Fate Descends on the Night

[Angra Mainyu]

All the world's evils.

Despite the name, he was nothing more than an ordinary man branded "evil."

Through legend and curses, he had become an Avenger rather than a Heroic Spirit, gathering all the malice in the world.

Malice surged like a rolling tide. Black sludge battered Shirou Emiya.

It bore a curse upon the living, seeking to turn every living human into the same evil. A scorched smell rose from it, as though it meant to burn away his Origin and devour his life.

He was naked. A faint light covered his body, and illusory wings faded continuously behind him. Feathers of light fell from them one by one, marking the steady loss of his power.

Black sludge wound around him, mercilessly stripping away his warmth.

His battered body was destroyed and repaired, over and over.

Could Shirou Emiya now withstand all the evils of this planet? No. He was only borrowing an outside power to move through them.

He was not Gilgamesh. That man's sense of self was far too strong.

Gilgamesh had no inherent notion of good or evil. He decided everything for himself. The king acknowledged, the king permitted, the king bore the whole world upon his shoulders—that was how he saw himself.

Shirou Emiya was no god, no king, no Devil. He was only a human being.

Even in modern society, he was an outsider: a man obsessed with pursuing justice.

Even if he held fast to his will until the end, his body and soul could not endure this burning. He had not yet grown into a being that could remain untouched by the evils of all living things.

No matter how powerful the weapons he projected or how formidable the skills he read from them, they could not make up for