The Ultimate Lich King of the Multiverse

Disgusting monsters bound Saber's body, smearing revolting slime over her armor.

Watching her struggle, Caster laughed with a twisted, deranged grin.

"Jeanne, look at yourself now. So helpless, so pitiful. And where is that lofty god you always believed in?"

Boom! A torrent of magical energy erupted from Saber's seemingly frail body. In an instant, all the monsters entangled around her were shattered into pieces. Her invisible sword pointed straight at Caster, and her beautiful emerald eyes now burned with unrelenting fury.

"Extra Command Spells, the Holy Grail War—none of that matters to me. The sole purpose of my existence, this body and this sword, is to destroy you completely!"

"Ohhh… Jeanne…"

Caster was visibly shaken by Saber's might, breathing unevenly. But his expression wasn't one of fear or hesitation—it was one of confusion and bewilderment.

"So noble… so gallant… Saint of Saints. Even the gods pale in comparison to your virtue!"

His tone was elated—then suddenly fell silent. As if on cue, the grotesque tentacles surged forward like an avalanche, crashing toward Saber.

"I have defiled my love! I have drowned in the quagmire of passion! O holy maiden!"

The swing of the sword and maniacal laughter marked the beginning of their deadly clash.

Panting, Saber continued to swing her blade. Blood once again trickled from her left hand—the wound caused by the "Unyielding Yellow Rose." Though she winced, she gritted her teeth and fought through the pain, slicing another monster in two.

Damn it… it just won't end… She glanced around. The monsters showed no sign of decreasing—in fact, they were multiplying. Saber felt a wave of despair rise within her.

Could it be…? Her gaze shifted to the glowing book in Caster's hands, its cover made of human skin. Saber dreaded the possibility she suspected.

"How nostalgic, Jeanne… It's just like the past."

Caster looked dazed, as if gazing upon a sacred painting, watching Saber's desperate struggle with obsessive fixation.

"Even when outnumbered and in peril, you never flinch, never yield. The light in your eyes never doubts victory. You haven't changed a bit. That noble resolve, that dignified soul—there's no doubt. You are Saint Jeanne herself. And yet…"

The same delusional nonsense as always. But Saber held back her rage, focusing instead on cutting down the monsters before her. Arguing back would only play into his hands.

"Why? Why haven't you awoken? Do you still believe in divine protection? You think some miracle will save you in this hopeless situation?—How pitiful! Have you forgotten the Battle of Compiègne? Forgotten how God cast you from glory into ruin?! Even after such humiliation, you still choose to be God's puppet!?"

She wanted to silence that blasphemous mouth. She wanted to show him what judgment awaited someone who stole the lives of children for the sake of delusions. But her blade still couldn't reach him. Saber was kept at bay by a living wall of monsters—layers upon layers of grotesque beasts—making Caster seem infinitely distant.

But just as the monsters prepared their next assault, a pale light began to spread across their tendrils.

In a blink, the terrifying swarm that had troubled Saber so greatly was transformed into glistening ice sculptures.

"What…?"

The magical energy was familiar. Though the attack hadn't targeted her, being surrounded by the creatures meant Saber wasn't spared from the wave of freezing cold.

The chill seeped into her limbs, even numbing her thoughts.

What terrifying magic… Is he really just a Master?

Saber began to question herself. Perhaps she had misunderstood—maybe this man wasn't the Master at all. Maybe he was the true Caster, and the little girl and the white-haired, red-eyed woman were the real Masters.

As Saber pondered this, Yoru stepped forward, calmly walking past her to face Caster directly.

"Who are you?! Who gave you permission to interrupt me?!"

Caster roared in fury. Yoru said nothing. He simply clenched his fist.

Crack.

With a soft sound, the monsters that once filled the street shattered into fragments.

Both Saber and Caster involuntarily shuddered. In that instant when Yoru clenched his fist, it felt as though he were squeezing their very hearts.

But clearly, Caster wasn't intimidated. He quickly snapped back, screaming furiously at Yoru.

"Nonsense! Madness! Madness, madness, madness!"

Grabbing at his scalp and bulging his eyes, he shrieked like a lunatic.

"My prayers! My Holy Grail! All of it was to awaken that woman! She is mine—her flesh, her blood, her very soul belongs to me!!"

The magic book in his hand began to emit a bizarre light. In an instant, countless new monsters materialized, surrounding both Saber and Yoru once again.

"Be careful. That grimoire is strange—it must be his Noble Phantasm," Saber warned. Yet even as she said so, confusion stirred in her. Why would a Berserker possess a Noble Phantasm that clearly belonged to a Caster?

"No matter how many he summons… I'll just kill them all."

Yoru didn't spare the encroaching beasts a glance. Ice spread from his feet, and in an instant, the monstrous horde turned once more into frozen statues.

Before Caster could even scream in rage, Yoru leapt forward, a shard of ice in hand, and stabbed it directly into the grimoire made of human skin.

Caster bowed his head. His lifeless, fish-like eyes bulged with fury, on the verge of popping from their sockets.

The "Prelati's Spellbook" in his hand—a blasphemous tome bound in human flesh—now bore a deep, hideous gash. Like torn human skin, the wound oozed a terrifying, blood-like aura. Worse still, the gash was rapidly freezing over.

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