The “Endgame” of the 76 Riflemen

The black lance came howling through the air and pierced the spearman’s chest mercilessly. The dark-haired heroic spirit wore a look of genuine surprise and helplessness, his entire body convulsing violently at the moment of impact. As the spearman was struck and his form revealed by the black lance’s force, the red-haired young Master appeared beside him, flashing into view.

“Diarmuid!”

His voice was filled with unmistakable urgency and concern, clearly not expecting his own servant to suffer such a sudden and grievous injury.

“My lord… Lord Kurama…”

Doubling over in pain, the spearman clutched his chest, struggling to raise his head upon hearing his Master’s voice. His expression was restrained, yet brimming with agony, as if enduring some unimaginable torment.

Kurama’s expression grew grim upon seeing this—

Diarmuid rarely showed his emotions openly unless undergoing significant internal upheaval. He was always composed and mature, projecting reliability; for him to display such unguarded pain was telling—what he felt now must be nearly unbearable.

“What in the world is happening?” Kurama’s heart was anything but calm. They had only come to observe the fate of the other lancer; how had things ended up like this? This was far beyond anything Kurama had anticipated!

Watching the trembling, silently suffering dark-haired heroic spirit before him, Kurama lifted a hand, attempting to comfort him by touching his arm.

But in the next instant, the red-haired youth froze, his expression rigid—

For before his eyes, beginning at the wound where the black lance had struck, the dark-haired heroic spirit’s form began to dissolve into fragments of light, collapsing and fading away…

This was unlike the effect of spirit form transformation; it was the phenomenon that occurred only when a heroic spirit was about to leave the mortal world completely.

Everyone stared in shock at this senseless and terrifying scene—who could have guessed that the vanishing of one heroic spirit would be the cause of the defeat of another?

Even if they originated from the same soul, the previous battle at Fuyuki River had already proven that the connection between their Noble Phantasms was nothing but a sham fabricated by Kiritsugu Emiya, an excuse to mask his true intent of targeting the Kenneth team.

There was no direct, meaningful link between Lancer and Diarmuid; how could the death of one result in the disappearance of the other?

As the red-haired youth stood bewildered, Saber and Irisviel watched with sympathy and guilt—after all, wasn’t Kiritsugu the true culprit behind this outcome?

Though he hadn’t directly struck Diarmuid, it was indeed his actions that had led to Lancer’s demise.

If the youth were to hold Kiritsugu accountable, they would not be surprised in the least.

Meanwhile, the black-haired man, condemned by both wife and servant as the villain, remained unmoved.

His gaze was fixed precisely on the back of the youth’s left hand, smooth as jade. There, where the vivid crimson Command Spells had once been proof of the Holy Grail’s selection of a Master, they had now vanished completely, stripping the youth of his qualification to participate in the Grail War, and seemingly attesting to his lack of deep obsession with the Grail…

Kiritsugu frowned slightly.

With things at this point, Kenneth and Sola could no longer be allowed to stay.

In fact, if it hadn’t been for the unexpected scene just now, Maiya, hidden in the shadows, would have already acted to eliminate them the moment Kiritsugu lit his cigarette.

But a sudden interruption changed everything.

It was nothing to fret about, though; in their current state, disposing of Kenneth and Sola would be a trivial matter. What truly troubled Kiritsugu was the mysterious red-haired youth standing with bowed head.

The youth seemed uninterested in the Grail; though he had participated in the assault on Caster, it appeared not to be for the Command Spells. Unexpectedly, he and the spearman were well-matched: one sought to duel heroic spirits from different eras to fulfill his loyal path, while the other seemed merely intrigued by the Grail War, indifferent to the final outcome. This was evident—Diarmuid, though the chief contributor in slaying Caster, never went to the church to claim the reward Command Spell.

Most importantly, the youth possessed a powerful, mysterious force. Unlike a magician’s methods, it demanded caution and vigilance. Kiritsugu’s tactics against Kenneth and Sola would be useless against him; he had no intelligence on the youth—not even his residence.

After quick internal calculations, Kiritsugu abandoned any plan to eliminate him entirely. He couldn’t guarantee success, and if such an attempt angered the youth…

That would be a loss beyond measure.

