Chapter 328: The Night Fate Descends

All evil of this world.

Though so, he is merely an ordinary person branded with the name "Evil."

Under legend and curse, he became the "Avenger" who is not a Heroic Spirit, gathering all malice of the world.

Malice surged like rolling waves, black sludge slapping against Weigong Shilang's body.

Bearing curses against the living, it sought to assimilate living "humans" into the same evil; the smell of charred flesh arose, likely to burn the origin and devour life.

Naked, a faint glow lit his body; behind him, phantom wings flickered and faded, each feather falling from the wings, signifying the steady loss of power.

Black sludge coiled upward, mercilessly stripping away his body heat.

His mangled body was constantly destroyed, then constantly repaired.

Is Weigong Shilang now strong enough to bear all the evil of this planet? No—he is merely borrowing external power to move within this "evil."

He is not Gilgamesh; that man's ego was too immense.

He had no concept of good or evil; everything was decided by himself. To be the King who acknowledges, permits, and bears the entire world—that was his self-perception.

Weigong Shilang is not a god, not a king, not a demon—he is merely a human, a.

An obsessive idealist, an outcast even in modern society.

Even if he carried his will to the end, his flesh and soul could not endure such burning; his life's level has not yet grown to withstand the contamination of universal evil.

No matter how powerful the projected weapons, no matter how skilled the techniques he reads, they cannot conceal his own insufficient level.

"If others knew, they'd surely say I'm acting recklessly."

"But it's fine."

The light of order roared within him, though like boundless water, it too would eventually run dry.

"The time is enough."

Hell began printing in his mind.

The initial punishments are five: punishment of life, punishment of body, punishment of freedom, punishment of property; every sin, sludge, and malice beside them executes: "decapitation, banishment, castration as denial of human rights," "torment of the flesh through vengeful cruelty," "confiscation of reputation and honor erased by collective consciousness," "asset freeze mocked by desire"—death, penal servitude, imprisonment, detention, fines, penalties; crimes born of personal grudge, crimes born of selfish desire, crimes born of unconsciousness, crimes of arrogance, civil unrest, seduction, fraud, theft, robbery, kidnapping, self-harm, rape, arson, explosion, assault, negligent homicide, collective violence, occupational death, accidents from overconfidence, accidents from misdiagnosis, concealment; crimes committed for profit, crimes committed for self, crimes committed for love, crimes committed for virtue.

Theft, embezzlement, fraud, concealment, murder, financial crimes—crime, crime, crime, crime.

Attack, attack, attack, attack out of personal grudge; filthy, filthy, filthy—you must compensate, compensate, compensate; all violence, all crimes, all victims—compensate, compensate: "this world is ruled by those who are not human"—to correct crime, know conscience; to correct crime, know punishment.

All karmic sins of this planet.

The ugliness of living beings, the darkness within hearts.

Everything.

He had never felt so nauseating; the black sludge had become the only thing allowing him to feel warmth, and that heat began to flow back.

"Do you regret—now, Weigong—Shi—Lang?"

"How utterly foolish—ahhh—"

Like an old broadcast machine, it emitted intermittent static that caused tinnitus.

"Regret?" His teeth nearly shattered, blood oozed from his gums and trickled down his lips.

Because the power of order resided within him, the karmic evils he saw mentally became more concrete; the assault of accumulated sins was revolting.

The self from another worldline.

Was this truly how he staked everything under such malice?

The current self could easily escape—there are plenty of ways.

Whether it's the stored Royal Arms, the residual blessings of light, the array patterns left by the Black Emperor, or even the Sacred Sword's scabbard fused into his flesh—he could precisely recreate them all.

If he wished to flee, he could escape—from this primordial hell born of life itself.

If only he abandoned his arrogant, unrealistic, self-righteous notions, and admitted his hypocritical actions were laughable.

If he continued like this, perhaps even his will would crumble?

So, what exactly is he pursuing?

A Partner of Justice only needs to defeat evil, doesn't he?

It felt as if a voice whispered beside his ear.

【Purify it】【It's just a pile of black sludge】【You can effortlessly eradicate this evil now.】

The light gradually dimmed; time for thought was running out—it was time to choose.

Amidst the tearing pain and revulsion within, Weigong Shilang's lips curled into a faint smile, laced with mockery—whether at himself or the "evil" constantly eroding him, he did not know.

To submit to fate's original design and end this Holy Grail War, adding his own power—peaceful life was within reach.

Is this truly the endpoint he sought?

