"How about it, as the Lord of Chaldea, Senior Fujimaru, do you think we have a chance of winning?"
Fujimaru Ritsuka was silent, thinking. She had followed her intuition countless times to save people and Chaldea from fire and water. She reviewed Sigismund's words, actions, and character, and finally looked up. Her tone was resolute, but she also concealed an undisguised anxiety.
"I think the chances of success are very high. But Shirou, do you really want to do this?"
She understood the kindness that had pierced her soul at first glance, and even strongly resonated with it.
They were both people who desperately wanted to protect everyone, and that was precisely why she knew better than anyone what this plan meant for this "ally of justice."
In the end, he had to rely on his personal friendship with the future Emperor Locke to give the other party a binding vow to break the deadlock in a desperate situation. This matter involved not only the solitary courage to stake everything on himself and disregard life and death, but also the difficult choice of questioning his conscience if he made a wrong move.
But by the same token, she understood that Locke probably was truly, very, very important to him.
"It's not that I want to choose this path; it's that I must walk this path."
The words fell resolutely, without hesitation.
As he spoke, his hand hanging at his side relaxed slightly. The resolve in his eyes dimmed a little, covered with a layer of memories hidden in warmth, and he quietly recalled a ten-year friendship.
"Locke and I have known each other for nearly ten years. We are each other's most trusted friends. But for so many years, he has always been the one supporting me, always helping me. I have never done anything truly worthy for him."
Recalling Rin Tohsaka's awkwardness in the past, because she was too close to Locke, simply because he made lunch for Locke every day, Rin would cross her arms and say jealously that Locke was just a lazy bum who came to freeload. The corners of his mouth were tight for a long time, and finally he forced a genuine smile for the first time.
Rin always thought Locke was greedy for his cooking skills, but only he knew that the warm dishes were taught to him bit by bit by Locke.
Apart from the basics of magic left by Kiritsugu, most of the things that allowed him to live well throughout his life were taught by Locke.
As this thought faded, Shirou Emiya's mind instantly returned to that rainy half-day, the day that completely changed the course of his life—the day Emiya Kiritsugu left him forever.
The last relative he was most connected to was gone. His world collapsed in an instant, leaving only endless confusion and emptiness.
Like a lost soul, he went to the empty school athletic field, raised the high jump bar to a height he could never clear, and then ran, leaped, and crashed with a thud onto the soft mat.
Knowing he couldn't make it, he lost many battles, but with this almost paranoid stubbornness, he got up again and again and lost again and again.
The confusion and despair in his heart were like a tide, gradually submerging him. His body had long been completely exhausted, too tired to even lift his legs. But he still mechanically repeated the movements, as if trying to find an anchor for his unsteady life through this method.
Just as his consciousness began to drift, a figure appeared before him.
No, Locke had been there for a long time.
He had been sitting quietly on the stands of the athletic field, spending an entire day with him in silence, but was locked in his own world and never noticed.
Only when he had completely exhausted all his strength and collapsed heavily on the mat, unable even to lift a hand, did the person who had been silently watching him finally get up. He dragged his crippled leg, step by step, came over to him, looked down at him with concern, and said quietly:
"How about a bet?"
Shirou lay on the mat, nearly exhausted, and barely lifted his head. Upon hearing this, he only twitched the corners of his mouth, his voice hoarse: "Locke, if you bet, you'll never win... All the pocket money you saved last holiday is lost."
"Kiritsugu told me to stop playing with you. I can't play with you."
"But he's not here right now, is he? There are always things that only you can decide."
Locke's voice was very soft, but like a fine needle, gently piercing through his confused, hardened shell.
After that, he turned and walked to the jump bar, raised his hand, and raised the bar again, directly to the level of a professional athlete.
After all that, he turned his head, looked at Shirou on the mat, raised his eyebrows, and asked:
"You deliberately set the bar to a height you couldn't clear, and from the start, you felt you couldn't win, right? Now that I've raised the bar again, do you think I can clear it?"
Shirou finally sat up, looking at the absurdly high bar, his brows immediately furrowed.
"How is that possible? Locke, stop joking. Your leg..."
Faced with his direct denial, Locke's eyes sparkled with cunning. He took two steps forward, crouched down to look at Shirou's incredulous face, and finally sealed the bet, word by word:
"Then I'll make this bet with you. Just bet on me that I can clear it."
After that, without waiting for Shirou Emiya to stop him, Locke was already dragging his lame leg, limping towards the high jump bar. The rhythm of his rise was not fast, and every step was accompanied by the stagnation of his leg injury, but there was a confidence that he would break the pot.
Until he took the final step. He suddenly used the crutches that Shirou had carefully made with his own hands, and with a completely irregular pole vault, his entire body soared into the air. He swung his sleeves over the bar and landed firmly on the other side of the mat.
