The PV trailer had finally ended—and in an instant, the entire comment section exploded.
TooHotToPeg-[Damn it, cliffhanger! Why not just release the whole thing already?!]
EXRankDegenerate-[Maybe Alaya's waiting to finish watching the video too before uploading it?]
SergeantSaunders-[Nonsense! You think she's gonna break the fourth wall now?!]
IDigBigClock-[January 19 is my birthday! Seeing the Demon God King Solomon get his ass kicked is the best birthday gift ever!]
…
Sanjiro stared at the flood of reactions, his expression complicated.
"Let's hope you don't end up crying later."
He remembered how it went in the previous world.
Back then, countless players had excitedly awaited the day they'd finally see Solomon fall before Christmas.
But when it really happened—when he sacrificed himself—those same players wept uncontrollably, lamenting that he truly didn't make it to Christmas.
A man who only ever wanted to live as an ordinary human…
Yet at the critical moment, he still gave everything for mankind.
After the world was restarted, Sanjiro too had wished for nothing more than an ordinary life—a life without battles, without glory.
Even power itself had become exhausting.
Ordinary peace—that was the real dream.
We really are the same, he thought.
But the countdown had begun.
Three days left.
Just three days until the new video dropped.
Sanjiro looked at Alaya's official upload notice, his heart heavy.
As Alaya had said before—every new threat, every descent of a "Human Evil," forced both her and him to keep moving forward.
Alaya, the collective unconscious will of humanity's self-preservation, possessed an ability akin to clairvoyance—able to foresee the survival or extinction of mankind.
The rapid stream of updates in the past two months wasn't random. It was a desperate race to restore Sanjiro's spirit origin before the next catastrophe arrived.
He sighed softly.
"It never ends, does it?"
"Hey, that's not a bad thing!" Kirina said cheerfully. "Better than those other uploaders who go missing for a year and drop, like, two videos!"
To her, Alaya wasn't some abstract concept.
She was the ultimate creator of cinematic perfection—a director, editor, and producer rolled into one. Every "video" she made could be mistaken for a high-budget blockbuster.
Except… it wasn't fiction.
It was a documentary.
You could easily add this line under every upload:
"This story is entirely true. If it feels familiar—then you were probably there."
Each past had been revealed in vivid detail, and all of it—every connection, every sacrifice—was tied to one man: the nameless hero who protected humanity from the shadows.
Thinking of that, Kirina began softly humming:
"Go? Can I go? With this tattered cloak of mine."
"Fight? I will fight! For my humble little dream."
"For the cries and rage that echo in the dark—Who says only those standing in the light are heroes?"
It was the perfect song for him.
If not for Alaya's exposure, no one would have ever remembered Nameless—the one who risked everything to defend humanity, who bore his wounds in silence, and who, after restarting the world, let himself be completely forgotten.
The thought alone was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
"Finally," Kirina said, gazing at the blackened screen. "We'll get to see the final Singularity—see that stupid Demon God get his smug face smashed in!"
To her, everything was Solomon's fault.
He had burned human history for fuel, warped it into Singularities, and committed countless atrocities.
She couldn't understand it at all.
Why would the great King Solomon—the Grand Caster, the symbol of wisdom—abandon all his glory and his people, just to become a monster like that?
"He must've gone insane," she muttered.
Sanjiro looked at her, his expression unreadable.
"You're really looking forward to this, huh."
He couldn't help but think—once the new video was released, and the "lost memories" of the past returned… what would happen?
When Alaya released a new video, it didn't just "show" history.
It restored existence.
It was like recovering deleted data from a hard drive that had been wiped clean—everything that was "erased" would return.
And when that happened, she would awaken again.
The "brat" would regain her true power—power so overwhelming it once plunged the world into despair.
"Of course I'm excited!" Kirina said brightly. "He's the final boss, after all!"
But deep down, a strange feeling stirred inside her.
A whisper she couldn't name.
It wasn't fear—more like an instinct.
A premonition.
Could it be… that she was about to awaken as a Pseudo-Heroic Spirit herself?
Her eyes sparkled.
After all, she'd been obsessed with Heroic Spirits ever since she was born—collecting every bit of merchandise, watching every video, dreaming of one day becoming one of them.
Maybe that desire wasn't random.
Maybe it was a remnant of who she truly used to be.
She was certain of it.
Suddenly, she covered one eye dramatically and shouted:
"Explode, reality! Shatter, sanity! BANISHMENT THIS WORLD!"
Smack!
Sanjiro flicked her forehead.
"Are you going through your chuunibyou phase again?"
Kirina puffed her cheeks.
"Hmph! You'll regret mocking me! The power sealed within me will soon awaken—and you'll be begging for mercy!"
"Sure, sure. I'll be kneeling and begging for my life. Just don't forget to spare me," he said, ruffling her hair.
"Hahaha! Maybe I'll let you live—if you kiss my feet!"
She hopped off the couch and planted a silk-wrapped foot on his thigh, looking smug.
"I refuse."
Without hesitation, Sanjiro tickled her foot, and she yelped, scrambling away in laughter.
Watching her play around so carefree, Sanjiro fell silent again.
When the truth came out… would she still be smiling like this?
He could only hope so.
Because once the memories returned—there would be no going back.
====
At Chaldea
Since Tiamat's arrival, the entire staff had been on edge. The trio didn't even know how to interact with her.
Thankfully, the Mother of Creation remained quiet and peaceful, often standing by the window, staring endlessly at the world outside.
As if she could never get enough of it.
Dr. Roman finally exhaled in relief.
