Wucheng.
Embers flickered soundlessly amid the dead silence. A blood-reeking cold wind swept through the ruin-strewn wreckage, letting out a low, mournful howl.
In a secluded alley, a faint clatter sounded. A frail figure cautiously lifted a stone slab, glanced around, and only after confirming that no one was nearby did she brace her hands against the ground and crawl out of the cellar.
It was a little girl, short in stature and dressed in traditional Uruk clothing. She turned back and called softly into the cellar:
"The invader is gone. You can come out now!"
One figure after another crawled out of the cellar.
Most of them were elderly people, women, and children.
When No. 22 had slaughtered his way through the city with the scepter and Holy Grail in hand, the men living nearby had taken their divine artifacts and gone to fight him, hiding them in this cellar beforehand.
At this moment, they were the last survivors in the city.
The little girl who had emerged first gathered her courage and walked forward for some distance. Every street, house, and ruin was utterly empty, without a single person in sight.
"Where are Father and Uncle and the others?" a child asked in confusion.
The little girl stared at the devastated battlefield and the scraps of clothing scattered everywhere, her face pale. "It was the Holy Grail. The Holy Grail turned them..."
"Tali!" An old man interrupted her. He glanced at the child, who was only four or five years old, then silently shook his head at the little girl.
Looking into those innocent eyes, the little girl silently closed her mouth.
They were all natives of Wucheng, having lived in this treasury for generations. Aside from the very youngest children, nearly everyone knew the types and numbers