Separation

Night had fallen, and the moon hung high in the sky, yet everyone could hear: "Boom! Bang! Crackle! Cheers!"

The former were explosions, impacts, lightning, and thunder—the aftershocks of the battle between the four beings from myth.

Ishtar was always complaining that it was unbearably loud, that she could not even sleep in peace, while graciously bestowing the goddess's curse: please hurry up and die!

The latter were the sounds of everyone celebrating at night, a final revel before parting.

The Holy Grail War had long since ended. The summoned Servants should have returned already; remaining until now was their limit.

As the artificial human named Felia, Ishtar's host body and the vessel of the Lesser Grail, she could be said to know everything perfectly well.

Though the counterfeit Greater Grail had been destroyed, the mana of fallen Servants had indeed flowed into the Lesser Grail.

She could sense an astonishing influx of mana, though it was of little use to Ishtar.

Ishtar did not know the Third Magic, and even if she did, she would not use it. To a goddess, birth, aging, sickness, and death were laws that had to be obeyed. Parting was not something she could not accept.

The Servants would probably disappear tomorrow. They all knew that, yet no one shamelessly begged Ishtar to grant them physical bodies in the present world. They had long since prepared themselves.

"Cheers...!"

As hundreds raised their cups together, Yuan Shikai was reminded of Chaldea's victory banquets.

Alexandre Dumas spoke endlessly of his experiences in this Holy Grail War, intending to weave the entire conflict into a story with the time he had left.

His talent for storytelling was no joke. He drew everyone's attention and brought cheer to this farewell gathering.

Humbaba was still moving bricks. She did