Super God: If I punch you, you will die

There is only despair everywhere.

Having endured relentless exploitation, they finally received a glimmer of hope: a single sentence filled with compassion and redemption.

It was a beautiful phrase that had kept them from succumbing to hunger, poverty, and despair. Yet the rulers wanted to take even that away from them. It wasn't just exploitation; it was murder.

So they stood up. They feared being deprived of their right to live more than dying in battle.

The boy was also among them—no one knew whether it was a coincidence or an arrangement of divine will. They simply didn't know when it had begun, but the boy was already leading them.

There was no such thing as defeat or victory.

Because the moment they stood up, they were both losers and winners. They truly had no fists left to wield, only the strength to stand. But the act of standing up itself was the most essential action. To stand up for what one believes in—that is the most crucial and necessary action. Sacrifice is merely the minimum. Even if a few, including themselves, become sacrifices, the world can awaken from its near-death state.

It should be like this.

Even gods can sometimes display malice born of good intentions. The miraculous power that God bestowed upon the youth gave them the possibility of victory they would otherwise have never had.

However, miracles are extremely rare. They are chance occurrences where, even when all the necessary elements of heaven, earth, and humanity are in place, everything still depends on luck.

Unfortunately, the boy seized the victory.

Everyone was ecstatic about the victory. The boy who had won a battle that was otherwise impossible was hailed as a miracle worker and became a widely worshipped idol. The boy was troubled by the almost foolish and pure thoughts of the people.

They should never have won; they shouldn't have been victorious. They were blinded by the desire to save their own lives and failed to consider the bigger picture.

Although there's a saying that a mouse with nowhere to run will bite a cat, it will most likely be killed by the enraged cat after biting it—that's just how things are.

I was so naive.

The severed heads of old men, men mutilated like experimental animals, infants killed by spears, girls ravaged and discarded after being driven by lust—it was a place that could only be called hell. Tens of thousands of lives were concentrated in this place—the ones who took these lives were not enemies, but themselves. The boy became convinced of this—yet, despite this, he did not yield.

With an iron will, the boy accepted the outcome without flinching. He silently gazed at the scene before him, which was gradually heading towards destruction. He showed no sign of giving up or sadness, and even overcame the excruciating pain from having his arms severed.

I admit that I failed.

I admit that I will die.

Their deaths were all their own fault, and I can admit that.

And so he died in obscurity—that was the one thing he absolutely could not accept. He had wasted so many lives without gaining anything—he simply could not accept such a fact.

So, God, please give me another chance. Next time, I will definitely not lose sight of the bigger picture; I will eliminate all obstacles, enemies, and hardships in my path. Next time, I will surely obtain all the "goodness" in the world—a world where everyone is happy, everyone possesses goodness, and everyone is perfect. I will surely create a true world that drives away all evil.

I had a dream that numbed my mind, a dream of praying for happiness.

Kotomine Shirou awoke from a drowsy dream. It was less like he was sleeping and more like he was awakening a nostalgic, hazy memory. He had only intended to take a short nap, but he had ended up sleeping very soundly.

"Are you awake, Master? Rider and Archer are back."

The "Red" Assassin—Semiramis—seems to have him sleeping on her lap the whole time. This is hardly the behavior of an empress.

"Hmm. Why am I sleeping on your lap?"

He had no such memory. He remembered lying asleep on a bench, but there was no one around.

"Just because I'm an Assassin... right?"

After saying that, Assassin let out a cheerful chuckle. Faced with that smile that had once captivated countless men in his lifetime, Shirou simply responded with a bewildered expression.

"What if someone sees us..."

"It's nothing, nobody saw anything. Hmm, it's rare for someone to suddenly feel like doing something befitting a Servant, do you have any complaints?"

The woman's expression immediately turned into one of anger.

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"That's really embarrassing. But thank you anyway."

Shirou sat up with a wry smile. Assassin nodded contentedly and said:

"That's good... But speaking of which, it's time, everyone's here. Even though we've lost Berserker."

"While they aren't exactly precious Servants that we absolutely cannot lose, it would be quite troublesome if they became enemies."

