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"Are wa dare da! Dare da! Dare da!" (Who is that! Who is that! Who is that!)
"Are wa debiru! Debiru man! Debiru man!" (It is a Devil! Devilman! Devilman!)
That's right.
The mysterious tentacle—err, chain—extending from the darkness like the hand of fate itself belonged to none other than Viper, a player who held a deep, personal grudge against Lu Bu that went far beyond simple competitive rivalry.
Previously, Viper had been knocked clear off the battlefield and into the ocean by one of Lu Bu's casual strikes, forced to watch helplessly from the cold water as his Servant, Francis Drake, sacrificed herself to buy him time to escape. He'd watched her Spirit Core shatter right before his eyes, her body dissolving into golden particles as she gave him one final smile.
The memory was burned into his brain.
Viper had fallen into genuine despair after that. He couldn't see any possible path to victory. Lu Bu was essentially a Raid Boss—a cheat code given physical form, an insurmountable wall that laughed at conventional tactics and fair play.
Some people might say, "Dude, it's just a game. Chill out. Take the L and move on."
But remembering how Drake had protected him until the very end, how she'd smiled even as she faded away, the flame of revenge burning in Viper's heart refused to die out. It burned hotter with every passing second. And seeing Lu Bu finally vulnerable—injured, exhausted, pushed to his absolute limit?
That was gasoline on the fire.
If I can't beat him in a fair fight, I'll cheat.
If I can't kill Lu Bu himself, I'll kill his weapon.
And now, after waiting in the shadows like the Assassin-class player he'd become, Viper finally got his chance.
He'd used a grappling hook Mystic Code—basically a magical Batman gadget—to yank Lu Bu's God Force right out of his charred hands at the single most critical moment possible.
Because of this one perfectly-timed dirty trick, this beautiful act of petty revenge, the Peerless Flying General was left completely and utterly defenseless against the War Elephant's final, devastating blast.
Viper's heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might break through his ribcage. His hands were shaking from the adrenaline rush.
I did it, Drake. I got him.
The chat absolutely exploded with energy.
[PogChamp]: HOLY MOLY! HOLY SHIT! POGGGGGG!
[Gamer]: THE BOSS IS DOWN! I REPEAT, THE RAID BOSS IS FUCKING DOWN!
[Sneaky]: VIPER, YOU ABSOLUTE MAD LAD! YOU STOLE HIS STICK!
[LuBu]: "You cheated!" — Yeah, and? What are you gonna do about it, dead guy?
[Cool]: Viper just casually walked away after the greatest theft in history. Refuses to elaborate. What a legend.
[Revenge]: Drake is definitely smiling in Servant heaven right now. RIP Queen.
[Tactics]: Okay but... how do we actually WIN this war now? We're all half-dead.
[Optimist]: We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Just be glad Lu Bu is gone. That's enough for now.
As the chat celebrated with the energy of a championship victory, the dust finally settled over the battlefield. Lu Bu had been completely atomized by the second blast. Not even a pixel of him remained. Just scorched earth and fading green particles.
Viper didn't stick around to gloat or take credit. He melted back into the shadows like smoke, disappearing as quietly as he'd struck. He was playing the Assassin role now, and the game was far from over. There were still other Masters, other Servants, and only one Holy Grail.
Time to vanish and plan the next move.
Back on the main battlefield, the survivors erupted into celebration.
"We did it!" Maverick shouted, his voice cracking with relief and exhaustion as he high-fived Daisy so hard their hands made a resounding smack. "Holy shit, we actually did it!"
Elizabeth and Nero, both battered, bruised, covered in blood and dust, their clothes torn and barely hanging on, looked at each other across the scorched crater.
And they smiled.
It was radiant. Beautiful. A perfect moment of genuine friendship forged in the fires of desperate combat against an impossible enemy.
Two rivals who'd become comrades, sharing a wordless understanding that transcended competition.
Over by the sidelines, Wayne physically clutched his chest, his eyes wide. "Holy crap! That smile! My heart! I think I'm dying!"
Down in the chat, the simps came out in force.
[Thirst]: CLIP IT! SOMEONE CLIP THAT SMILE! I NEED IT!
[Simp]: I hereby declare this the single most perfect moment in gaming history.
[DownBad]: I'm about to take off my pants. Don't try to stop me.
[Bonk]: Go directly to horny jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
[Art]: Thank you, Max, for investing in high-definition Battle Damage textures. Truly. Thank you.
[Critic]: Eh, personally I prefer them with their clothes intact. The damage kinda ruins the aesthetic.
[Reply]: You uncultured swine! Scars are sexy! Battle damage is peak design!
[Soul]: You shallow people only care about superficial appearances. I love them for their souls. (And also their thighs.)
[Sadge]: ...Is literally no one gonna mention The Professor?
While the chat was busy thirsting over the waifus and celebrating the victory, The Professor stood alone near the massive crater where Darius had made his final stand.
He was, objectively speaking, the biggest loser of this entire battle. He'd sacrificed everything. Darius III was gone—permanently deleted from this war. The War Elephant Noble Phantasm was gone. All three Command Spells were spent. He was completely defenseless now, just a guy in a suit with no Servant and no trump cards.
But just as the chat was starting to get genuinely sentimental about the Master-Servant bond and the tragedy of sacrifice...
A new threat emerged.
A threat that, in many ways, was worse than Lu Bu.
