Atalanta's gaze fixed on Astolfo.
The knight was smiling — that same mischievous, radiant smile that seemed to shine even in the face of death — as his body began to dissolve into golden particles. The light that emanated from him flickered softly, like the final glow of a flame about to fade away.
Beside her, Frankenstein stood motionless, her empty eyes reflecting the brief gleam that was consuming their friend. No words were spoken. Only silence — heavy, suffocating, almost sacred — lingered in the ruined hall.
And on the ground lay the lifeless body of Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillennia, the mage who had once been the link between Master and Servant. Her expression was frozen between shock and horror, her fingers curled tight, as if she had tried to grasp her own fate.
Astolfo let out a soft, peaceful sigh, breaking the silence.
"Ah… I didn't expect to be eliminated like this. What a shame. I wanted to fight till the very end, to shine until my last moment."
His voice held no sadness. There was a childlike serenity in it — the acceptance only a knight with a pure heart could possess.
Then, his smile widened.
"Please, don't be sad for me," he said, his bright eyes turning toward his two companions. "Even if I didn't make it to the end… I still had a wonderful time on this journey!"
The words were simple, yet carried the tenderness of someone who lived without regret.
"In truth…" — he added, his gaze growing distant — "...if there's anything I'll miss, it's not being able to see that child again."
The face of the young homunculus he had saved came to mind — that innocent, curious look, and the fragile hope of someone who had just learned the value of life.
Astolfo sighed once more, this time with gentle fondness, before closing his eyes.
But the nostalgic warmth didn't last long. He lifted his head, smiling once more — the smile of someone who had finally made peace with his own end.
"Well then… I suppose this is farewell."
Atalanta took a step forward.
"Ah… farewell, Astolfo," she said, her voice trembling despite her attempt to remain composed.
Astolfo chuckled, shrugging his shoulders in that carefree way that was so uniquely his.
"Give the king a kiss for me, all right?" He winked playfully, just before the light surrounding him consumed him completely.
Atalanta barely had time to respond.
By the time she realized it, the knight was gone — carried away by the ethereal wind, leaving behind only the faint echo of his laughter.
"...Tsk!"
The archer turned away, biting her lower lip in frustration.
Though embarrassed by Astolfo's final request, she couldn't hold back her anger — and kicked Celenike's lifeless body, which fell limp with a dull thud.
Silence returned.
But now, the air was heavy — thick with bitterness and grief.
Astolfo had been the pillar of their group during the battle. Thanks to his Noble Phantasm, his fearlessness, and the enchanted cloaks Arthur had given them, the three had managed to stand against Semiramis, the witch of the Hanging Gardens.
Among them all, Astolfo had shone the brightest — bravely blocking each of the queen's venomous attacks, protecting Atalanta and Frankenstein even as the poisoned air gnawed at his lungs.
But just as victory was within reach, Celenike had appeared — shattering the fragile balance of the fight.
Semiramis, too focused on restraining the trio, hadn't noticed her approach. And in that instant, fate turned against them.
Celenike had entered through a side passage — the same one Atalanta and Frankenstein had used before. The path, already ravaged by earlier explosions, was free of the magical traps guarding the main hall.
A coincidence… or perhaps, ironically, fate guiding her to her death.
Astolfo, Fran, and Atalanta had tried to protect her, but without Arthur's sacred cloak, Celenike was vulnerable to Semiramis's poison.
The poison — invisible, lethal — overtook her within minutes.
She collapsed, her lips moving soundlessly, her eyes widening in terror.
When the last breath left her body, the bond between Master and Servant was severed.
And so, inevitably, Astolfo's form began to fade.
Semiramis, witnessing this, seized the moment when the three were stunned and wounded.
It wasn't fear that drove her — only the recognition that the tide of battle had shifted.
With Celenike dead and Astolfo vanishing, victory was now within her grasp.
In a one-on-two fight, she would win easily.
But there were larger matters at stake.
As she withdrew, Semiramis extended her consciousness across the battlefield.
The magical echoes of distant clashes told her everything she needed to know — Achilles had fallen before Mordred, and the balance of war now tilted dangerously toward the dark faction.
To stay any longer would be pointless.
She had to return to the Greater Grail.
She had to reunite with Shiro Amakusa.
---
The hall was left in ruins.
Celenike and Astolfo were gone.
The wind whistled through the cracks in the ceiling, carrying with it the ashes of battle.
Atalanta stood in silence for a long time.
Though she had only known Astolfo for a few days, he had become a trusted companion — someone who fought on the front lines, protecting them with a carefree smile.
And now… he was dead.
"Idiot…" she muttered, her fists clenched tight. "To die for something so… foolish…"
Her body trembled with rage — not hatred, but helplessness.
Then, a calm, steady voice echoed in her mind.
{"Huh, calm yourself, Atalanta. I understand your anger, but take Frankenstein and head for the Greater Grail. Jeanne will need you."}
It was Arthur.
His voice was clear through the spiritual link.
Atalanta took a deep breath, letting her fury slowly subside.
"Understood," she replied, her tone steady once again.
She then took Frankenstein's arm — the homunculus still staring at the empty space where Astolfo had vanished — and guided her toward the doorway Jeanne had entered moments before.
Their footsteps echoed through the corridor, fading into the distance.
---xXx---
Meanwhile, Arthur — through his spiritual connection with his Servants — had witnessed everything that had transpired in the hall.
Upon realizing Celenike's death and Semiramis's retreat, he knew the battlefield was about to shift dramatically.
Jeanne's situation would only grow worse.
And for that reason, he couldn't afford to waste another moment.
Accompanied by a fully recovered Mordred and by Caules, Arthur pressed forward through the corridors toward the Throne Room.
When they arrived, the sight that greeted them was grim.
Celenike's body still lay there, cold and lifeless, surrounded by broken stone and dried blood.
Caules knelt beside her, his face shadowed by grief and regret.
Despite everything, she was still a member of the Yggdmillennia family — and seeing her die like this left a bitter taste that was impossible to ignore.
Arthur watched him silently for a moment, then turned toward a side passage.
"Stay here, Caules," he said firmly. "Semiramis is far too powerful for you to handle. Leave her to us."
The young man hesitated, fists trembling — but he knew Arthur was right.
"I… understand," he replied, swallowing his frustration.
Arthur placed a steady hand on his shoulder, offering a faint, reassuring smile.
"You've done enough."
Then, turning to Mordred, his tone hardened with resolve.
"Let's go, Mordred. It's time to end this war."
Mordred grinned — a fierce, eager smile — and together, the two pressed onward.
(End of chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."