"Ah, you mean that guy's Noble Phantasm—'Roar of the Flawed Beast'?"

Both of them sighed simultaneously. Losing the "Red" Berserker wasn't inherently a fatal problem. Of course, his unparalleled combat power was indeed of great value, but controlling him was simply too difficult.

In terms of usage, the only way to deal with him is to send him to the front line at the start of the battle and leave him there until he dies.

His "Roar of the Flawed Beast" is a Noble Phantasm that converts all damage inflicted on Berserker into magical energy and releases it. Because it is an ability that affects himself rather than his opponent, it is classified as an anti-personnel Noble Phantasm, but in reality, it is an anti-military Noble Phantasm, a powerful tool capable of causing large-scale destruction.

The problem lies in its sheer destructive range. If used in the wrong place, it could end up causing immense damage to one's own side.

"Fortunately, we know about his Noble Phantasm... Although we don't know at what point it will activate, a Servant should be able to sense it, right?"

At that point, running away was the only option. No Servant, regardless of their type, has any interest in fighting on bombs, nor is there any need for it.

"In any case, it's really lucky that the other side didn't have Saber. It can be said that this battle has basically determined the trend of the Holy Grail War... It's best that there isn't a Servant who can completely withstand Lancder's attack."

Upon hearing Assassin's satisfied remark, Shirou frowned slightly, revealing a gloomy expression.

"what happened?"

"Things are indeed as you say, but..."

Shirou Kotomine is a priest sent by the Holy Church and also serves as the supervisor of this Holy Grail War. Therefore, he possesses the "Spirit Disk," which is kept under the supervision of the supervisor, allowing him to fully grasp the situation of all fourteen Servants.

Incidentally, the Yggdrasil also obtained the "Aura Disc" through certain special connections. Thanks to the Subspecies Holy Grail War, there are many ways to purchase it.

“The ‘spiritual energy disc’ confirms that he is dead, but it seems that the causal chain has not been completely severed.”

Shirou asserted this. Assassin frowned and replied:

"Oh, is he still alive?"

"No, it should be on the verge of death, probably in a state of imminent destruction. At least it can't be used as combat power... But it has been in this state since last night, which makes me a little puzzled."

Furthermore, he overheard the Masters of Yggdrasil lamenting the loss of Saber through a familiar that had infiltrated the artificial human body in the city of Milenia, so it should be true.

"So, is it a malfunction?"

"If that's the case, that would be great... In any case, if Saber recovers, I'll have Lancer meet with him again."

After returning from his battle with "Black" Saber, Lancer unusually revealed his true feelings, saying, "I really want to fight him again." Therefore, Shirou decided to respect his wishes as much as possible. Moreover, the only ones truly capable of engaging in a battle of equal strength against the formidable Saber were Lancer or Rider.

However, Rider seems quite obsessed with "black" Archer.

However, it's highly unlikely that "Black" Saber is still alive. Even if he were, he wouldn't be able to fight in such a near-death state.

"However, please don't tell Lancer about Saber yet, otherwise it would be a headache for him to search for Saber all over the battlefield."

Upon entering the throne room, one finds Rider and Archer both resting in relaxed postures. Rider lies there gazing at the ceiling, while Archer sits on the floor eating what appears to be skewers made from animals he has hunted.

"Oh dear, it seems I've kept you waiting. I'm so sorry."

After hearing Shirou's apology, Assassin shrugged and sighed:

"What are you saying, Master? Judging from their appearance, they're just killing time."

Rider and Archer both simultaneously snorted and turned their faces away. It seems these two have absolutely no respect for the Assassin—Empress Semiramis.

"But it's alright."

She nodded with an air of haughtiness, then sat down on the throne. Shirou stood beside her like a trusted confidant.

Where did Lancer and Caster go?

Rider, still lying on the ground, replied:

"Ah... Lancer was just staring blankly outside. Caster has been hiding in the workshop the whole time."

Should we call her over?

"Haha, Master. If you go and call him, wouldn't it feel like you're being sent to run errands? Let me summon him using telepathy."

She gently waved two fingers—and in a moment, the heavy doors between the thrones were pushed open.

"Lancer, I'm so sorry to have called you here."

