Boom!
A brilliant golden blade of light pierced straight through the First Emperor's chest, erupting into a blinding pillar of destruction that tore apart even his ultimate fortified Reality Marble.
Crack—!
The fractured Unlimited Blade Works collapsed completely!
In the great hall, the gravely wounded Keika could hardly believe her eyes.
"You… you actually struck down the Emperor?"
Even she, an Assassin, had only been able to rely on a smartphone virus to take advantage of his ignorance and attempt a sneak attack.
She had never once imagined there was even the slightest hope of defeating him head-on.
The mere sight of that mechanical divine body was enough to drown one in despair.
And the perfect human vessel he had forged—crafted from the accumulated science of a civilization across 2,600 years—had radiated a suffocating power beyond measure.
Not bestowed by Alaya, not granted by the world—but something the First Emperor had forced into existence himself.
Strength beyond comprehension.
And yet, now—Nameless had shattered his invincible defense, and dealt him a grievous wound!
====
Marketplace.
Gilgamesh watched as Shikotei's chest was pierced, and a pleased smile spread across his face.
"Tch. And you wanted to laugh at me back then?"
Indeed—only joy built upon the pain of others was true joy.
"You're all the same," Heracles grumbled in disgust.
What was there to laugh at?
He had been skewered through the chest, elbow cut apart.
And Nameless? Even now, he was still trying to persuade the First Emperor—still hoping to turn him back from the abyss.
Cu Chulainn blinked.
"So… the eternal empire ends here?"
"Heh. Don't be foolish. Do you really think that emperor would fall so easily? He's an existence on the same tier as me!" Gilgamesh sneered.
Lest they forget, even in Absolute Demonic Front, he had revived again and again after death.
And this man—who unified the Earth and caged all of mankind—wasn't going to simply die here.
"Exactly. This 'human body' is only a shell he molded. His true form is still that colossal mechanical divine body," Cu nodded.
Even if Nameless destroyed the vessel completely, the First Emperor would not die.
Unless that mechanical body was destroyed as well.
But that was impossible.
Nameless was already gravely wounded, far beyond his limits.
Not to mention—the orbital Great Wall cannon above them had yet to fire a single shot.
And within the Hero Repository still slept hundreds of mighty Heroic Spirits, sealed and awaiting release.
The First Emperor's trump cards had not even been touched.
Cu frowned.
"Then what was the point? Why would Nameless risk everything just to stab him through the chest?"
"Perhaps…" Heracles' eyes narrowed, "it's the difference between the fall of Greece and the fall of Qin."
Those gods that Nameless and the First Emperor had once sealed together were not mere machine-gods like in Greece.
They were corrupted—twisted, Outer God-tainted deities.
The video continued.
Before the stunned eyes of all, the First Emperor looked down at the gaping hole in his chest.
"You… actually wounded me?"
He had possessed absolute defense. He had never once considered the gods worth his notice. And yet he had been struck.
Worse still—
Even with his passive healing Noble Phantasm, [Eternal Emperor], the wound would not close!
Impossible!
[Eternal Emperor] was his greatest self-regeneration, the proof that he alone was the "True Man."
As the undying sovereign, he had forged a body flawless, vigorous, and ever-healing.
He did not wish to die.
No—he feared death.
All mortals must die. None can escape it.
Only an emperor who surpassed mortals, surpassed gods, surpassed all things—could live eternally.
And so, he had forged this body of immortality.
Beyond yin and yang.
Youth eternal.
Life without end.
Infinite regeneration!
But all of it—broken, undone by that one strike!
What kind of attack was that?!
"So… even an invincible god bleeds. Even you can be pierced!" Nameless's calm voice threw his words back at him.
"Your so-called invincibility—was nothing more than this."
And yet—
Nameless's body was covered in hideous wounds.
He had forced his strength past the brink. His body could no longer endure.
Blood poured freely from him.
And still, with his battered form, he smiled gently.
"Tei… do you remember when I first taught you the sword?"
"You—!"
Shikotei stared at him.
Why? Why did this man possess a will so unshakable, so far beyond even his own as the Lostbelt King?
Bleeding, broken—yet still standing before him.
The Emperor remembered.
A boy in black ceremonial robes, still tender of age, looking up at Nameless with shining eyes.
A clear young voice, firm with conviction:
"Teacher—I will become the greatest emperor, surpassing even the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors!"
"Teacher, will you walk with me, and help me build an age of peace?"
The boy bowed, earnest and pleading.
On his young face—worry, and a trace of fear. Fear of being abandoned.
Nameless had raised his hand, wanting to ruffle the boy's hair.
But he had stopped midway, remembering the boy was already King—his dignity had to be preserved.
And then—
That young king had risen on his toes, like a kitten brushing against his hand.
