Type-Moon: My Destiny Guide

"That's because some stubborn guy has finally figured it out."

"Hmm, who's this stubborn guy?"

"Well, that's a secret~"

"Hey—Dad? Dad!"

Little Jack threw himself into Shuoyue's arms and acted spoiled, while the young man smiled and teased the child he had personally rescued with practiced skill and a touch of novelty.

Outside the door, Artoria, with a potato pancake in her mouth, hurried past, then turned back to the doorway, exclaiming in surprise:

"Shuoyueqing?! You...you're back?"

"As expected of my king, you noticed so quickly." Shuoyue put Little Jack on her shoulder, making her giggle, and explained, "Of course, I can't really say I've returned. It's just that someone finally opened the door for my power."

Artoria easily understood the implication of Shuoyue, and a bright smile bloomed on her face: "In any case, it's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Shuoyue."

"That's hard to say, Your Majesty," the young man replied with a slight wry smile.

Their tacit exchange naturally did not escape the notice of the other two people present, especially Atalanta, who had been watching from the sidelines the whole time. She inexplicably felt like a 1,000-watt third wheel:

"When did these two become so close?"

"It's strange. I've heard Miss Lingxia say that Shuoyue and Artoria usually don't interact. Even if they have work-related matters, they only have simple exchanges, unlike today."

In fact, Rokudo Reika was right. During the homunculus incident, Sakugetsu threatened Artoria with Command Seals to stop her. Since then, the two intelligent people have realized that they don't get along. So they have always maintained a suitable distance and rarely communicate except during the lull in the war. They are worried that they will quarrel and cause the rift to deepen further.

However, the current Sakumoku and Artoria are laughing and talking happily, showing no signs of discord.

"How about you ask?"

"Huh? What a joke, why don't you go up... alright." Seeing Shakespeare's matter-of-fact gaze, Atalanta pouted, wagged her tail unhappily a few times, and still stepped forward.

"Hey... what's going on here?"

So Shuoyue and Artoria stopped talking. After exchanging glances for a moment, Artoria picked up the potato pancake again and left happily. Shuoyue turned around and shrugged helplessly, saying, "It seems he's more suitable for you."

"What do you mean?"

The new moon smiled without speaking; deep within its soul, the platinum sun sank below the horizon, the deep blue sea churned, and the evening glow filled the sky.

He closed his eyes and opened them again, and that cold, indifferent aura returned to the young man. He looked at the puzzled Atalanta, a slight smile playing on his lips, and stepped forward to pinch her cheek.

"It hurts."

"Do you still have time to dwell on this?" Shuoyue softened her grip and sneered, "All our preparations are complete. Next, we'll return to the Black side and prepare for battle."

"Okay, I know..." With his beast ears drooping, Atalanta leaned lazily against Shuoyue, feeling his shoulders stiffen and then soften, and felt a little relieved.

This was the Shuoyue she knew. The smiling young man from before was too dazzling, so dazzling that Atalanta found him tiresome.

Ancient Greece, under the gaze of the gods, was never short of heroes who shone brightly, but it was precisely because of this that their tragic ends were so lamentable and talked about with great interest.

However, Atalanta did not want the new moon to end up like that.

So that's fine. If indifference can bring safety and rationality can evade danger, then Atalanta is not willing for Shuoyue to become a fool shouting for honor and justice. Even if all fame and honor are hidden in the shadows, who would care about these things for the two of them?

Let others fight over those empty titles; all you need to do is live safely and stay by my side.

Clutching an expectation she herself could hardly believe, Atalanta closed her eyes, savoring the last moments of tenderness with her lover.

Night was falling, the last darkness before dawn.

In the gardens of the fortress of Milenia, amidst fields bursting with azure flowers, Achilles grips his spear in the "serpent" stance. This grip involves quick thrusts and deflecting attacks by focusing on the center of the shaft. In this position, striking the opponent's chest is the swiftest possible attack.

However, such an attack would naturally be dodged by the opponent by twisting their body to the side—no, the assassin would probably disappear from his sight in an instant. According to the teacher's analysis, the magic that Shuoyue has mastered can probably achieve spatial transfer and instantaneous creation.

His ghostly movements alone were enough to give anyone a headache, not to mention that the young man also possessed two divine weapons. In other words, Achilles' immortality was completely useless against the new moon.