Upon hearing this, Lancer gently shook his head. His face remained as white as a Noh mask, his expression frozen without the slightest wavering.

"I don't mind. What happened?"

"I'm very sorry, I'll explain after the other person arrives."

Five minutes later, the last person made a grand entrance, radiating the anxiety of everyone present. As soon as he stepped through the open door, he spread his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture and shouted:

“Oh, you, as dark as hell, as serene as the night!” I find you incredibly beautiful, even radiant!

Assassin sighed and asked:

"Are you talking about me?"

The man being asked—"Red" Caster, the literary monster Shakespeare—nodded.

"Could there be someone else? The Assyrian Empress!... No, no, I'm so sorry. I got a little too excited. Because I've suddenly felt like writing again. Ah, speaking of Father Shirou, although it's a bit abrupt, I want something."

"what is it then?"

"Based on the knowledge I've been given, there seems to be a machine in this world that can type out a word simply by pressing a button, right?"

Shirou thought for a moment, then clapped his hands and said:

"Oh, you mean the computer?"

"Yes, could you get me one?"

"Of course. I'll arrange it for you before the day after tomorrow."

Shakespeare nodded with satisfaction. Assassin and the others, witnessing this, felt utterly helpless.

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"Caster... don't forget the Holy Grail War."

“Of course, Empress. Since you've gathered us here, there's only one reason. It's war, isn't it? Heroes will be vying for supremacy, engaging in savage and brutal battles, right? I, Caster, will certainly be there to watch—with great enthusiasm!”

"I'm saying, aren't you going to fight?"

"Actually, I'm not very familiar with war and magic, but the gods gave us appropriate flaws in order to make us human."

"You're clearly a Caster!" Rider and Archer wanted to point this out, but they managed to hold back. In fact, as he said, Shakespeare was essentially a Heroic Spirit unrelated to the act of "war." His duty was merely to record the Holy Grail War and weave the stories of the protagonist's (Master's) suffering and despair, hope and violence. The storyteller never stepped onto the stage; he only provided support to those who did.

If he were summoned to a regular Holy Grail War, unless the Master possessed a talent for close combat, he would undoubtedly be defeated early on.

Fortunately, judging from the current situation of the Holy Grail War, he still has many opportunities to be active. This is because he possesses a very unique "skill".

"In short, everyone's here now. 'Black' Saber is out, and our preparations are complete. It's time to launch the attack. Constantly engaging in small-scale battles is pointless, isn't it?"

Rider and Archer nodded somewhat reluctantly at Assassin's words. Indeed, as she said, small-scale battles were simply too boring.

"Since it's war, let's make it a grand and spectacular affair. What do you say?"

Assassin said with a seductive smile.

"Well, that's true. But you clearly built a castle specifically to prepare for a siege, so why are you saying things like that now?"

Rider said with a helpless expression. Assassin chuckled.

"Cage? Rider, you've got the premise wrong. My Noble Phantasm 'Hanging Gardens of Vanity' isn't for defense; it's for offense."

Rider and Archer both wore expressions of confusion. Caster, familiar with the properties of this Noble Phantasm, grinned at their reactions, while Lancer remained composed. The only Master present, Shirou, smiled wryly and said to Assassin:

"Assassin, stop keeping us in suspense and let us experience it for ourselves."

"Hmm... Master, you seem to be quite passionate too."

"Because I'm a man."

"I see," Semiramis said, understanding, and then pressed his hand against the gem embedded in the armrest of the throne. Instantly, the earth began to tremble slightly.

Was it an earthquake? The Servant exchanged glances. But the tremors began to intensify... and then suddenly stopped.

"Hehe, you guys should take a look outside."

Hearing Assassin's words, everyone except her rushed out of the throne room and onto the outer side. The earthquake just now was clearly something Assassin had intentionally caused. But what was the reason—

"What--!?"

Two people were speechless—Rider and Archer. Caster was moved to tears, and Shirou, who usually tried to maintain a calm expression, had his eyes sparkling for once. Even Lancer widened his eyes slightly as he looked down.

Their foothold was a stone-paved floor—beneath which lay only a vast open space.