So Nameless had rested his palm on the boy's head after all.
"Of course. You really are just a child at heart. I'll stay with you, until we forge that peaceful world together."
A tender, precious memory.
It left countless viewers stunned.
Once, the First Emperor had trusted Nameless above all. Once, he had leaned upon him.
And yet now—steel met steel. Teacher and student, locked in slaughter.
The Emperor suddenly froze.
"Why… why did I become this?"
Why had he changed?
He had once sought peace, sealing away the corrupted gods from beyond, struggling for the freedom and happiness of his people.
So how had he become this?
A god who caged all humanity, who ruled all fate.
An empire of "eternal peace"—that was in truth an eternal prison.
He had ended Qin's future with his own hands.
For he was Qin.
Its people—mere extensions of himself.
Qin's strength was his strength.
Qin's science, his science.
Qin's invincibility, his invincibility.
But for its people, there was no future left.
The books—burned.
The scholars—buried.
The chain of human culture severed, leaving generations to wither, decline, and sink into bestiality.
Was this truly the bright future he had once sought?
Hum—
From the wound Nameless had struck, a black, writhing aura began to seep.
Madness.
Chaos.
Incomprehensible whispers echoed in all directions.
Voices, murmuring softly—yet enough to shatter sanity the instant they touched the ear.
And then—
A golden-haired, green-eyed girl of twelve appeared, small and lovely in a black Gothic dress.
A strange keyhole mark glowed on her forehead.
Smiling sweetly, she watched the two men.
"How amusing. With that one stroke, you cut away the taint—the infection itself."
Such a cute little face—and yet it chilled the soul.
"The Outer God Yog-Sothoth's envoy… Abigail Williams!"
Nameless leveled his sword at her.
"It was the descent of your kind—the Outer Gods—that infected our primal deities, twisting them into horrors!"
"But it was thanks to Father's descent that your so-called Vanguard never threatened this 'eternal empire' at all," the girl laughed.
The viewers reeled:
AlphaSigma-[Wait—this adorable little girl is the envoy of an Outer God?!]
GigglesThenShit-[That pulse earlier—just watching the video made me dizzy, like my mind was going to split apart!]
PostNutRealityMarble-[So that's it! The First Emperor turned into a god because he was corrupted by the Outer Gods!]
====
In the divine realm.
Athena sat beneath a parasol, sipping from her teacup with narrowed eyes.
"As I thought—the Outer Gods still haven't given up on Asia."
The Outer Gods.
They were the true reason Asia had always been so different.
Fourteen thousand years ago, the Vanguard descended—
With a single strike, the Age of Gods in Uruk, Greece, and countless other civilizations was brought to ruin.
Even the Olympian deities—those machine-gods who had crossed the sea of stars—were crushed beneath the onslaught of the Vanguards, forced to abandon their true forms and degrade into mere local divinities bound to Greece.
Had the wielder of the Holy Sword not descended to slay the Vanguard, the Olympians themselves would have been erased from history, exterminated to the last.
But far to the East—there descended beings far more terrifying, far more unfathomable.
They were—
The Outer Gods.
Even the Olympians could not comprehend those abominations.
The gods of Earth could be called incarnations of the planet's authorities, administrators who aided in its governance.
But the Outer Gods represented something else entirely: the mysteries of the cosmos itself.
They were the dark side of the universe, embodiments of boundless destruction and chaos.
The eastern gods were corrupted, infected, and twisted into grotesque abominations with writhing tentacles by their touch.
Nameless had severed the bond between man and god at any cost, precisely to seal these horrors away.
Now, with the appearance of the Outer God's chosen vessel, Abigail Williams, all was laid bare.
The First Emperor's descent into a god who caged all humanity—it was without question the result of these eldritch whispers.
And the Vanguard,' failure to annihilate the Age of Gods here was not mercy, but obstruction—blocked by the Outer Gods themselves.
Or perhaps… the two had struck a pact, to carve up the world between them.
"Earth truly grows more fascinating by the day." Athena's lips curled into a delighted smile.
As the Goddess of Wisdom, she longed with insatiable hunger for knowledge unending.
That hunger, that overwhelming desire, Nameless had once named "avarice."
So intense that she would gladly wager everything—her divinity, her very being—so long as it allowed Nameless to carve a path toward a flawless future.
Perhaps, through this Outer God's emissary, she might glimpse the true entity beyond?
Athena's smile only deepened.
Could such a being even be reasoned with?
Could it grant her greater knowledge, knowledge beyond the reach of all gods and men?
She burned with curiosity.
And under her eager gaze—
On the screen—
Nameless spoke softly, eyes fixed upon Abigail:
"Your existence itself is sin. The mere sight of you drives humanity to madness. There is no coexistence between us."
