Nvd2
ASH FALLS IN SILENCE: THE AVATAR WALKS
FINAL PART
He gestured for her to join him, taking a stance that seemed deceptively simple.
"The first principle," Zhen Wuya explained, "is understanding that position is an illusion. You don't exist 'here' any more than you exist 'there.' Locality is a convenience, not a requirement."
Scathach mimicked his stance, her body instantly adapting with the perfect muscle memory of an immortal warrior.
"Like this?" she asked.
"The physical form is merely the beginning," he corrected, making a subtle adjustment to her posture. "Now, close your eyes and perceive the spaces between your thoughts."
As they trained beneath the Antarctic stars, neither noticed the small audience that had gathered at a respectful distance. Artoria and Merlin watched with undisguised interest.
"He teaches her secrets beyond our comprehension," Merlin observed quietly. "Knowledge that could unmake the very foundations of reality if misused."
"And yet he shares it freely," Artoria noted. "Why?"
"Perhaps," the magus replied with uncharacteristic solemnity, "because he sees potential in her. In all of us."
CHAPTER 9: REVELATIONS AND REVOLUTIONS
The Nature of the Avatar
A month after his arrival, the Temple Master had become an established presence at Chaldea. Though still mysterious, he had formed connections with various Servants and mages, each relationship unique in its dynamics.
It was Nero who organized what she grandly termed a "Celebratory Feast of Gratitude," insisting that proper Roman hospitality be shown to their savior. The crimson Emperor's natural exuberance overwhelmed all objections, and soon Chaldea's main hall was transformed into a banquet space worthy of an imperial palace.
"Magnificent, is it not?" Nero declared, gesturing expansively at the elaborate decorations and laden tables. "Only the finest for one who has preserved our glorious existence!"
The Temple Master observed the proceedings with amused tolerance, accepting a goblet of wine from the enthusiastic emperor.
"You have quite the talent for celebration, Imperator," he noted, sipping the vintage that Nero had specially selected.
"Life should be lived with passion!" Nero proclaimed. "Art, beauty, feast, and song—these are what give meaning to existence."
"An admirable philosophy," Zhen Wuya acknowledged, "though perhaps not universally applicable."
"Umu! All philosophies have exceptions," Nero agreed with surprising insight. "But tell me, mysterious one—what philosophies guide beings such as yourself? Surely not the simple concerns of mortals or even gods."
The question, asked with Nero's characteristic directness, drew the attention of those nearby. Conversations quieted as others turned to hear his response.
The Temple Master considered his answer carefully, scanning the gathered faces—Servants from across human history, mages, even Divine Spirits, all united in their curiosity.
"I am guided by perspective," he said finally. "By seeing the patterns that connect realms of existence, and by recognizing potential where others see only limitation."
"Spoken like a true philosopher!" Nero declared approvingly. "But you speak in riddles, as always. Tonight is for truth and celebration! Tell us something of yourself that we might better understand our mysterious benefactor."
Zhen Wuya's expression shifted subtly. For a brief moment, his eyes seemed to contain galaxies born and dying in the same instant.
"Very well," he conceded. "What you perceive before you is merely an avatar—a diminished projection of my true self."
A murmur ran through the assembled guests.
"Like a Servant?" asked a young mage.
"No," the Temple Master replied. "Servants are spiritual reconstructions anchored by human history and belief. I am... different. This form is a deliberate limitation—a focusing of my essence into a manifestation that can interact with your reality without destroying it."
"Destroying it?" Ritsuka asked, stepping forward with natural curiosity.
"My actual being exists beyond the constraints of your dimensional framework," Zhen Wuya explained. "Its raw presence would unravel the conceptual foundations of not just this world, but all timelines and parallel realities in your multiverse—what you call the Nasuverse."
The room fell silent as the implications sank in.
"Then we are fortunate you chose such consideration," Artoria observed carefully.
"It's less consideration than necessity," the Temple Master replied with unexpected humor. "It would be rather pointless to save a reality only to accidentally unmake it through carelessness."
His light tone broke the tension, drawing surprised laughter from several guests.
"So, what are you, really?" Cu Chulainn called out from where he lounged against a pillar. The Irish hero had never been one for excessive formality.
The Temple Master's smile held secrets older than time.
"I am the Temple Master. He Who Walks Through Worlds, Yet Stands Before All. In the vastness of the omniverse—the collection of all possible multiverses—I serve as a balancing force." His voice remained conversational, yet somehow carried to every corner of the room. "There are realms beyond your Root, beyond your concept of existence itself, where different laws apply."
"And what laws are those?" Waver Velvet asked, scholarly curiosity overcoming his usual caution.
"Laws that have no equivalence in your understanding," Zhen Wuya replied. "Imagine trying to explain color to a being that perceives only sound, or trying to describe three-dimensional space to a creature that exists in only two dimensions."
"Yet you bridge these incomprehensible differences," observed Holmes, who had been quietly analyzing everything from a corner. "Fascinating."
"I have walked the paths between conceptual frameworks for longer than your universe has existed," the Temple Master acknowledged. "I have witnessed the birth and death of realities beyond counting. Some I have preserved. Others..." his expression darkened momentarily, "others I have ended."
This statement sent a chill through the gathering.
"Ended?" Mash asked quietly. "You mean..."
"When corruption spreads beyond redemption, when the fundamental nature of a reality becomes a cancer upon the broader omniverse, I act as the final arbiter." His voice remained gentle, yet carried an undertone that made several Servants instinctively reach for weapons they weren't holding. "It is not a role I sought, but one I accepted when I found the Temple—a nexus point beyond all realities."
"You're a destroyer of worlds," Gilgamesh stated, not as accusation but as recognition.
"And a preserver," the Temple Master corrected. "Often in the same action. Destruction and creation are not opposites but complementary functions of a healthy omniverse."
He looked around at their expressions—varying degrees of awe, fear, fascination, and disbelief.
"But enough of cosmic responsibilities," he said, his tone lightening as he raised his goblet. "Tonight, as your Emperor has wisely ordained, is for celebration. We have much to be grateful for."
Nero, delighted to be acknowledged, seized the opportunity to redirect the mood.
"Indeed! A toast to our savior, the mysterious Temple Master!" she proclaimed grandly. "And to us, for being worthy of saving!"
The tension broke as glasses were raised, conversations resuming with new energy. Yet something had fundamentally changed in how the gathered heroes perceived their visitor. The casual revelation of his true nature—even this small glimpse—had transformed their understanding.
He wasn't merely powerful. He was power itself given form and purpose.
A Queen's Curiosity
As the celebration continued, Medb found her way to the Temple Master's side. The Queen of Connacht moved with deliberate seduction, her beauty enhanced by both magic and natural confidence.
"So," she purred, sliding into the space beside him. "A being beyond comprehension, walking among us in human form. How very... intriguing."
Zhen Wuya regarded her with amused tolerance. "Queen of Connacht. Your reputation precedes you."
"All good things, I hope," she replied with a coy smile.
"Interesting things," he corrected diplomatically. "Power takes many forms. Yours is... distinctive."
Medb laughed, the sound drawing eyes from across the room. "You speak carefully for someone who could unmake existence with a thought."
"Power demands restraint," he replied. "Something you understand in your own way, though you often choose to ignore it."
She raised an eyebrow, not offended but genuinely surprised. "You think I restrain myself? Most would say the opposite."