Achilles never underestimated the strength of the new moon. What limited him from becoming a top-tier Servant was nothing more than his physical attributes and his combat skills, which had not yet reached the realm of the gods. However, the Third Magic's endurance made up for the problem of physical attributes to some extent. As for combat skills, needless to say, even every day after he came to the mortal world, this young man was forging his own spear and his own sword, catching up step by step under the watchful eyes of the heroes.

"Damn it...it really does look like it."

Upon seeing the new moon, Achilles would involuntarily recall that man, the strategist of the Trojan War, the most outstanding adventurer in Greek mythology, and the protagonist with an indomitable will.

His name was Odysseus. After Achilles' death, he used the Trojan Horse to conquer Troy. After the war, in order to return to his lover, he crossed the ocean and encountered many hardships, including the Cyclops, the curse of the sea god, the temptations of the witch Circe and the sea nymph Calypso, the song of the Siren birds, the strait of the sea monster Scylla, and the wrath of Helios. Yet, he still faced them all with his head held high.

His martial skills were not outstanding in the hero-filled Greece, but his will, spirit and wisdom were admired even by Achilles, especially the fact that he defeated Troy, which Achilles failed to conquer—which gave him a subtle sense of resentment.

Now, the assassin who resembles Odysseus has finally become Achilles' opponent, but unfortunately, he has lost his Master and his power is less than one-tenth of what it used to be, thus losing the right to face off against the new moon.

Achilles did not feel resentful. The one who killed his Master was none other than Sakumoku. In other words, it was his fault for not protecting his Master, and it was Sakumoku's overwhelming victory in the battle of wits.

"But... there is still hope. If I discard all my burdens and wield my spear as a pure martial artist—even I, in my current state, can pierce your throat."

The sun was about to return, and Achilles ended his meditation battle. He opened his eyes, gazed down into the darkness, and then walked toward Sieg's room.

"Dong dong dong."

"Huh? Who is it? We're going to bed soon~"

“Black, it’s me, Red Achilles. I have important business with you.”

While Achilles was approaching Astolfo and Sieg, Karna was taking a bath and, inadvertently looking up, met the gaze of the dragon slayer in the Hanging Gardens. Mordred lay in her sleeping bag, her eyes sparkling as she recalled her father's brief companionship. Semiramis and Master Amakusa were resting and recuperating between the kings. Chiron was having a heart-to-heart talk with Master Fiore on the rooftop.

Red, red, red, black, red and black talking, and red about to return. Black and red have only seven members left.

Meanwhile, the Blue Faction, which had already surfaced, was writing furiously, as if chasing time to record legendary tales of heroes; Avisbro touched Adam's core and finally stood up as if making a firm decision; Siegfried looked down at the night sky; Little Jack and Master Rokudo Reika were sleeping in each other's arms; Artoria was wielding a gun and sword, while Sakumoku used magic and returned to the Black Faction's fortress with Atalanta and the others.

These are the six members of the Blue Team that Shuoyue has gradually built up from scratch.

The bells of destiny tolled, the golden Holy Grail was lit, and the radiant dawn swept over the hills, showering the world with the fair blessings of God.

Having finished her devout prayers, the golden-haired saintess stood up, her school uniform transforming into armor and a headband, the holy banner symbolizing victory fluttering in the wind. The judge buried the regret of ultimately missing the chance to speak with the one she cared about deep in her heart and took her first steps.

"I'm going."

"Your Majesty, I wish you a safe journey."

Then, dawn broke.

When they boarded the plane purchased by the Thousand World Tree and allowed the steel object to fly at hundreds of kilometers per hour, finally catching up with the Sky Garden beyond the clouds, Shuoyue, who had been resting with her eyes closed, opened them.

Around him sat Achilles, Karna, Chiron, and a host of other Servants, seemingly surrounding him. Only Jeanne d'Arc was not on the plane; she appeared to be used as a shield for the formation of aircraft.

However, Shuoyue made no comment on anything. At this point, he simply stretched his limbs and gazed at the final scene.

The battle has finally reached its final destination—

That was a breathtaking view 7,500 meters above the ground, a view that humans could never reach.

The boundless sky that fills the field of vision, and the horizon that cannot be seen, proclaims the end of the human world.

There is a perfect world devoid of any darkness. In this immaculate realm, untouched by civilization, an offering now embodying the concentrated desires of all humankind is presented.

That is a cup that holds desire.

It is the last battle for those whose hearts have been broken.

It is something that embodies the wishes of countless people, yet can only fulfill one wish.

