Kryptonians: Man of Steel

Chapter 1313 Are you willing?
Diarmuid finally rushed back to Kenneth and took his master away from the danger zone.

He was worried that after he disappeared, his Master would be killed by Emiya Kiritsugu.

Kenneth sat in the ruins, his face haggard and his eyes empty, as if the whole world had lost its color.

The death of his fiancée Sora was like a sharp knife that pierced his heart deeply and plunged his soul into endless darkness and despair.

He said nothing, but just stared silently into the distance, as if looking for some kind of relief or comfort.

And when Diarmuid finally stood in front of him, the heavy emotions contained in the silence almost froze the air.

Diarmuid quickly found a wheelchair, carefully lifted Kenneth up and placed him on it.

His movements were gentle and delicate, as if he was performing a sacred ritual to make up for his regret of not being able to continue to accompany his Master to victory.

"Master, I'm sorry, I can't continue to serve you and offer you victory."

His voice was low and full of apology, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from the depths of his heart, carrying unspeakable pain.

Kenneth's lips moved slightly, but in the end he couldn't utter a word.

His heart was like a surging sea, with rough waves that could only turn into silent sighs.

When he came to his senses and wanted to say something, Diarmuid's figure had dissipated like the morning mist, leaving only emptiness and loneliness.

"Lancer, no, Diarmuid, you are a qualified Servant."

Kenneth muttered to himself in the empty surroundings, his voice full of self-mockery and bitterness, "Even when you met a monarch like me, you remained loyal. It was my fault that led to your defeat."

His words revealed a rare honesty and self-reflection, a vulnerability and truthfulness that he had never shown in front of others.

However, he could only speak these sincere words to the air, because the person who was willing to listen had left him forever.

At this moment, Luther's figure appeared quietly like a shadow, interrupting Kenneth's thoughts.

Luther's appearance instantly tensed Kenneth's already fragile nerves, and a trace of fear and despair flashed in his eyes.

Now he had nothing - no powerful servants, no precious magic costumes. He was like a tiger with its claws stripped off. Facing a strong man like Luther, he had almost no room for resistance.

"Don't worry, I won't do anything to you."

Luther's voice was calm and indifferent, as if he was stating an insignificant fact, "After all, you have nothing now."

These words were like a sharp dagger that pierced Kenneth's heart fiercely, making his face turn as pale as paper in an instant, and the veins on his forehead bulged as if they were about to burst through his skin.

However, in the face of Luther's provocation and insults, he could only grit his teeth and endure it silently, because what Luther said was indeed an irrefutable fact.

"But are you willing?"

Luther's voice sounded again, and this time, his tone carried a hint of subtle tenderness and sympathy. This question was like a stone thrown into Kenneth's originally calm heart, causing ripples.

"What do you mean?"

Kenneth's voice trembled, he raised his head, his eyes full of confusion and desire.

"I stole the Hero King's treasure house, which contained endless wealth and knowledge."

Luther spoke slowly, each word seemed to come from a distant time and space, carrying an indescribable mystery and temptation, "I think it shouldn't be a problem to find something to cure you, right?"

Kenneth's eyes lit up instantly, as if he saw a ray of light in the darkness.

His magic circuit, the source that once made him proud and gave him endless power, is now broken into pieces, like a flower ravaged by a storm, unable to bloom with its former glory again.

And all of this was thanks to that magician killer Emiya Kiritsugu.

He never imagined that Emiya Kiritsugu would possess such a powerful magic outfit that could easily cut off and reconnect a person's magic circuits.

However, this rough method is undoubtedly a devastating blow to the delicate and complex structure of magic circuits.

Kiritsugu——It is slightly different to call it "destruction and regeneration". Because Kiritsugu's origin does not mean "repair".

For example, if a line is cut and then joined again, the thickness of the node will change. In other words, the act of "cutting and joining" will cause the object to undergo irreversible "deterioration".

When making his own ceremonial uniform, Emiya Kiritsugu made maximum use of his extremely unique "origin".

The first and second ribs on his flank were removed. The removed ribs were ground into powder, condensed using soul engineering, and sealed into sixty-six bullets as cores.

This bullet will materialize Kiritsugu's "origin" to the "hit" object. If it hits a living creature, there will be no wound or bleeding, but the part hit by the bullet will become like an old necrotic wound.

The surface appears to be healed, but the nerves and capillaries do not regenerate accurately and lose their original functions.

For ordinary people, this might just mean permanent disability of a certain part of the body, but for magicians - those who rely on magic circuits to communicate with the essence of the world, this bullet is undoubtedly a fatal curse.

It is not just a bullet, but also a conceptual weapon that can penetrate magic defenses and strike the essence of magic circuits.

Once the magician attempts to use magic to change its trajectory or resist, the bullet will quickly lock onto and cut off the magician's magic circuits like a greedy predator, and then forcibly reconnect these delicate circuits in an almost brutal manner.

This unnatural repair would cause the entire body's magic circuits to short-circuit and malfunction, just like pouring cold water into a boiling oil pan, instantly causing catastrophic consequences.

According to precise calculations, the mortality rate is as high as a staggering 97.36%. Even the lucky 2.64% of survivors will have their magic circuits completely destroyed, becoming useless people unable to perform even the most basic magic. They will not even be able to retain the magic imprints passed down from their ancestors, thus completely erasing their existence as magicians, and burying them along with their knowledge and wisdom.

Kenneth El-Melloi Archibald, the magician once known as the Clock Tower Prodigy, is now in the depths of despair.

He looked at his fingers that once deftly controlled magic, but now became as weak as rotten wood due to the touch of the origin bullet.

(End of this chapter)