BCloud
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IBHJ 1412
🕑 Added 2025-07-12 03:35:58 +0000 UTCThe war raged on beyond the universe’s edge. No matter how fiercely the others resisted, the Root Evil was simply too strong—too overwhelming to bring down.
One by one, the cosmic pillars fell. Even Cosmic Alaya was eventually consumed. The Enlightened One followed. Shirou kept fighting, even as his very existence frayed at the edges, until the moment the Azure Destruction itself was swallowed up by the abyss.
A cruel laugh echoed from deep within the Root Evil’s core.
"It seems you've finally run out of strength."
There was no mistaking it now—the Lord of Salvation had returned. Whatever remained of his former self had fully merged with the Root Evil, and now there was nothing left but madness.
"Salvation! My salvation is complete at last!" the Lord of Salvation bellowed, his laughter wild and triumphant. "Everything shall be drawn into salvation! No more ruin, no more time—only me! Everything will become me!"
He roared with joy. The Void Overlord had given him everything he lacked. Now, nothing could stand in his way.
Shirou collapsed on a nameless, desolate world, his body giving out beneath him. Breath came in thin gasps.
Can’t die... can’t die yet... I still... can’t die...
Then—
Soft pinpricks of light drifted down.
Without meaning to, Shirou looked up. And in that moment, he saw it.
A colossal sphere of light, radiating presence like nothing he had ever known.
"Are you... the Root?" he murmured. The words escaped without conscious thought.
The sphere responded, its voice resounding not in sound, but in his very soul.
"The moment your gate connected to me, the result of this First Cause War was sealed. You are the victor. Offer me your final soul, and I will grant you one wish. Any wish you desire."
"...Victor?"
Shirou’s voice broke. His vision blurred. Hot tears streamed down his face.
"What kind of victory is this? I didn’t protect anything! Not a single damn thing!"
The sphere of light remained silent.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand. Gritting his teeth, he lifted his gaze, refusing to look away from the radiant being in front of him. "So as long as I give you my soul... anything I want can come true?"
"That is correct."
He drew in a ragged breath, clenched his fists, and shouted with everything he had left. "Then I want you—Root, Origin, First Cause, whatever you are—to disappear!"
A cracking sound split the silence.
The Root granted Shirou’s wish. The massive sphere began to fracture, and from the growing ruptures poured endless streams of records—histories and possibilities pouring out as the very concept of it unraveled.
From this moment on, the Root would cease to exist. Its endless chain of observation and record—gone. Nothing would remain to remember everything.
At the same time, a monstrous suction force surged toward Shirou, dragging at his very essence.
The Root had granted his wish. And now, as the price, it demanded his soul—just as it once had from the former Lord of Salvation.
In truth, there had been not one, but three First Cause Wars.
The first unfolded in the Golden Universe, with the Lord of Salvation serving as the Lesser Grail. The second took place within the Gaia star region, where the original Gaia had become the Lesser Grail. And now, the third had reached its conclusion—this time with Shiki as the Lesser Grail.
When Artoria used the Holy Sword to pierce through to the Root, that final war had ended. The result was clear: Shirou had won.
But victory came at a cost. Always.
To make a wish upon the Root was to surrender one’s soul.
Even in the past, when the Lord of Salvation was betrayed by the Golden Destruction yet refused to die, it wasn’t some miracle or loophole—it was because he had already become the Root’s victor. He had already offered everything.
The Root didn’t simply create worlds—it desired to feel them. To savor the souls that gave meaning to what it recorded.
And now, Shirou’s soul was being devoured.
The suction intensified, pulling him apart from the inside out.
His memories, emotions, sense of self—everything began to erode, piece by piece.
Maybe this was how it was always meant to end.
A single sacrifice, traded for a world where no more sacrifices would ever be needed.
Shirou let out a faint breath and shut his eyes. He accepted it.
If this was the price... then so be it.
But then—
The pressure vanished.
That crushing, inevitable pull was gone. As if something—no, someone—had intercepted it.
Shirou’s eyes opened, uncertain.
And standing before him was... himself.
"You... you’re—!"
"It’s been a while, Fujimaru Shirou," the man said, smiling as if they were old friends meeting under a sunset instead of standing at the end of all things.
"Angra Mainyu?" Shirou asked, barely believing what he saw.
The man gave a quiet chuckle. "Well... yes and no. I’m me, but I’m also not. If I had to put it into words, I’m your other half. The part you left behind but never forgot."
He reached out gently, cupping Shirou’s face with both hands. His expression softened. "Thank you. For never turning away from us, no matter how far things went. So—"
He leaned in slightly, his forehead nearly touching Shirou’s and spoke. "Be happy. Not as the Eternal King, not as a hero, not as a symbol... but as Fujimaru Shirou. Just you. Be happy."
In that moment, [Evil]—the part of Shirou known as Angra Mainyu—gave his final farewell. Without another word, he turned toward the collapsing Root and offered himself in Shirou’s place. His form shimmered once, and then dissolved into the vast emptiness alongside the Root itself.
"Yes... I will!" Shirou cried, his voice cracking with emotion. The tears came freely now, impossible to hold back any longer.
And then—
The Root shattered with a thunderous, echoing crash, the sound rippling through existence itself. Endless waves of light surged out, encircling Shirou from every direction, as if the universe was embracing him in its final rebirth.
...
"How... how could this happen!"
Far away, Gaia stood trembling, her fists clenched tight as she stared at the oncoming horror. The Root Evil, more massive and monstrous than ever, was rushing toward her like a sea of devouring madness.
This was no longer something that could be stopped.
Everything had crossed the point of no return.
"Gaia... you and everything behind you shall become part of me!" the Root Evil bellowed.
Gaia narrowed her eyes. “If those are the only options left, then I’d rather destroy myself than let you have this world.”
She began preparing to annihilate the Earth, drawing upon her core, but before she could act—
A violent etheric storm slammed into her without warning, hurling her across space. Her body smashed against a distant, nameless star, the impact sending cracks across her body.
"Why... why is it turning out like this?" Gaia gritted her teeth, gasping.
"Everything shall be saved by me! All things shall be made one!" the Lord of Salvation roared, madness thick in his voice.
Gaia’s face twisted with helpless fury. But just then—
Her gaze drifted to a nearby star. Something about it felt... strange. Not just strange—familiar. And warm.
Her breath caught.
A small, knowing smile spread across her lips.
"You're finished, Root Evil," she whispered.
He was startled. "Wha—what did you say?"
A blinding light erupted from the nameless star.
"BOOM—!"
The radiance didn’t just pierce the dark—it erased it.
The swirling darkness vanished in an instant. Light flooded every corner of the universe. Even the deepest black holes now shimmered faintly, touched by something brighter than stars yet gentler than fire.
It wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t searing. It was beautiful—so beautiful it felt right, as though this was how the universe had always meant to be.
All across space, the transcendents stopped and stared in awe.
"That light..."
"Incredible..."
"He did it."
"He actually won!"
"Only that Heroic Spirit... only he could prevail in the end. He always finds a way!"
The admiration rippled from one being to the next.
And amidst it all, the Root Evil screamed. A desperate, soul-deep shriek.
"Impossible—impossible—!!!"
The Lord of Salvation howled, his voice breaking under the weight of pure, undeniable defeat.
