The fact that Balin could control the city-killing Noble Phantasm with such precision spoke volumes about his regret for the lives he had once destroyed—four towns erased in a single strike. That precision alone was enough to make Gilgamesh glance at him with interest.
Seeing Aslan charge forward, Gilgamesh began summoning shields from his treasury, intending to build a wall and halt his advance.
Compared to the fierce clash at the Tōsaka residence, the real Aslan was living quite comfortably. Soft, elegant music drifted from a vinyl player, filling the room with a leisurely calm. Though the electric heaters of this age looked crude and somewhat dangerous, Aslan's adjustments made them into perfect daily comforts.
On a winter's night, nothing was more enjoyable than resting in warmth.
In wooden basins nearby, he had placed a mixture of rare herbs. These were not seasonings but medicinal blends he had received from friends in the Far East—immortals he had met over thousands of years in the Inner Sea of Stars. Unlike most, these beings preserved their health so well that their bodies retained the youthfulness of mortals.
It was no wonder they walked without the creaking of bones, unlike some who had long given up on self-care.
Of course, this wasn't something one could blame on Hinako. Physical wounds healed with time, but emotional scars were far harder to mend. What was wrong with living sloppily? In the end, she would still outlive all those who lived carefully refined lives. That was the enviable truth of an immortal's existence.
Aslan dipped his hand into the bucket, testing the temperature, then nodded in satisfaction. He turned on the television, picked up the black dragon—who was still fiddling with the model parts on its wings—and placed it gently into the basin. The sudden warmth made the dragon let out a soft cry.
"Oh~"
Aslan's fingers stroked its crystalline wings. The texture was cool, like black crystal. Smiling, he tapped its forehead.
"Is the water temperature right?"
The dragon submerged itself fully in the basin, humming with contentment as Aslan continued to massage its wings. In the chill of winter, watching television with music playing and soaking in warm water… there was no greater comfort. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. The people of the Far East swore by evening baths, and Aslan was inclined to agree.
"How's that? Not bad, hm?"
The little black dragon gave a sleepy nod before sinking back into the water. Aslan poured in more warm water from the kettle at his side, adjusting the temperature. It was a picture of peace and warmth, so incongruous with the desperate battle his Heroic Spirit was fighting elsewhere.
If the Servant Aslan could see this scene, one could only wonder what he would think.
At that very moment, the Servant Aslan was struggling desperately against Gilgamesh. When another wave of golden ripples rose before him, he poured a massive amount of mana into his fairy words, transforming the earth beneath Gilgamesh into a swamp. The suddenness of the spell caught even the King of Heroes off guard, forcing his summoned shields to sink.
Though the Gate of Babylon was wide open, the shields alone could not form a wall strong enough to halt Aslan's charge. The Servant stepped onto the falling shields and forced his way forward.
"Here I carve a path to victory—[Sword of Glorious Victory]!"
Light erupted as the blade swept down, its brilliance colliding with the crimson pressure unleashed from Gilgamesh's Sword of Rupture. Though Gilgamesh had no time to release its full might, even a swing at full force sent a devastating surge outward. Red met gold, clashing violently.
Unable to completely stop the holy sword, Gilgamesh stalled it just long enough to summon countless treasure-shields in front of him. Then, the Chains of Heaven lashed out, binding Aslan's body, while anti-dragon weapons followed in quick succession.
"I admit your teamwork was troublesome," Gilgamesh sneered, "but this is the end!"
With Aslan bound so close to him, Balin had no way to unleash his Noble Phantasm without hitting his ally.
Even so, Aslan twisted his grip, forcing the sword toward Gilgamesh and unleashing its light. It was wild, imprecise—but it was all he had left.
None of them noticed Artoria's movements at the battlefield's edge. The instant Aslan's body was pierced by the anti-dragon weapon, Gilgamesh swung Ea again to repel the holy sword's radiance.
From afar, Kiritsugu's voice broke through the chaos, carried on the Command Spell.
"In the name of my Command Seal—I order you, Artoria. Release your Noble Phantasm and destroy Archer!"
Silver armor flashed into being around Artoria as she raised her golden blade high. Radiance bloomed across the land, motes of light rising like dawn.
Gilgamesh's eyes widened. Even Balin froze, struck by the familiarity of the youth who had been standing by Irisviel's side. It made sense now—if Aslan's descendant was present, then surely Arthur's as well.
But two Saber-class Servants at once? That was unthinkable.
The Command Spell's power shortened the charge time. She didn't even need to speak the sword's true name. With no chance to evade, Gilgamesh was engulfed in the storm of golden light.
As both mighty Heroic Spirits dissolved into pure mana and returned to the Grail, the vessel swelled with accumulated energy. And in the distant church, Kotomine Kirei heard it once more—the whisper that had haunted him.
"You love me. So let me descend."
-End Chapter-
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