"Most see only what you show them," the Temple Master observed. "A queen who rules through passion and desire, who takes what she wants without apology. But beneath that is calculation and purpose. Your excesses are... strategic."
Medb studied him with new interest. "You see much, Temple Master."
"It is my nature," he replied simply.
"And what else does your nature include?" she asked, leaning closer. "Does a being beyond existence still experience... human desires?"
Before he could answer, a throat cleared pointedly behind them. Scathach stood there, her expression neutral but her eyes carrying subtle warning.
"The mages have questions about the modifications to Chaldea's defenses," she stated flatly. "Your input would be valuable."
Medb's smile turned knowing as she glanced between them. "My, my. Already staking a claim, Warrior-Queen?"
"Practical matters require attention," Scathach replied coolly. "Even during celebrations."
The Temple Master rose with fluid grace. "Duty calls, it seems. A pleasure conversing with you, Queen Medb."
As he walked away with Scathach, Medb's laughter followed them. "This grows more interesting by the day!" she called after them.
Once they were out of earshot, Scathach spoke without looking at him. "There are no questions about the defenses."
"I know," he replied, amusement coloring his tone.
"You didn't need rescuing."
"Also true."
She finally glanced at him. "Then why did you come?"
"Because you asked," he said simply.
Scathach faltered momentarily in her stride, then continued walking. "You are... unpredictable."
"I've been told that across multiple realities," he acknowledged with a slight smile.
CHAPTER 10: BOUNDLESS HORIZONS
The Challenge of Prometheus
The training session had drawn an unprecedented audience.
In Chaldea's largest simulation chamber, modified to withstand extreme energy outputs, Karna stood facing the Temple Master. The Son of the Sun God was in his most powerful manifestation—the rarely seen Super Karna, where he had access to all his divine potential without limitation.
Golden flames surrounded him, his armor radiating solar energy that would have blinded ordinary observers. His power was such that even other divine Servants maintained a respectful distance.
"You requested this demonstration," Zhen Wuya noted, standing relaxed in his usual robes. "Are you certain you wish to proceed?"
"I am," Karna replied solemnly. "The others speak of your power, but words create only shadow-knowledge. True understanding comes through direct experience."
The Temple Master nodded. "What would you experience, exactly?"
"Your true might," Karna stated simply. "Not restrained as in our previous match. I would know what faced the Entity that threatened us all."
A murmur ran through the watching crowd. What Karna requested was unprecedented—and potentially catastrophic.
"A full demonstration would unmake this reality," Zhen Wuya explained patiently. "But I can offer... a glimpse."
Karna nodded, assuming a battle stance. "That is acceptable."
The Temple Master closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, something had changed. Though his physical appearance remained the same, the air around him seemed to bend, reality itself warping slightly to accommodate whatever shift had occurred in his manifestation.
"Prepare yourself," he warned.
Karna braced, his divine spear held before him. "I am ready."
What happened next was difficult for even the divine beings present to fully comprehend. The Temple Master made no grand gesture, no obvious attack. He simply took a single step forward.
That step somehow existed across multiple planes simultaneously. The air shattered like glass, revealing glimpses of impossibilities—realms where physics operated by different rules, dimensions with colors that had no names in human language, spaces where time flowed in reverse or sideways or not at all.
Karna's divine defenses activated instantly, enveloping him in solar fire. But the wave of conceptual pressure that emanated from that single step overwhelmed even his godly resistance. He was thrown backward, his armor cracking, not from physical impact but from exposure to principles it wasn't designed to withstand.
The simulation chamber's walls bulged outward. Equipment melted or transformed into impossible shapes. Several observers cried out as their perceptions temporarily expanded beyond their minds' capacity to process.
And then, as quickly as it had begun, it ended. The Temple Master stood in the same position, reality resettle around him like a pond after a stone's ripple fades.
Karna struggled to his feet, his armor regenerating slowly. Despite the overwhelming defeat, his expression showed not humiliation but profound awe.
"Now I understand," he said quietly. "What we perceive of you is barely a fragment."
"As it must be," Zhen Wuya replied. "Full understanding would require evolution beyond your current state of existence."
"Is such evolution possible?" asked Merlin, who had observed from a protected position, his clairvoyance allowing him to perceive more than most.
The Temple Master turned to address the wider audience. "That is why I remain. Your reality has potential beyond what its architects envisioned. The Entity's attack exposed weaknesses, yes, but also possibilities."
"What possibilities?" Ritsuka asked, stepping forward despite Da Vinci's cautioning hand.
"Transcendence," Zhen Wuya answered simply. "A path beyond the Root itself, to realms of existence currently beyond your comprehension."
"And you would guide us on this path?" Artoria questioned, her tone carefully neutral.
"I would offer direction," he corrected. "The journey must be your own, taken at your own pace, following your own choices. Forced evolution leads only to corruption and collapse—I have seen it happen in countless realities."
"Is that what you do?" Cu Chulainn asked bluntly. "Travel around fixing broken realities and showing them how to... level up?"
The Temple Master laughed—a warm, genuine sound that momentarily made him seem almost human.
"An oversimplification, but not entirely inaccurate," he conceded. "Though sometimes the fixing requires more... definitive measures."
"Like destruction," Gilgamesh stated from where he leaned against the chamber's entrance.
"Like pruning," Zhen Wuya corrected. "Removing what cannot be saved to preserve what can."
His expression grew momentarily distant, as if seeing beyond their reality to others he had encountered.
"I have walked through the ashes of a trillion civilizations," he said softly. "I have witnessed the fall of pantheons that ruled for eons. I have ended conceptual frameworks that had become so corrupted they threatened the fabric of the omniverse itself."
The chamber fell silent, the casual reminder of his incomprehensible power and experience sobering even the most confident Servants.
"But I have also preserved and nurtured," he continued, his voice warming. "I have guided countless realities to heights their creators never imagined possible. I have watched beings transcend their conceptual limitations to become something new and wonderful."
He focused back on the present, meeting Ritsuka's gaze directly.
"Your reality has that potential," he stated. "Despite its flaws, despite its vulnerabilities—or perhaps because of them—the Nasuverse carries the seeds of extraordinary evolution."
Fragments of Understanding
Late that night, long after most had retired to process what they had witnessed, Nero found the Temple Master on Chaldea's observation deck. He stood watching the aurora that had become a permanent feature of the Antarctic sky since his arrival.
"They're magnificent, aren't they?" Nero commented, joining him at the railing. Her usual bombastic tone was subdued, replaced by genuine appreciation.
"They're a side effect," he replied. "Reality healing itself creates energy discharges. The patterns contain mathematical proofs that would revolutionize your understanding of dimensional physics—if you could read them."
"Art often contains truths we cannot immediately grasp," Nero observed surprisingly. "That doesn't diminish its beauty."
The Temple Master glanced at her with new interest. "A profound observation, Emperor of Rome."
"I contain multitudes," she replied with a wink, some of her typical flamboyance returning. "We artists understand that truth has many layers."
They stood in companionable silence for a time, watching the impossible colors dance across the sky.
"May I ask you something?" Nero finally ventured.
"You may ask," he replied with a slight smile.
"This Temple you're named for... what is it?"
The question seemed to surprise him. Of all the queries he had fielded since his arrival, this was not one he had anticipated.
"It is... home," he said after a thoughtful pause. "A nexus point between realities, existing outside conventional space and time. A place where the fundamental laws of the omniverse can be observed and, when necessary, adjusted."
"It sounds lonely," Nero commented.
