Little Garden 86-90

Title: We Are Not the World-Destroying Demon King

After the dream realm collapsed, the Heroic Spirits within it regained consciousness.

They saw Angra Mainyu standing at the center of the massive crater left by the nuclear explosion, and immediately readied their Noble Phantasms.

They prepared for a final, life-or-death battle— The ultimate clash of this Holy Grail War.

Using the opening created by the souls of the Servants, they would expel Angra Mainyu.

Meanwhile, Angra Mainyu, startled and enraged upon waking from her peaceful dream, went into a frenzy.

Her form, once a colossal dragon, reverted back to writhing black mud.

The black sludge wildly consumed inorganic material from the ground, continuously spawning countless terrifying monsters.

These monsters attacked the surrounding Servants.

Outside Fuyuki City, the spread rate of the Blacklight Virus surged once more—spreading from Fuyuki to Misaki, then to Tokyo, Kyoto, Chiba…

The Blacklight Virus propagated at an unimaginable speed. In an instant, the entire Japanese archipelago—except for a few specially resistant entities—was infected.

Animals, humans, plants—every living thing was infected.

All of them moved with desperate strength toward Fuyuki City.

In the sky, flocks of strange birds dove in unison, attacking Heroic Spirits who tried to advance—even those attempting to unleash their Noble Phantasms.

“We can’t keep this up. If we continue like this, we’ll exhaust ourselves before managing to expel her.”

Clearly, these Heroic Spirits had not yet reached the point where they could ignore overwhelming numbers.

Relentless waves of zombie and zombie-monster attacks would inevitably take a heavy toll.

“Ionioi Hetairoi!”

“Advance! Toward that distant goal!”

Iskandar drew his sword and charged toward Angra Mainyu.

The sacred bull treading lightning burst through all obstacles, dragging Angra Mainyu—and the entire battlefield—into his Reality Marble.

“Now, let soldier face soldier, general face general!”

Fifty thousand soldiers, fifty thousand warriors, surged forward alongside Iskandar, annihilating endless waves of undead.

“Archers, spear-throwers—launch!”

Iskandar’s commanding voice echoed across the battlefield, throughout the entire Reality Marble. Inspired by the Conqueror King, his troops unleashed volleys of spears and arrows, instantly halting the wave of zombie-bird monsters in the sky.

“Ahhhh…!”

Angra Mainyu screamed as she watched her monsters destroyed one by one.

But what followed was even more—a flood of new monsters born without end.

At this moment, Angra Mainyu no longer resembled an Evil God—she was more akin to Shub-Niggurath.

Consuming matter and endlessly birthing monsters.

Each new monster born was stronger than the last.

The virus’s infectious and polluting properties also intensified as the virus evolved.

Perhaps the status, authority, and principles of this Beast of Progress were inspired by the Outer God Shub-Niggurath?

No wonder the atmosphere grew increasingly Lovecraftian.

With rising viral infectivity and pollution, even Iskandar’s own soldiers began showing signs of infection.

Meanwhile, only the Grand Servants could resist thanks to their Grand Spirit Origin.

“This is bad.”

Iskandar’s expression turned grim. He looked at his soldiers with deep concern.

“With Command Spell, I command—eliminate the virus!”

As Iskandar pondered solutions, Waver raised his hand and used a Command Spell to purge the viral infection.

If the Greater and Lesser Grails could gather Mana and manifest wishes, then Command Spells—as Mana crystals—also possessed wish-granting qualities, though their scope was limited to commands directed at Heroic Spirits.

Yet this didn’t negate their versatility. They could provide Mana, restore status, or grant temporary enhancements—not just issue orders to Servants.

What Waver used now was to cleanse the viral infection.

The situation had hit a deadlock—but the other Heroic Spirits wouldn’t let this chance slip away.

Unnoticed, the figure of the Old Man of the Mountain, King Hassan, had already appeared behind Angra Mainyu.

“Listen.”

“The evening bell has tolled thy name.”

