Urobuchi, p.21
Urobuchi, page 21
"I can't do that. I was ordered to live."
Yes - he couldn't die. Not now, when the last words entrusted to him by the King were engraved into his heart.
Waver must escape from this dilemma no matter what. He was before an enemy Servant and had no way to defend himself; even though it was a desperate situation where nothing could be done - the one thing he definitely could not do was give up.
He could not ignore the way he had made the oath.
And that was perhaps a pain far more cruel than resigning himself to death.
The boy shook helplessly before the death he could not escape from, but his gaze alone made his adamance known. Looking down wordlessly on that too-small stature for a short while, Gilgamesh simply nodded once.
"The path of devotion is a great labor. Do not ever mar it."
He had no reason to raise his hand against a mongrel who was neither Master nor traitor. That was his decision as the King.
Waver watched his departure as the golden Heroic Spirit turned on his heels and calmly walked away. Before long, the figure was gone from his sight, and a cold wind blowing across the river completely scattered the air of battle that had been stretched out the entire time; afterward, the lone boy realized that he had been left behind in the night, and finally understood that everything had ended.
His knees shook again at the miracle that was his survival.
Right before Archer changed his mind, he had truly had the intent to kill Waver. The killing intent he released as naturally as breathing had wordlessly announced that.
Had Waver averted his eyes, or collapsed with fear, or choked in his reply, that would have truly happened.
If one was to sneer at how he had only begged for his life, then one simply did not know of the remorselessness of the King of Heroes. Simply being alive after resisting his terror was a conflict, and a victory. It was the first time Waver Velvet had gained a victory in a challenge by himself.
It was an unsightly and very small battle. It was far from brave, or spectacular. No one yielded to him, and he obtained no plunder. The only thing he did was survive and escape from a dilemma.
Even so, Waver was happy. He was proud. Only Waver himself could understand how priceless it was for him to arrive at that impossible conclusion under those circumstances. That honor was in him only. Even if it appeared unsightly to an onlooker, there was no reason to feel ashamed.
He complied with the order of the King. He saw everything through to the end, and lived on.
He wanted to be praised. By that massive, heavy palm. By his rough, unreserved, and thick voice. This time, he wouldn't need to hide his embarrassment. He could have thrown out his chest unreservedly and boasted about his accomplishments to the man.
Yet - in this night sunken in silence, Waver was helplessly alone. No one was beside him. Like the him from eleven days ago, Waver was alone, left behind in a heartless and apathetic corner of the world.
The battle was only for him. No one had noticed what he had surpassed by himself in his loneliness. No one was praising him.
But if one were to call it a cruel treatment - then no, it wasn't.
He had been rewarded with more than enough words of praise just now. The grandest King in the world had recognized and assigned him. He was told that he would be added into the ranks of the servants.
The order of events was simply reversed.
He had now been praised for the far future as well; the only thing to do now was to devote all that remained of his life to accumulate enough accomplishments to match that eulogy.
Yes. Simply because of those words at that point in time - he was not alone.
The moment he understood this, his days as a boy was over.
And then he knew it for the first time; sometimes, tears flowed free from humiliation or regret.
Now, on the empty bridge, looking down on the black surface of the flowing river, Waver Velvet wet his cheeks without any regrets.
They were the warm and crisp tears of a man.
-03:55:51
– A woman was crying.
Her beautiful countenance became more ragged by the day with sorrow, and wrinkles of dilemma were etched into the ends of her brows; the woman was silently crying.
She blamed and questioned herself.
She was ashamed beyond measure.
As a sinner who shouldered all the guilt and blame in the world, she could only wet her face day after day with her tears.
Everyone was speaking wicked words of her – an unchaste wife, a traitorous queen.
Those foolish plebians blinded by the glorious myths did not know the truth, but only surrounded her and reprimanded her all at once.
They did not even know that her husband was not a man.
In this world, only her noble visage made ‘him’ give out his true heart.
However, all ‘he’ could recall were her frustrated and sorrowful tears.
Yes, ‘he’ had hurt her.
Loved her –
Was loved by her –
That was the root of their fall.
Even she must have had discarded everything back then and consigned herself.
An ideal king was needed to save the country ravaged by chaos and war – and a noble and virtuous queen needed to be beside the king. That was the way the monarch was supposed to be in the dreams of the populace.
A woman’s life was so insignificant compared to this grandiose ideal.
Even if the king wasn’t a man, even if this marriage was between two women who hid the true gender of one and could never be consummated, this sacrifice was necessary to protect the country and its greater good.
Even so, ‘he’ still wanted to save her.
The first time ‘he’ had been granted audience in the court, ‘he’ had sworn silently in his heart that ‘he’ would do anything for this woman, and would even give up ‘his’ life for her.
It had been too late when she discovered that it was this thought of ‘his’ that had been tormenting her.
She had fallen hopelessly in love with ‘him’.
She had already discarded the happiness of a woman. Love was the greatest taboo.
Even if this romance was impermissible, there should still have been a path in which they could make their difficult resolution, shoulder their sins, and continue till the end.
What man would not fight against the entire world for the woman he loved?
