Mukuro Hoshimiya opened her eyes again.
The color of the pupils is no longer the original gold.
Instead, it was a thick, deep red, like congealed blood.
This is a dominant characteristic of her after her Spirit Origin Inversion.
Her red pupils reflected the surrounding battlefield: the shattered ground, the burning embers, and Jeanne d'Arc's blood-stained banner on the distant high ground.
But all of this seemed incredibly distant to Mukuro Hoshimiya, as if he were observing events happening in another world through a thick pane of glass.
Her mind began to fog up.
An irresistible sense of Sloth welled up from the depths of her Spirit Origin, causing her thoughts to become increasingly slow and sluggish.
What just happened?
Heracles. The Golden Sword. The Sealed Spirit Origin. Achilles ' Departure.
never mind.
None of that matters anymore.
Nothing matters anymore.
Mukuro Hoshimiya raised his right hand and casually drew a line in the air in front of him with his index finger.
Space has cracked.
A portal opened in front of her.
But this time, the portal is completely different from the previous ones.
Previously, the space door opened by the Michael had neat, golden lines of light along its edges, like a clean door being opened with a key.
The edges of this spatial portal are now pitch black and twisted, as if something had torn a hole in the surface of space with fingernails.
The edges of the crack curled outwards, faintly emitting a dark purple light.
And she did not use the Michael.
The Michael was no longer there; he vanished the instant the golden sword severed the angel's side Spirit Origin.
But she was still able to open the door.
This is a force belonging to another side.
Karna immediately gripped his spear tightly.
Jeanne d'Arc took a half-step back, supporting the flag.
Heracles remained kneeling, his eyes fixed on Mukuro Hoshimiya.
None of the three people moved.
The aura emanating from the being before them was completely different from what it had been just a few seconds ago.
The goat horns on its head, the purplish-black Astral Dress, the chains wrapped around its arms, and the clock ornament that rotates counterclockwise on its chest.
Every detail about her silently proclaims that she has transformed from an angel into another form of being.
Mukuro Hoshimiya glanced at them.
There was no emotion in his red pupils.
There was only a hollow, indifferent weariness.
Then she turned around and walked into the portal.
The other end of the portal.
It is the vast and boundless universe.
In the endless darkness, billions of stars are embedded, and in the distance, the blue Earth floats in the void like a giant marble.
Mukuro Hoshimiya's body floated in this vacuum.
The purplish-black Astral Dress floated slightly in the zero-gravity environment, and the long golden hair spread out, drifting in all directions like seaweed in the water.
She slowly bent over.
She hugged her knees with both hands and buried her face in her arms.
A sense of Sloth completely overwhelmed her.
Go to sleep.
There's nothing more to do.
There's no need for fighting, no need for thinking, and no need to pursue any physical desires or wants.
You don't need to do anything.
All I need to do is sleep.
Mukuro Hoshimiya's red pupils slowly closed.
His breathing became thin and steady.
She fell into a deep sleep in outer space.
The portal behind her closed completely.
On the battlefield.
The three Servant watched as the portal closed and disappeared, none of them having time to give chase.
But then they noticed something.
There was a shadow on the ground where Mukuro Hoshimiya had left.
It was not a shadow cast by any person or thing.
The shadow was wriggling.
Slowly, as if something was struggling to break out of the two-dimensional plane.
Karna pointed the tip of his spear at the shadowy figure.
Heracles struggled to his feet.
The shadow began to expand, like a black balloon being inflated.
It began to take shape.
Its short, round, and bulging body resembles a doll stuffed with cotton.
A pair of curved goat horns grow from the sides of its head; the surface of the horns is smooth and jet black.
Two small, purple, bat-like wings spread out on either side of its cheeks, like decorations affixed to its round head;
Red lines appeared on his face.
Thick, black chains grew from within its body, wrapping around its entire form, with a clock-shaped metal lock on its chest that secured the intersection of all the chains.
Its eyes were tightly closed.
It is in a dormant state.
It transformed into a round, chubby alien creature that looked somewhat like some kind of demon doll.
It floated quietly in mid-air.
It simply exists.
Then.
It merely took one breath.
A thin stream of air, carrying a faint purplish-black glow, escaped from its tightly closed mouth.