Zhen Wuya's expression shifted, revealing brief vulnerability. "It can be. There are few who can exist there safely, fewer still who understand its purpose."
"Do you not have companions? Subjects? Fellow... whatever you are?" she pressed.
"I have had students, occasionally," he acknowledged. "Beings from various realities who showed potential for transcendence. Some succeeded. Others..." he trailed off.
"Failed?" Nero suggested.
"Changed course," he corrected. "Transcendence isn't a single path with a defined destination. Each being must find their own way beyond their conceptual limitations."
Nero considered this, then asked with characteristic directness: "Are we potential students, then? Is that why you stay?"
The Temple Master smiled—a genuine expression that transformed his severe features.
"Some of you, perhaps," he admitted. "Though not all will choose that path, nor should they. Different natures have different destinies."
"And my nature?" Nero asked, striking a dramatic pose despite the serious conversation. "What destiny lies before the glorious Emperor of Rome?"
"That," he replied with gentle amusement, "is entirely for you to determine. My role is not to dictate destinations, only to illuminate possibilities."
Nero nodded thoughtfully. "A wise teacher indeed." She turned to leave, then paused. "One last question, if I may?"
He gestured for her to continue.
"Do you ever laugh? Truly laugh, I mean—not these polite acknowledgments of amusement, but genuine, unbridled joy?"
The unexpected question seemed to catch him off guard. For a moment, something ancient and weary showed in his eyes—the weight of countless eons of existence, of responsibilities beyond mortal comprehension.
Then, surprisingly, he laughed—a deep, rich sound entirely different from his usual controlled responses. It held warmth and genuine mirth, the sound of someone who had indeed experienced joy despite burdens that would crush most beings.
"Not as often as I should, perhaps," he admitted when the laughter subsided. "An oversight I may need to remedy during my stay here."
Nero beamed triumphantly. "Then I shall consider it my imperial duty to assist in this important matter! None shall say that Nero Claudius failed to bring joy to even the most cosmic of beings!"
As she swept away with renewed purpose, the Temple Master found himself still smiling. Of all the reactions to his presence he had encountered across countless realities, Nero's determination to make him laugh more might be among the most unexpected—and welcome.
CHAPTER 11: BONDS BEYOND CONCEPT
The King's Revelation
Gilgamesh had been watching everything with careful attention.
Unlike most, who approached the Temple Master with awe or caution, the King of Heroes observed with the calculated interest of one accustomed to evaluating the worth of all he surveyed. He noted which Servants sought training, which asked questions, which maintained distance.
More importantly, he noted how the fundamental nature of reality itself seemed to bend slightly in the Avatar's presence—not dramatically, but in subtle ways that suggested their visitor was holding back far more than he revealed.
A week after the demonstration with Karna, Gilgamesh sought out the Temple Master in the private study he had established at Chaldea. The room had become something of an anomaly—larger inside than architectural plans suggested possible, with shelves containing texts in languages never seen in the Nasuverse.
"You've been avoiding me," Gilgamesh stated without preamble, striding in uninvited.
The Temple Master looked up from an ancient scroll, unsurprised by the interruption. "I've been giving you space to process," he corrected.
"I require no such consideration," the king declared haughtily.
"Don't you?" Zhen Wuya set aside the scroll. "You've been rebuilding your conceptual framework since our first meeting. That requires time, even for one such as you."
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed. "You presume much."
"I observe much," the Temple Master countered. "Your pride was wounded when your treasures failed to respond during the Entity's attack. Not because you feared defeat, but because it challenged your fundamental understanding of your own nature."
The directness of this assessment would have earned anyone else a blade through the heart. Instead, Gilgamesh laughed—a sharp, genuine sound.
"You see clearly," he acknowledged, dropping into a chair opposite the Avatar. "Few would dare speak such truths to my face."
"Truth is rarely served by hesitation," Zhen Wuya replied.
"Indeed." Gilgamesh studied him intently. "I have been contemplating what you showed Karna. A glimpse of your true nature, you called it. Yet even that was filtered through our limited perception."
"Necessarily so," the Temple Master confirmed. "Direct exposure would have unpleasant consequences."
"For this reality, yes," Gilgamesh waved dismissively. "But what of those with the potential to transcend? You spoke of students who achieved this state."
"Some, yes. After centuries of preparation and gradual exposure."
"I am Gilgamesh," the king stated, as if this single fact overrode all normal limitations. "I would begin this preparation."
The Temple Master's expression grew serious. "It is not a path to be undertaken lightly, King of Heroes. The process is irreversible and often painful. Many who begin never complete the journey."
"Those others were not me," Gilgamesh replied with absolute confidence.
Zhen Wuya studied him for a long moment, seeing beyond the arrogance to the genuine potential beneath. Of all the beings in this reality, Gilgamesh did indeed possess unique qualities—his existence as the bridge between divine and human gave him conceptual flexibility few others could claim.
"Very well," the Temple Master finally agreed. "We will begin with the fundamental principle: the nature of concept itself."
He drew a simple circle in the air—not with magic, but with something more basic. The circle remained, hanging between them like a window into deeper reality.
"What do you see?" he asked.
"A circle," Gilgamesh replied immediately.
"Look deeper," the Temple Master instructed. "Not with your eyes, but with your understanding."
As Gilgamesh focused, the circle began to change—not physically, but conceptually. It remained a circle, yet simultaneously revealed itself as an infinitely complex mathematical expression, a boundary between states of being, a representation of cyclical time, a gate between dimensions.
The King of Heroes gasped involuntarily as his perception expanded beyond normal limits. For the first time in his existence, he glimpsed reality as it truly was—not a fixed framework, but an infinitely malleable expression of deeper principles.
"This," Zhen Wuya explained quietly, "is merely the first step. The recognition that what you perceive as fundamental law is actually a chosen perspective—one of countless possible interpretations of the underlying truth."
Gilgamesh's normally imperious expression had transformed into one of genuine wonder. "It's... beautiful," he whispered.
"Yes," the Temple Master agreed with unexpected gentleness. "That is often the first reaction to glimpsing beyond the veil. Beauty before comprehension."
As the circle faded, Gilgamesh blinked, readjusting to normal perception. Something had fundamentally changed in him—a shift no less profound for being invisible to ordinary observation.
"This knowledge," he said slowly. "If widely shared..."
"Would destabilize your reality," the Temple Master finished for him. "Conceptual frameworks require consensus to maintain stability. Too many individuals operating outside that consensus creates fractures."
"Yet you share it with me," Gilgamesh noted.
"Because you have the capacity to hold contradictory truths simultaneously—to operate within the consensus while perceiving beyond it," Zhen Wuya explained. "It is a rare quality, even among beings of your stature."
The King of Heroes straightened, his natural pride reasserting itself, though now tempered with something new—genuine humility before knowledge greater than his own.
"When do we continue?" he asked.
"When you have fully integrated this first lesson," the Temple Master replied. "It cannot be rushed."
Gilgamesh rose to leave, then paused at the doorway. "The others seek your attention in various ways. Some for knowledge, some for power, some for..." he smiled knowingly, "other reasons."
"And you?" Zhen Wuya asked. "What do you truly seek, Gilgamesh?"
The king considered the question with uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.
"Completion," he finally answered. "I have stood between worlds—human and divine—never fully belonging to either. Perhaps there is a third option I never considered."
"There are always more options than we perceive," the Temple Master confirmed. "That may be the most important lesson of all."
