Even so, Illya could not even see what had happened before Berserker was defeated.
Though unwilling to believe it, reason told Illya that this was not the time to keep fighting. "Berserker! Retreat!! Run!!!"
Fear spread in an instant.
Like dark clouds.
Or like ink.
It tainted the entire world. Before his eyes was a darkness so complete that not a crack or breath of air could penetrate it. Lin Yan's memories had been implanted with the original memories—a story that had taken place during the winter five years ago. He and Kiritsugu had watched the moon together. At that time, moonlight spilled across the earth, the trees and vegetation, the houses. Everything had seemed so peaceful, so gentle.
They sat in the corridor.
It was the perfect place to watch the moon.
Kiritsugu looked relaxed, as though it had been a long time since he had felt that way. Lin Yan's memories resonated with his own. "When I was little, I once dreamed of being on the side of justice."
Kiritsugu's voice seemed to linger by his ear. Lin Yan felt as though he had been transported into that scene, personally experiencing what had happened then.
"What do you mean, you once dreamed of it? Did you give up?" Lin Yan asked calmly. He somewhat understood what Kiritsugu meant.
Shirou Emiya might not have understood his father Kiritsugu's thoughts, but Lin Yan was not the young Shirou Emiya. His thinking was far more mature. He had experienced far too much—the bloodshed, violence, and despair when war broke out; the scheming and treachery of peaceful times; even the endless troubles of innocent student days.
Every world was different, but every era was filled with different colors.
Whether it was the black of despair, or the red that symbolized blooming life.