Orario — Industrial District Ruins.
With Valletta flying into the rubble like a kicked tin can, the fighting here briefly paused.
But for all of Orario, the nightmare called the Great Feud had only just begun.
"BOOOOM—!"
A dull, soul-stopping impact rolled in from the city's west. The ground started bouncing—like Orario had been shoved into a giant washing machine on spin cycle.
"Is that… an earthquake?!" Lylia clung to her tower shield, nearly losing her footing.
"No." Emiya Shirou stood atop a twisted steel beam. Even with smoke choking the skyline, his instincts and True Eye pinned the west like a nail.
The sky over there had turned a muddy ochre. Buildings collapsed in waves. And in that grinding cloud of dust—
Something was chewing.
"That's… eating." Shirou's face tightened.
He could hear it: not just flesh, but stone, steel, and even the mana in the ground being ground down and swallowed.
Zard.
The man was refueling his failing body by devouring everything in reach—and what he devoured became absolute nothingness.
"A truly disgusting habit," Shirou muttered, gripping his twin blades. Even from this distance, that pressure made his skin prickle.
"Shirou!" Alise rushed in with the others. "Civilians are evacuated! What now—west gate support?"
"No. Too late." Shirou shook his head. "Over there, Ottar has already engaged. That fight is monster versus monster. We don't belong on that stage."
"Then what—?"
Shirou turned to the north.
And the industrial district's noise—battle shouts, fire crackle, distant screams—began to vanish.
Not the quiet of a lull.
The quiet of someone erasing sound itself.
Wind died. Flames stopped popping. Even the far-off wailing went mute.
Ryuu froze. Her soul remembered before her mind caught up.
"This sensation… it's 'Silence'—Alfia."
Shirou exhaled, circuits surging.
"All units—maximum alert!""That… auntie is here."
Streetlights were dead. Only burning houses gave intermittent light.
In that flickering orange, a woman in a gray dress walked forward—slowly.
But each step tightened the air like a noose.
Some Evils, drunk on blood and too stupid to recognize their own side, lunged at her from alleys.
They dropped before reaching ten meters.
No wounds. No blood.
Just… life muted. Like the world hit "silence."
A constant, passive field: high-frequency mana vibration that shredded balance and nervous function—an elegant, horrifying "sonic weapon" made of pure skill.
"What a noisy night," she said softly—somehow audible in the dead air.
Then she looked at the figures blocking her path.
"I believe I warned you," Alfia's voice carried like a bell in an empty cathedral.
"If next time you fail to entertain me…""I'll kill you."
"Sorry, Auntie." Shirou stood at the front, holding a half-ruined iron bar—his "anti-Valletta club," now bent and cracked. He wore the most punchable honest smile imaginable.
"Kitchen's limited, so I can't serve a real feast.""But as compensation…"
He snapped his fingers.
"I prepared a fireworks show."
"Fireworks?" Alfia raised an eyebrow.
"This."
Shirou's snap landed like a switch.
Trace—
The ground under Alfia detonated—not with shrapnel, but with steel.
Dozens of pre-buried projection blades erupted like blades of grass, interlocking into a vast lattice. They didn't fire at her.
They built a cage.
A sword-forged prison.
Alfia touched the nearest blade with a finger.
Bzzzt—
High voltage. A thunder-attribute imitation embedded as a deterrent.
"A barrier made from swords," Alfia murmured, and for a moment, genuine curiosity flickered."Interesting. So that is your 'Unlimited'."
"Not done!" Alise dropped in from the side roof, her Crimson Lotus Blade igniting.
"Justice's flames—BURN!"
A massive flame slash crashed toward the cage.
From the other side, Kaguya drew.
Her blade vanished for a breath—then five invisible wind-cuts sealed escape angles.
Lylia threw flash and smoke. Ryuu fired interference arrows aimed at disrupting mana flow.
Astraea Familia, fully linked—post-upgrade—executing a coordinated burst that would have erased a Level 5-class target.
"If it were anyone else," Alfia's calm voice drifted through the smoke, "they'd have died ten times."
Then—a hum.
A pressure wave radiated outward.
Flames dispersed. Wind-cuts shattered. Smoke peeled away.
And the sword cage—dust.
"W-what?!" Alise skidded back, disbelief in her eyes. "Everything… got nullified?!"
"Not nullified," Shirou said, bracing her. His face was sharp with analysis."Countered."
"She matched frequency, attribute, and timing—then neutralized our output in an instant."
Micro-control on the level of a walking anti-magic theorem.
Alfia dusted her skirt. Untouched.
"Have you finished playing?""If this is all you have…"
Her gaze chilled.