A Garden of Possibilities
The garden had become something of a sanctuary within Chaldea—a place where the Temple Master could often be found when not engaged in more official duties. Under his subtle influence, the space had flourished beyond its original design, plants from across the multiverse taking root and thriving in patterns that formed living mathematical equations.
It was here that a small gathering occurred one peaceful afternoon. Artoria, having seemingly overcome her initial suspicion, joined Martha, Scathach, and Arcueid in what had become an informal discussion group. They sat on stone benches arranged in a perfect sacred geometric pattern, sharing experiences and insights gained since the Intervention.
"My connection to Avalon has... evolved," Artoria was explaining. "It's no longer simply a sheath or a separate realm. It's become more like a perspective I can access at will."
"Similar changes have occurred in the Land of Shadows," Scathach confirmed. "The boundaries are no longer fixed. They respond to intent rather than established rules."
"The conceptual frameworks are rebalancing," the Temple Master explained, tending to a flowering bush with diamond-shaped blooms that shifted color with each passing thought. "Your reality was built on relatively rigid structures. The Entity's attack exposed their limitations."
"And your repairs changed the fundamental architecture," Martha observed.
"Less repair, more evolution," he corrected gently. "I accelerated processes that were already potential within your reality's design."
Arcueid, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. "You've freed us from certain constraints while introducing new possibilities. The question is—to what end?"
The directness of her question drew appreciative glances from the others. The True Ancestor had perhaps changed most visibly since the Intervention—her nature as Ultimate One partially restructured, granting her freedoms previously unimaginable.
The Temple Master straightened, giving her his full attention.
"To what end does any teacher guide their students?" he replied. "To help them reach their full potential, whatever that might be."
"And what is our potential?" Artoria pressed, the king in her demanding clear answers.
Zhen Wuya smiled—a genuine expression that momentarily transformed his severe features.
"That," he said, "is the most wonderful question of all. In most realities I've visited, potential is predetermined—limited by the conceptual framework that gives that reality structure. But here..." he gestured expansively, "here your architects built something unique without fully realizing it."
"The Root," Martha suggested.
"Beyond even that," the Temple Master corrected. "The Root is merely the foundation of your current conceptual understanding. What lies beyond it has no name in your language, but might be described as... infinite perspective."
"You speak in riddles," Scathach noted, though without criticism.
"Because direct explanation would be meaningless," he acknowledged. "Imagine trying to explain color to beings who perceive only sound, or attempting to describe three-dimensional space to creatures who exist in only two dimensions."
"Yet you believe we can transcend these limitations," Arcueid observed.
"I know you can," he stated with absolute certainty. "I've seen the patterns, the possibilities. This reality has unique flexibility—a capacity for conceptual evolution I've rarely encountered elsewhere."
He knelt beside a patch of soil where nothing yet grew, placing his hand upon the earth. Where he touched, impossible flowers bloomed—blossoms that existed in multiple states simultaneously, petals that extended into dimensions beyond normal perception.
"Each of you carries similar potential," he explained. "The capacity to extend beyond your current limitations into new states of being. Not by abandoning what you are, but by expanding it—becoming more than your current definitions allow."
The four women exchanged glances, each processing this revelation differently. Artoria with cautious hope, Martha with thoughtful acceptance, Scathach with determined focus, and Arcueid with undisguised excitement.
"How do we begin?" Arcueid asked eagerly.
"You already have," the Temple Master replied. "The very question opens paths previously invisible. The desire to transcend is the first step toward transcendence."
"And the next step?" Scathach pressed practically.
Zhen Wuya's expression grew both serious and somehow lighter, as if sharing a burden he had carried alone for too long.
"Perspective shift," he explained. "Learning to see reality not as it appears, but as it truly is—a malleable expression of deeper principles rather than fixed, immutable law."
He gestured toward the strange flowers. "These appear to violate the natural order only because your perception of 'natural' is limited to your current understanding. From a broader perspective, they are perfectly natural expressions of possibilities inherent in your reality's design."
"You make it sound simple," Artoria observed skeptically.
"The principle is simple," he acknowledged with a slight smile. "The practice is... challenging. It requires unlearning assumptions so fundamental you don't recognize them as assumptions."
"Like fish becoming aware of water," Martha suggested.
"Precisely," the Temple Master nodded appreciatively. "But fish who might eventually learn to swim through air, earth, fire, and states of being that have no names in your language."
He rose, brushing soil from his hands. "Each of you will find your own path. Some through combat," he nodded to Scathach and Artoria, "others through faith," a respectful inclination toward Martha, "others through nature itself," a final gesture to Arcueid.
"And you?" Arcueid asked. "What is your role in our... evolution?"
"Guide. Observer. Occasional intervention when needed," he replied. "But never director. The paths you choose must be your own, or they lead nowhere meaningful."
As they continued their discussion, none noticed the figure watching from the shadows near the entrance. Merlin observed with uncharacteristic sobriety, his clairvoyance allowing him to perceive more of the Temple Master's true nature than most.
"The slayer of corrupted multiverses, playing gardener to our reality," he murmured to himself. "How fascinating... and terrifying."
CHAPTER 12: ECHOES OF ETERNITY
The Temple's Shadow
Six months after the Intervention, Chaldea had transformed beyond recognition. What had begun as a research facility had evolved into a nexus point for the new paradigm emerging across the Nasuverse.
Representatives from every major faction cycled through regularly, seeking guidance or training from the Temple Master. A new harmony had developed between groups historically at odds—mages working alongside Church executors, Divine Spirits collaborating with humans, Heroic Spirits freely sharing knowledge across historical boundaries.
At the center of it all stood Zhen Wuya, his presence both catalyst and stabilizing influence. Though he remained an enigma in many ways, he had formed meaningful connections with numerous individuals, each relationship unique to the beings involved.
On this particular evening, he stood alone atop Chaldea's highest observation platform, gazing not at the aurora-filled sky but at something only he could perceive.
"You're preparing to leave," came a voice from behind him. Ritsuka stepped forward, having developed an uncanny ability to find the Temple Master even when others could not.
"Not immediately," Zhen Wuya replied, not surprised by either the presence or the insight. "But yes, eventually. My role here has finite duration."
"Because the work is done?" Ritsuka asked, joining him at the railing.
"Because the work transitions to a new phase," he corrected gently. "One that requires your independence."
Ritsuka considered this. In the months since the Intervention, the young Master had changed as well—still human, still compassionate, but with a deeper understanding of the cosmic forces at play.
"Will we see you again?" they asked, echoing a question from their first meeting.
"That depends entirely on you," the Temple Master answered. "On the paths you choose, individually and collectively."
"You're being cryptic again," Ritsuka observed with a small smile.
"A habit of existence beyond conventional spacetime," Zhen Wuya acknowledged, returning the smile. "Direct answers create fixed paths. Questions create possibilities."
They stood in companionable silence for a time, watching the mathematical auroras dance across the Antarctic sky.
"Before you go," Ritsuka finally said, "there's something many of us have wondered but been afraid to ask."
"The Temple," the Avatar guessed.
"Yes
ASH FALLS IN SILENCE: THE AVATAR WALKS
CONCLUSION
"Yes," Ritsuka nodded. "What exactly is it? You've mentioned it's beyond our reality, but what does that mean? What does it look like? What happens there?"
The Temple Master's expression softened, his eyes reflecting starlight that seemed to come from somewhere else entirely.