“The feathers foreshadow your death, and behead!”

A bell’s chime rang from nowhere, as if announcing death’s arrival for Angra Mainyu.

Yet simultaneously, it seemed to announce its own demise.

A flash of a blade—origin unknown, timing uncertain—slashed Angra Mainyu, but failed to wound her.

What, then, did the Old Man of the Mountain’s sword actually cut?

One thing was certain—he severed his own existence, his own Grand status!

“The title of Grand means nothing to me. The strongest proof lies only in this slash!”

Thus emerged the first Heroic Spirit to depart from this Holy Grail War—where every participant was a Grand.

The strongest assassin, Grand Assassin—the Old Man of the Mountain, First Hassan.

“Ahhhh...!”

An indescribable scream echoed. At that moment, Angra Mainyu realized what had been lost.

King Hassan’s sacrifice had severed her immortality, her incomplete Beast authority, and her ability to consume inorganic matter.

Though only temporarily—and she could recover instantly—three Grand Heroic Spirits now stood ready to fight her.

No, precisely four. Perhaps even five.

Artoria, filled with human compassion, gripped the Holy Lance. Scáthach held two crimson magical spears. Even behind Gilgamesh, countless Noble Phantasms gathered, ready to launch.

Among them, the most eye-catching was the ancient nuclear warhead.

Merlin even assisted by weaving illusions.

“Draco, when the critical moment comes, remember to—“

“I know. It’s to help my sister.”

Before Aslan could finish, Draco interrupted.

Did he really think Draco didn’t know where this “sister” came from?

Fact was, they were both born from the same source—from All the World’s Evils beneath this ruined Ryuudou Temple.

It wasn’t wrong to call them sisters.

Though slightly annoyed, Draco would still obey her father’s orders.

“No, I meant—at the end, help the Heroic Spirits expel Angra Mainyu.”

“After all, we don’t actually want to destroy the world, right?”

“Besides—we’re not world-destroying Demon Kings.”

When Aslan said this, Draco couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Not world-destroying Demon Kings?

Look at Earth and Japan right now. What have they become?

In a few more days, how many humans will remain alive on Earth?

He’d never met anyone more extreme and terrifying than Aslan.

-

Title: Merlin, Now It’s Your Turn!

“Don’t doubt me—what I’m doing is truly to save the world.” Aslan said with a resigned tone, looking at Draco, who appeared skeptical.

(Save the world? Destroy it first, then save it?)

Draco inwardly scoffed.

Yet despite her sarcasm, her actions didn’t falter. She had promised to help the Heroic Spirits defeat Angra Mainyu—and she was already searching for the perfect moment to trap her.

Of course, Aslan paid no mind to Draco’s reaction. He didn’t particularly care.

After all, this was his plan and his risk to take. Knowing too much wouldn’t do Draco any good.

When Angra Mainyu realized she had temporarily lost her immortality, she immediately transformed into her strongest possible form—the ultimate evolution she could achieve.

However, due to limited recorded data, the strongest form she could currently attain was still a massive, filthy black dragon.

The enormous draconic body, hundreds of meters long, flapped its wings, creating powerful gusts that lifted its colossal frame into the air.

“Ahhhh—“

Thick, toxic black sludge from All the World’s Evils erupted from Angra Mainyu’s mouth.

Its polluting and poisonous nature was so intense that even Servants with Grand Spirit Origin refused to touch it.

“Avalon!”

An invisible barrier instantly enveloped Artoria, shielding her from Angra Mainyu’s blast.

Meanwhile, when Iskandar faced this overwhelming eruption, he neither summoned his Noble Phantasm nor attempted to resist.

He knew that under the absolute corruption of All the World’s Evils, nothing could endure except for Noble Phantasms like Avalon.

Even he, having obtained a Grand Spirit Origin, was no exception.

“Ionioi Hetairoi!”

Iskandar gently patted Waver’s head one last time, then swiftly grabbed the boy and hurled him into his own Reality Marble.

