Escaping the perilous thunderstorm, defeating Beatrice with Bajiquan—
In the span of a hare’s leap, a puppet with the power of a top-tier Servant but no combat experience had been neutralized.
On the surface, it seemed like a swift, decisive victory. But only Sakatsuki knew the true cost.
Lightning was not something to be taken lightly.
His chest ached from the thunder’s fury as he charged through the storm. His hands were numb from the backlash of Beatrice’s defensive lightning.
And his legs—burning with lactic acid, even trembling slightly—from the rapid succession of Living Steps needed to close the distance.
Frankly, every inch of his body hurt.
Sakatsuki stared at the cold-faced "Female Gilgamesh," his golden eyes blazing with battle-lust.
The possibility of defeat had never crossed his mind.
This was the confidence of a warrior tempered across worlds, honed through countless trials.
Even if his opponent was Angelica—the very same who had once forced him into a humiliating retreat!
His heart pounded violently, yet his mind remained ice-clear. Every twitch of Angelica’s fingers was tracked, every motion analyzed. The moment she moved, he was already leaping aside, evading the Noble Phantasm hurled his way.
Enkidu, the Chains of Heaven, twisted through the air like a soaring serpent—only for the space around Sakatsuki to ripple, forcibly diverting the divine constructs into the ground.
"Distorting space..." Angelica immediately recognized the application of Displacement Magecraft. With a cold snort, she began deconstructing Sakatsuki’s spatial field with her own magecraft knowledge.
And that was exactly the delay Sakatsuki wanted.
"Like I said—compared to true battle-hardened warriors, you’re still far from enough!"
His voice seemed to flicker like his form. In the next instant, he was upon her—Gáe Dearg trailing crimson light as it pierced forward, a streak of unstoppable red amidst the storm of gold and lightning!
"To think the deciding factor would be martial skill!" Angelica instinctively stepped back—
Then her heart jolted.
An irregular pulse. A single misstep.
And just like that, her chance to dodge was gone.
Before her, the young man charged with his right hand gripping the spear—while his left moved rhythmically, as if playing an invisible piano.
Composite Magecraft: Harmonization.
Even though the Shadow of Imaginary Numbers had separated from him, as long as Sakatsuki plucked the "threads," the "prey" entangled in his web would still be affected!
Everything was going according to plan. Compared to the brute-force clash with Beatrice (or rather, Magni, the God of Strength), fighting Angelica was simpler.
Or rather—against an opponent who relied solely on Gate of Babylon, Sakatsuki had the absolute advantage in combat experience.
He had fought this type of Heroic Spirit far too many times!
Under the effects of Harmonization, Angelica’s last chance to evade slipped away. Gáe Dearg, the spear that severs magic, thrust toward her throat—
Yet at the critical moment, she did not summon a Noble Phantasm.
Instead, she channeled her mana—unfolding a hexagonal barrier.
Compared to the power of Class Cards, she trusted the Ainsworth’s Displacement Magecraft more!
The spear tip plunged into the dimensional rift—only for the space to snap shut. Had Sakatsuki been even a fraction slower, his right arm would have been severed along with the spear.
"How dutiful." A mocking sigh. Yet with a single glance, Sakatsuki dissected Angelica’s Displacement Magecraft!
With the Fate Compendium and the support of his Workshop, he understood the truth of Displacement better than she ever could!
Gáe Dearg shattered—but in Sakatsuki’s left hand, Gáe Buidhe flashed into existence. A single thrust carved a deep gash across Angelica’s flank!
No scream of pain. The golden-haired woman merely clutched her side as Gate of Babylon roared to life, countless weapons raining down in a frenzy to force Sakatsuki back. Yet Angelica frowned.
Despite Gilgamesh’s demigod physiology, the wound refused to close, blood pouring forth unnaturally.
"A curse." She instantly recognized Gáe Buidhe’s nature. Her hand twitched toward a healing item—
But Sakatsuki gave her no opening.
