Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

He let out a low growl, and the ground beneath his feet sank once more. The energies of light and darkness clashed fiercely, producing a piercing tearing sound.

The stalemate lasted only a few seconds. A fierce glint flashed in Oberon's eyes, and a whirlwind suddenly rose around him. The purplish-black whirlwind, like countless sharp blades, suddenly contracted inward and exploded!

"Smash it!"

With a deafening roar, the massive phantom of the cross-shaped staff of light was forcibly torn apart from the inside by this condensed dark power, shattering into countless scattered fragments of light!

Almost at the same moment the light staff shattered, Oberon's counterattack arrived. Three more solid and faster purplish-black soul spears, tearing through the air with deathly shrieks, instantly pierced Vivian's right wrist and both knees!

"Ugh—!" Vivian didn't even have time to react before the excruciating pain robbed her of all mobility. She was pinned to the cold, slippery ground by the three soul spears, unable to move.

Oberon staggered forward, bent down, and picked up a fragment of the holy staff that had fallen to the ground and was still shimmering faintly. He looked down at Vivian, who was pinned to the ground, her face pale with pain and blood loss.

“You brat,” he said, lightly slicing the sharp edge of the shard across Vivian’s slender neck, leaving a thin line of blood, “you don’t really think you’re a match for me, do you? Hmph, your previous attacks surprised me, but don’t forget,” he whispered in her ear, his voice cold and malicious, “as the Fairy King, I am far stronger than a mere immature girl like you!”

Vivian bit her lower lip hard, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Unable to speak, she could only stare intently at Oberon with eyes burning with an indomitable flame, her gaze unwavering, showing no sign of submission.

"Cough..." Oberon himself had aggravated his internal injuries from forcibly shattering the illusion of the Holy Staff and continuously casting high-intensity magic, coughing up a mouthful of blood. "This is the first time I've been injured so badly... You brat, the farce is over!"

After saying that, he suddenly grabbed Vivian by the collar, forcibly pulled her off the Soul Spear, and then, as if discarding a tattered doll, used all his strength to slam her hard against the dense cluster of tombstones next to him!

"BOOM—!!"

A series of tombstones were smashed to pieces, sending rocks flying everywhere. Vivian's body tumbled several times under the immense impact before finally collapsing limply into the broken stones and mud, completely unconscious.

The rain grew heavier and heavier, its pattering sound like a lament, almost drowning out all other sounds in the world.

Covered in blood and with his butterfly wings tattered, Oberon limped along, leaning against a tombstone that hadn't yet collapsed, breathing heavily. The energy fragments that erupted when he shattered the phantom of the Holy Staff had inflicted numerous wounds of varying depths on him, each breath aggravating his internal injuries. But none of that mattered most.

Most importantly, as he looked at Vivian lying in the ruins, her life hanging in the balance, a satisfied yet twisted smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

He has achieved his goal.

tick tock... tick tock...

The icy rain mixed with warm blood, pooling into a sticky puddle beneath Vivian. She tried to prop herself up, but the excruciating pain coursing through her limbs caused her to collapse back into the mud. In this torrential downpour, she could no longer distinguish whether the sound echoing in her ears was the dripping of her own blood or the mournful lament of the rain pounding against the earth.

Blood continued to gush from the wound on her right arm, ripped open by the Soul Spear, and the excruciating pain from her shattered knees made every movement feel like torture. The wound on her neck, torn open by fragments of the Holy Staff, stung with pain as the rain washed over it. But these physical pains paled in comparison to even a fraction of the desolation in her heart.

Her gaze pierced through the rain, fixed on the figure lying in a pool of blood not far away. Yuther. His body was already cold, and his eyes, which once shone with wisdom, now stared blankly at the gray sky.

'Yuse...'

Vivian's voice was hoarse beyond recognition. She gritted her teeth, using her still-functioning left hand to claw her way along the slippery ground, dragging her battered body inch by inch toward him. The blood, diluted by the rain, left a winding trail behind her, tracing a path of despair in the mud.

Images flashed uncontrollably through my mind—

On that sunny afternoon, Uther bowed to her before the magnificent gates of the royal clan's city, his gilded armor gleaming in the sunlight: 'You must be Lady Vivian? We are very pleased to welcome you!'