“Come on, show me your Demon God’s breath! I’ll conquer you once again!”

The giant red-haired man spread his arms wide, welcoming Angra Mainyu’s blast with his bare body.

Inside the Reality Marble, Waver burst into sobs.

“My king… next time, I’ll still be your follower, sharing the joy of conquest with you!”

And so, Iskandar left the battlefield.

When Scáthach and Gilgamesh faced Angra Mainyu’s eruption, they likewise made no attempt to defend themselves—just like Iskandar.

After all, to open the rift, the souls of Servants with high purity were required.

In a normal Holy Grail War, seven Servant souls were needed to open the gate.

But with Grand Servants, only about five souls were sufficient to create a large enough opening to expel Angra Mainyu.

Though never spoken aloud, they shared a deep understanding as Grand Servants.

They all knew they had to sacrifice themselves.

Or rather, these Servant bodies were created from the beginning to be sacrificed.

“So even though it’s not true death… finally, I get to feel the sensation of dying?”

Scáthach smiled as she spoke. She knew the Angra Mainyu before her was an opponent she couldn’t defeat—even if her original self came to fight.

She was the perfect target for her challenge. Thus, she held no regrets about her end in this Holy Grail War.

“Oh, right—I almost forgot.”

Scáthach seemed to recall something. Without hesitation, she threw a spear toward Aslan.

“Do you want to become my true disciple in the Land of Shadows?”

Aslan caught the crimson spear—but hadn’t even time to refuse.

Scáthach immediately hurled her remaining magical spear.

“Gáe Bolg Alternative!”

The red magical spear condensed all of Scáthach’s power and pierced straight through Angra Mainyu’s throat, directly opposing the eruption.

*PU-CHI!*

It pierced Angra Mainyu’s throat and stopped her breath attack.

Then, Scáthach died from the residual blast.

To perfectly drive the spear into her throat, she had to throw it against the flow of the eruption.

And so, Scáthach left the battlefield.

“Absolutely ridiculous.” Aslan muttered with a helpless smile. He decided to keep the spear as a souvenir.

Visiting the Land of Shadows for fun? Sure. But becoming a disciple? He’d need to think twice.

If it were Scáthach from Little Garden inviting him, he wouldn’t have refused. Scáthach was a true god of war, standing above countless gods and buddhas—rarely matched even in Little Garden.

Only beings like Indra, Zeus, or similar entities might surpass her in martial prowess.

Of course, there were many gods from Aslan’s own mythology, but he wasn’t very familiar with them.

After all, descriptions of Chinese mythology in the original story were extremely minimal.

Meanwhile, Gilgamesh rode the golden Vimana and stared coldly at Angra Mainyu.

The Vimana crashed into Angra Mainyu, and the ancient nuclear warhead inside exploded instantly.

At that moment, Gilgamesh unleashed his Noble Phantasm.

“Enuma Elish!”

Together with the Vimana and the ancient warhead, he drove Angra Mainyu down to the ground.

His own body was obliterated in the massive explosion.

As the King of Heroes, he was no coward afraid of death. Once he realized that expelling Angra Mainyu required opening the rift, they all chose to sacrifice their lives without hesitation.

They clearly understood one thing: containing Angra Mainyu wasn’t difficult. The real challenge was how to expel her from the world?

That could only be done by the Star Sword!

So they entrusted this final task to King Arthur.

This was the unspoken understanding among fellow Grand Servants.

“Now only one Servant soul remains. Who should step forward?”

Aslan looked at Merlin with an openly mischievous grin.

Merlin returned his gaze with a bitter expression.

“My lord, could you grant me a quick death?”

“Lia, Merlin is asking for a swift death. What should we do?”

Aslan tossed the question to Artoria. He was certain she would give Merlin exactly what he wanted.

Meanwhile, Draco unleashed her Noble Phantasm.

“Babalon Domus Aurea!”