Only one beautiful and correct answer will be generated.

Even if it was a wish filled with madness and despair.

"here we go……"

The youth's whisper drifted away, as if in response to his words. The empress in the royal chamber flicked her finger, and a jet-black beam of light erupted, crashing into the oncoming steel wings.

The first attack came not from anything else, but from a black panel over twenty meters long placed around the courtyard. It was a divine technique called "Ten and One Black Coffin," whose power could be comparable to that of the Breaking Army even in modern times.

And this is the first obstacle that Black must overcome!

Chapter 529 Caster's Death, the Second Stage of Primordial Adam!

Myth and reality.

Magic and steel.

Ten large jet airliners, like a flock of migratory birds, surged toward the magnificent and mysterious aerial wonder.

Steel wings and legendary courtyards stand facing each other, mythology and modernity intertwine at this moment. Above them is the vast sky, an eternity that has never changed from ancient times to the present, while below are expansive farmlands, silent fortresses, and fields covered with ancient roads.

The dark pillar of light, like a bridge, connected fantasy and reality, but it brought not communication and exchange, but destruction and ruin!

As the light cannon roared in, a tiny figure climbed to the top of the plane.

The holy flag in her hand fluttered violently in the biting, icy wind, and the girl standing atop the aircraft was undeniably imposing. Perhaps due to the interference of the Sky Garden, the speed began to decrease as the plane approached, now dropping to 300 kilometers per hour. Even so, this was still a speed at which an ordinary human would be easily blown away.

But Joan of Arc, as the adjudicator, stood firmly on the top of the plane. Despite some worries, she focused all her attention on what was in front of her. Whether now or in the past, her duty was to wave the flag—to concentrate all the attacks on herself.

Moreover, both she herself and the people gathered under her banner firmly believed that she would never fall.

That is the saint's covenant. As long as she holds this banner here, the girl will never lose to any hero, past or present, East or West.

As Joan of Arc opened her eyes, her amethyst pupils were illuminated by the light of destruction. The wind howled, and she raised the holy banner in her hand, the pure white irises shining brightly.

Without any further dialogue, the beam of light, which nearly engulfed everyone, struck the saintess's delicate body. But what happened next was an unbelievable sight—the attack, which was terrifying just to look at, was deflected at the moment of contact as if it had encountered a wall of iron, and was thrown into the high sky by the holy banner at the same speed.

Boom!

A passenger plane at the rear of the formation exploded. Joan of Arc's defenses were impenetrable, but there was only one Joan of Arc. In contrast, the Empress's "Ten and One Black Coffins" were scattered throughout the garden.

It wasn't a single, lethal beam of light, but rather countless deep purple light projectiles. Although their power was greatly reduced, a single hit on the hard yet fragile steel wings would surely break their wings and send them crashing to the ground.

Despite the puppet piloting the plane doing its best to dodge, one passenger plane was still destroyed. The loss of the plane itself and the impact of the crash are enough to make one's stomach ache just imagining them.

The church sent a protest.jpg

However, both sides in the battle had put everything else behind them, and they only had eyes for each other. Unlike the original story, this time, there was no valiant Achilles to lead the charge, nor did Atalanta launch an attack against Joan of Arc. Siegfried, Artoria, and the others who remained in the garden were obviously not going all out.

Despite the Empress's continuous casting of spells, the Black faction's advance was unusually rapid under Joan of Arc's protection. Furthermore, the Red faction did not organize any additional counterattacks. The Hanging Gardens was like a lazy behemoth, dozing off and allowing the tiny humans to invade its territory.

Then, the moment everyone stepped into the garden—he awoke from his slumber.

“Ho ho ho—!!!”

The giant's roar echoed through the sky. With the help of the magical soil of the courtyard, the primordial puppet was reshaped into a skeleton and filled with muscles. A high platform rose above the already vast garden. Without any unnecessary movements, its obsidian sword flashed several times, tearing the floating passenger planes into pieces with unparalleled destructive power.

The sound of explosions ripped at people's eardrums. One mushroom cloud after another exploded in the sky above the courtyard. The falling debris and fragments turned into a rain of fire, igniting the flowerbeds and plants in the courtyard. They landed on the surface of the primordial giant, bounced off, and continued to fall.

Facing the flames and the fierce winds, the giant treads on the earth and the flowing water, roaring as he proclaims his second coming to the heroes.

"what?"

"The Primordial Giant Adam...?!"