"Am I truly guilty?"
Abigail tilted her head, her cherubic face clouded with sorrow.
She stepped forward, her sweet, girlish voice pleading:
"Onii-chan, won't you play with me? Won't you stay with Abby?"
As she drew nearer, the void itself seemed to whisper in madness.
Unseen horrors writhed and bellowed in the dark.
And under that dreadful chorus—
Nameless suddenly loosened his grip on the Emperor, as if entranced, and began walking toward the girl.
"Onii-chan… can you open Abby's lock?"
The little girl gazed up at him, the black keyhole etched upon her forehead radiating an irresistible allure.
"Are you searching for a key?"
Nameless placed his hand upon her brow.
His fingertip brushed against the tiny opening—and at once, a surge of power erupted forth.
Something unseen crawled into his mind.
No—not something, but seals, mysterious runes inscribed with secrets of the Root itself.
They flooded his senses—sight, sound, touch, smell, every nerve overwhelmed.
It was certain: should he open that lock, the Gate of Truth itself would stand before him, the path to the Root laid bare.
The ultimate pursuit of every magus.
The very reason the Einzberns had once forged the Third Magic and kindled the Holy Grail Wars: a ritual where all participants were nothing more than fuel.
Yet Nameless stopped.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Why seek a key at all? You yourself are the key to the Gate of Truth."
"…Nii-chan, you're strange."
Abigail's lips curved into a smile.
All her life, as the vessel of an Outer God, she had been shunned and feared by all. None dared draw close.
But this man… this man looked straight through her, saw her essence.
"Then tell me, Onii-chan—what do you like to eat? Perhaps… soft, fluffy pancakes?"
Nameless chuckled gently, as though speaking to a neighbor's little sister:
"Try this instead. Soft pancakes cooked with melting butter… paired with crisp, smoky bacon… and mashed potatoes drenched in hot gravy. How about that?"
For a moment, the audience fell into stunned silence.
Why—why in the world was he saying this?
Surely he didn't believe that the emissary of an Outer God—an avatar of madness and corruption—would care for human food?
This was absurd.
And yet—
To their collective shock, the little girl's lips parted, and a bead of drool slid down her cheek.
"E-eh? Onii-chan, how did you know Abby likes that?"
"Because," Nameless smiled warmly, "I'm a good cook. I can always tell what someone longs to eat."
With that exchange—
The suffocating aura of hostility that had saturated the hall… began to fade.
Abigail's figure itself began to dissolve into shadow, leaving only a final, sing-song farewell:
"Onii-chan, I'll definitely come find you again. Don't forget to treat me when I do~"
And just like that, the crisis of the Outer God's emissary was averted.
The chat exploded:
SirFucksAlot-[Holy crap, even the emissary of an Outer God has been charmed?!]
ICastFart-[This man… he's beyond reason. Kneel! Kneel to the Grand Beauty!]
LoliConnoisseur-[Uh… I shouldn't admit this, but when I saw that keyhole, I… I have the thought of putting my…]
FateShit-[Bro, freedom of taste is one thing, but you're way off the rails. Seek help.]
InterdimensionalFBI-[Attention all viewers: Do NOT put anything in that keyhole. FBI—OPEN UP!]
—
In the living room.
Kirina stared, dumbstruck.
"…He actually charmed an emissary of the Outer Gods?"
Impossible. Utterly impossible.
She'd thought Abigail's arrival would unleash chaos and calamity upon Nameless.
Instead, with a few casual words, he had disarmed her completely.
"It's settled then. Nameless is a full-on lolicon. No other way he'd know exactly how to work a little girl's heart." Kirina declared.
"…Uh."
Sanjiro blinked, speechless.
Me? A lolicon? Impossible.
The truth was simple: he already knew her preferences—because in his past life, he had drawn Abigail, raised her as his daughter, and cherished her.
Of course he would know what she liked to eat.
This wasn't twisted desire—this was the instinct of a doting father.
Unlike those degenerates in the chat, who were already fantasizing about the keyhole—
Tch. A bunch of shameless degenerates. Didn't they realize that the "Father God(Yog)" himself was watching?
In that being's eyes, Abigail was a daughter, nothing less.
Even her EX-rank Noble Phantasm—
[Qliphoth Rhizome: Hollow Tree Filled by a Remnant of Light ]
—was her channeling a fragment of that being's power, a world-class Noble Phantasm capable of annihilating the soul and plunging foes into madness.
And yet here she was, treated like an ordinary little girl.
"Nameless… a lolicon…"
Illya's eyes brightened faintly.
If that were true—then didn't it mean she too had a chance?
After all, she was a legal loli.
No problem at all!
Except—there was now another rival.
And not just anyone, but the envoy of an Outer God.