She trapped the now-helpless Angra Mainyu within the Golden Theater.

Then, she released her Beast of 666 form—seven horns, ten heads—and engaged Angra Mainyu in battle.

Of course, Draco was well aware of just how much she was holding back.

“She’s unleashing so much power!”

Draco couldn’t help but complain as she felt Angra Mainyu’s overwhelming strength.

If she resisted even slightly, she’d be torn apart instantly.

◆━⊰✧⊱━◆

Meanwhile, Merlin trembled in fear as he watched Artoria—who occasionally held Excalibur, sometimes Rhongomyniad; who wore black armor one moment, had no ahoge the next; and who even emerged at times as a lion puppet.

At that moment, multiple Artorias were fighting fiercely for the chance to help Merlin “be freed.”

The Round Table meeting inside their minds was pure chaos. The round table had shattered countless times over.

Finally, after a friendly discussion,

All Artorias agreed to advance together—taking turns teaching Merlin a lesson.

And so, Merlin experienced what could only be described as a one-person army beatdown.

In the end, he took his own life.

-

Title: The Throne of Heroes is Haunted!

“Huh? Why did Merlin kill himself?”

Artoria, nicknamed Saberface, spoke with clear frustration. They hadn’t yet finished venting their anger.

Merlin, that useless incubus, was the perfect punching bag.

Yet who would have thought he’d run away so quickly—or rather, commit suicide so decisively?

“He gave you all a chance to beat him one by one. Isn’t that generous enough?”

Although Aslan didn’t want to defend Merlin, truthfully speaking, Merlin had been quite the man just now.

He endured such brutal beating without uttering a single word and even allowed every version of Artoria to use him as a punching bag for a while.

None of the Artorias held back in the slightest.

But when the second round began, he immediately took his own life.

“Fine.”

Artoria still felt a bit regretful, but Merlin had let them each vent their anger individually.

This time, she’d let Merlin go—for now. Next time, they’d beat him up again.

After pummeling Merlin, their moods had improved significantly.

“But Master, this Angra Mainyu—will you finish her off, or should I?”

Artoria glanced toward the two Beasts pretending to fight joyfully.

More precisely, Draco and Angra Mainyu were merely moving symbolically, pretending to be locked in battle.

“Let me handle it. After all, your Holy Sword isn’t strong enough—even the Holy Lance couldn’t budge them.”

Aslan said casually.

After all, they were both Beasts. Although Draco wasn’t particularly strong right now, the other Angra Mainyu’s essence truly was a Five-Digit Last Trial of Mankind.

This power far exceeded the reach of Excalibur and Rhongomyniad.

Only the Star Holy Sword could unleash enough force to push Angra Mainyu completely out of the world.

Of course, another reason Aslan volunteered was because he also planned to visit the Root.

“Only the Star Holy Sword can fully expel her from the world.”

As he spoke, the blade in Aslan’s hand began to transform. An illusion appeared upon it.

It was the second scabbard concealing the sacred blade: Thirteen Restraints.

The Sacred Sword could only be released when numerous noble ideals and missions were fulfilled. For full release, at least seven oaths were required; for maximum power, all restraints had to be lifted simultaneously.

Aslan stepped forward, pointing the Holy Sword at Angra Mainyu, and spoke solemnly:

“Round Table Conference—commence!”

Thus, the Knights of the Round Table, led by Merlin and Lancelot, began to advance.

“Must not oppose fairies—accepted!”

“Must fight to survive—accepted!”

“Must fight stronger opponents—rejected!”

“Must not fight one-against-many battles—accepted!”

“Must not oppose humanity—accepted!”

“Must fight in search of truth—accepted!”

“Must fight against evil—accepted!”

“Must not fight for personal desire—accepted!”

“Must fight for honor—accepted!”

“Must fight against brave warriors—rejected!”

“Must not oppose good people—accepted!”

“Must not oppose women and children—accepted!”

Twelve knights recited their restrictions one by one, then declared their responses.