His actions are not recognized by the Counterforce.

His ideal is not acknowledged by the planet.

If he continues interfering with the General Human History, not only "Alaya" but even "Gaia" will intervene.

If he wishes to spare those around him and other innocent lives in this world, destroying the Holy Grail now is a decent choice.

What a laughable fate.

After all, with more time and power, he could continue evading, waiting for the right moment to face it later.

That ideal—

Ideal.

"Stop spouting nonsense!"

As darkness was about to swallow the last sliver of light, his brain felt as if melting; within his right pupil, only a single thread of pure, clear white remained.

His memories, his cognition—all were swallowed in that roar.

The existence of Weigong Shilang sank into the swamp, unable to breathe, dragged downward toward the "bottom."

"Partner of Justice?"

Deep in his heart, he had long understood that everyone could welcome happiness; a world without 'evil' could only be a dream.

Even so, he had always believed this ideal was right—hoping everyone could attain happiness.

What he believed in, the fate he pursued!

It must never be compromise.

The two people who spoke such words still walked this path to its end.

Even if his own path was wrong, even if he ended up alone at the end.

No, that girl—whose name he could not recall, whose identity he could not remember—but the girl who meant so much to him had said: 'Shilang, I want to walk beside you to the very end, even if ahead lies hell.'

Even if his own path was wrong, even if he ended up alone at the end.

No, that girl—whose name he could not recall, whose identity he could not remember—but the girl who meant so much to him had said: 'Shilang, I want to walk beside you to the very end, even if ahead lies hell.'

Someone would accompany him to witness it.

This feeling, this dream—that everyone should attain happiness—could never be wrong!

Ahead was certainly not hell! The reason he desired power was

To erase all evil in this world

To save every being capable of salvation

'Copy my personality!!!'

When he awoke, the surroundings were low, rolling plains.

Below the mountain, there was an ordinary, poor family; the youth had ordinary parents and siblings not much older or younger than himself.

Every morning he rose early, went into the forest to help his father hunt, brought back food for the day, and though life was barely sufficient, he believed he had grown up in a happy environment.

But suddenly, one day, to prove the inherent goodness in all people, he bore the burden of the villagers' ignorance, branded as an evil god and saddled with the sins of the entire world.

The so-called custom was the rule that defined evil.

In that village, to endure the daily hardship and poverty, custom was necessary.

'Our lives have never improved—there must be a culprit.'

This was an unsolvable problem. The souls of those who could not be redeemed needed an object to vent their resentment—a sacrifice named 'evil'.

As long as someone bore evil, everyone else was good.

As long as evil was eliminated, all could live happily.

So they locked him atop the mountain, gouged out his right eye, severed his hands and feet, and cruelly tortured him endlessly as the absolute embodiment of evil.

Becoming a demon required no reason; choosing a sacrifice required no reason; even knowing who he was was unnecessary.

Merely to satisfy the elders' and villagers' wishes, they trampled all humanity.

Before losing his sight, his final vision was the grotesque faces of people he once knew.

He took upon himself, of his own accord, all the suffering and misfortune he had ever endured, becoming the very personification of 'misfortune' and 'evil'.

His spirit had crossed despair; his body still clung to life—skin and flesh peeled away, ears cut off, nerve endings severed, yet he still lived, reduced to nothing but a heart.

Seeing how powerful this 'evil' was, people redoubled their efforts to destroy him.

On this rocky hill, within a cage soaked in dark red, the hatred born of this absurd fate was deeply imprinted here—'he' ultimately became a nameless wraith, a stone, the demon bearing the name 'all evil in the human world,' a guilt-laden antihero.

Day after day, on this rocky hill, with cracked, sightless eyes, he gazed down at the valley below; even after the hateful villagers left, even after the village itself vanished, he could not close his eyes, could not stop, only reliving every moment of his life.

He held onto his soul with broken reason.

Finally, after enduring every pain humanity could feel, after absorbing all hatred, the youth died as he should have.

He remained forever bound atop the mountain, watching human life, human cruelty, human joy, the warm glow of light—longing for the 'ordinary daily life' he had never known.

Hatred accumulated endlessly, yet as time passed, even this hatred could not endure—it faded like a meteor, just like the humans who had sacrificed him.

Seasons turned; the once-village became only wilderness, and finally, along with hatred, his name, soul, body—all of 'him' vanished.

This was 'his' life.

But hatred in the world never fades; the vessel 'he' endures forever, becoming a flame of hatred—unchanging, undying.

