Type-Moon: My Destiny Guide

However, he responded with silence, while Shuoyue would ramble on and on, using ambiguous jokes to confuse people.

He didn't want lies, but even though the two were standing so close, their hearts couldn't touch.

Kiritsugu's hesitation did not escape Sakugetsu's notice. He smiled slightly and raised his hand.

A magical light curtain unfolded, reflecting the battlefield.

Since both sides are wary, it's difficult for them to speak.

Let's find that opportunity to communicate, for example, the simplest and most straightforward way is to talk about a topic based on a picture—

What did you see in the battle between these two heroic spirits?

The red spear swept like an angry dragon, while the yellow spear lay dormant like a venomous snake.

Two different styles were on full display in his hands, and he was exhausted from being attacked by the two schools. Even though he was wielding the holy sword that symbolized victory, he was forced to sway precariously by the two spearheads.

Can't win.

A powerful intuition has led to this conclusion.

If the arm injury is not treated.

If they don't return to their peak form.

She will inevitably be defeated by him.

But to break the curse, one must defeat the enemy; but to defeat the enemy, one must break the curse... It's an unsolvable dilemma.

No, there is still a way.

If the goal isn't to defeat a Servant, but simply to destroy an object...

Intuition provided the answer. In a split second, Artoria's azure eyes shone brightly, and her battle dress disintegrated before the spear even touched her. Her 'Magic Release' erupted, and the petite (1.5 meters) swordswoman slashed straight into the spearman's (1.8 meters) body. She gripped the hilt of the sword in reverse, holding it like a dagger, and slashed at his right arm.

Realizing he couldn't defeat me, he decided to fight to the death... Diarmuid remained calm despite his surprise. He gripped the Red Rose of Spellbreaker tightly with his right arm, dodging the holy sword's upward slash at an awkward angle. At the same time, his right arm closed from the outside in, as if embracing, and he extended the bright yellow spear tip towards the target.

The closer the close-quarters combat, the more it puts pressure on the warriors' nerves and tests their instinctive responses. Even Diarmuid subconsciously made the best defensive and counter-attack moves, completely unaware of the victorious smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

Silver armor instantly covered his upper body. Although the incurable yellow rose could leave wounds, it could not break through the armor woven with magic. Even the sharp spear could not help but be delayed for a moment before it broke through the armor's defense and cut open his fair skin.

Blood gushed down, and the pain of the curse made her eyebrows tremble slightly, but her hands moved without hesitation. She maintained the posture of holding the holy sword in reverse, the blade colliding with the returning red rose, while the hilt slammed into her left wrist.

"Ugh!" The impact from the outside world pressed on his nerves, causing his palm to go numb uncontrollably. The gun blade slipped from his hand but was caught. Then, the girl knight's call rang out.

"Wind King's Hammer!!"

A raging storm swept everything away, and after breaking through the magical wind field with the Demon-Slaying Spear, they successfully created distance.

Despite the cursed scars on her shoulders and arms, she holds in her left hand the source of the curse—the Noble Phantasm, the 'Yellow Rose of Destruction'.

"A brilliant attack." After a moment of silence, he gave a smile that was a mixture of admiration and bitterness.

These are not moves that can be used in a normal competition. For a warrior, any injury will affect the movement and speed of his moves, which can be fatal in a battle of skills.

But it is precisely because they descend as Servants that they are able to take risky actions and adopt such adventurous tactics.

Once the 'Destroyable Yellow Rose' is broken, all injuries sustained so far will be completely healed, and unless it is a fatal wound like one that pierces the soul core, the Servant will be virtually immortal.

This also means that Diarmuid, having lost a weapon, is about to face the top of the three class Riders at his peak – the Knight King.

"Thank you for the compliment." Even the serious Artoria couldn't help but smile slightly after the successful execution of a tactic that she herself found dangerous.

The 'Destroyable Yellow Rose' was thrown high into the air, and a golden slash swept across, cutting the demonic spear back into its spiritual state. At the same time, the injuries on his body, including the cut on his left finger, healed completely at an extremely fast speed.

With nimble fingers, the Knight King took a deep breath and gripped the hilt of the holy sword again.

Her invincible aura was unleashed, representing the intensity of her fighting spirit at this moment.

"I accept this victory!"

Chapter 101 The End of Honor and the Light of Legend

A spirited swordsman, a dashing and tall spearman.

A girl as beautiful as moonlight, a man as handsome as an eagle.

Roaring swords, whistling guns.

What a stirring symphony erupted from the clash of weapons! Even the heart pounded, leaping with every movement and every collision.

The noble knights, having traversed a long period of time, once again stand on the land of the present world. They sing praises to the glory that has long since faded away, and show the world the honor they have upheld.

But such an exciting scene, in the eyes of a certain man, is as impurity and filth as something he deeply abhors.

Ugly, despicable, and contemptible.

It's like seeing two stray dogs fighting on the side of the road, or a comical clown show in a circus.

"Not aiming to kill, thus deceiving Diarmuid and destroying one of his Noble Phantasms. As expected of Kiritsugu's Servant, the advantage and disadvantage have now been completely reversed." Sakuzuki, standing to the side, smiled and clapped her hands in genuine admiration.

Faced with praise that didn't concern him, Kiritsugu Emiya frowned as if insulted, and spoke in a dark and cold tone:

"She is not my servant, and I have nothing to say to her."

"Oh, why? This is the most powerful class in the Holy Grail War."

"I only want to keep my distance from butchers who would do anything for so-called glory and honor." Kiritsugu Emiya raised his eyes, looking at Sakuzuki, who had been trying to get him to speak. "Isn't that what you think too?"