The release conditions reached eleven—surpassing the standard for full release.

At that moment, the blade, originally silvery-white, transformed entirely into a thick, golden sword.

Countless amounts of energy gathered within the blade. Though Aslan emitted no energy himself, as the Star Holy Sword, the planet itself supplied the power.

Light converged on the blade, becoming so dense it turned liquid. The air trembled as light accumulated.

Aslan raised the sword above his shoulder.

“Excalibur!”

A massive pillar of light shot straight toward Draco and Angra Mainyu, pushing them toward the opening leading to the outside world—the gate opened by the Greater Grail.

The attack’s power seemed to already meet the highest standards of Five-Digit strength.

But this was only eleven restraints. If all were released, it could truly reach Four-Digit levels.

This Star Holy Sword was immensely powerful.

It was estimated that anyone wielding this Sacred Sword and swearing loyalty to Queen Halloween would receive countless Gifts. It would even be sufficient to easily train an ordinary person up to Four-Digit level.

Aslan’s instincts told him that once this Sacred Sword arrived in Little Garden, it would immediately be granted a Spirit Status beyond imagination.

At minimum, it would rank just below True Treasure.

After all, there was no such thing as a Star Holy Sword in Little Garden. This was truly unprecedented.

Moreover, this Sacred Sword harmonized perfectly with Avalon, potentially forming the foundation of a True Treasure passed down from Avalon.

It was a True Treasure ranking just below Another Cosmology and Sun Authority.

Hopefully, this sword could be exchanged for information on how to complete his True Spark with Queen Halloween.

Bringing his thoughts back, Aslan carefully protected the two Beasts, ensuring Draco wouldn’t be accidentally killed.

Step by step, he pushed them out of the world—and then crossed through the gate to the outer side himself.

“So, where exactly is the Root?”

After throwing Draco back and expelling Angra Mainyu, Aslan stood in the void, scratching his head in confusion.

At that moment, he felt a pull—apparently originating from the Throne of Heroes.

After all, having consumed Arthur Proto, he had also absorbed the Grand Servant residing within the Throne of Heroes.

The seat meant for Arthur Proto in the Throne of Heroes was now vacant.

So now, was he supposed to go there and sit upon his own throne?

“What a coincidence, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t forgotten I still need to visit the Counter Forces to settle things.”

A cruel smile appeared on Aslan’s lips. “Gaia, Alaya—I’m coming for you.”

While searching for directions to the Root within the Throne of Heroes,

Aslan followed this pulling force, heading toward a place beyond the world—beyond time and space.

Not long after, he arrived at the Throne of Heroes.

Unlike the other Heroic Spirits sleeping in their seats, Aslan remained fully conscious.

He even strolled around inside the Throne of Heroes.

He genuinely considered taking all these Heroic Spirits home. But after thinking it over, he abandoned the idea.

Most importantly, many of these Heroic Spirits already had counterparts alive in Little Garden.

If he took them, wouldn’t that be like handing Noble Phantasms to others for free?

◆━⊰✧⊱━◆

“Gaia-chan, did you hear that?”

In a pure white hall somewhere unknown, two little girls—one black, one white—hugged each other tightly, trembling.

“The Throne of Heroes… has been haunted.”

Alaya whispered with a shaking, terrified voice. She clutched Gaia even tighter.

-

Title: Disobedient Counter Forces Must Be Punished

The sound of footsteps, echoing from somewhere unknown, shattered the silence of the Throne of Heroes.

As is known, the Heroic Spirits within the Throne of Heroes remain asleep in their seats and do not react.

Even stranger—Alaya only heard the sound of footsteps, yet there was no visitor to be seen throughout the entire Throne.

Besides a ghost, what other explanation could there be?

But… could the Throne of Heroes even be haunted?

That’s a good question.

Don’t ask. The answer lies in trauma—the sole reason they were both here was to get beaten up.

If movement occurred within the Throne of Heroes, it meant someone had come searching for them.