"The Temple exists at the confluence of all possible realities," he began, his voice carrying a rare wistfulness. "Not within the multiverse, not outside it, but at the exact point where all potentialities intersect."
He gestured to the sky, where the aurora patterns shifted into increasingly complex mathematical equations.
"Imagine a structure not built of matter, but of pure conceptual framework. Its walls aren't stone or metal, but solidified possibilities. Its chambers expand and contract based on cosmic necessity. Its corridors lead to every reality that ever existed or could exist."
"And you found this place?" Ritsuka asked, trying to envision something so fundamentally beyond human comprehension.
"Or it found me," Zhen Wuya replied with a slight smile. "In one of my incarnations—perhaps the thousandth, perhaps the millionth—I walked beyond the boundaries of my birth reality. I had transcended every limitation, conquered every challenge, and sought what lay beyond the final horizon."
He paused, the memory clearly significant despite countless eons of existence.
"What I found was... solitude. Purpose. A nexus point where the omniverse itself maintains its balance. And a responsibility I never sought but couldn't ignore."
"The Temple had no master before you?"
"It had many, I believe. Their echoes still resonate in its deeper chambers. But they had moved beyond even that stage of existence, leaving the responsibility to whoever proved worthy of finding it."
Ritsuka absorbed this, trying to grasp the scale of what the Temple Master described.
"And from there, you... watch over everything? All realities?"
"I observe. I maintain balance. When necessary, I intervene." His expression darkened momentarily. "Sometimes that means preservation. Other times..."
"Destruction," Ritsuka finished quietly.
"Transmutation would be more accurate," he corrected. "Energy can be neither created nor destroyed, only changed in form. The same applies to realities themselves. When one becomes so corrupted it threatens the broader omniverse, I don't erase it—I transform it, redistributing its fundamental components into new potentialities."
He turned to face Ritsuka directly. "But the Temple is not merely a cosmic observation post. It's also a sanctuary for those few beings who transcend their realities' limitations. A place where perspective beyond perspective can be achieved."
"A school," Ritsuka suggested.
This drew a genuine laugh from the Temple Master. "In a sense, yes. Though with very few students across the epochs of existence."
A comfortable silence fell between them as Ritsuka processed this glimpse of cosmic scale.
"Thank you," they finally said. "For sharing that. For treating us as worthy of understanding."
"Understanding is a journey, not a destination," Zhen Wuya replied. "But you—all of you—have shown remarkable capacity for growth. It gives me hope."
"Hope for what?"
The Temple Master's gaze returned to the horizon, seeing far beyond the physical landscape.
"For something new," he said softly. "Something I haven't witnessed before, despite eons of observation. A reality that transcends itself not through external guidance, but through its own inherent potential."
CHAPTER 13: CONVERGENCE OF POWERS
The Gathering Storm
The peace that had settled over the Nasuverse following the Intervention wasn't destined to last indefinitely. Nine months after the Temple Master's arrival, the first signs of new instability appeared.
Reality rifts—smaller but similar to those created by the Entity—began manifesting in isolated locations. Unlike the original crisis, these disturbances showed signs of deliberate creation rather than random intrusion.
In Chaldea's command center, representatives from major factions gathered for an emergency summit. The atmosphere was tense, but notably different from similar meetings in the past. Where once there would have been accusations and power struggles, now there was focused cooperation.
The Temple Master stood before the assembled dignitaries, his expression grave as he examined the holographic displays showing rift locations worldwide.
"These are not random occurrences," he stated, confirming what many had already suspected. "Someone—or something—is deliberately testing the boundaries of our repairs."
"Could it be another entity from beyond our reality?" Waver El-Melloi II asked, voicing the fear many shared.
"No," Zhen Wuya replied with certainty. "These disturbances originate from within your conceptual framework. Someone has been studying the aftermath of the Entity's attack and attempting to replicate its effects."
"To what purpose?" demanded Lorelei Barthomeloi, now head of the Mage's Association.
"Power," Gilgamesh answered before the Temple Master could respond. The King of Heroes had changed subtly but significantly during his studies with Zhen Wuya. "Someone seeks to harness the spaces between realities for their own advantage."
"Correct," the Temple Master nodded. "And dangerously misguided. They understand the mechanisms but not the principles—like a child who learns which button launches nuclear weapons without comprehending the consequences."
"Can you stop them?" Ritsuka asked.
"I could," he acknowledged. "But I won't—at least not directly."
This statement caused murmurs of concern throughout the gathering.
"Why the hell not?" Cu Chulainn called out from where he leaned against a wall, Gae Bolg casually resting on his shoulder.
The Temple Master's gaze swept the room, meeting each pair of eyes in turn.
"Because this is not my reality to safeguard indefinitely," he explained. "My role has been to guide and prepare, not to serve as your permanent protector. This threat comes from within—it is yours to confront."
"You're using this as a test," Scathach realized, her expression thoughtful rather than accusatory.
"A necessary one," Zhen Wuya confirmed. "If you cannot handle threats from within your own conceptual framework, you cannot hope to face what exists beyond it."
"So what—you just sit back and watch while we do all the work?" Mordred challenged, always quick to confrontation.
The Temple Master smiled—not with condescension but with genuine pride.
"I will observe," he clarified. "I will advise when asked. I will intervene only if the threat truly exceeds your collective capabilities. But I believe it does not."
He gestured to the assembled group—Servants from across human history, mages of unprecedented skill, Divine Spirits manifested in their full power.
"Look at yourselves," he continued. "Nine months ago, half of you could barely tolerate being in the same room. Now you coordinate seamlessly. Nine months ago, you operated within rigid conceptual limitations. Now you explore beyond them daily. You are not the same beings who faced the Entity in fear and confusion."
His words carried absolute conviction, and many straightened under his gaze, feeling the truth in what he said.
"So what's the plan?" Nero asked, somehow making even this serious question sound like the opening line of a grand performance.
"First," the Temple Master replied, "we identify the source."
Unexpected Alliance
The investigation revealed a disturbing coalition. Elements from various factions—rogue mages from the Association, fallen executors from the Church, even a splinter group of Servants who resented the new order—had formed an unlikely alliance. Their goal: to harness the dimensional instabilities left in the Entity's wake to create weapons of unprecedented power.
Their base of operations was identified as an abandoned research facility in the Caucasus Mountains—formerly a Clock Tower outpost studying ley line convergences.
Rather than immediate confrontation, the Temple Master suggested a different approach.
"Infiltration before confrontation," he advised during the strategy session. "We need to understand their methods before we can effectively counter them."
"I volunteer," came an unexpected voice. Kiara Sessyoin stepped forward, her expression unreadable. The former Beast III/R had been notably absent from recent gatherings, her status as a potential threat making many uncomfortable despite her official rehabilitation.
The room tensed at her offer. Of all the beings present, she was among the least trusted—her past actions and inherent nature making her motivations perpetually suspect.
The Temple Master studied her with penetrating focus, seeing beyond physical form to the conceptual framework beneath.
"Your nature makes you well-suited to this task," he acknowledged after a moment. "But it also makes you vulnerable to the energies they're manipulating."
"I am aware of the risks," Kiara replied calmly. "Perhaps more than anyone else here."
"I don't trust her," Karna stated bluntly, always direct in his assessments.
"Nor should you," Kiara agreed with a small smile. "Trust must be earned, and my ledger remains... imbalanced. This could be a step toward correction."
The Temple Master held up a hand, silencing the debate before it could escalate.
