The Grand Duke's flames and Cú Chulainn's spear exploded at the same time.
Red light collided with blood-colored fire, tearing through space, through time, through everything.
Shirou stood at the foot of the mountain, watching the light.
Firelight reflected in his eyes, but there were no tears.
He merely clenched his fists tightly, a red Command Spell still marking the back of his right hand.
A moment later, the light faded.
All that remained was an enormous crater and the ashes lingering at its bottom.
Cú Chulainn knelt on one knee, his spear planted against the ground.
His body was fading away.
Starting at his feet, he turned into motes of light, bit by bit.
"Old man!"
Shirou's voice came from afar. The little boy ran desperately toward him, reached the edge of the crater, slid down its curved slope, and ran to his side.
"Old man! Old man!"
Cú Chulainn looked up with a smile. "Kid. You did well."
Shirou's tears finally fell. "Old man... please don't go..."
"What nonsense are you talking about?"
Cú Chulainn reached out and ruffled his hair. "I'm a Heroic Spirit. I was always going to leave."
"But..."
"No buts."
Cú Chulainn looked at him. "Kid, remember, you're my Master. A man acknowledged by me, Cú Chulainn."
"From now on, no matter what you face, do what you did today-stand up and keep fighting."
Shirou nodded desperately.
Tears blurred his vision.
"All right, I'm off. Be my Master again the next time we meet."
"Yeah!"
"It's not often my luck's this good. Does the Lancer class come with bad luck built in?"
His final words drifted away on the wind, and Cú Chulainn's figure vanished completely.
In the distance, the Grand Duke's ashes scattered on the wind as well.
Everything that had once belonged