“Alaya-chan, stop pushing! I’m about to get thrown out!”

A small blanket, appearing from nowhere, covered Gaia and Alaya. They clung tightly to each other, curled up beneath it.

They tried not to make a single sound, desperate not to be found by the “ghost” outside.

“Let’s see… where are Gaia and Alaya hiding?”

“Not here?”

“Not here either?”

“Nowhere…”

“Absolutely nowhere…”

“Aha! Found you! So you’re hiding here!”

Aslan suddenly yanked away the blanket, lifting the two little girls who were tightly squeezing their eyes shut, mumbling to themselves.

“I can’t see you, I can’t see you.”

Aslan lifted both little girls into the air.

“I never expected the Counter Forces to be little girls.”

He couldn’t help but feel impressed. He’d assumed the Counter Forces were abstract, formless entities.

If that were true, “punishing” them would’ve been slightly troublesome.

Yet he hadn’t expected some “senior” had already taken this step.

He didn’t know who that senior was, but he’d have to thank them next time.

Of course, Aslan was even more amazed at how bizarre the Type-Moon world truly was.

Giving human traits and physical forms to abstract entities like the Counter Forces required at least a Three-Digit-level existence.

Indeed, this world possessed abnormal depth—but fortunately, not as deep as Little Garden.

Thinking this, Aslan felt slightly relieved and unconsciously touched the Sun Authority fused within him.

In Little Garden, Sun Authority was limited—it could only summon Four-Digit Star Beasts. But beyond Little Garden…

It wouldn’t just summon Four-Digit Star Beasts, but celestial beings on the scale of stars themselves. As for its upper limit, even Aslan didn’t know.

Yet the value of Sun Authority equaled True Treasures like Another Cosmology—and far surpassed it.

Outside Little Garden, a newly activated Another Cosmology alone could destroy an entire universe.

Sun Authority shouldn’t be much different, right?

Would a Two-Digit being suddenly appear in the Type-Moon world?

Impossible.

“Why little girls?! Do you think we wanted to become little girls?”

Gaia snapped, angrily wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

All of this was that evil person’s fault. Just thinking about that wicked woman with long hair made Gaia furious.

At birth, she could’ve chosen her own appearance—but that person forced her into the form of a little girl.

She wanted a beautiful body like the other goddesses!

“Yes, it’s all that evil person’s fault!”

Alaya chimed in, voicing her frustration.

“So, can you please stop beating us?”

“This isn’t our fault at all! Why should we bear the consequences of what the Counter Forces did in that worldline?”

Gaia and Alaya protested. They refused to accept it.

Even Counter Forces have basic human rights!

“Because I can’t capture the abstract Counter Force in my worldline. They have no physical form.”

“So, sorry!”

Aslan said without a shred of guilt, then mercilessly began spanking the Counter Forces’ bottoms.

*PLAK!* *PLAK!* *PLAK!*

Sharp slaps echoed across the entire Throne of Heroes.

“To be honest, spanking the Counter Forces’ bottoms feels incredibly satisfying.”

Spanked for so long, yet it still felt amazing.

“I’ll remember you for this!”

Gaia glared at Aslan, teeth clenched. This man dared to spank the Earth’s Counter Force!

As for Alaya, she felt relieved. It was just a spanking. As Humanity’s Counter Force, she knew this wasn’t a serious punishment.

Unlike Gaia, she didn’t care much about pride.

“Oh? Still defiant? Not satisfied with the spanking yet?”

Aslan stared at Gaia, who was clutching her sore backside but showed no sign of surrender.

“You…”

Gaia rubbed her bottom and finally chose to stay silent.

She didn’t want to get spanked again.

This man had absolutely no mercy.

She feared her bottom might break.

“Oh right, I have a question. Do you two want to leave the Throne of Heroes?”

Aslan suddenly had a bold idea—kidnapping the Counter Forces. That would certainly be interesting.

Looking at these two, they’d surely be far better company than mere survival-driven Counter Forces.