At the clan assembly, he stood before her, and facing the questioning of the clan leaders, he spoke eloquently: 'We are the true sinners! While you were out there helping us fight against calamities, we sat idly by and enjoyed the spoils. We must acknowledge our sins!'

And then there was that quiet night when he, unusually, let his guard down and said to her with a wry smile, "Actually, compared to Mab, I might not be suited to be a leader of a country. You see, I might not have that kind of talent—"

And how did she respond? Holding the warm mead, she smiled like a child who had finally found her home: 'Yes, no matter what happens in the future, I will always remember you, my benefactor. You finally allowed me to escape from these agonizing days of pursuit. Yuther, thank you—'

Not protected... not protected at all...

The thought echoed wildly in her mind like a curse. Why? Why did she always mess things up? She hadn't protected Her Majesty Liliana at first; now, she hadn't even been able to protect Uther. Why had she, so weak and incompetent, ever sworn an oath to protect Britain? Was it merely for a moment of passion and vanity?

The excessive magic power she had consumed had a backlash within her. She could clearly feel her once brilliant golden hair fading at a visible speed, turning silvery-white—a symbol of depleted power. She raised her blood-stained face, gazing at Yuther's cold body, and the wasteland in her heart was finally swallowed up by utter despair.

Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and her consciousness gradually faded. Before she completely succumbed to darkness, her last finger, which had been extended towards Uther, fell limply into the muddy water.

-

When Vivian opened her eyes again, she was greeted by the clean ceiling of the hospital. Her body was wrapped in bandages, rendering her immobile, and the strong smell of medicine filled her nostrils. She turned her head slightly and saw Totolute and Mashu by her bedside, both with red, swollen eyes from crying.

"Vivian! You're finally awake!" Totrol rushed over and hugged her tightly, his voice choked with sobs, barely able to form a coherent sentence: "Why...why were you so foolish...if Mashu hadn't insisted on going to find you...what would I have done if you had died...waaaaah..."

Vivian opened her mouth, blood seeping from her chapped lips: 'I'm sorry... I... I couldn't protect Uther...' Her voice was as soft as a breeze, 'I messed everything up again...'

At this moment, all her feigned strength crumbled. Hot tears finally broke free, falling in a steady stream onto the pristine white sheets, leaving dark stains. She knew what Yuse's death meant—the last two pillars of the Fairy Kingdom had collapsed, and the world was about to descend into utter chaos.

Looking at the heavily wounded Black Knight beside her, and then at the still healthy Mash and Totorut, a thought grew wildly in her mind: she had to keep them alive! No matter what, she had to keep them alive!

Ignoring the excruciating pain coursing through her body, she abruptly ripped out the IV drip from her arm, struggled to sit up, and grabbed a coat from the side, draping it over her shoulders. Unexpectedly, Totolut didn't stop her; he simply gazed at her intently with his tear-reddened eyes, as if he had already anticipated her decision.

'Mash…' Vivian turned to the silent girl, her voice weak yet unusually firm, 'That's enough… You have to go there… I can't let you die here too… The Fairy Kingdom is completely out of control… If this continues…'

"Huh?" Mashu opened her eyes wide in confusion. "Vivian, what are you talking about? Your injury isn't—"

“It’s alright.” Vivian interrupted her, a faint magical light gathering at her fingertips. “With the Water Mirror… my injuries are nothing…” She struggled to her feet, staggering slightly. “Come with me…”

Despite her confusion, looking at Vivian's striking silver hair, Mashu seemed to understand something. She silently wiped away her tears, helped Vivian up, and stepped into the magic circle that had suddenly appeared in the center of the ward.

After the teleportation light faded, they found themselves in an ancient temple. The air was bitterly cold, and a complex magical device stood in the center, with scattered ice blocks all around—this was the very place where Vivian had once unfrozen herself.

'Stand in the center of the device, Mash.' Vivian's voice was eerily calm.

After Mashu stood still as instructed, Vivian took a deep breath and began to recount the cruel truth:

'I'm actually Morgan...' She looked at Mash's suddenly contracting pupils, and continued with a wry smile, 'Thank you for your help these past few days... I'm sorry I can't be with you anymore... but this is the safest way...'

