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The spell **worked.**
For a single, impossible moment, everything **stopped.**
The chaos that had been tearing reality apart—the screaming winds, the collapsing skies, the writhing corruption of Xyrrath—froze as if the universe itself had taken a breath and refused to release it. The shattered space around them solidified like glass. Cracks in reality hung motionless, suspended mid-fracture. Even the twisted beasts born from humanity's sins halted in grotesque poses, their claws inches from tearing flesh, their roars trapped in silent throats.
Tiamat staggered back, her chest heaving. Blood slid from her brow, dripping slowly… then stopping mid-fall. She blinked in confusion, her golden eyes narrowing.
The Light Being floated behind her, hands still raised, her entire form glowing like a miniature sun. Her voice trembled, but her spell held firm.
"…It is done."
Xyrrath's many eyes twitched, struggling against the frozen world. Unlike the others, he wasn't completely still. His corruption pulsed like a disease fighting medicine.
"What… have you done…?" his distorted voice echoed, layered with countless screams.
The Light Being didn't answer. She simply lowered her hands and whispered:
"I called for **hope.**"
Then a sound broke the silence.
**Clang.**
Metal against stone.
Footsteps.
Not hurried. Not fearful. Steady.
From a rift of golden light carved into the frozen sky, a woman stepped forward. Blonde hair flowed behind her like liquid sunlight. Her armor shone with an ethereal silver glow, unmarred by the surrounding devastation. In her hand rested a sword—not drawn, but present, humming with restrained power.
Her emerald eyes scanned the battlefield.
"…So this is the calamity."
**Artoria Pendragon.**
Behind her, the golden rift widened.
One by one, figures emerged—each carrying an aura that bent reality in its own way. The air trembled not from destruction, but from **authority.**
A man clad in gold armor crossed his arms with clear annoyance. Crimson eyes glared at the battlefield.
"Tch. Summoned without permission again. Mongrels truly never learn."
**Gilgamesh.**
Chains of light coiled behind him like obedient serpents.
Next came a calm presence, emerald hair swaying gently despite the frozen air. His gaze was not arrogant nor fearful—only observant.
"Gilgamesh… try not to start a war before we understand the situation."
**Enkidu.**
A woman in dark attire landed lightly, spear spinning once before resting on her shoulder. She whistled.
"Well… this looks worse than usual."
**Scáthach.**
Another ripple.
A goddess cloaked in celestial blue. A warrior wielding a divine bow. A king with flames in his eyes. Servants, heroes, gods, and demigods—figures pulled from myth and legend—filled the suspended battlefield like constellations descending from the heavens.
Some looked confused.
Some looked irritated.
Some smiled.
But all of them felt it.
The **Beasts of Humanity.**
Their gazes shifted toward the frozen monstrosities—Goetia among them, twisted and still. Recognition dawned instantly.
Artoria stepped forward, her voice calm but firm.
"…A Beast-class threat. Multiple, in fact."
Gilgamesh scoffed. "Of course it is. Only something this disgusting would dare summon the King."
Tiamat watched them, her breath uneven. Her pride screamed to stand tall, but her wounds betrayed her. Blood stained her once-immaculate form, and her mana reserves were nearly empty.
The Light Being approached the newcomers.
"I apologize for the summoning without consent… but existence itself is at stake."
Scáthach crossed her arms. "No need to apologize. This is exactly the kind of mess we exist for."
Enkidu's gaze softened upon seeing Tiamat.
"You fought alone for quite some time… didn't you?"
Tiamat said nothing. She only nodded once.
Then the stillness began to crack.
A ripple spread across the frozen world. Xyrrath's corruption pulsed violently, dark veins spreading through the halted space like ink in water.
Gilgamesh clicked his tongue. "How irritating. The pest is still moving."
The Light Being raised her hands again. "The spell only holds temporarily. I froze the battlefield—not him. He's… adapting."
Xyrrath laughed. The sound broke the silence like shattering glass.
"You summon… relics of dead eras… to face **me?**"
The suspended beasts began to twitch.
Artoria drew her sword. The invisible blade revealed itself in a burst of wind, pressure bending space.
"We don't need eras," she said quietly. "We only need resolve."
The world **moved again.**
Sound returned in a violent explosion. Winds roared. Reality screamed. The beasts lunged mid-motion as if never paused. Corruption flooded outward.
But this time—
They did not face two defenders.
They faced **legends.**
---
Goetia unleashed a torrent of infernal flames, only for them to split apart mid-air as Enkidu's chains shot forward, binding the magic itself.
Gilgamesh opened the **Gate of Babylon**, golden portals blooming behind him like a thousand suns. Weapons rained down—not randomly, but with precision, each strike obliterating hordes of corrupted beasts.
"Know your place, insects."
Scáthach dashed forward, her spear cutting through shadows and flesh alike. Each movement was lethal efficiency, her strikes dismantling enemies before they could even scream.
A goddess raised her hand, summoning a celestial barrier that shielded Tiamat and the Light Being from a wave of corruption.
Artoria stepped into the fray.
"**Ex—**"
She stopped.
Not yet.
Instead, she slashed once, a crescent of compressed wind tearing through three beasts at once. The ground split, mountains in the distance crumbling from the aftershock alone.
Tiamat watched, stunned.
"…They're… holding them back."
The Light Being smiled faintly. "Not just holding."
Xyrrath roared, summoning tendrils of void that lashed out like cosmic serpents. Several servants dodged, but one god was caught—only for Tiamat to intercept, her claw ripping the tendril apart.
She staggered after the strike.
Artoria appeared beside her. "You've done enough."
Tiamat growled. "Not yet."
Their eyes met—mutual understanding.
Gilgamesh laughed from afar. "Hah! Even wounded, she still bites. I like her."
The battlefield turned into a storm of divinity and destruction. Noble Phantasms lit the sky. Divine authorities clashed with corruption. Mountains evaporated. Oceans trembled.
Yet Xyrrath still stood.
His form twisted, growing larger, absorbing fallen beasts into himself. His voice thundered:
"I am the end of cycles… the rot of existence… the herald of Vorath!"
The name echoed ominously.
Even the gods felt its weight.
The Light Being clenched her fists. "We can't let him finish merging!"
Artoria raised her sword fully this time. Wind spiraled violently around her, the air screaming as invisible power condensed.
Gilgamesh smirked. "Finally."
Enkidu nodded. "Together."
Tiamat straightened despite her injuries, wings spreading wide. "One more push."
The servants gathered.
The sky darkened—not from corruption, but from the sheer concentration of power.
Xyrrath lunged forward, void opening like jaws of oblivion.
And the legends answered.
"**EXCALIBUR!**"
A pillar of light tore through heaven and earth.
Golden weapons followed like meteors.
Chains bound reality itself.
Spears pierced dimensions.
Divine chants overlapped.
Tiamat unleashed a primordial roar that shook the stars.
The explosion that followed silenced even chaos.
For a moment—
Only light existed.
And in that light, hope stood unbroken.
---
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