“Was kidnapping my Artoria not enough? Now you want to kidnap us too?”

Alaya muttered quietly. Though usually restrained, this time she couldn’t hold back.

“Wait, Alaya-chan—he said leave the Throne of Heroes?”

Gaia realized the crucial point. In truth, as Counter Forces, they couldn’t possess independent consciousness. Their sole purpose was to ensure the survival of planet Earth.

If they left the Throne of Heroes, their fragile awareness would instantly shatter under the will of countless parallel-world Counter Forces.

Then, they’d become two monsters formed from a collective of Counter Forces—driven solely to preserve Earth’s and humanity’s survival by any means necessary.

A convergence of infinite-world Counter Forces, all obsessed with survival—no one could predict what catastrophe they might unleash.

That’s why they could only remain within the Throne of Heroes, ensuring each worldline’s Counter Force remained confined to that worldline alone.

“How could you possibly do it?”

“If you can, I wouldn’t mind going with you.”

Gaia looked at Aslan curiously. Spending every day in the Throne of Heroes was extremely boring. There was nothing she could do.

“Might be worth a try.”

Aslan stroked his chin, pondering.

If he packaged the Earth from his worldline into a Land card and brought the Counter Forces there, there shouldn’t be any issue.

As for bringing them to Little Garden—he didn’t even dare to consider it.

Earth’s Counter Force? Planet Earth Spirit? And Humanity’s Counter Force? While everything in Little Garden was built upon Human History.

If he brought them there, he’d likely be erased instantly.

How many competitors existed for the title of Planet Earth Spirit didn’t matter—but if Humanity’s Counter Force appeared?

If it directly influenced Human History, all seventeen Two-Digit existences would probably chase him down together.

Even if the odds were slim, better safe than sorry.

What if the Central Hub and Human History in Little Garden went berserk simultaneously?

Better not to invite trouble.

Some risks could be taken, but others were best avoided.

For example, the source of profit for all gods and buddhas—Human History—or the fiercely contested position of Planet Earth Spirit among countless deities.

Compared to those, the Last Trial of Mankind didn’t seem so dangerous.

-

Title: Entering and Leaving the Root

“Really?”

Alaya also realized the crucial point here. If she could truly leave the Throne of Heroes to go play, she might forgive Aslan’s transgressions.

“Not sure, but we can give it a try.”

Aslan stroked his chin, speaking with slight uncertainty. After all, trying wouldn’t cost him anything.

The worldline he was currently visiting had already become his own. Aslan didn’t want the two Counter Forces in his worldline acting recklessly.

Even though he had delayed the end of Steel of the Land by several centuries, Ais had no hearts.

They might not remember his kindness and would continue doing exactly what they were programmed to do.

Aslan was deeply suspicious. If he accidentally revealed his power and made the Gaia and Alaya of his worldline feel threatened—would they do it again?

“Either way, I can’t tolerate the Counter Forces in my worldline.”

The feeling of being rejected by the world was utterly unpleasant.

Hearing Aslan’s words, Gaia and Alaya exchanged awkward smiles. They fully understood what Counter Forces were like.

“We’ll discuss that later. Anyway, which way is the Root?”

Honestly, Aslan suspected one reason why most people who entered the outside world through the “hole” never returned was because they got lost.

Beyond this world, in a place beyond the time axis, there was no direction at all.

“You don’t know the way to the Root?”

Alaya asked in disbelief. That meant this powerful being named Aslan hadn’t awakened his Origin, wasn’t a Magician, and didn’t have a fragment of the Root inside him?

But that was impossible, wasn’t it? Normally, everyone’s Origin was determined at birth.

And Magicians could only use True Magic if they had once entered the Root.

Gods were beings who possessed fragments of the Root within them—essentially, they were tentacles of the Root, tentacles of Gaia.

It could be said that in the entire Type-Moon world, there was no entity unrelated to the Root.