Karna, Heracles, and Joan of Jeanne d'Arc simultaneously lost consciousness.
Atalanta, on the distant highlands, was not spared either.
Astolfo, Amakusa Shirou, Semiramis, who were confronting each other next to the Greater Grail underground, all lost consciousness at the same time.
Fiore, who was transferring Command Spell in the central hall of the fortress, and Caules Celenike, who were standing guard nearby, all lost consciousness.
The purplish-black stream of air did not stop.
It spread outwards at an unimaginable speed.
Like an invisible ripple, it extends infinitely in all directions from the sleeping demon as its center.
Trifas town.
The owner of the family-run restaurant that Mukuro Hoshimiya had visited during the day was clearing away the dishes.
Her hand froze in mid-air; the dishes slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor. Her body slumped limply behind the counter, and she closed her eyes.
An elderly man walking his dog on the street collapsed onto a bench.
The baby in the stroller quietly closed its eyelids.
The stray cat jumped onto the roof, curled up in a ball, and closed its eyes.
Bucharest.
The capital of Romania. Millions of people are going about their daily lives.
Commuters are rushing to catch the last subway.
A couple in the restaurant are raising their glasses in celebration.
A nurse at the hospital is changing a patient's dressing.
The school security guards are locking the main gate.
Then, everyone fell silent.
The subway train lost control of the driver, gradually slowed down, and eventually came to a stop in the middle of the tunnel.
Hundreds of passengers in the carriage sat neatly in their seats, eyes closed, as if taking a collective afternoon nap.
A couple in the restaurant were slumped over the table, facing each other. A wine glass had tipped over, and wine had spilled onto the white tablecloth, but no one was going to bother wiping it up.
The ripples continued to spread.
We crossed the Romania border.
The entire Europe continent fell asleep within minutes.
The last group of tourists on the Eiffel Tower in Paris leaned against the railing and closed their eyes.
London's Big Ben continues to tick, but no one listens to it anymore.
The ripples crossed the Atlantic Ocean, the Pacific Ocean, and the India Ocean.
New York, Tokyo, Sydney, Cairo, Moscow, São Paulo.
Time zones were swallowed up one by one.
The city by day and the city by night both fell silent.
The driver had fallen asleep peacefully behind the wheel, and the vehicle veered out of control into the roadside bushes, the engine still idling.
The pilot of the plane, who was taxiing on the runway, closed his eyes, and the plane veered off the runway and came to a slow stop on the grass.
The crying baby suddenly quieted down, its tiny fingers loosened their grip on the toy, and it fell into a sweet sleep.
The entire Earth.
Seven billion intelligent lives.
Without exception.
They all fell into eternal sleep.
The short, round, chained demon doll floating in the Romania night sky still had its eyes closed.
Its mouth corners seemed to be slightly upturned.
It felt like a beautiful dream.
--
The dream world.
Karna felt a moment of disorientation.
It was so brief, so fleeting, that he wasn't even sure if it was his imagination.
Then everything returned to normal.
He stood in a vast, open field.
The surrounding area was a Romania countryside illuminated by moonlight, with the outline of a fortified village in the distance, and the soil beneath my feet still carried the dampness of the night.
Karna glanced down at his spear; there were several signs of disassembly on the shaft.
Traces of decomposition?
Who caused this?
Karna frowned.
He couldn't remember.
Just like the words on a book page being erased cleanly with an eraser, leaving no trace afterward.
He doesn't remember Mukuro Hoshimiya.
He doesn't remember the Great Holy Grail War.
He didn't even remember why he was standing there.
Heracles stood a few meters to his left, holding an axe-sword.
The great hero also looked around blankly, his eyes full of confusion.
Jeanne d'Arc stood further away, her banner planted in the ground, a deep, bone-revealing wound on her left shoulder, but she had no recollection of how she got it.
The three people looked at each other in bewilderment.
Their faces were all etched with the same question:
Who are you? Who am I? Why are we here?
They knew each other's names.
But apart from that, all memories of the Great Holy Grail War have vanished.
They were just three Heroic Spirit happened to be standing in the same wilderness.
Karna opened his mouth, as if to say something.
Then he stopped.
Because something appeared directly in front of the three people.