The rain in Fuyuki doesn’t just fall; it drowns the memories of the living.
Defeat Him. Not because he is evil. Not because he is a tyrant. But because he is the obstacle between her and a tomorrow she deserves.
He stared at his hands. They were shaking, not from fear, but from the sheer weight of the projection . His circuit burned like molten lead. Why did he do it? Why reach for a sword when every fiber of his being screamed for him to run?
Then, the air shifted. The gold-clad King of Heroes descended, a walking god of arrogance. Behind Shirou, she stood—Saber, her breathing ragged, her armor cracked. She was a king, a legend, a myth. But in this moment, to him, she was just a girl who had carried the weight of a country until her shoulders broke.