Understanding this, Kiritsugu shifted his gaze and gave Maiya the prearranged signal to execute Kenneth and Sola.

The abrupt gunshots startled Saber and Irisviel, their faces twisted in shock and disbelief, and also snapped Kurama out of his daze.

He glanced calmly at Kiritsugu, unmoved even by the blood-soaked fate of Sola and Kenneth.

Yet those clear emerald eyes made Kiritsugu’s heart skip a beat, locking him into a tense stare, as if facing a formidable foe.

Kurama merely laughed softly.

He turned away without so much as a farewell; the youth, so elegantly courteous before, vanished into the moonlight, as if he were formed from its essence and now returned to his original state.

After his departure, the garden’s vivid bloodshed finally proved too much for the upright and noble female heroic spirit, who raised her sword and pointed it at her supposed ally—the Master…

The Holy Grail War was slowly approaching its seemingly inevitable conclusion.

***

“How long do you intend to keep up this act?”

Leaving the abandoned factory, walking steadily within the barrier of illusionary plants, Gilgamesh showed no displeasure at the inefficient pace.

Yet watching Kurama maintain the same emotionless demeanor as when he left, one might have thought Lancer truly vanished and Kurama, as Master, was deeply grieved. The King of Heroes couldn’t help but speak in a tone both mocking and teasing.

Kurama halted at his words, glancing sideways at the golden king.

“It’s not all an act.”

His expression grew serious as he slowly opened his palm before Gilgamesh.

In his outstretched hand lay a sphere of light the size of a pigeon egg, its surface emitting a gentle, lustrous glow—not dazzling, but pleasing to the eye, hard to look away from.

“What exactly is this? Is Diarmuid truly asleep in this little sphere? What happened to him to end up like this? When will he awaken?”

Kurama knew none of these answers.

In his last moments of consciousness, before fading away and condensing into the small sphere, Diarmuid managed only to send Kurama a message: he was unharmed but might need to sleep for a while. Kurama had no further information, but seized the opportunity to erase himself and Diarmuid from Kiritsugu’s list of enemies. Only then did he relax and begin to study the sphere formed from Diarmuid’s dissipated essence.

To his disappointment, even Gilgamesh could not answer his questions.

“I have never encountered such a situation,” the King of Heroes admitted without shame. It was strange from the start; his intuition suggested it was not necessarily a bad thing, but to make reckless assertions would be irresponsible for a king. He had no intention of pretending omniscience—that was something only mongrels would do.

Nonetheless, their next plans must change accordingly.

Diarmuid’s unexpected “exit” was not part of their original plan, meaning the script they had agreed upon would require adjustments.

The King of Heroes cared little for that; only the final outcome mattered to him, and a few twists along the way were inconsequential.

Kurama, however, held a different view.

“With things as they are, there’s no need for us to make any further adjustments.”

Carefully closing his palm around the sphere, he gently soothed the worried white creature watching him, then turned to Gilgamesh with a enigmatic smile:

“From the very beginning of the Holy Grail War, everyone entered the game. All the groundwork we laid should now bear fruit; there’s no need to worry about any unexpected developments along the way.”

“Because, as long as in that final moment the planned step is carried out smoothly, that is enough. Before that…”

Everything that should have happened already has; minor changes in detail are no longer enough to affect the ultimate outcome.

The golden heroic spirit raised an eyebrow, but unexpectedly voiced no objection.

“Heh. Then let me see for myself.”

You, a mere mortal, who dares to scheme against the power of the world—what entertainment will you ultimately offer?

Golden spiritual particles scattered in the air, and when Kurama looked again, the blond heroic spirit had vanished. Kurama shook his head and gazed down at the concerned Mokona in his arms:

“Very soon… it will all be over.”

He whispered, leaning down to comfort the little creature with a gentle kiss. Seeing Mokona blush and smile, nestling close for a shy return kiss, the fox spirit tightened his grip around the sphere—

Diarmuid…

If you awaken before that final moment, my promise will always stand.

But…

But if you cannot awaken…

Feeling the sphere’s alternating warmth and chill, Kurama sighed silently.

Then, may you share the King of Heroes’ fate, no longer bound by the past, and regain your purpose and hope.