Illya's mood grew complicated.
This man's charisma was simply terrifying.
Even the First Emperor and the Outer God's vessel had fallen to his words. Just how many more would he conquer?
Miyu, on the other hand, only smiled sweetly.
"As expected of my brother. Even an emissary of the Outer Gods couldn't resist him."
After all, his cooking was second to none.
No matter how hard she tried, she could never compare.
At best, she could only help him in the kitchen, always trailing behind…
—
The video continued.
With the emissary's departure, the suffocating aura over the hall fully dissipated.
The First Emperor fixed his gaze on Nameless.
"I have always loved humanity. I have always sought to protect humanity. To grant them eternal peace and happiness. Was I truly wrong?"
Nameless, who should have chastised him, instead answered with calm certainty:
"You were not wrong. Every path you took was an attempt to reach the future."
"Was I not wrong?"
Shikotei froze at those words.
He was a disciple who had once raised his blade against his own teacher—yet his teacher told him he was not wrong?
"Yes. You cut off the source of chaos at its root, and built the Empire of eternal peace."
Nameless let out a quiet sigh.
"Everything—absolutely everything—was carried on your shoulders alone."
Bearing all responsibility.
Bearing the fate and future of his people.
Shikotei had carried this burden for more than two thousand six hundred years.
It was nothing short of a terrifying miracle.
Under such a weight, even the so-called workaholic kings like Gilgamesh paled into insignificance.
Because Shikotei had worked tirelessly for over two thousand years—twenty-four hours a day, without pause.
Everything—absolutely everything—was borne by him alone.
Could such a man truly be called a tyrant?
Clearly not.
"But extremes beget their opposite. By taking everything upon yourself, you left no room for others to think—erasing the future entirely."
Nameless looked at him with helpless eyes.
"Like an overindulgent parent, you shouldered every burden yourself. But how can children ever grow up that way?"
"Does Proper Human History truly have hope?" Shikotei said coolly. "War, famine, pollution, plunder… the ugliness of humanity displayed in its entirety. I see no hope."
The ugliness of humanity.
A cycle destined to birth endless calamity.
This time, he had chosen to bear it all alone, seizing control of the very foundation of human intelligence.
"If there is war, then end the war. If there is famine, then sow the fields. If there is pollution, then cleanse it. Don't cower in fear—face it head-on!"
Nameless's answer was utterly serious.
"It is precisely imperfection that makes humanity. Perfection belongs only to machines!" Tei… Proper Human History may not be beautiful, but never abandon it—never give up! You should shape this imperfect Human History into the form you wish to see! Even if it means burning myself away, I will light the road that leads you toward the future! That is the final lesson I wish to teach you!"
From beginning to end, he had never truly intended to kill Shikotei.
Nor had he arrogantly dismissed this Lostbelt as a mistake.
Everything was merely a matter of choice—different paths toward the future.
But the truth was clear: Shikotei's path led only to ruin, to a dead end without tomorrow.
And so—he had no choice but to stop him.
"But you would have me abandon this world. Abandon the eternal peace!"
Shikotei's crimson eyes locked on him.
If he let go, his empire of eternal peace would vanish into smoke.
Nameless sighed. "I'm sorry. But I have no choice."
"There at the sacred tree. That is the Fantasy Tree you speak of. And the fox guards it still." Shikotei suddenly pointed eastward. "Go defeat her. Show me the hope of your so-called Proper Human History!"
"Very well."
Nameless nodded firmly.
The Fantasy Tree—this was the absolute core of every Lostbelt.
It sprouted wherever human history diverged, its purpose to reset the world, to birth a new mythology.
Once rooted, it would begin its parasitic invasion of Proper Human History, seeking to steal the place of the one true timeline.
Thus, to end a Lostbelt—one had to fell the Tree.
From the beginning, that had been his greatest mission here.
The scene shifted.
A massive tree, crystalline as jade, towered skyward until it seemed to pierce the heavens themselves.
It filled the entire screen—like the very center of the world.
All things revolved around it.
At the very top of its crown blazed a dazzling light that illuminated the world.
Like a sun—so radiant none could gaze upon it directly.
No—its brilliance surpassed even the sun, reigning above all things.
And yet—
Look closely, and within that blinding light one could discern the figure of a woman, beauty so enthralling it could captivate all living beings.
Behind her swayed nine tails, each one blazing with a force that could crush all beneath the sky.
The White-Faced, Golden-Furred Nine-Tailed Fox—her true form, the apex of all fox spirits.
Gathered in full, she was no longer Tamamo-no-Mae, but the incarnation of humanity's darkest indulgence—the Beast of Pleasure, [Beast III/L].
Tamamo-no-Mae, the Nine-Tails reborn!