However – ‘he’ could not do that.
She was not a ‘woman’, nor was she a ‘human’, but a mechanical part called a
‘queen’ that supported the king ruling the world.
'He’ was not a ‘man’, nor was he a ‘human’, but a mechanical part called a ‘knight’
that served the king with absolute loyalty.
'He’ was the man called ‘the Knight of the Lake’ – incomparably brave, courteous and chivalrous, elegant and flamboyant at the same time. ‘He’ was indeed the personification of the essence of chivalry, an existence that all admired.
Not only was this ideal knight worshipped by all, he had even been blessed by the fairies. This title was ‘his’ ultimate glory, and at the same time the greatest curse bestowed upon ‘him’.
The ‘perfect knight’ who served the ‘perfect king’ – this man could only live in this way that others had expected and trusted ‘him’ to, and so give up ‘his’ life for it.
'His’ life did not belong to ‘himself’, but to the people who honored chivalry and gave their lives for it.
And the king that ‘he’ served was truly too perfect, a hero that was absolutely flawless. The ‘Knight of the Lake’ could never harbor any thoughts of betrayal towards this ‘King of Knights’ who had saved ‘his’ home country from the depths of war.
'He’ swore ‘his’ absolute loyalty to the perfect monarch, and made a noble friendship with the monarch.
'He’ also knew that, behind this noble chivalry, there was a tormented and ignored woman who wept by the day.
Just which path had been the correct one? No one could tell now.
Should ‘he’ have been cruel till the end and stayed with ‘his’ ideals, or should ‘he’
have discarded loyalty and lived for love?
While ‘his’ heart was twisting in agony, time was passing mercilessly by. Finally, the worst outcome greeted ‘him’.
Villainous fellows had shattered the king’s prestige to pieces, and the betrayal of the queen was finally revealed to the world. In order to save the queen, who had been given the death sentence, ‘he’ could only go against ‘his’ king in arms – thus, ‘he’
lost everything.
A knight turned traitor –
'His’ disloyalty broke the balance within the Knights of the Round Table. Finally, this incident became the trigger of war and carnage, and the country shattered to pieces in the flames of war.
Men had often called ‘him’ with those mocking tones.
That stained name was carved deeply in the history of the past and would never be washed clean.
Therefore, she fell into a deep self-deprecation for having misguided that ‘perfect knight’, and was crying to this day.
In the end, the only thing ‘he’ had done for the woman ‘he’ loved – was to make her cry forevermore.
Had ‘he’ been born as a sordid man without honor, ‘he’ may have taken away the queen without a moment’s hesitation and destroyed the king’s prestige.
But ‘he’ was a knight, an overly perfect knight.
For the king who was ‘his’ rival in love, for the one who caused the woman ‘he’ loved to step onto that painful and difficult road – 'he’ had never had any feelings of hatred till the end.
Yes, who could possibly depreciate that famous king? That king, whose glorious name was passed down through the eons, was more courageous and noble than anyone else. That king had ended that troubled time.
That king, who had never lost a battle, was uncorrupted and just, honorable but never affected by personal emotions, and had never made a mistake in life.
After all, that king had never blamed ‘him’ throughout life. Even when the king had gone to exchange blows with ‘he’ who had been discarded by the Round Table, it had been a helpless act to make an example out of ‘him’ with the country as their witness, and never the king’s original intention. For ‘him’, who had committed the greatest sin of betrayal, the king had always treated him with a pure and noble friendship even to the very end.
That noble king was so ‘correct’. How could anyone hate or despise that monarch?
However – if that was the case, then to whom should ‘his’ regret and her tears be dumped upon?
The hatred ‘he’ brought to the grave was extracted at the end of time’s long passage, and tormented ‘him’ for an eternity on the Throne of Heroes that had no end… And then ‘he’ finally heard the call from afar.
Come, mad beast.
Come, stubborn vengeful spirit. That sound from the end of time had called.
That sound woke ‘his’ long-held wish.
Had ‘he’ not been a knight.
Had 'he' been a beast knowing no honor and had no reason, had 'he' been a demon fallen into the league of beasts, maybe 'he' could have avenged this hatred and regret.
Yes, madness was the road to salvation.
A beast would not be lost. Therefore, it would not feel pain. No one expected anything of it, no one entrusted anything to it. If ‘he’ could become a beast and direct the movement of ‘his’ limbs with nothing but ‘his’ own desire –
This wish became the connection that linked ‘him’ with the end of time, and placed
‘him’ on this battlefield that ‘he’ cared and knew nothing about.
'He’ had long ago forgotten ‘his’ name, long ago forgotten ‘his’ disciplined vow. ‘His’
body only existed to perform the murderous skills that ‘his’ hands had long been drenched in. The pride that took shame in this no longer existed, and the heart that regretted was lost as well. This was who ‘he’ currently was – the existence called
‘Berserker’.
There were no regrets. To fall, to be freed, that was what ‘he’ had sought.
Moreover, the merciless hand of Fate had even arranged such an ironic rendezvous.
"... Ar… thur…”
The call that slipped out of 'his' lips no longer meant anything.
