Blood. A blood-red sky, as if someone had peeled away its clear skin, leaving behind a gaping, gory wound.
The sound of flesh and bone being crushed echoed like a mad, discordant requiem for the end times. Thick mist formed from dense vapor and splattered blood droplets rose from a massive pit, clinging to people's faces like squirming human masks.
Thunder rumbled across the gloomy heavens, a deafening roar.
Torrential rain gathered in an instant, pouring down upon the mortal world. Unconsciously, "she" spread her palm to catch the falling raindrops.
The blinding crimson stung her eyes.
A hurricane howled, erupting with thunderous fury.
Her perspective lurched uncontrollably upward, and when the man standing beside her came into view, "she" held her breath in disbelief.
His white hair, bathed in the bloody light, looked so lonely, so desolate.
Further in the distance, soldiers clad in foreign attire had their throats slit by blades, blood spurting from the wounds. Their bodies twitched a few times before falling still. The executioners turned away indifferently, moving on to the next target, while orderlies dragged the still-warm corpses and tossed them into mass graves.
Such familiar people. Such familiar scenes.
"This is your sin." In the grip of heart-stopping terror, she heard her own voice—as if it emerged from an abyss, carrying a deathly calm and a hint of hysterical madness.
"For you, all of this is worth it."
The general, clad in black Qin armor, turned around, responding with serene certainty. Though his face was obscured by the mist, it felt so achingly familiar that "her" chest tightened with pain.
"Blood debts must be repaid. Whether heaven strikes me down or I meet a wretched end, I will bear it all."
In the distance, the Thunder God roared, and a black phoenix spread its wings, shattering the vengeful spirits that emerged. Yet the wails of the dead never ceased. The crimson rain poured down, never touching the white-haired general but soaking her scarlet dress.
In the depths of the general's dark pupils, "she" saw her own reflection—a figure in a red dress, wearing a crown, cradling a golden cup in her arms. Noble beyond measure, yet so delicate she seemed as if she might be blown away by the wind at any moment.
"Then, what will you do?" With a mocking laugh, the girl in red stepped forward, her bewitching body nearly pressing against the cold armor. The general's still-unstained eyes flickered with hesitation, but soon hardened with resolve.
Then, the girl's body suddenly lightened, like a blooming blood-red rose plucked and cast without remorse into the dust.
The white-haired general reached out, gentle yet unyielding, and pushed her off the cliff.
A blood-red sky. A blood-red earth. A blood-red dress swayed passionately before beginning its descent into the endless abyss.
Reflected in her pupils was the general's tense face. And so, she laughed—wildly, unrestrained.
"Ha, hahaha—HAHAHAHA!!!"
With a dull thud, human limbs buried the girl, and soon more corpses, mixed with rain, fell upon her, covering that beautiful, twisted face.
From then on, the white-haired general's eyes always reflected the Beast's favor, the Beast's curse.
And the girl was sealed in the depths of Naraku, only glimpsing a sliver of light after a hundred years.
The vision faded, replaced by endless lamentation, endless curses, and endless madness. In the boundless darkness, she felt her head splitting with pain, clutching it tightly as she gritted her teeth.
With a muffled groan, the scene shifted once more.
Within a palace burning with gold and crimson, the white-haired general's eyes were stained with blood as he wielded spears and short swords, tearing through grotesque limbs and piercing monstrous flesh.
Weaving through twisted tentacles and bestial bodies, the general dragged his spear behind him, unleashing a breathtaking dance of blades. The crimson arcs nearly tore space itself apart. Though he fought against colossal foes, his stance was that of a titan standing firm against the storm, rending lightning itself!
Countless Demon Gods roared in unison; countless heroic spirits sang his praises. The man transformed into a streak of light, charging toward the unseen fate in the sky!
The overwhelming sound waves nearly shattered her eardrums. Amid the crushing pressure, fate let out a cold laugh and extended an unyielding hand, pushing the man off the cliff.
And so, the blood-eyed general fell, his wings broken. His crimson blades shattered piece by piece. Shadows of beasts surged from below, howling with excitement as they pounced upon the fallen, tearing into his flesh and drinking deeply of his spilled blood.
No—no—
"She" wanted to cry out, desperately reaching forward. But from her hands erupted a bloody light, blasting the general's remains into nothingness.
With a heart-stopping jolt, she finally awoke from the dreamlike illusion.
"Governor!"
Cold sweat soaked her dress as the golden-haired emperor opened her emerald eyes, instinctively searching for support like a helpless animal.
But all she saw was the dim candlelight and the familiar silk curtains.
Hearing the commotion, Boudica pushed open the door. "What happened, Emperor Nero? The scouts found you unconscious by the roadside—"
Her words cut off as she met Nero's gaze.
Those hollow eyes—like a wandering ghost still lost in the wilderness.
"General Boudica." The girl on the bed bit her lip, gripping the sheets as she forced a smile that looked more like weeping.
"The Governor... he betrayed me..."
***
[Successfully returned to the original worldline. Re-enter the Singularity within five days!]
Amid the cold, mechanical prompt, the body seated in the room accepted its soul once more, and golden draconic pupils flickered open.
The next moment, his flesh split apart, blood spraying as the muscles in his right arm ruptured, hanging limply.
The scent of blood filled the small room, yet the boyish priest remained unfazed. He simply stood, pushed open the window with his intact left hand to air out the room, then sat back down in a more comfortable position and closed his eyes.
Focusing inward, an endless starry expanse unfolded in his mind, and with a single thought from its master, a golden, sacred cup manifested.
Though not the original, nor the genuine article, it was still a treasure meticulously crafted by King Solomon—a convergence of magical energy sufficient to sustain the world itself.
Compared to Fuyuki's 726th Holy Grail, it too possessed the function of granting wishes, capable of opening a hole to the Root.
Any mage who obtained it would surely be overjoyed—for this was the culmination of their lifelong ambition. Any mortal who claimed it would be plagued by blissful dilemmas—for the wishes they could make were far too many. Any saint who acquired it would surely smile quietly—for this was the light of universal salvation, a beacon guiding suffering humanity toward evolution.
But alas, it had now fallen into the hands of this young man.
"I've already made a wish upon the Holy Grail..." Like a child examining a new toy, the boy raised an eyebrow as his wounds rapidly healed under the Grail's nourishing energy. "Hmm... Wealth? That's trivial. Beautiful women? Wouldn't using the Holy Grail for that in the Fate universe be a bit pathetic? Power? If I forcibly boosted my strength with the Grail, wouldn't all my hard work become a joke?"
Compared to lavish gifts obtained through mere words, Sakatsuki far preferred the rewards earned through sweat, blood, and even life-risking struggle.
Unearned windfalls only led to arrogance. Such serendipity might seem like soaring to the heavens, but it also meant that once the fleeting favor vanished, those who had flown too high would inevitably crash down in the most gruesome way.
Only by building a tower to the sky with his own hands—step by step, brick by brick—could Sakatsuki attain the strength he desired.
"But..." A certain figure flashed through his mind, and Sakatsuki pursed his lips, withdrawing the sinful hand that had been about to use the Holy Grail as a water cup.
"Perhaps... there really is one wish."
The priest pondered for a long moment before slowly closing his eyes. The Holy Grail in his hand glowed, its special effects worth at least fifty cents filling the room—before fizzling out like a ten-roll gacha yielding nothing but disappointment.
Sakatsuki blinked, annoyed, and gave the cup a little shake before closing his eyes again and murmuring a new phrase.
This time, the light blazed forth.
***
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