgan raised an eyebrow.
"Are you joking, Jin-Woo? You already darkened the skies with millions of shadow soldiers earlier. Asking permission now feels almost… polite."

Jin-Woo gave the smallest smirk.
"Proceed."

Suddenly, the sky above the Lostbelt of English split open.

A massive rift tore itself into reality—not through magic, not through Rayshift—something entirely alien.

A storm of metal and light flooded the horizon.

Hundreds of thousands of Sentinels emerged, taking formation in silence. Their forms gleamed in geometric perfection, forming a floating lattice above Camelot.

And then it appeared— Offensive Bias.

A mechanical behemoth, vast enough to dwarf towers, descended slowly, its mass carried not by wings, but by gravitic fields humming with unimaginable power. Its core pulsated with crimson light, a singular red eye fixed forward like a god watching ants.

Its elongated frame floated effortlessly, with multiple segmented appendages extending outward, each lined with radiant, ancient Forerunner glyphs. Sharp, angular armor interlocked around its central body, the design impossibly clean—a perfect blend of war and logic.

Its voice echoed across both the arena and the hologram chamber where the Crypters sat.

"I believe you already know the answer, Kirschtaria Wodime."

The words weren't spoken with pride. They were stated like a law. Unyielding. Cold. Final.

Kirschtaria narrowed his eyes, unmoving, but deep within, a single thought echoed like iron dropped in still water:
So this is what it means to create a system beyond the Tree of Fantasy…
Something that cannot be ruled, persuaded, or reasoned with.

From one of the holograms, Peperoncino leaned back, his fan lowered for once.
Oh sweet stars above… That thing's not just an AI—it's an empire.

Hinako Akuta, arms folded, brow furrowed in visible tension, thought in silence:
That's… a cosmic predator. It eliminates. Sustains. Learns.

Kaddoc Zemlupus, already on edge since the first projection, nearly lost the will to breathe.
Not that my Lostbeltt already the weakest… but how could I fight something like that? How could anyone?

Still kneeling, Koyanskaya trembled. Her heart pulsed quietly inside the spatial cube hovering near Jin-Woo. Even now, pain flickering through her every nerve, she stared at Offensive Bias in horror.
Even if I kill him… that thing… will just make another to replace him.

Ophelia Phamrsolone, whose entire life had been rooted in discipline and calculation, had to pause.
This isn't magecraft. This is pure cause-and-effect, weaponized.
Every input, every outcome—predicted, corrected, enforced.

Then there was Beryl Gut, still in the English Lostbelt, hiding at the edge of the now-empty arena. The arena that once felt like a stage now felt like a battlefield he didn't belong on.

He laughed. It was loud, cracked, and tinged with madness.
"Ahahahaha… fuck."
He staggered backward, running a hand through his hair.
"What a fucking day. All because of me, huh?"
"I just wanted to share some intel about the enemy… and the enemy hacked our entire system. Not just that—noooo. Crazy Sung Jin-Woo went ahead and showed off another goddamn weapon."

The others said nothing.

But Daybit Sem Void—who until now had said and shown nothing—finally moved. Just his eyes. He watched Offensive Bias. Watched its posture. Its scanning behavior. Its positioning.

...A complete logic tree, he thought.
That understands loss, adaptation, and probability mapping… We're not just outmatched.
We're being mapped.

[[ But Daybit Sem Void—who until now had said and shown nothing—finally moved. Just his eyes. He tracked Offensive Bias, studying the way it floated, the way its red eye shifted across the room with surgical precision. Watched how the segments of its plating adjusted minutely, recalibrating positions based on information no one else could see. ( BONUS DIALOGUE TO SHOW HOW INTELLIGENT DAYBIT IS )

...A complete logic tree, Daybit thought.
That understands loss, adaptation, and probability mapping… We're not just outmatched.
We're being mapped.] ( BONUS DIALOGUE TO SHOW HOW INTELLIGENT DAYBIT IS )

Then Jin-Woo casually turned toward the Crypter projections. His voice came quiet, casual.
"Any questions?"

The Crypters didn't move.

They all stared. All of them, silently—each with the same thought.

All of us… are afraid of you. Afraid of what you are.
Afraid of what your army can do. And you… you just joke about it.

Finally, Ophelia Phamrsolone stepped forward in her projection, voice composed but tense.

"Then I'll ask, Jin-Woo, the Shadow Monarch… and Supreme Executor of Offensive Bias."

Jin-Woo looked at her for a moment.
This is probably too much for her, he thought silently.
But aloud, he gave a slight nod. "Go ahead. Shoot."

Ophelia didn't hesitate.
"How did Bias bypass the Rayshift barriers? This system isn't even complete."

Jin-Woo lifted his hand—his shadow swirling with quiet intensity.

A sudden dark purple portal opened beside Ophelia's hologram, warping the space with an eerie silence.

Ophelia's eyes widened—the portal was right beside her, on the edge of her own Lostbelt: the Norse one.

Jin-Woo spoke without raising his voice.
"I can also open portals. But I need coordinates, of course."

He nodded toward the edge of the rift.
"Bias provided them. It's actually very simple. But if you're asking how he did it…"

Jin-Woo's expression sharpened slightly.
"Do you even understand what you're dealing with?"

He stepped forward slightly in the hologram.

"You're speaking to the only AI in existence who saved his entire galaxy from the Precursor Infestation. Without him, every sentient species in his domain would have been devoured by the Flood."

He tilted his head slightly.
"If the galaxy was neighboring yours, you'd already be swarmed. If Slipspace was open to this system? You'd be gone in a week. Right?"

The AI responded without hesitation.
"Affirmative. This primitive world resides in close proximity to the edge of my operational range. Calculating Slipspace jumps here required minimal correction."

Its voice remained mechanical—but now there was weight behind it. Authority.

Then its tone shifted—sharper. Heavier. Almost condescending, though it lacked any true malice.

"Additionally, comparing your computing methods—and your 'Rayshift,' a primitive workaround to causal limitations—with my capabilities...is a joke."

"Even the lowest-tier caretaker monitor stationed on a dormant installation can breach this level of complexity. I do not 'hack' your systems. I merely observe, and your systems yield."

"I have fought wars larger than all of your Lostbelts and history combined. I did not merely survive a 1: 436.6 odds engagement against Mendicant Bias. I adapted. I endured. I calculated beyond chaos. Where his armies outnumbered mine, I remained. Because I am not driven by glory, ambition, or pride."

"I am designed only to win."