The magic device began to hum, and a bone-chilling cold air surged in from all directions.

'Let's meet again in the future...'

Just before the ice crystals completely sealed Mashu, Vivian—or rather, Morgan—saw not fear in the girl's eyes, but deep understanding and sorrow. As the last ray of light was blocked by the ice, Morgan finally collapsed to her knees, her long, silvery hair cascading onto the cold ground.

Outside the temple, the night of the fairy kingdom was enveloping the land, and a new storm was just beginning to brew.

Explosive Situation - Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

It seems we need to adjust our strategy... These girls are adapting much faster than expected. We can no longer maintain the status quo; the 'greatest calamity of the world' must befall Britain! Chaldea, three children of prophecy, my will will never waver until the day I witness your utter defeat—

Oxford, the Fairy Kingdom

The morning mist had not yet dissipated when the pilgrimage carriages rolled along the dew-soaked ancient road. Ritsuka moved her wrists, which were gradually regaining their flexibility; the backlash from the magic capsules was miraculously subsiding. After the pilgrimages of the Wind and Earth clans, the bells of the King, Mirror, Wing, Rain, and Fang clans awaited ringing ahead. Although the Mirror and Rain clans had long since vanished into the annals of history, their pilgrimage bells were still kept by a mysterious force—this delicate balance allowed the pilgrimage to continue.

As you traverse the hills east of Gloucester, the outline of Oxford gradually comes into focus in the morning light. Unlike the bustling industrial city of Gloucester, its cobblestone streets flow with a medieval rhythm. The inhabitants move according to some unseen order, a sight hard to imagine coming from the hand of that petite ruler—

Morrigan, the sixth patriarch of the Winged Clan. Her porcelain-doll-like appearance is identical to the homunculus in *Fate/EXTRA CCC*, but her inner self is entirely different. Immersed in aristocratic politics since childhood, the body of a seven-year-old child harbors the cunning of a thousand-year-old fox demon. At this moment, she sits in her lush green office, the vine patterns on the wallpaper intertwining with the real ivy outside the window to form a natural surveillance network.

'What unexpected visitors!' Koyanskaya looked up from the ancient book, her dark green jacket blending perfectly with the interior decor. 'These uninvited guests don't seem to be on Miss Morrigan's tea party guest list, do they?'

'Kouyanskaya!' Ritsuka and Da Vinci simultaneously gripped their weapons.

"Silence!" Morrigan slammed her scepter against the emerald table, making the teacups clink. "Human, don't forget whose territory this is." She turned to Artoria, her twin tails swaying. "Castel, conquering two clans in three days? Should I call you a genius or a jinx?"

Artoria restrained Ritsuka, who was about to argue, and stepped forward, performing a standard pilgrim's salute: 'This is the mission to maintain the survival of Britain...'

“I refuse.” Morrigan cut a honey-drizzled scones with a silver spoon. “Why should the dignity of the Winged Clan be used to pay for your ideals?”

'Are we just going to stand by and watch disaster devour everything?' Artoria's voice trembled. 'Your Majesty's barrier is weakening. Can't you see the tragedy at Norwich?'

"What does this have to do with me?" Morlian licked the jam from her fingertips, her pupils shrinking to slits in the shadows. "Rather than the vague and uncertain destruction a thousand years from now, let's talk about the price you paid for trespassing."

Koyanskaya's soft laughter slithered across the carpet like a venomous snake, and the words 'Albian Dragon Bone Animation Technique' were faintly visible between the closed pages of her book. Suddenly, several dark figures swept past the window; the orderly citizens had somehow surrounded the entire mansion.

Artoria's knuckles clenched white on her staff, anger burning in her chest, but she forced herself to maintain a facade of calm. Any overreaction could alert Nocnarria's spies and ruin all her carefully laid plans.

Marian lightly leaped down from the high-backed chair, her bare feet stepping across the gold-threaded carpet, and arrived at the whiteboard covered with photographs. She examined the neatly arranged images with satisfaction, then turned to face the crowd, a sly smile playing on her lips that seemed utterly incongruous with her youthful appearance.

'The pilgrimage... isn't entirely out of the question.' She tapped the whiteboard lightly with her fingertips. 'If you complete this small request for me, I might reconsider.'