The last thing he needed was for her to discover his true identity—because if she did, he'd be done for.
There were no secrets before someone like her.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID: [URUK]
Roman quickly answered, "Hello, this is Dr. Roman from Chaldea."
A calm, regal voice replied—
"This is the King."
Roman froze.
King…?
"Ah! Hero King Gilgamesh! What can I do for you today?"
"I am not calling for Chaldea," Gilgamesh said. "I am calling for her."
"Oh, I see—you wish to pay your respects to the Mother Goddess of Creation?" Roman replied with visible relief.
Of course. Both hailed from Mesopotamia; it made sense he'd want to meet his creator. As long as it wasn't him she was after, all was fine!
"There will be others accompanying me," the king added.
A moment later, another voice came from the line:
"My king, the car is ready."
The call ended.
Roman blinked.
So it wasn't just him and Siduri?
Could he have also found the twin goddesses?
Before he could think further, a black limousine pulled up outside Chaldea's gates.
From it stepped Gilgamesh, Siduri… and a familiar high school girl—
Rin Tohsaka.
Wait… don't tell me her past life really was Ishtar and Ereshkigal?!
Mash approached politely.
"Everyone, the Mother Goddess has agreed to meet you. Please follow me."
Even she, brave as she was, seemed nervous—keeping a respectful distance from that divine being.
They entered the reception hall.
And there she sat.
The Mother Goddess of Creation, Tiamat—calm, serene, radiating an almost maternal warmth.
Even Gilgamesh, proud as he was, seemed subdued before her.
He stepped forward and bowed slightly.
"Mother Goddess, it is an honor. Welcome to the ranks of Heroic Spirits, and thank you for lending your power to humanity. Please accept this small token of my respect."
A golden ripple shimmered beside him as he reached into his Gate of Babylon, retrieving a lavishly decorated golden box.
All eyes were drawn to the gleaming gift—
But then—
When Gilgamesh opened the gift box, there were no jewels, no treasures, no divine artifacts inside.
Only simple food—rice balls, sweets, and snacks.
Rin stared in disbelief. She never expected that this was the gift.
Sharing Rin's senses, Ereshkigal gasped. "Wait—these are totally handmade by Nameless!"
"Oh, of course," Ishtar said, clicking her tongue. "That guy's the Mother Goddess's favorite—something he made himself is way better than any treasure."
Damn it, she thought. Why didn't we think of that first?!
Meanwhile, Gilgamesh quietly watched Tiamat's gentle expression soften, and couldn't help but smile to himself.
Perfect. The gift had worked.
When he'd been planning his visit, he'd struggled to decide what to give her.
For the Mother Goddess who had created all things, even the rarest treasures were meaningless.
So, after consulting both his Clairvoyance and Sha Naqba Imuru, he'd found the answer—He kidnapped his bastard friend that very night and forced him to stay up preparing a full course of food.
After all, that man was the genuine Grand Chef, capable of cooking meals delicious enough to charm even the Beasts of Humanity.
Perfect, indeed.
After the gift exchange, Gilgamesh left the reception room feeling quite satisfied.
He turned to the man walking beside him—the ever-nervous Doctor Romani—and smirked.
"So then… are you ready?"
"Ready for what?" Romani asked cautiously.
"For the next video. Once it airs, every truth will be revealed."
Gilgamesh's grin widened.
There was nothing more delightful than watching someone else's dark history get exposed for all to see.
And the target this time? The man beside him—a fellow Grand-class caster in disguise.
"I-I'm just an ordinary doctor," Romani said weakly, avoiding his gaze.
But they both knew the truth—nothing could be hidden from a man with Clairvoyance.
"Ordinary? You remind me quite a bit of a dear friend of mine," Gilgamesh mused. "When the video goes live, why don't we watch it together?"
"Uhh…"
Romani's soul nearly left his body. This wasn't just Gilgamesh being nosy—this was premeditated sadism.
He stammered,
"Can… can I refuse?"
"Of course not," Gilgamesh said with a pleasant smile. "In fact, I'll invite Shikotei to join us. We can all enjoy watching the magnificent exploits of a certain 'Grand Caster' together."
Ah yes—there was no greater universal pastime than watching someone else's humiliation.
Even Merry wasn't the only one who loved a good show.
Romani wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.
They weren't going to let him go.
Once that video dropped, his entire past—every sin, every lie—would be laid bare before the world.
He'd be hated. Feared. Condemned.
What should he do?
How could he possibly stop it?
He stood frozen, mind spiraling into panic—when a new visitor entered Chaldea.
The Knight of the Lake—Lancelot.
He had come on behalf of France to pay respects to the Mother Goddess of Creation… and also to see his daughter.
The moment Mash heard, she rushed over—traumatized by their last meeting.
That idiot had dared to wear an embarrassingly skimpy catgirl costume, pleading for forgiveness.
A muscular man in a cutesy outfit… she'd never recover from that.
Fortunately, this time he came properly dressed—a fitted black suit that accentuated his powerful build.
Mash let out a sigh of relief.
At least he wasn't dressed like that.
Lancelot approached the Mother Goddess and bowed deeply.
"It is an honor to meet you, Lady Tiamat. I come not only as a representative of France, but also with a personal request."
"...A personal request?" Tiamat asked gently, her voice like a lullaby—spoken in human tongue rather than the language of the gods.
Lancelot straightened, his tone solemn.
"You treat Nameless as your most beloved child… and I, too, am Mash's father. So I would like to formally request—her hand in marriage to Nameless!"