"Then die."
Alfia raised her hand. Mana gathered into a pale, expanding sphere—too clean, too heavy, too final.
A super-tier discharge with one intent: erase this district.
"DODGE!" Shirou shouted, shoving Alise and Kaguya away.
He didn't run.
Because he couldn't.
And because if he did, the evacuation route behind them would become a graveyard.
His circuits screamed.
"Overload—Trace!"
Both hands slammed into the ground.
"Если one shield can't stop it…""Then I'll stop it with a city."
Steel thundered up from the earth.
Gigantic blades rose, fused, layered, and welded into a ten-meter wall—an improvised fortress shaped by concept rather than craftsmanship.
Not a single perfect shield—
A castle of swords.
The pale sphere struck.
Sound vanished. Heat became law.
First layer melted. Second vaporized. Third collapsed.
Shirou's body tried to die.
Blood ran from eyes and nose. Bones groaned like warped metal. He poured Od—life itself—into the seams.
"Hold…""Hold, damn you…!"
He screamed until his throat tore.
At last, the sphere punched through the final layer—then ran out of power and dispersed, boiling into nothing.
Shirou dropped to his knees. Both hands were charred black.
But the street behind him—
Was intact.
Alfia stared.
"…You survived that?"
She had only used a portion of her output—yet that portion could erase a Level 6-class fighter.
And this "Level 2" fraud with cheating internals had blocked it.
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing.
"What… are you?"
Shirou raised his head, face ruined with blood, smile stubborn as a curse.
"I'm…" he rasped, "the cook who has to clean up after you gods."
Alfia's lips twitched.
A short, quiet laugh escaped her—too real to be mockery.
"A cook…"
Then she lifted her hand again. This time, the mana pressure climbed higher.
Second phase.
True despair.
Shirou's mind flashed: Ea?If he forced that projection in this state, he'd explode before swinging.
"Stop—!!"
A small, trembling voice broke the dead air.
Alfia paused and turned.
From the rubble's shadow stepped a silver-haired child in an oversized shirt, arms spread wide in front of Shirou like a living shield.
Wiene.
"Don't… bully Shirou!" she cried—shaking, tearful, but unbroken.
"Wiene?!" Shirou's eyes went wide. "How did you get here—where's Lili?!"
"Lili got caught by bad people… I… I ran…" Wiene's voice cracked.
Alfia looked her up and down.
"A talking dragon girl… a Xenos."
"Move, monster," Alfia said flatly. "I'm not interested."
"I won't!" Wiene shouted. "Shirou is good! I won't let you hurt him!"
"Good?" Alfia scoffed. "In this world, 'good' dies fast."
Her hand rose.
Shirou forced himself up and stepped in front of Wiene.
"Don't touch her. She's innocent."
Alfia stared at the scene—human protecting monster, monster protecting human—an absurd tableau in a night soaked in slaughter.
And for the first time, something in her gaze shifted.
As if a buried memory twitched.
A sister.A child.A choice made in the face of doom.
"…Interesting," Alfia murmured. "A bond that crosses species."
Then she took a vial from her dress and tossed it to Shirou.
"Drink."
He caught it—eyes widening.
A top-grade Elixir.
"This is my last mercy," Alfia said without turning."I'm tired today. I don't feel like killing."
"Take the little monster and leave."
She glanced sideways, icy again.
"The Great Feud isn't over.""On the west… the verdict will come soon."
Her voice lowered into something almost intimate.
"If you want to live…"
"Become stronger.""Strong enough to kill me."
And then she vanished into the night like the concept of "silence" itself.
Alise collapsed, dazed.
"She… left?"
Shirou uncorked the vial and drank it in one pull. Warm restoration flooded his ruined limbs.
He turned to Wiene and pressed a hand to her head, half-angry, half-relieved.
"You almost got everyone killed," he muttered.
"I'm sorry…" Wiene whimpered.
Shirou pulled her into a tight hug.
"…Thank you," he whispered."This time, you saved us."
A colossal impact.
Ottar slammed through a half-collapsed wall, blood painting the stones. His black blade was shattered.
Across from him, Zard stood and devoured a gigantic monster corpse like it was rations.
"What's wrong, Ottar?" Zard wiped his mouth—his own blood. The sickness was biting back."Only this much?"
"This is Orario's strongest?"
Ottar staggered upright. His eyes burned hotter.
"Not… over."
"I can still fight."
Zard's cleaver rose.
"Good. Then come."
"Use your life…""…to entertain my final feast."
That was the first night.
Blood and fire settled—briefly.
But the real despair had only begun to open its eyes.
....
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