Sitting atop the throne overlooking northern Uruk, Morgan could neither hear these words—nor did she need to.
"My husband..." Morgan sat upright on the throne.
"Morgan, I offer you the last two Command Spells!" Shiomi raised his arm high. The Command Spells dissolved into mana, flowing into Morgan's body.
In an instant, she converted the mana entirely. Morgan slowly lifted her gaze to the primordial goddess—bound by the Chains of Heaven, yet still on the verge of breaking free and taking flight once more.
The anger of the Mother of Genesis was justified. So was her sorrow... and her joy.
Ironically, to truly defeat her, it was Morgan—who was not one of the "mother's" children—whose unique nature was required.
She linked her consciousness to the throne, merging with the twelve Holy Lances arranged before her. What was originally designed to bring down a certain god now had the chance to strike down the Mother of Origins.
Failure was not an option.
Mana surged forth.
Though fleeting, the mana had been amassed to its limit. It gathered around the throne, channeling through the spell into Morgan's Magic Circuits. The mana cycle flowed without the slightest pause.
"Spirit Vein Closing Armament, Rhongomyniad: loading. Round Table Holy Lance, all twelve lances deployed. Ritual against the Mother of Origins—commence. O Spear of Salvation, become the final rain that purges the evils of mankind!"
Morgan's throne was hastily constructed, a makeshift arrangement by any measure. Yet as Shiomi had once marveled—she was a sheer genius. Even rushed, her work was flawless.
The twelve Holy Lances carried more than enough power. In an instant, they could reduce Uruk to ashes.
Now, all of that firepower was unleashed upon Tiamat.
The Mother of Origins—filled with rage, sorrow, and joy—felt fear for the first time.
Not the kind of fear one might have toward alien humans.
This was absolute, unfiltered terror.
For beings born of this planet had actually managed to wound Tiamat, the primordial mother, to draw her blood.
"Aaaaa... Aaaaa——!"
After a brief lull, her cry resumed. It came from Tiamat's throat as she struggled on the ground, clawing forward.
She now fully recognized Morgan—a fairy queen, outside the annals of human history, not her child.
The Starry Eyes locked tightly onto Morgan. Even if her body couldn't move, even if she couldn't spew mana from her mouth—
With just a glance, the power of her Starry Eyes could pierce Morgan's skull and erase the threat.
The White City had temporarily shut down. Mash lacked the strength to activate her Noble Phantasm again so soon.
Yet Morgan only smiled slightly, making no attempt to dodge.
Tiamat's desperate strike was barely deflected by Shiomi's full strength. Any stronger, and even his magecraft defenses would have shattered.
"As expected of the Mother of Origins—then I'll add another layer!" Morgan gritted her teeth and declared.
The mana she had hastily accumulated was already expended, launched through the twelve Holy Lances. The energy now left in her hands was no longer sufficient to drive this special ritual armament.
After all, she didn't possess two thousand years' worth of mana.
The throne, beginning to collapse on its own, could no longer support a second assault.
"This really was thrown together..." Morgan raised her hand. "Your journey ends here, Mother of Origins. 'Roadless Camelot: The Now Unreachable Utopia'!"
A violent blast engulfed Tiamat.
The radiant light was blinding, forcing everyone to shield their eyes. When vision returned, the scene before them left them stunned.
Tiamat's dragon form was battered and broken. Her massive wings lay shattered, hair that once spiraled skyward now sprawled lifelessly across the ground. The armor plating on her limbs had cracked open, and her tail was severed at the root.
Utterly weakened, still bound by chains, she now appeared completely at their mercy.
But this was a feat only Morgan could have achieved. Even if others struck now, they wouldn't be able to destroy Tiamat's Spirit Origin.
Of course, Morgan herself was also drained. She leaned against Shiomi, exhausted, as the two slowly sank down together.
"What a pain... I was supposed to be getting a good night's sleep, not forcing myself to stay alert like this," Morgan said with a weary smile.
"You've done more than enough. Rest now." Shiomi pressed a deep kiss to her lips, channeling as much mana into her as he could to ease her fatigue.
Morgan raised a hand to caress his cheek. "I'm not completely spent yet. Save your strength. Your fight's not over."
"..." Shiomi nodded silently, holding her hand tightly.
At that moment, Ereshkigal's voice echoed faintly from deep below.
"...The phase shift between the Underworld and Uruk's underground is complete... Now we just need to punch a hole through... Haah... haah...!"
She was clearly pushing herself to the limit. The Underworld gate had opened even earlier than the planned three days.
"Artoria, I'll leave the rest to Master," Shiomi said.
Using Rune Magecraft, Scáthach had pierced through the remaining Bel Laḫmu and helped Artoria ascend to the sky. From there, she unleashed a grand spell to sweep away the Laḫmu attempting to strike.
Artoria raised the Holy Lance high.
This blow tore through the earth itself.
A light brighter than the Morning Star flared, transforming into a meteor as it descended toward the ground—toward Tiamat.
The chains binding her had vanished, but she no longer had the strength to move.
"I'll be right back." Shiomi handed Morgan over to Sakura and Caren, who had come to assist. "Don't worry."
"Mm." Morgan replied gently, nodding along with her two daughters.
The Holy Lance struck Tiamat, ripping through the land around her.
With the gate to the Underworld wide open, she plummeted downward without resistance.
Landing at the edge of the chasm, Shiomi caught a glimpse of those starry eyes gazing skyward.
To reenact the myth, to kill the mother once more—or...
After all their encounters, Shiomi believed there had to be another way.
A child doesn't have to kill their mother.
After all, from the beginning, no one had even considered the possibility of reconciliation.
Leaping into the vast pit of the Underworld, Shiomi used magecraft to accelerate, closing the distance in a flash and catching up to Tiamat.
She reached out with a massive hand—or rather, a dragon claw—trying to grab him. But he dodged nimbly and kept drawing closer.
Finally, her enormous head was right in front of him.
Amidst the roaring winds, Shiomi gently spread his arms, embraced her forehead, and pressed his own against hers.
Tiamat's movements abruptly halted. Together, they plunged into the depths of the Underworld, swallowed entirely by the surging Chaos Tide.
Shiomi's vision was overwhelmed by searing light. When clarity returned, he finally saw where he was.
No sky. No earth. A pure white, silent world.
Not far ahead stood the beautiful, sorrowful figure of Tiamat.
She slowly lifted her head, gazing at Shiomi with a hint of confusion.