All eyes were fixed on the whiteboard. It clearly displayed photographs of several female butterfly fairies from the Wind Clan. They were dressed in opulent attire, their wings adorned with jewels, clearly core members of a powerful conglomerate. Beside them was an image of a magnificent building—the sign for the 'Caligula Casino' shimmering under neon lights. This casino, like a malignant tumor, had taken root in the Winged Clan's territory, its immense capital squeezing out local businesses. And under the Wind Clan's laissez-faire policy, this commercial encroachment went virtually unchecked.

Qianzicun narrowed his eyes; his blacksmithing instincts kicked in, and he smelled blood: 'What do you want us to do? Secretly eliminate these shareholders, or simply take down that casino?'

'Talking to smart people is so effortless~' Morrigan swayed her twin tails happily. 'If we just make these people in the photo disappear forever, the Caligula Casino will naturally crumble. But—' she suddenly pointed precisely at Ritsuka, 'I have a special condition.'

The air in the room seemed to freeze instantly, and even breathing became clearly audible.

'Me?' Ritsuka looked up in surprise.

“Of course it’s you.” Morrigan tilted her head, as if examining an interesting toy. “Doesn’t a human who survived Kelby’s assassination attempt deserve special attention? I’d love to see your limits firsthand.” Her voice was sweet as honey, yet chillingly cold. “Remember, you must do it alone. If I find out you’ve accepted any help… forget about the pilgrimage forever. Alright, see her out!”

Before anyone could react, the guards had already roughly pushed them out the door.

In his hotel room in the heart of Oxford, the oppressive atmosphere was almost suffocating. Leonardo da Vinci paced restlessly, his mechanical wings trembling incessantly: 'This is nothing short of a scheme to kill someone else! They want us to eliminate her business rivals, and they call it a test?'

Senjimura leaned against the wall, arms crossed, brow furrowed. Kalia silently wiped his sword. Everyone understood the danger of this mission—the wealthy shareholders were undoubtedly heavily guarded, and the Caligula Casino was a den of wolves. But refusing this request would be tantamount to making an enemy of the entire Winged Clan, and the pilgrimage route would be cut off.

Ritsuka quietly walked to the window and took out the capsules containing the power of Heroic Spirits from her bosom. Her fingertips brushed over the Valkyrie capsule that had nearly taken her life, finally settling on two others—the crimson bond between Artoria Pendragon and Mordred, and the dark flames of Nobunaga and Jeanne d'Arc Alter. These powers, which had once fought alongside her, now resonated warmly in her palm.

"Da Vinci, my dear," she suddenly turned, her eyes burning with determination, "I will accept this task."

"Are you insane?!" Leonardo da Vinci abruptly stopped. "This is assassination! It will stain your hands with blood that can never be washed away!"

Ritsuka gripped Leonardo da Vinci's shoulders tightly, so tightly that the genius inventor froze on the spot. "We've long since run out of options!" Her voice trembled with emotion. "From the very first Lost City to today, how many worlds have we destroyed? Have you forgotten Ivan the Terrible's words? We are the destroyers who bring about the end!"

Da Vinci stared in shock at the unfamiliar Master before her. The eyes of that always optimistic and positive girl were now filled with a darkness she had never seen before.

"After teetering on the brink of death, I finally understand..." Ritsuka's nails dug deeply into her palms. "The so-called great cause of saving humanity is essentially a process of trampling on the happiness of others. Just like that man said—" Her voice suddenly took on the coldness characteristic of Kiritsugu Emiya, "Heroes of justice are nothing more than hypocrites who satisfy their own fantasies by destroying the daily lives of others."

Ritsuka's pupils seemed to flow with molten lava: 'It's time to face the bloody reality! How many Lostbelts have we destroyed with our own hands? Da Vinci, is only Pan-Human History worthy of existence? Every world we've destroyed possesses the same burning desire to survive!' She gripped the two capsules branded with crimson patterns tightly. 'This assassination mission—I must go! Bootup! Crimson Lotus!'