"She will go," he decided. "But not alone."
His gaze shifted to an unlikely figure—Hans Christian Andersen, the author Servant who had been Kiara's greatest critic and occasional conscience.
"The writer will accompany her," he stated. "His analytical skills will complement her... other abilities. And his nature provides some immunity to her influence."
Hans looked up from the book he'd been pretending to read during the meeting, his childlike appearance belying his sharp intelligence.
"Splendid," he remarked sarcastically. "Another tale of the fallen woman seeking redemption, with yours truly as the reluctant chaperone. How original."
Despite the gravity of the situation, this drew chuckles from several present. The tension eased slightly.
"There is wisdom in this pairing," the Temple Master explained. "The observer and the observed. The critic and the criticized. Between them, they may perceive what others would miss."
Kiara's smile held genuine amusement. "We are being used as literary devices in a cosmic narrative. How meta."
"Life often follows narrative patterns," Zhen Wuya replied. "Reality itself has aesthetic preferences."
"Great," Hans sighed dramatically. "Now I'll be analyzing tropish existential philosophy while trying not to get us killed. Any other impossible tasks you'd like to assign?"
"Just one," the Temple Master said, suddenly serious. "Return safely. Both of you."
The genuine concern in his voice surprised many—particularly his inclusion of Kiara in that sentiment.
"Don't worry," Hans replied, closing his book with a snap. "The tragic sacrifice scene comes much later in the story. We're still in the information-gathering stage of the plot."
Revelations in the Depths
The infiltration was successful beyond expectations. Hans and Kiara returned three days later with comprehensive intelligence on the conspiracy's operations and a troubling revelation.
"They've created a dimensional anchor," Hans explained, projecting schematics onto Chaldea's main display. "A device that forcibly stabilizes reality rifts instead of allowing them to close naturally."
"And they're using it to harvest energy from the spaces between realities," Kiara continued. "Energy they believe can be weaponized against specific targets—including Servants and Divine Spirits."
The Temple Master examined the schematics with narrowed eyes. "They've misunderstood the fundamental principle," he observed. "What they're harvesting isn't energy but potential—crystallized possibility from realities that never fully manifested."
"Is that... bad?" Ritsuka asked hesitantly.
"Catastrophically," Zhen Wuya confirmed. "They're essentially creating dimensional sinkholes—drawing in potential realities and collapsing them. Each collapse sends shockwaves through the broader multiverse."
"If left unchecked?" Artoria pressed, ever focused on practical implications.
"Eventually, collapse cascades back to its origin point," he explained. "Your reality would implode, converting all existence into null-state potential."
"So they're accidentally trying to end the world," Cu Chulainn summarized bluntly. "Great. When do we stop them?"
"Immediately," the Temple Master replied. "But with precision, not brute force. Their facility is built atop a major ley line convergence. Destroying it outright could trigger the very collapse we're trying to prevent."
What followed was something unprecedented in the Nasuverse—a coordinated operation involving representatives from every major faction. Teams were assembled based on complementary abilities rather than traditional allegiances.
Artoria would lead the main assault team, her innate sense of strategy and perfect balance of power and restraint making her the ideal commander. With her: Karna, Cu Chulainn, and Scathach—a strike force of unparalleled combat capability.
A secondary team focused on magical countermeasures would be led by Merlin and Medea, with support from Waver and several Association mages.
A containment team, tasked with managing any dimensional instabilities, would operate under Gilgamesh's direction—the King of Heroes having gained unique insight into multiversal principles through his studies with the Temple Master.
"And what will be your role?" Ritsuka asked Zhen Wuya as preparations were finalized.
"Observer," he replied simply. "Unless circumstances truly exceed your collective capabilities."
"You're still testing us," they noted.
"Always," he acknowledged with a slight smile. "But also trusting you. There's a difference."
As the operation launched, the Temple Master withdrew to Chaldea's highest observation point—not to distance himself from the conflict, but to maintain broader awareness of its dimensional implications.
What he didn't share was his growing certainty that this crisis was more than a random development. The timing, the methods, the specific individuals involved—it all suggested a pattern he had seen before, across countless realities.
Not coincidence, but convergence. The natural resistance of a reality to external modification.
In simpler terms: the Nasuverse was testing its own new parameters, probing the changes he had introduced to find points of stability or weakness.
It was, in many ways, the most encouraging sign yet.
Battle at the Convergence
The assault on the conspiracy's mountain fortress began with precision and coordination that would have been unimaginable before the Temple Master's arrival.
Artoria led the front assault, Excalibur blazing with holy light as she carved a path through outer defenses. At her side, Karna moved with divine grace, his spear striking with surgical precision to disable rather than destroy critical systems.
Cu Chulainn and Scathach operated as a perfect team, their matching spears weaving patterns of death around defenders who had never faced such perfectly synchronized opponents.
Above, Ishtar provided aerial support, her divine authority manifesting as targeted strikes that neutralized defensive emplacements without damaging the underlying structure.
Inside the facility, the second wave advanced methodically. Merlin's illusions confounded automated systems while Medea worked to unravel the complex thaumaturgical networks powering the dimensional anchors.
"Their design shows unexpected sophistication," Medea observed, examining a control node with professional interest. "They've incorporated concepts that weren't part of our reality's magical framework before the Intervention."
"Adaptation," Merlin replied, his usual playfulness subdued by concentration. "The knowledge released into our world doesn't discriminate between those who would use it wisely and those who wouldn't."
At the facility's core, where reality itself seemed to warp and ripple around a massive crystalline structure, Gilgamesh directed the containment team with uncharacteristic patience. The King of Heroes had changed subtly but significantly through his studies with the Temple Master.
"Each dimensional anchor must be deactivated sequentially," he instructed, referring to knowledge gained directly from Zhen Wuya. "Disrupt the pattern and the feedback loop collapses inward."
The operation proceeded with remarkable efficiency until the conspirators unveiled their secret weapon—a being they had crafted from the harvested dimensional energy, a crude approximation of the Entity that had threatened reality months before.
It manifested in the central chamber as Gilgamesh's team approached the final anchor—a swirling vortex of contradictory existences, neither fully material nor conceptual.
"Containment protocol alpha!" Gilgamesh commanded, golden portals opening around the chamber as his treasury deployed specialized artifacts.
The artificial Entity attacked—not with conventional force but by warping reality around it. Team members found themselves suddenly operating under different physical laws, their movements becoming unpredictable even to themselves.
"It's destabilizing local reality frameworks," reported a mage through the communication network. "Conceptual contamination spreading!"
At Chaldea, the Temple Master observed the unfolding crisis through his expanded awareness. He had expected resistance, but this particular development suggested deeper issues. The artificial Entity wasn't merely a weapon—it was a symptom of reality attempting to revert to its previous state.
Like an immune system attacking what it perceived as foreign elements, the Nasuverse itself was generating countermeasures to his adjustments.
For the first time since his arrival, Zhen Wuya felt genuine concern. Not for the immediate battle—the assembled teams had more than enough capability to handle even this threat—but for the longer-term implications.
If reality itself was rejecting the evolutionary path he had set in motion, more drastic measures might become necessary.
Back in the chamber, Gilgamesh faced the artificial Entity with growing frustration. His normal arsenal proved ineffective against something that existed partially outside conventional reality.
"Fall back," he commanded the team. "I will handle this directly."
