Colors

Mordred turned around.

"Thank you. I'll thank you on my Master's behalf first." Mordred took a deep breath and inserted the needle into Shishigou Kairi's arm.

His bluish face immediately turned pale, but the twitching had subsided.

Mordred gritted his teeth, looked at Heracles, and bowed.

"I merely did what was right. It isn't worth thanking me for."

Heracles waved his hand, then suddenly collapsed.

"Archer?"

Mordred did not even have time to stop him.

Heracles leaned against the wall.

"This Holy Grail War was truly satisfying. Take your Master and leave. This place is a battlefield of right and wrong."

Archer urged Mordred on.

Understanding Heracles's resolve, he carried his Master on his back, turned away, and ran out of the hall.

"Farewell."

Heracles dissolved into particles of light. His mana could no longer sustain his body.

His journey ended here.

Colors

The dim night was instantly illuminated by a sudden blaze, becoming as bright as day.

Shirou's hands were covered in blood.

The blood slowly flowed, consumed by the sword in his hand.

—Demon Sword Muramasa.

Gilgamesh leaned against the wall, a bloody gash across his abdomen.

Although his Spirit Core had not been directly struck, such a wound was still fatal.

"You won this battle."

"Yeah—I won, but I'm about to die too." Shirou growled. "If you hadn't stopped me, I wouldn't have ended up like this, would I?"

"Having accepted the Holy Grail I gave you, you should offer the proper recompense, shouldn't you? I enjoyed myself greatly. If fate allows, we shall meet again." Gilgamesh's gaze had already begun to lose focus.

So after wanting it for so long, he still had not obtained it?

As a king, perhaps it was not so bad to occasionally have something beyond his reach.

But a figure approached.