Deep in the heart of the cave, Ritsuka finally came face-to-face with the demon lord known as "Pavoni."
It had a blank, featureless face, crowned with a golden diadem wedged between two jagged horns that sprouted from its body, dripping with fresh blood.
Crawling on all fours, it was draped in a vibrant emerald feathered cloak, its wings trailing like a peacock's gaudy tail—lavish, yet tacky.
A dark, malevolent aura swirled around it, gnawing at the group's bodies. It stirred their minds, urging them to scream, to destroy—
But before they could give in to that chaos, Sphinx unleashed her Noble Phantasm.
"Four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening. What creature is this? Come on, answer!"
Her voice rang out, bold and commanding: "Fail, and you'll be my prey—The Riddle of the Sphinx!"
Since their foe was a mindless beast incapable of answering, the riddle itself didn't matter. Sphinx chose her infamous question to maximize the power of her Noble Phantasm. Her words wove invisible chains, binding Pavoni in place.
Sphinx stepped forward alone, summoning a pair of dual swords—lion's fangs for blades, feathers for guards. Protected by her pact with Hera, even a juvenile beast like Pavoni couldn't deal lethal damage to her without solving the riddle. So, she advanced, swinging her blades with confidence.
A jagged crack split open on Pavoni's blank face, revealing rows of serrated, saw-like teeth. It snarled, unleashing a bone-chilling roar at Sphinx.
Her longsword slashed down. Pavoni, with its ability to glimpse the future, tried to dodge, but the chains of Sphinx's Noble Phantasm held it back, preventing a clean escape. The lion's fangs tore through its emerald feathers, and black miasma poured from the wound.
Kriemhild, the Berserker, wasn't one to stand idly by. Brandishing her divine wrathful sword, she ignited it with venomous black flames and swung it down at Pavoni's head.
"Watch out!" Sphinx shouted. Her Noble Phantasm's protection only applied to herself—against others, Pavoni could retaliate freely!
But Kriemhild was already lost. As a Berserker, her resistance to magic and curses was weak, and she'd been the first to succumb to the miasma's corruption. The unyielding fire in her heart refused to bow to fate, but under the miasma's influence, she could no longer hear anyone else.
Ignoring advice, acting on her own—that was pride.
Pavoni lunged like a feral beast, its razor-sharp teeth clamping down on Kriemhild's blade, snuffing out her toxic flames. Its claws ripped through her dark dress, leaving deep, miasma-oozing gashes on her shoulder and waist.
Meanwhile, Ritsuka had borrowed Perseus's invisibility helmet and was silently lurking in the cave's shadows. Perseus himself reached into the leather pouch that served as his Noble Phantasm, seemingly about to pull something out.
"Not yet!" Sphinx called, shoving Kriemhild aside to block Pavoni's pursuit while stopping Perseus from using that Noble Phantasm. "Don't forget—it can't see anything right now!"
Reluctantly, Perseus stowed the item and took to the air with his winged sandals, hurling his scythe from a distance.
As an Assassin-class Servant, Perseus had once silently slain the sleeping gorgon Medusa with the aid of multiple Noble Phantasms—a feat considered one of mythology's greatest assassinations. As a Heroic Spirit, he possessed the Assassin skill Presence Concealment to erase his existence, along with treasures like winged sandals, an invisibility helmet, and a scythe that could kill the immortal. He was, without question, one of the world's deadliest assassins.
Yet, while these tools suited Perseus as an Assassin, none could be fully unleashed with a True Name release. His true trump card was an unassuming bronze mirror-shield.
This Noble Phantasm could only be used once per Holy Grail War, a vow sealed when he returned the shield. Its activation had to be perfect.
For now, Perseus had to bide his time.
Kriemhild, reeling from her wounds, regained a sliver of clarity. She recalled the battle plan and fell back behind Sphinx, attacking only with her toxic flames. But those flames, unstoppable against Servants and demons, capable of reducing foes to ash, flickered out the moment they left her body.
Confusion hit her first, then realization—and with it, a surge of blazing rage. The force suppressing her flames was undoubtedly Pavoni's grand barrier, Anti-Prophecy. Her flames, born to defy fate, were deemed by this ability to be a product of fate.
In that moment, she understood. She saw the truth behind the vengeful fire that had ignited when she claimed the Nibelung Ring.
It was a flame destined to burn Asgard to the ground, to plunge the world into twilight.
Her revenge, in the end, was just another cog in fate's machine.
What was this? A cruel joke?
Ritsuka noticed Kriemhild's distress and tried to reach her through their magical bond. But the miasma's deafening effect wasn't physical—it struck the soul. Kriemhild, consumed by pride, couldn't hear anyone.
All Ritsuka could do was watch as Kriemhild, in her breakdown, tore off the Nibelung Ring and swallowed it.
Legend tells of the mist-demon Alberich, who stole the Rhinegold from its nymph guardians. With that cursed metal, he forged the Nibelung Ring—a relic granting the power to bend hearts and rule the world.
When the gods learned of it, they tricked Alberich and took the ring. In his fury, he cursed it, dooming all who bore it to tragedy. Two giants claimed the ring as payment from the gods. One died by betrayal, and the other, gripped by fear of the curse, transformed into a dragon.
That giant's name was Fafnir.
Such was the ring's true curse. As the opera's finale foretold, the struggle over the ring ended in the Twilight of the Gods. Those who held it were fated to become a wicked dragon, heralding the end of days.
But if the world was truly destined to fall by her hand, Kriemhild thought, that wouldn't be such a bad thing.
Her eyes turned to slits, golden light glowing in their depths. In her final moments of humanity, Kriemhild could only hope:
Let a future unbound by chains be born at the end of fate.
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