The Ruler, a man who shined as a beacon of heroism. A man who stood atop the world. A man who bore witness to her Hell and laughed in its face. Even if she didn't know his true name, the radiance that flowed from his body like a repulsive reek of purity was enough to make that much obvious.
The Archer, a man who should be awash with fear and steeped in hatred. A man who should scream in anguish for all that he has lived through. And yet, the version of him that had been summoned lacked that futility and rage that he should have possessed. A man who neglected her Hell and ran forwards, rejecting the mistakes he had made in pursuit of his hopes.
Her Master, a miserable fool who doesn't even realize how much of a clown she is. Stop smiling, stop smiling, stop smiling. Do not extend that hand to me. Do not look on me like I am something to be fixed. Do not nod in understanding when I go out to hunt. Do not watch my Hell and say that you will find a way to make those tragedies into nothing. You don't understand. Why don't you understand? Why won't you pull that hand back? Why will you not stop smiling-
His Master. His Master. His Master. Absurd, you're absurd. You're not something that can be sustained. You're putting a weight on yourself that makes even me laugh. It's not possible. Only someone like me who has seen Hell can tell you it with certainty. It can't happen. You're not strong enough, nobody's strong enough. A single person cannot erase Hell, and even if you could, it wouldn't do anything. You have to know it's pointless. You have to know that utopia you're chasing after won't be realized. You have to know that everything you've lived for is just an ephemeral dream ready to shatter, so why won't you just roll over and die?
Heroes, you're all fools. You can't defeat Hell. You are chosen by the Human Order, and so you cannot defy those tools designed by that very order to be turned against itself.
I condemn you.
You can't defeat my Hell. You can't reject my Hell. You can't create a perfect world. You should stop and accept your death.
I do not desire the Holy Grail. All I want is to see more of that terrified expression. All I want is to conquer, to pillage, to revel in the madness of this world. It doesn't matter that it's one-dimensional or simpleminded, because at least it's more consistent than your foolish attempts to do the impossible.
A boy sits alone, imprisoned by his own people. On his skin is carved all blasphemies that mankind has ever once uttered.
You are a demon. You shouldn't look upon me like that, with those eyes that plead for a miracle.
Facing certain death by the strike of Muramasa's blade, she could only smile.
She was weak.
Even if she was the strongest Servant of this war, she of all people knew just how weak she was. A third-rate vengeful spirit who had taken a paltry claim to power and clung to it until illusion became truth.
In that, Dulle Griet truly was a pathetic being.
But it didn't matter if she was weak. It didn't matter if she was pathetic. It didn't matter if she was comical.
As long as the treasury of the black capital lay at her back...
No hero could stand against her.
Foolish sword-wielder charging forwards, carrying that wish to overcome humanity's evils...
It's weak.
It's hilariously, incomprehensibly weak.
Because if this strike of your blade is forged out of "hope".
It seems I'll have to show you something that surpasses that "hope".
"...ha...ahaha...ahahahahaha!"A cackle leaves Berserker, a manic glint of insanity filling her eyes.
Try as he might, Nakae Toshi is merely a human. The time needed to invoke not one, but two of those seals upon his body was the span of several seconds. Even in a fight between humans, this was significant, but in a fight between Servants?
By the time he had invoked the first Command Seal, the instant's pause in Berserker's onslaught had already ended and she had recomposed herself. With the speaking of the second, her preparations had recreated themselves. With the charge that flew on the heels of the second command, then, any advantage that could have been gained by that momentary pause was negated.
She could defend herself, she could meet his attack with one of her own, but even though he was a demon that sort of choice was foolish. She didn't know how strong he was when empowered by his Master as he was, nor what that blade he held was capable of. So then...
There is no applause.
There is no applause.
For as Muramasa charged forwards, a dazzling star launched to strike down the enemy before it, something formed between himself and his target. Not a weapon, not a shield, not a curse.
A gate.
An arrow once loosed cannot change its flight. Even empowered by a Command Seal, Muramasa is not something capable of this. Even a stronger Heroic Spirit who could ordinarily accomplish such a feat would likely fail here as well, simply because of how little distance was between the two when the gate formed.
Why would she flee into that other world, and leave him an opening to follow her in through, when it was so much simpler to let him waste the energy he was given to charge in there himself? Oh, no, if that Master was willing to use his third Command Seal then perhaps it would be possible for Muramasa to escape from Hell and rejoin this world. Ordinarily it would likely take two such seals to do so, but with the residual inklings of energy from the command to kill Dulle Griet, one would likely be possible.
However, as the gate vanished along with he who had stepped through it, Berserker was well aware that this chance would simply not come about.
It is said in some lands that those who enter Hell are stripped of their relationships. Their loves, their friends, their memories. All such attachments they had to others in life are severed so that they can be baptized in the flames of punishment anew.
Yes, Dulle Griet could not crush the impulse of Ruler's command to kill the human before her, but she didn't need to. For as the gate that had whisked her enemy away had formed, another had manifested behind Nakae himself, and from it shot a dagger that would merely graze his flesh. It was certainly not enough to kill, scarcely enough to injure, and yet it was enough. For once that dagger had reached him, that final Command Seal would go grey.
The contract to his Master severed, the only fate that laid there for Muramasa would be to fade away inside Hell.
A fitting end to a demon, she felt.
