Fate: Hero of Justice Takeover-Chapter 100: The End of Honor and the Light of Legend

The gallant swordsman, the dashing spearman.

The moonlit beauty, the eagle-like handsome man.

The roaring sword, the howling spear.

The symphony that erupted from the clash of their weapons was so exhilarating that even their hearts pounded in sync with every move, every collision.

The noble knights, having crossed the long river of time, stood once more on the earth of the present. They sang of the glory that had long since passed, showing the world the honor they upheld.

Yet, to a certain man, this inspiring scene was nothing but filth, something to be despised.

Disgusting, vulgar, worthy of scorn.

It was like watching two stray dogs fighting on the street, or a clown's ridiculous performance in a circus.

"By not aiming to kill Lancer, she deceived Diarmuid and destroyed one of his Noble Phantasms. As expected of Saber, as expected of Kiritsugu's Servant. The advantages and disadvantages have now completely reversed."

Sakatsuki said with a smile, genuinely applauding.

Faced with this unrelated praise, Kiritsugu frowned as if insulted, his tone dark and cold.

"She is not my Servant, and I have nothing to say to her."

"Oh, why not? This is Saber, the most powerful class in the Holy Grail War."

"I want nothing to do with such butchers who fight for so-called honour and glory."

Kiritsugu said, glancing at Sakatsuki, who had been trying to provoke him.

"Don't you feel the same?"

"Not at all. Such a beautiful scene, I can only admire and cherish it. How could I dislike it?"

The young man's expression remained smiling as if wearing an inscrutable mask.

Kiritsugu couldn't discern Sakatsuki's true thoughts, but he sneered nonetheless.

"But you brought me here. If you enjoy watching such fairy tales, why did you use my gun?"

"Do you have any grievances against chivalry?"

Sakatsuki pointed at the two figures on the screen.

"It was figures like them who guided the world through the chaos. In the dark Middle Ages, they were a rare light."

"But they changed nothing!"

Unable to suppress the frustration in his heart, the black-haired, black-clad man shouted in a low voice.

"So-called knights cannot save the world!"

"Those who preach that war has a distinction between good and evil, always acting as if there's something noble on the battlefield—do you know how many young people have been lured by courage and honour, only to bleed and die?"

The blood-stained killer made this assertion. No one was more qualified to say such words than him. Not even the knights of old could shake his rock-solid resolve.

To talk of chivalry in the Holy Grail War, in Kiritsugu's eyes, was no different from suicide.

Yes, those who save the world are never those who play by the rules. Knights dancing within the rules are nothing but puppets. To truly end the world's bloodshed and sacrifice, one must seek power beyond the rules...

"Even if it's just a fleeting dream, we must drive in the wedge—perhaps it is indeed just an illusion, but humans cannot live without illusions. People need dreams and aspirations to move forward, Kiritsugu."

Sakatsuki said calmly, unmoved by Kiritsugu's logic.

"Or do you wish for everyone in the world to become like you?"

"Equally ruthless, equally cold, priding themselves on their clarity and rationality, despising the laughable rules and laws..."

Sakatsuki peeled back Kiritsugu's heart layer by layer, only to stop at the final step. What came from his mouth was a chaotic vision of the future.

"There's no need for hell. If everyone imitates you, then this world itself will become hell."

"That has nothing to do with me, and I don't expect the world to follow my example."

Kiritsugu replied, unshaken.

"On the battlefield, one must be decisive. The ridiculous drama of mutual respect and camaraderie should be left for children's games."

Watching the now clear outcome of the battle, the man who seemed to embody darkness shoved his hands into his pockets and spoke calmly.

"Killing is already the last resort, the most vicious means. Therefore, the best way is to end everything with the highest efficiency and the lowest cost in the shortest time possible. If you think my methods are despicable, if you accuse me of being ruthless, then go ahead and curse me. Justice cannot save this world. I have no interest in justice."

He acknowledged the justice of chivalry, but he also scoffed at this so-called light.

In the magical projection, the battle was nearing its end.

The golden holy sword reached Diarmuid's neck before the red spear could, declaring the victor.

In the final showdown, both were fully aware of each other's abilities. The innate skills 'Instinct' and 'Knight's Strategy,' as well as 'Mind's Eye (True),' were evenly matched. Moreover, both were peak warriors whose skills touched the realm of the gods, with little difference in physical ability.

In theory, either could have won this duel, but there was still a difference between them.

"To wield the sword for the future" and "to raise the spear to die" were worlds apart. It was clear which side the Morrígan (the Celtic goddess of victory) would favour.

"I've lost, Saber."

Diarmuid said, his face showing a sincere smile as if his wish had been fulfilled. He knelt on one knee, bowing his head, offering his neck like a knight receiving his title.

"It was an honour to meet you, Artoria Pendragon."

"The feeling is mutual, Lancer."

Saber replied, her hand trembling slightly not from fatigue, but from the indescribable sorrow of having to send off this rival and friend.

Thus, the sword of promised victory left the spearman's vulnerable neck.

"King of Knights, what are you...?"

Diarmuid looked up, puzzled.

"Lancer, at the very end, allow me to be selfish—"

Saber pursed her lips, then suddenly showed a proud yet sorrowful smile.

"At least, let me bid you farewell in the most solemn manner."

A solemn manner.

For a king who had lost her country, now merely a Servant, the only thing Artoria could offer Diarmuid was the pinnacle of honour, the golden radiance—

It was the ideal of knights.

To hold high this will as an honour, to uphold this belief as a glory.

At this moment, the ever-victorious king called out the true name of the miracle in her hands.

"Ex—calibur!!"

***

Hey readers!

Want to read ahead? 📖 Join my Patreon for early access to 30+ advance Chapters! Your support helps me write more and bring the story to you faster.

🔹patreon.com/aarvan🔹

This content is taken from freёnovelkiss.com.

Thanks for being awesome! ❤️