For this very reason, they wouldn’t face difficulty finding the way to the Root. The pull from their Origin alone was enough to guide them.

“Of course, if you want to go, there’s a path to the Root right here in the Throne of Heroes.”

Gaia said casually. After all, for an existence on Aslan’s level, entering and exiting the Root was as easy as going home.

In a sense, arriving at the Throne of Heroes was far more difficult than reaching the Root.

Access to the Root was generally managed by the Counter Forces—not by them.

They couldn’t control anything about it.

As she spoke, Gaia waved her hand and opened a path toward the Root.

Without hesitation, Aslan stepped straight into the Root.

“The Root… this place is too empty, huh?”

“I thought there’d be something interesting to see.”

Looking at the vast emptiness—a symbol of absolute void, yet also the origin of all things—Aslan couldn’t help but complain.

“Whatever, forget it. Better to find Sakura’s Origin first.”

Locating a specific Origin within the swirling depths of the Root wasn’t easy.

Fortunately, however, the Root would never reject any request. Within the Root, every desire would be fulfilled, and every idea would manifest.

Provided you could withstand the “gift” the Root offered.

Like Yog-Sothoth, it would never turn away anyone seeking knowledge, always generously granting boundless wisdom to whoever asked.

The Root was the same. Of course, if you couldn’t endure the Root’s “gift” you’d dissolve into it instantly.

Yet Aslan remained unmoved by this illusion of omnipotence.

“It feels… no better than Gifts from Little Garden’s Central Core. Too fake.”

Aslan shook his head. The Gifts granted by Little Garden’s Central Core were permanent and irreversible, unlike this Root, where nothing inside truly mattered.

Only what you carried out became truly yours.

But this also made things easier for Aslan. With strong intent, he quickly located Sakura’s Origin.

Of course, Aslan didn’t forget about Manaka. However, as the Princess of the Root, naturally connected to it, in a sense, she could perform self-convergence.

When Aslan asked Manaka, though, the girl wore a terrible expression.

“I won’t let those bitches steal my Prince from me!”

Thus, Manaka deliberately hid information about the Prince she’d found, to avoid being discovered by other worldline versions of herself.

Besides, for Manaka, self-convergence was an extremely brutal and bloody process—since each Sajyou Manaka might not recognize another Sajyou Manaka.

The end result would be the most vicious battle to determine the one true Sajyou Manaka.

Sajyou Manaka differed from Shiki Ryougi, who was also connected to the Root. Shiki Ryougi was born from her Origin—[Nothingness]. She could be considered the consciousness of [Nothingness] itself. She was unique, yet it could also be said that every worldline containing a Shiki Ryougi contained one Shiki.

Only Shiki was too laid-back. She didn’t care about anything, sleeping without self-awareness like Manaka.

After locating Manaka’s Origin, Aslan effortlessly transformed it into a Spirit Status, establishing Manaka as the sole existence.

Manakas from other worlds were merely manifestations of the individual named Manaka.

Only then did he proceed to search for Sakura’s Origin.

Seeing the countless tragic worldlines branching from Sakura’s Origin—and so few happy ones—

Aslan took a deep breath, struggling to suppress his anger.

He used a technique learned from Algol, altering the pivotal points in Sakura’s personal history—key moments in her life.

Then he stepped in, just as he had when first arriving in the Type-Moon world, catching the falling Sakura, and burning Zouken and all his worms to ashes.

At that moment, Aslan was practically saving every Sakura sent into the worm nest.

But Aslan didn’t dwell on that.

After rescuing Sakura, to minimize impact on history and avoid retaliation from Human History, he could only regretfully say he’d return later to exterminate that old worm.

Sakura was a supporting character, unimportant in the Holy Grail War worldline. She was merely a tragic figure.

So, to conceal historical traces, Aslan created a massive fire, declaring Sakura lost in the blaze that consumed the Matou household.

In truth, he had unified all Sakuras. As for Sakura’s existence in other worlds, he’d restore her once she grew up.