"Umu!" Nero announced proudly, striking a dramatic pose despite her injuries, one hand on her hip. "This is a glorious victory for art itself! Well done, my dear rival! Your performance was magnificent!"
"Hehe," Elizabeth giggled, her dragon tail wagging behind her like an excited puppy. "No matter the enemy, no matter how strong, they are nothing before our combined cuteness and talent! This joy flowing through me... it makes me want to scream! To sing my heart out!"
"Well said!" Nero nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling. "In that case, let us celebrate this hard-won victory with a Joint Recital! A duet for the ages!"
"Shut up, you tone-deaf Emperor!" Elizabeth shouted back, completely lacking self-awareness. "Your singing could kill someone!"
"Says the idol who sounds like a dying cat!"
The chat froze in collective horror.
[Warning]: ALERT! PHASE 3 BOSS FIGHT! THE BOSS HAS ENTERED PHASE 3!
[Ears]: NO! GOD PLEASE NO! NOOOOOO!
[Run]: Aren't you two critically injured?! Go rest! Get medical attention! DON'T SING!
[Gun]: Wait... why are all the robots suddenly aiming at them?
[Realization]: Oh no.
[Betrayal]: EDISON?! YOU WOULDN'T!
Just as everyone was frantically preparing to mute their audio and preserve their eardrums, Edison performed a tactical maneuver that would later be known in business textbooks as "The Capitalist Backstab."
Without waiting for Wayne to react or give permission, Edison raised one massive lion paw with cold calculation.
The mechanical soldiers—which had been standing idle after Lu Bu's death, their primary target eliminated—suddenly snapped to attention with military precision. Hundreds of gatling guns, cannons, and various other weaponry swiveled in perfect synchronization, all aiming directly at the two celebrating idol Servants.
"Fire," Edison ordered, his voice emotionless.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRT!
The sound was deafening. Apocalyptic.
A literal storm of lead and fire erupted from the mechanical army. It was a solid wall of bullets, a curtain of death, thousands of rounds per second filling the air.
Dust and smoke immediately obscured the two girls, the sheer volume of fire creating an impenetrable cloud.
Edison lowered his arm calmly after a few seconds, signaling the robots to cease fire.
The guns went silent.
Smoke drifted across the battlefield.
"EDISON!" Wayne screamed, grabbing the lion-man by his suit lapels and shaking him. "What the hell are you doing?! They're our allies! Our friends!"
"They were our allies when we were fighting Lu Bu," Edison corrected with infuriating calm, casually brushing dust off his suit lapel like he hadn't just ordered a mass execution. "However, now Lu Bu is dead. Master, this is a Holy Grail War. Only one team wins. Only one Master gets their wish. All our cards are on the table now, and the optimal business strategy is to eliminate the weakened competition while we have numerical and tactical superiority."
"That's... I mean, technically true, but..." Wayne stammered, clearly conflicted between strategy and basic human decency.
"Wayne," The Professor said quietly from the sidelines, his voice tired but firm. "Just shut up and watch. Not interfering is the best thing we can do for them right now."
Wayne looked at him, confused. "What?"
"Exactly," Edison nodded approvingly at The Professor. "See? Your friend understands business fundamentals. He gets it." The lion turned back to his mechanical army. "Go forth, my soldiers! Eliminate the competition and secure our victory! Think of the IPO!"
Down in the chat, reactions were... mixed.
[Based]: Edison is literally saving our ears from torture! He's a hero!
[Savage]: Ruthless business tactics. I can respect the hustle.
[Joke]: Real talk—if he didn't shoot them, were we just supposed to let them sing? I'd rather die.
[Comedy]: Edison: "I'd rather murder you than listen to your mixtape."
[Moral]: This feels wrong though... they just worked together...
[Pragmatic]: It's a battle royale. Sentiment doesn't win wars.
But as the smoke slowly began to clear, revealing the impact zone...
"Don't be ridiculous, you unfunny Lion-Head Meatball!"
A brilliant golden light pierced through the dust cloud like a lighthouse beam cutting through fog.
Nero stood there in the center of the crater, completely unharmed, her crimson sword glowing with radiant energy. A shimmering barrier of golden light surrounded her like a protective shell.
"I am the Phoenix of Rome!" Nero declared, her voice ringing with imperial authority. "The undying flame! Did you truly think mere bullets—crude modern weapons—could extinguish the glory of an Emperor?!"
"That's exactly right!" Elizabeth hissed, stepping out from behind Nero's protective barrier, her eyes glowing an ominous blood-red. "To attack me inside the boundaries of my own castle domain? You've got some serious nerve, Lion-Face!"
Edison's jaw literally dropped open, his lion face frozen in an expression of absolute shock.
"Not dead yet?!" he sputtered.
He quickly recovered his composure though, already stepping backward and reassessing his tactical options with the speed of a seasoned businessman pivoting after a failed merger.
"Fine!" Edison's voice boomed across the battlefield as he spread his arms wide. "If conventional bullets won't do the job, then allow me to demonstrate the overwhelming power of American Innovation and Industrial Supremacy!"
The massive spotlights flared back to life around him, even brighter than before, casting harsh white light across the entire battlefield.
Edison's form seemed to grow larger, more imposing, backlit by the blazing illumination.
"Behold my Noble Phantasm once more! World • Faith • Domination!"
The light of civilization descended upon the battlefield like judgment day.
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