What happened next surprised even those who had witnessed the King of Heroes at his most powerful. Gilgamesh closed his eyes briefly, centering himself in the manner the Temple Master had taught him. When he opened them again, his perception had shifted—seeing not just the physical manifestation before him, but the conceptual framework underlying it.
"Primitive," he declared with characteristic arrogance. "A child's drawing compared to true art."
The Gate of Babylon opened, but instead of conventional weapons, what emerged was different—artifacts that seemed to exist in multiple states simultaneously, tools designed to interact with reality at its foundational level.
"These treasures were always mine," Gilgamesh explained to his astonished team. "I simply needed to learn how to perceive them correctly."
With precise movements that echoed the Temple Master's teaching, he deployed these conceptual tools to systematically deconstruct the artificial Entity—not destroying it, but unraveling the flawed principles of its creation.
As the threat dissipated, Artoria's voice came through the communication network:
"Primary control center secured. Conspirators contained."
"Final dimensional anchor neutralized," Gilgamesh confirmed. "Artificial Entity nullified."
Throughout the facility, teams reported similar success. What had threatened to become a catastrophic conflict had been resolved with minimal destruction and no casualties on either side.
A new kind of victory for the Nasuverse—one built on cooperation, understanding, and evolution rather than simple power.
CHAPTER 14: FAREWELL TO BOUNDARIES
The Master's Decision
One year to the day after his arrival, the Temple Master gathered those closest to him on Chaldea's observation deck. The persistent aurora had intensified, forming patterns of mathematical beauty that hinted at deeper realities bleeding through.
"It's time," he stated simply.
Though many had suspected this moment would come, the announcement still brought a wave of emotion through the assembled group. In twelve short months, Zhen Wuya had transformed from mysterious savior to trusted mentor, from enigmatic visitor to essential presence.
"The threat is contained," Artoria noted. "But is our reality truly secure?"
"More secure than before," the Temple Master replied. "And continuing to evolve in promising directions."
"You're not leaving because the work is done," Scathach observed with her usual perception. "You're leaving because your continued presence would eventually become an obstacle rather than a catalyst."
Zhen Wuya smiled—a genuine expression that transformed his severe features.
"Precisely," he acknowledged. "True evolution must come from within, not be imposed from without. I've introduced new possibilities, opened doorways of perception. But walking through those doorways must be your choice, your journey."
"Will we see you again?" Nero asked, for once without theatrical flourish.
"That depends entirely on you," he replied. "On the paths you choose, individually and collectively. My Temple exists at the confluence of all realities. Those who truly transcend their conceptual limitations will find their way there."
"Is that a challenge?" Gilgamesh inquired, a gleam of ambition in his crimson eyes.
"An observation," the Temple Master corrected, though his slight smile suggested the King of Heroes wasn't entirely wrong.
Ritsuka stepped forward, somehow serving as the natural representative for humanity despite their youth.
"You've given us more than salvation," they said. "You've given us perspective—a glimpse of what might be possible beyond the limitations we once accepted as absolute."
"Perspective is the greatest gift I can offer," Zhen Wuya acknowledged. "The recognition that what you perceive as fixed law is actually chosen perspective—one of countless possible interpretations of underlying truth."
He looked around at the gathered faces—beings of tremendous power and potential who had, in their own ways, become something like friends.
"I have walked countless realities," he continued, his voice carrying unexpected emotion. "I have guided many toward transcendence. But rarely have I encountered a realm with such inherent potential, such capacity for self-directed evolution."
"You're going to miss us," Medb stated with characteristic directness.
The Temple Master laughed—a warm, genuine sound that momentarily made him seem almost human.
"Yes," he admitted simply. "I believe I will."
"Then stay," suggested Martha. "At least a while longer."
He shook his head gently. "My role here is complete. To remain would be to risk becoming exactly what I sought to prevent—an external force imposing definition rather than enabling discovery."
Arcueid, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke. "Before you go—one last question."
"Ask," he encouraged.
"In all your travels across the omniverse, all the realities you've witnessed, guided, or..." she hesitated, "reconfigured—have you found happiness?"
The unexpected question created a ripple of surprise through the gathering. Of all the cosmic mysteries they might have probed before his departure, this simple human concern hadn't occurred to most.
The Temple Master's expression shifted, revealing briefly the weight of eons beyond comprehension—of responsibilities few could imagine and solitude few could endure.
"Happiness is a concept bounded by temporal experience," he began slowly. "For beings who exist primarily within linear time, it's a natural metric. For one who stands partially outside that framework..."
He paused, seeming to reconsider his answer.
"But yes," he continued with unexpected directness. "In moments. In connections forged across the conceptual divide. In witnessing potential realized." His gaze swept across the assembled faces. "In this past year, more frequently than in many ages before."
The simple honesty of this admission affected even the most stoic present.
"So we taught you something too," Ritsuka observed with quiet satisfaction.
"Every worthy teacher remains always a student," the Temple Master acknowledged. "That may be the most fundamental truth across all realities."
The Departure
As twilight painted Chaldea's observation deck in shades of violet and gold, final preparations for the Temple Master's departure were completed. No elaborate ceremony, no grandiose gestures—merely a gathering of those who had been most changed by his presence.
"How exactly does one who exists beyond conventional reality 'depart,' anyway?" Cu Chulainn asked with characteristic bluntness. "Do you just... stop existing here?"
"My manifestation will dissolve," Zhen Wuya explained. "The avatar I created to interact with your reality will return to potential state. My consciousness will reintegrate with my true form within the Temple."
"That sounds uncomfortable," Nero observed with a slight grimace.
The Temple Master smiled. "No more uncomfortable than waking from a particularly vivid dream."
"And that's all we were to you?" Medb challenged. "A dream?"
"All realities are dreams from certain perspectives," he replied. "And all dreams are realities from others. The distinction matters less than you might think."
Before further philosophical debate could ensue, Gilgamesh stepped forward with uncharacteristic formality.
"I speak for many when I say your guidance will not be forgotten," the King of Heroes declared. "The path you have shown—beyond conventional limitation, beyond accepted truth—will continue to be explored."
"I expect nothing less," the Temple Master acknowledged with a respectful inclination of his head. "Especially from you, King of Heroes."
Others came forward to offer their own farewells. Artoria with formal respect. Karna with solemn acknowledgment. Scathach with a warrior's salute. Martha with a blessing from her faith. Nero with dramatic flourish.
Each interaction unique, each connection genuine despite the vast conceptual differences between the Temple Master and those he had guided.
As the final words were spoken, Zhen Wuya moved to the center of the observation deck. The aurora overhead intensified, mathematical patterns becoming increasingly complex until they formed what appeared to be a gateway of pure conceptual energy.
"Remember," he said, addressing them all collectively, "transcendence isn't about abandoning your nature, but expanding it beyond current limitations. Not rejection of what you are, but evolution toward what you might become."
He raised a hand in what might have been either greeting or farewell.
"Until our paths cross again," he said simply.
The transformation began subtly—his form becoming simultaneously more defined and less substantial. Reality around him seemed to bend inward, creating what looked like a tunnel through dimensions that shouldn't have been visible to conventional perception.
For a brief, breathtaking moment, those present glimpsed something beyond their comprehension—the Temple Master's true form, existing across multiple planes simultaneously, a being of such conceptual weight that even this partial glimpse threatened to overwhelm mortal minds.
Then, with neither sound nor drama, he was gone. The space where he had stood appeared empty to conventional sight, though those with enhanced perception could detect subtle alterations in the fabric of reality itself—like ripples spreading across a pond after a stone's passing.
