Any warrior would have felt proud of the sight before them.
The gate opening before him was an existence even more transcendent than the far shore inhabited by Phantasmal Species that had returned to the Reverse Side of the World. It was a blessing independent of the planet, and being allowed to witness its descent was the highest praise an enemy could receive.
The abyss split open in the sky exerted an enormous pull, like a black hole.
In an instant, everything around Roland began to break apart, as though a giant dragon were thrashing and a chariot were running rampant. The steel wreckage, fragments of asphalt, and swirling dust left by the previous battle all shot skyward under that suction, pouring into the abyss.
Even the atmosphere itself became a pale film before that pull, and light twisted. The world seemed stretched to its limit, like a slide stuck halfway through, never quite advancing to the next frame.
Faced with this spectacle, Roland did not spoil the moment by continuing his attack. Instead, he gazed into the abyss, standing on the shattered earth like an immovable mountain.
Scáthach showed no change in emotion at the sight. Like a sculpture of ice and snow, she rode the suction into the air and surveyed everything around her with cold eyes.
This Noble Phantasm embodied her authority and was her true ultimate move as a Servant. While the gate remained open, anyone without the enormous magical energy needed to resist its pull and sufficient luck would be sucked into the Land of Shadows she ruled.
Without her permission, anyone entering that forbidden realm where the living could not tread would be killed by the environment itself the moment they arrived.
Even if they managed to withstand it, the drastic depletion of their