"How could that be? Such a beautiful scene, I can only admire and cherish it, how could I hate it?" The young man's expression remained smiling, as if he were wearing a mask that obscured his true nature.

Kiritsugu Emiya couldn't discern Sakugetsu's true intentions, but he still sneered, "But you led me here. If you enjoy fairy tales like this, why did you use my gun?"

"Do you have any complaints about chivalry?" Shuoyue raised her hand and pointed to the two figures in the picture. "It was those figures who guided the chaotic world. In the dark Middle Ages, they were a rare light."

"But they haven't changed anything!" Unable to suppress his frustration any longer, the black-haired, black-clad man whispered, "So-called knights are utterly incapable of saving the world!"

"Those people preach that there are good and evil methods of war, and they always act as if there are really some noble things on the battlefield. Do you know how many young people have been tempted by things like bravery and fame by the fantasies played out by heroes throughout the ages, and ended up shedding blood and sacrificing their lives?"

Having traveled this far, the assassin, his hands stained with blood, made this assertion. No one was more qualified to say such a thing than him, and even the knights of the past could not shake his unwavering will.

To Kiritsugu Emiya, talking about chivalry during the Holy Grail War was tantamount to suicide.

Yes, those who save the world are never the ones who follow the rules. Knights who dance within the rules are nothing more than clowns to be manipulated. It is necessary, absolutely necessary, to pursue power beyond the rules in order to completely end the bloodshed and sacrifice in this world...

“Even if it’s just a fleeting illusion, we still need to lay the groundwork for it—perhaps it really is just an illusion, but humans cannot survive without illusions. People always need desires and aspirations to keep moving forward, Kiritsugu.” Sakuzuki’s expression remained calm, unmoved by Kiritsugu’s theory. “Or do you want everyone in the world to become like you?”

"The same ruthlessness, the same cold-bloodedness, self-proclaimed clarity and rationality, scorning laughable rules and laws..." The story gradually reveals Kiritsugu Emiya's inner self, only to abruptly stop at the last step. What emerges from Sakuzuki's mouth is a future utterly chaotic:

"There is no need for hell. If everyone imitates you, then the world itself is hell."

"This has nothing to do with me, and I don't expect the world to be like me." Kiritsugu Emiya was naturally not fooled. "On the battlefield, one should be decisive in killing. Let the ridiculous plot of mutual respect and friendship be played out when we're playing house."

Staring at the scene where the battle situation had become clear, the man, who seemed to have transformed into darkness, put his hands in his pockets and spoke calmly:

"Killing is a last resort, a vicious method. In that case, the best way is to end it all in the shortest time with the highest efficiency and the lowest cost. If you think my methods are despicable and accuse me of being ruthless, then go ahead and curse me. Justice cannot save this world, and I have no interest in justice whatsoever."

He acknowledged the justice of chivalry, but also scoffed at this so-called light.

In the magician's footage, the battle is already coming to an end.

The golden holy sword was placed against Diarmuid's neck even before the crimson magic spear, declaring victory for his opponent.

In the final battle, both were intimately familiar with each other's abilities. Their inherent skills, 'Intuition' and 'Knight's Strategy', as well as 'Mind's Eye - Truth,' were equally matched. Not to mention, they were both peak martial artists whose skills touched the divine realm, and their physical attributes were not significantly different.

Logically speaking, it wouldn't be surprising if either side won in such a duel, but there are still differences between the two sides.

There is a world of difference between "wielding a sword for the future" and "raising a gun to die," and it is obvious which side Morgana (the Celtic goddess of victory) will favor.

"I lost." As if his wish had been fulfilled, Diarmuid's face showed a sincere smile. He knelt on the ground, lowered his head, and offered his neck for execution as if accepting a knighthood.

"It is truly an honor for me, Dirumdo Aibina, to meet you."

"Me too," the hand holding the sword trembled slightly, not from exhaustion, but from the indescribable sorrow that welled up in his heart at the thought of personally sending off this great hero who was both friend and foe.

Thus, the sword of Excalibur departed from the spearman's vulnerable throat.

"Knight King, what is this...?" Diarmuid looked up in surprise.

In the very end, please allow me to be willful for once. I pursed my lips and suddenly revealed a proud yet sorrowful smile.

"At least, it allows me to say goodbye to you in the most solemn way."

A solemn manner.

For Artoria, a queen who has lost her kingdom and is now merely a Servant, all she can show Diarmuid is the ultimate glory, the golden radiance—

That was the ideal of knights.

We should be proud to uphold this will and take pride in carrying out this belief.

At this very moment, the ever-victorious king loudly proclaimed the true name of the miracle in his hand.

!!

To be honest, using a powerful move to eliminate someone just feels a bit off...

Chapter 102 Lancer Diarmuid, Exit

Chapter 102 Diarmuid, Exit

Light continues to gather.

One after another, the soft, prayer-like rays of light converged, as if illuminating this peerless holy sword and making it their supreme duty to adorn it with the most dazzling brilliance.

The intense yet serene light left everyone speechless.

This radiant holy sword is the crystallization of the sorrowful and sublime dream held in the hearts of all warriors who perished on the battlefield in their final moments, transcending the past, present, and future—a wish called "Glory."

Excalibur!

The light is flowing.

The light roars.

The red dragon's essence was unleashed, causing magic to accelerate and transform into flashes of light, which illuminated the deep night.

Facing the dazzling aurora head-on, without uttering a word, I stared intently at that pure white, radiant moment of destruction.

Ahhh...

Yes—this is exactly the light he had hoped for.

He was also a knight, galloping across the battlefield in pursuit of that brilliance.