The aurora overhead gradually returned to its normal patterns, though something had changed. The mathematical equations it formed seemed somehow more complex, more elegant—as if the Temple Master had left one final lesson written across the sky itself.
"Well," Cu Chulainn broke the silence, "that was anticlimactic."
"What did you expect?" Scathach replied. "Reality-shattering explosions? Cosmic fireworks?"
"Kind of, yeah," the Irish hero admitted.
"True power rarely needs spectacle," Gilgamesh observed unexpectedly. "The ability to depart as easily as one arrives—that is the mark of true sovereignty over reality."
"Poetic," Nero approved. "I shall compose an opera commemorating this moment!"
As the gathering gradually dispersed, Ritsuka remained at the edge of the deck, gazing up at the aurora's shifting patterns. Mash joined them, her expression thoughtful.
"Do you think we'll see him again?" she asked quietly.
Ritsuka considered the question seriously. "I think... that depends entirely on us. On what we choose to become."
"He said those who transcend their limitations would find their way to his Temple," Mash recalled.
"Then I suppose we have a destination," Ritsuka replied with growing determination. "And an entirely new journey ahead."
Above them, in the patterns of the aurora, a message briefly formed—visible only to those who had learned to see beyond conventional perception:
NOT AN END. A BEGINNING.
EPILOGUE: ECHOES ACROSS REALITY
The New Paradigm
Five years after the Temple Master's departure, the Nasuverse had transformed in ways few could have predicted.
The rigid boundaries between factions had given way to fluid alliances based on shared purposes rather than historical divisions. The Mage's Association now operated alongside the Church in many endeavors, while Dead Apostles and humans found unprecedented common ground in the exploration of expanded reality.
Chaldea had evolved from a crisis management facility into the nexus of a new approach to existence—a center for what they now called "Transcendence Studies," where beings from across the conceptual spectrum gathered to explore the paths the Temple Master had illuminated.
Gilgamesh, surprisingly, had become one of the primary instructors. The King of Heroes had integrated the Temple Master's teachings with his own unique perspective, creating a curriculum that challenged even Divine Spirits to reconsider their fundamental nature.
"Limitation is merely unrecognized choice," he often told his students—a phrase adapted from Zhen Wuya's teachings. "True power begins with recognizing the boundaries you've accepted without question."
Scathach had established a new training ground—not in the Land of Shadows, which she had largely transcended, but in a realm that existed partially between conventional dimensions. There she taught combat techniques that incorporated altered perception, allowing warriors to engage with reality at multiple levels simultaneously.
Artoria led what might be called a philosophical revolution, though she would never use such grandiose terms. The King of Knights had integrated the Temple Master's perspective shifts into a new understanding of leadership—one that emphasized potential over precedent, evolution over tradition.
Even those who had been skeptical of Zhen Wuya's methods found themselves incorporating aspects of his teachings. The world had simply changed too fundamentally to ignore the new possibilities he had revealed.
But perhaps the most significant development came in the form of spontaneous manifestations—moments when individuals from across the Nasuverse reported brief glimpses beyond conventional reality. Windows opening temporarily between dimensions. Mathematical patterns appearing in natural phenomena. Dreams of a Temple existing at the confluence of all possibilities.
"Bleed-through," Merlin explained during a conference on these occurrences. "The barriers between conceptual frameworks have become more permeable since the Temple Master's adjustments. What was once rigidly separated now occasionally... overlaps."
"Is that dangerous?" asked a young mage, concern evident in her voice.
"Dangerous?" Merlin repeated thoughtfully. "Perhaps. Revolutionary? Certainly. The question isn't whether these manifestations are safe, but whether we're ready for what they represent—the next stage in our reality's evolution."
The First Pilgrim
It happened on the seventh anniversary of the Temple Master's departure.
Gilgamesh, who had advanced furthest in transcending conventional limitations, stood alone atop the mountain that had once housed the conspirators' facility. Now it served as a meditation retreat for those seeking to expand their perception beyond normal boundaries.
The King of Heroes had changed profoundly yet remained fundamentally himself—arrogant still, but with an arrogance tempered by genuine understanding rather than mere assertion of superiority. His physical appearance had altered subtly as well, his form occasionally shifting between states of being in ways visible only to those with enhanced perception.
As he completed a complex meditation sequence taught to him by the Temple Master, Gilgamesh became aware of a shift in the reality around him. Not a distortion or disruption, but an expansion—as if additional dimensions were unfurling themselves from within the conventional three.
Before him appeared what seemed to be a doorway, though it existed at angles that shouldn't have been possible in normal space. Beyond it stretched a corridor that somehow extended in directions that had no names in human language.
Gilgamesh smiled—not his usual smirk of superiority, but an expression of genuine satisfaction. After seven years of rigorous practice, of pushing beyond every conceptual limitation he encountered, he had finally achieved what the Temple Master had hinted was possible.
He had found the path to the Temple.
Without hesitation, the King of Heroes stepped through the doorway. Reality shifted around him, conventional physics giving way to principles that operated on fundamentally different frameworks.
The corridor extended seemingly infinitely, yet somehow he knew he was making progress as he walked. Architectural features appeared that shouldn't have been possible—columns that supported nothing while simultaneously bracing everything, windows that looked simultaneously inward and outward, walls that existed as both boundary and gateway.
After what might have been moments or eons—time itself operated differently here—Gilgamesh reached what he somehow recognized as the Temple's entrance. A massive doorway made not of matter but of crystallized concept stood before him, inscribed with symbols that rewrote themselves continually in languages that predated human thought.
As he approached, the doors opened soundlessly.
Within stood a familiar figure—the Temple Master in his true form rather than the avatar that had visited the Nasuverse. The difference was both subtle and profound. Where the avatar had appeared human with hints of something more, this being appeared as something else entirely with hints of humanity—a distinction that challenged even Gilgamesh's expanded perception.
"King of Heroes," Zhen Wuya acknowledged, his voice resonating on multiple conceptual frequencies simultaneously. "You found your way sooner than expected."
"I am Gilgamesh," he replied simply, as if this explained everything.
And perhaps, in its way, it did.
The Temple Master's expression held genuine welcome mixed with something like pride.
"The first from your reality," he noted, "but unlikely to be the last. Already others follow paths similar to yours—each unique to their nature, each leading potentially to this nexus point."
"Then my arrival is merely the beginning," Gilgamesh observed.
"Beginnings and endings lose distinction at this level of existence," the Temple Master replied. "But yes, your presence here represents a significant evolution for your reality—the first of many possible transcendences."
He gestured to the Temple's vast interior, which seemed to expand infinitely in impossible directions. Chambers within chambers, realities nested within realities, all somehow existing simultaneously in perfect harmony.
"Welcome," Zhen Wuya said simply, "to the next stage of your journey."
Gilgamesh stepped forward, crossing the threshold between conventional existence and something far beyond.
Behind him, across the dimensional divide, the Nasuverse continued its evolution. Others would eventually follow where the King of Heroes had pioneered—each in their own time, each in their own way. Scathach and Arcueid were already close. Artoria and Karna not far behind. Even Ritsuka, despite human limitations, had begun perceiving beyond conventional boundaries.
A new chapter was beginning—not just for individuals, but for reality itself.
And somewhere beyond perception, where possibilities converged into infinite potential, the Temple stood as both destination and starting point for whatever might come next.