Even so, this silver swordsman who now knelt in the torrential rain was undoubtedly that person whom 'he' had both loved and hated in the past.
That noble visage and that majestic and solemn face, which innumerable hopes and blessings had been bestowed upon, was now kneeling in front of despair. Now the king knew the truth that had been hidden for so long, knew the hatred that had been buried in eternal darkness. The king forgot the pride of a monarch and mourned.
– Do you hate me so much, my friend? –
Yes, that’s what I wanted to see – the beast in his heart cried, the knight in his heart sobbed. Savor it well. Now you know how many tears we’ve shed for your transient glory, how we have annihilated ourselves, wasted our days, and sat in emptiness waiting for old age.
Now was the time when his buried injustice would be revenged. The fallen black knight lifted his sword of vengeance up high.
– Do you hate me so much, Knight of the Lake?! –
Ah. Yes, that’s right.
At the time, had I not been a knight, but only lived as a man –
Had I not been a loyal subject, but hated you as a human –
Then, perhaps, I could have saved that woman!
-03:54:28
The battle tactic analysis concerning Kotomine Kirei – was conducted based on information from Hisau Maiya, who had fought him twice.
He threw Black Keys for ranged battle. A single throw, together with preparatory movements, can be completed in 0.3 seconds. As for continuous throwing, it had been confirmed that he can complete four throws in 0.7 seconds. He can also attack without obstacles toward unconfirmed targets. The power of the blades, half-spiritual entities, can penetrate iron. Chances of a hit – 100% when he is using illusions.
He used Baji Quan for melee fighting. Although the details were unclear, he was indeed at the level of an expert. He had seriously injured Maiya, who had a dagger, with just one blow. The destructive power of this kind of attack can snap a tree with two blows, and was extraordinarily dangerous.
The frock covering his entire body had been reinforced with bullet-proof materials and processed to protect against spells. It can defend against the impact and the penetration power of 9mm Parabellum bullets.
As for the result of pre-battle intelligence gathered from other fields – according to the magecraft teaching result report obtained from Tōsaka Tokiomi, Kotomine Kirei’s level of magecraft learning had not progressed beyond the degree of a beginner. His most outstanding skill was simply spiritual healing. If he were to use any effective measures during battle, then the only predictable one would be physical enhancement; his most adept skill, used to exert even greater physical strength.
Lastly, predicting his battle tactics.
Since Emiya Kiritsugu had thoroughly hid himself, the most information Kotomine Kirei could get to analyze Kiritsugu’s tactics would consist of rumors. The only battle in this Heaven’s Feel that forced Kiritsugu to use his ‘secret weapon’ was the fight against Lord El-Melloi. The bounded field of the Einzbern Castle at that time was still dense enough to prevent the Assassins from penetrating. Moreover, Kirei himself was tied down in the battle with Maiya and Irisivel during that time. In conclusion, it was impossible for Kirei to know about Innate Time Control and the ‘Origin Bullet’. It can be concluded that he would not have countermeasures for these.
– The above was all the information that Emiya Kiritsugu had gathered concerning the final decisive battle.
Firstly, their initial wave of attacks consists of Black Keys versus bullets. Of course, Kirei would be in an overwhelmingly disadvantageous position. However, if he wanted to rely on magecraft to compensate for his lack in weaponry, then it would be very possible for Kirei to rush up fearlessly and shorten the distance between them.
At last, the Executor waved the wing-like six Black Keys and rushed toward Kiritsugu from the front. It seemed that he had made the defensive preparations for Kiritsugu’s bullets.
That was exactly what Kiritsugu had wanted. Kiritsugu could ensure the success of his killing blow precisely because Kirei had made defensive measure. It was because he was firing the magecraft bullet from his Mystic Code.
With the belief that the early bird gets the worm, Kiritsugu fired toward his opponent.
Kirei should have been able to completely predict the trajectory of the bullet from Kiritsugu’s killing aura and preparatory actions. As a humanoid Shura, an Executor of the Holy Church, the quickness of Kirei’s mind far surpassed that of a bullet.
Kirei initiated a large scale magecraft.
The Black Keys that he grasped with both hands instantly swelled up into more than twice their original size. The half-spiritual blades, which were woven with magecraft to begin with, had extra prana instilled into them and were completely ‘strengthened’.
Although the forceful execution of this spell evidently surpassed the limit of the weapons themselves, it was enough to handle one bullet. Kirei crossed the six enormous swords before his chest and held them in fan-like formation. The mighty destructive power of the .30-06 Springfield assault rifle bullet was completely sealed off in an instant.
The bullet was deflected away together with flying sparks. At the same time the Black Keys, which had been filled with too much prana, could no longer handle the heavy load and shattered completely.
This extraordinary skill, which allowed swords to surpass bullets, now became a wrong move. It was truly shocking that Kirei, who shouldn’t even have a Magic Crest, could exert such a surprising skill. But more importantly, this would allow the fatal destruction of Kirei’s Magic Circuits, which were currently serving as a sack full of energy. Due to Emiya Kiritsugu’s repulsion towards the ‘Origin’, Kirei’s flesh would