'Are you sympathizing with me now? How disgusting.' A familiar voice came from beside him; the red-haired youth's face showed no restraint in its crude cruelty: 'You're the only insane person like you in the world.'

He walked up to the 'stone' and spoke to the 'demon' before him:

'Grant me personality? You, a hypocrite to the extreme, are twisted—this fate is entirely your own doing.'

'Sorry, I forgot you have no mouth or tongue to speak.'

'Well then, thanks, goodbye.'

The red-haired youth vanished from the place, leaving only the 'demon' gazing into the distance, watching the nearly unchanging passage of time.

Finally, one day came.

'Monster, you piece of trash.' The red-haired youth stepped out from beside him and sat down beside the 'demon', gazing into the distance together.

He had dreamed—a dream about that foolish man named Weigong Shilang.

Though he found the man's way of living and logic of action revolting,

This man had utterly severed that hypocrisy as evil, and now marched forward on his own path.

And this first step—

'Too arrogant! You want to save even me?!' the red-haired youth muttered: 'You stubborn fool—why not just erase all evil in the world? Easy, simple.'

No answer came, nor was one needed.

This man was the complete opposite of himself—he understood it all clearly.

'Tch.' He clicked his tongue.

This posture was too brilliant, too idealized, too exaggerated—for a moment, he felt envy.

The scenery around him began to shatter like glass, shards falling from the sky.

'I feel you'll fail in the end,' he sneered. 'Until then, struggle as hard as you can.'

The pitch-black mud sea flowed down from the shattered rift in space, transforming into an ocean that filled everything.

A moment later.

A vortex emerged from the black mud, and at its center, a sword radiated a pure white, pristine light; the surrounding black mud seemed to have found its target and surged toward the sword.

The forest of Einzbern's outlying castle

"Everyone's here." Fujimaru Ritsuka looked at the terrifying number of Servants, almost like a company outing, and felt a twinge of absurdity; in the past, when traveling to other eras and parallel worlds, she had never had such a luxurious lineup.

Most of the time, it was just her and Mash, plus assistance from locals, and occasionally a few Servants native to that era.

A situation like this one was truly rare.

I hope I can persuade Senior EMI.

The corner of Fujimaru Ritsuka's mouth twitched; this could almost be counted as friends and family coming home to visit relatives.

"Let's start—"

Just as she was about to speak to the Servants curiously looking around, in the distant sky, chaos reigned, and boundless snow and ice nearly froze the world.

An instant later, the void trembled violently; beams of sword-light spontaneously appeared, shattering the ice and transforming into a sky full of stars, while leaping flames became a horizon, opening infinite roads across the crimson earth.

Countless swords covered the wilderness, their overawing sword-intent converging into a sea, seemingly endless.

At the center of that world, a red-haired young man in a long robe stood amid the sea of swords, holding a sheathed longsword in his hand, overlooking everything.

(End of chapter)

【121】 Black mud-sea flowed down from the shattered gaps in space, becoming Wang Yang and filling all things.

【122】 A moment later.

【123】 From the black mud emerged a vortex; at its center, a sword emitted pure white, clear light, and the surrounding black mud, as if finding its target, surged into the blade.

【124】 The forest outside the castle of Einzbern

【125】 "Everyone's here." Tenzan Lixiang looked at the terrifyingly numerous Servants, almost like a team-building event, and felt a flicker of absurdity—she had never before encountered such an extravagant assembly when traveling to other eras or the Parallel World.

【126】 Most times, it was just her and Mashu, plus local assistance, occasionally accompanied by a few Servants from her original era.

【127】 This kind of situation was truly rare.

【128】 I hope I can persuade Emiya Senpai.

【129】 Tenzan Lixiang's lip twitched—it was almost like relatives and friends returning home to visit kin.

【130】 "Let's go—"

【131】 She was about to speak to the Servants, who were curiously scanning their surroundings, when in the distant sky, chaos reigned, boundless snow and ice nearly freezing the world solid.

【132】 In an instant, the void shuddered violently; blades of light spontaneously arose, piercing through the ice to become stars across the heavens, while leaping flames formed a horizon, carving endless paths across the crimson earth.

【133】 Countless swords covered the wasteland; piercing sword qi converged into an ocean, seemingly infinite.

【134】 At the center of that world, a red-haired youth in a long robe stood at the heart of the sea of swords, holding a long sword sheathed in its scabbard, gazing down upon all.

【135】 (End of Chapter)