"Let’s see how much blood a demigod can lose!"
The twin spears, ideal for thrusting, morphed into twin blades—one black, one white, intertwining like the Taijitu as they lashed toward Angelica’s vitals. Sakatsuki’s footwork was rhythmic, Harmonization disrupting her movements while his swords struck without mercy.
Gate of Babylon spat out a colossal cleaving sword—Gram, the Dawn of Destruction—forcing Sakatsuki to disengage. Seizing the moment, Angelica downed a healing potion.
Then, her ears twitched.
Without a word, she scooped up the unconscious Beatrice—and fled.
But Sakatsuki had no intention of letting them escape.
"Stay!" Planting his foot on Gram’s blade, he nocked an arrow—Hrunting, the Hound of the Red Plains!
A homing attack that would pursue its target until blood was spilled!
Yet Angelica didn’t even glance back.
Because a purple figure had appeared.
"That won’t do, Senpai~"
A ribbon of Imaginary Number energy unfurled, gently brushing against Hrunting—
And in that instant, the arrow ceased to be Sakatsuki’s.
That theft of ownership!
Sakatsuki’s expression twisted. He retreated instantly, putting as much distance as possible before stopping, his chest aching belatedly with phantom pain.
When he looked up, standing between him and Angelica was a woman with flowing purple hair, her upper face concealed by a jagged mask.
Her once-heroic armor was now corroded by resentment, pulsing with ominous violet and crimson.
Just like the wail of grief echoing from the depths of Sakatsuki’s soul.
"Matou... Sakura." The name left his lips, dry and heavy. He raised his blade—then closed his eyes.
Human effort had its limits.
Some mistakes could never be undone. Some suffering could never be repaid.
Long before Sakatsuki arrived in this world, Sakura had already died—her heart torn apart.
The woman before him was nothing more than an Ainsworth Doll, a combat puppet with Sakura’s memories. A hollow imitation.
When his eyes opened again, rage turned his draconic pupils into molten gold.
"I’ll only say this once. Don’t stand in my way, Sakura."
"That won’t do, Senpai~" Sakura’s voice was sweet, almost playful—
But Sakatsuki’s sword was already descending.
The particles of Imaginary Numbers twisted—only to be seized and unraveled by his own will. The violet ribbons dissipated into nothingness.
Without her Imaginary Number Magecraft, this "Matou Sakura" was merely a Berserker (Lancelot) Install user.
Twin blades flashed. Sakura reached out—Knight of Owner activating to steal his weapons—
But Sakatsuki released them willingly, a spiral dagger already forming in his hand as he plunged it into her chest.
"Trace, break. Caladbolg—!"
The detonation shook the earth.
When the smoke cleared, the purple-haired doll lay motionless on the ground. Sakatsuki, his expression unreadable, pressed a shimmering orb of light against her forehead.
An unfinished spell—one that, upon contact, would erupt into blades, piercing through her skull.
Even now, grievously wounded, the doll whispered his name.
Sakatsuki’s hand stilled. The light in his palm flickered uncertainly.
But his expression remained cold as forged steel.
"She is not Sakura. This world doesn’t deserve her presence."
As if explaining to someone—perhaps himself—he pushed forward.
The light solidified into a sword.
A single, merciless thrust—
Severing all struggle, all movement, all false memories.
Retrieving the Class Card embedded in the doll’s chest, Sakatsuki turned his gaze toward the great crater at Fuyuki’s heart, his golden eyes burning.
The Ainsworth’s trump card, Matou Sakura, had been instantly annihilated under his targeted assault.
And now, he had no intention of stopping.
The appearance of "Sakura" had not hindered him—instead, it had ignited his fury to unprecedented heights.
No matter what justice they clung to.
No matter what convictions they held.
The Ainsworths should never have brought "Matou Sakura" before him.
Should never have forced him to kill her with his own hands.
With steady steps, he advanced toward the scar of this dead city—
To erase the Ainsworth lineage while their strongest fighters lay wounded.
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