The moment the capsule opened, Jeanne d'Arc Alter's vengeful flames and Nobunaga's domineering inferno intertwined into a two-colored vortex. The phantoms of the two avengers solidified beside Ritsuka, then merged into her body as if swallowed by a black hole. In the blazing white light, the girl's form was reshaped by the armor—Jeanne d'Arc Alter's cursed headband was bound to her forehead, her tight-fitting battle suit and jet-black armor were perfectly fused under Nobunaga's power, the double Command Seals appeared on her chained arms, and her scarlet cloak fluttered behind her.

'Girl, don't be impulsive!' Qianzicun reached out to stop her, 'Let this old man—'

"Grandpa, please wait!" The raging flames surrounding Ritsuka forced the old craftsman to take a half-step back. "This is an abyss I must cross alone."

Sei Shonagon's exclamation was left behind: 'Ritsuka! This is simply walking into a trap—'

The girl leaped from the windowsill, her toes lightly touching the flying buttresses of the Gothic building. The night wind carried memories of Shimosa Province, and she realized that when Miyamoto Musashi ran across the rooftops, he saw this upside-down world. Just as the casino's spire disappeared from view, a familiar, sweet voice cut off her path.

'What a delightful growth!' Koyanskaya emerged from the shadows where the moonlight couldn't reach, her fox tail brushing against the moss-covered tiles. 'That naive Master who always hid behind Mash's shield can now wield such dangerous power.' She adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses, the gleam of the lenses concealing the calculation in her eyes. 'That fool, Beryl, has no idea what a gem he's missed.'

Ritsuka's flames suddenly contracted: 'I've already agreed to your request, what more do you want?'

'Just here to deliver a map to a lost sheep.' Koyanskaya magically unfolded a holographic projection, revealing the casino's structure like a dissected honeycomb. 'You stumbled in like a headless fly? Surprisingly, your Chaldea strategist didn't stop you~'

The 3D projections clearly marked the magical sensing lines of each passageway, the explosive gas clouds hanging beneath the corridors, and the automatic crossbows surrounding the shareholders' lounge on the top floor. Koyanskaya's fingernails traced across the 3D model of the sixth floor: 'A frontal assault will trigger three hundred guards; by the time you reach the control room, the target will have already escaped on a flying vehicle.' She then pointed to the crisscrossing ventilation ducts, 'Or... be a quiet assassin, only needing to take out twelve patrols.'

When Ritsuka finally chose the infiltration plan, Koyanskaya suddenly chuckled: "Want NFF's infiltration gear? She twirled a miniature bomb resembling a lipstick between her fingers. 'Sure, but—' the fox-woman's red lips curved into a crescent moon, 'the interest rate is thirty percent per day.'"

Koyanskaya's snap echoed crisply in the night sky, accompanied by a metallic, twisting roar, as a military-green shipping container crashed onto the rooftop like a behemoth. As the door slowly opened, the creaking of the hinges sounded like a sigh from hell—layers upon layers of firearms gleamed coldly in the moonlight, from the Glock pistols neatly stacked at the bottom to the AK-74 assault rifles hanging on the walls, and the Remington shotguns and M72 rocket launchers radiating a dangerous aura—it was a veritable mobile arsenal. In a corner wooden crate, grenades and smoke grenades were piled up like fruit, and the liquid in Molotov cocktails swayed gently in glass containers.

Ritsuka's gaze swept over the killing machines, and she couldn't help but recall the time when Billy the Kid taught her how to shoot back in the Western Singularity. But at that time, she had only learned how to pull the trigger; she was still completely clueless about the complex assembly of the firearms.

"You don't expect me to learn even the basics from scratch, do you?" Koyanskaya's sneer came from behind. "That's not how an assassin should behave." Her slender fingers flew among the parts, as elegant as playing the piano, and in the blink of an eye, she had assembled a pile of loose pieces into a pastel-painted Desert Eagle. "Attach this." A silencer was tossed into Ritsuka's arms. "Remember, you're going to assassinate someone, not put on a concert."

As Ritsuka took the heavy pistol, she noticed the modified magazine well. 'Fully automatic version, twelve-round capacity.' Koyanskaya then picked up a seemingly ordinary backpack. 'A backup plan.' She lightly pressed the buckle, and the backpack instantly unfolded into a folding sniper rifle with optical camouflage. 'Targets won't just sit there waiting to be picked off; long-range targeting is necessary.'