The moment he landed, his injured leg couldn't withstand the impact. He grunted, and his entire body curled up on the mat. Cold sweat instantly broke out on his forehead, and even his lips turned white. Shirou Emiya's mind went blank, and he rushed to him like a madman, hurriedly pulling out ordinary ointment from his pocket, his fingertips trembling. As he rubbed the wound, he was both angry and anxious, his voice shaking:
"You're cheating! How can you be so reckless?!"
"What's wrong with me?" Locke gasped in pain, but still lowered his eyes and smiled. "I'm a cripple. Isn't the essence of being human that they can make and use tools?"
"No wonder there's no high jump competition for the disabled in the Olympics. If everyone were as unreasonable as you, the judges would go crazy." Shirou scolded angrily in return, but his hands were not rough, afraid of causing pain.
"Haha, because the Olympics are a relatively fair competition. But for us, when has fate ever been fair?" Locke's laughter gradually subsided, and the boy's voice concealed a transparency not befitting his age. "So-called fairness is never waited for; it is created by ourselves, to fight against fate."
As he spoke, he gritted his teeth, endured the pain, and propped himself up. The smile on his face completely disappeared. He looked seriously into Shirou's eyes and seemed to engrave himself into his chaotic heart:
"And for me, I cleared it. Just not according to the rules you set. I admit that the result is the most important thing. That's what you lack most right now."
"Shirou, your heart is too empty."
This phrase was like lightning. Shirou's hand movements instantly froze. Locke raised his hand, gently patted his tense shoulder, and comforted him in a tone that could dispel all confusion:
"But it's okay. You still have me."
With that, he turned his head and looked at the bar still lying high above, his voice light as the wind, but able to take root:
"Maybe you won't clear it today. Maybe you will remember this height that you can't overcome for a long time, and then spend the rest of your life trying to clear it. But when the day comes that you truly cross over to the other side, you will know."
He paused, looked at Shirou, and his eyes lit up:
"It doesn't matter how long it takes."
---
Seeing the open and resolute gaze in Shirou Emiya's eyes, Rin Tohsaka, who had already considered him her lifelong partner, immediately understood what he was about to do.
She suddenly rushed forward, grabbed him by the collar, her knuckles white from the force, and tears immediately welled up in her eyes, but she forced herself to look fierce, gritted her teeth, and threatened:
"There has to be another way! I will never let you risk your life like this!"
What she didn't know was that the memories Shirou Emiya had just recalled had caused such intense emotional fluctuations that even Red A, the Servant, was drawn into his thoughts. He had clearly seen the scene of that day: a boy with a mutilated body softly persuading a boy with a devastated heart.
This scene was like lightning striking Red A's heart.
He was shaken like never before, and the first thought that flashed in his heart was envy. He envied the Shirou Emiya of this world, envied that he had someone who firmly held him at his most confused and empty moment, preventing him from embarking on his desperate path of futile attempts that would eventually burn everything.
But even so, he had never wanted to see this redeemed version of himself, always accompanied by someone, easily severed by fate.
In the next second, Red A made a decision.
Without hesitation, he raised his hand and struck the back of Rin Tohsaka's neck with a knife-hand blow, watching her fall softly. Then he took her with a backhand and simply cut off his left arm.
As blood gushed out, he confidently extended his still-warm hand before Shirou Emiya.
This sudden scene instantly froze everyone present.
Only Shirou Emiya, stunned for a moment and then quickly reacting, looked at the Servant before him, who had the same face, and said quietly, his voice full of seriousness:
"Thank you, other me."
Red A was instantly shocked and blurted out: "How do you know?"
Shirou Emiya just shook his head slightly and said calmly:
"Does any of that really matter?"
And Fujimaru Ritsuka, off to the side, also understood the thoughts of the two. If Red A compressed the power of his spiritual foundation into this hand, and then had it transplanted to Shirou Emiya, then with the same origin, the other party's strength would be close to that of a Servant. Although defeating the enemy remained a fantasy, at least he would have the power to fight.
If the support of enhanced magic was added, it might actually work!
However, just as they were about to take the next step, a message from Chaldea sounded in their ears.
"Hey, Ritsuka!"
"Da Vinci, dear? Great, I need someone who can do magic enhancement right now—"
"Wait, listen to me first! The Counter Force sent a helper, but he appeared directly in Chaldea. We've already signed a contract with the other party for magic compensation, and we're about to teleport him!"
The moment the words fell, the Command Spell on Fujimaru Ritsuka's wrist suddenly bloomed with a dazzling light.
In the next second, a majestic figure four meters tall appeared from nowhere beside everyone.
When she clearly saw the armor on the opponent's body, which was of the same origin as the Space Marines but completely different in form and majesty, Fujimaru Ritsuka took a deep breath. All the negative emotions in her heart instantly vanished, and she screamed in her heart:
'Haha! Version updated!'
The moment the figure of the genetic primarch, Robert Kiliman, landed firmly on this smoke-filled interstellar battlefield, he looked up at the warrior-red void and instantly met the massive flagship carved by betrayal and blood in the sky. He recognized the ship and the bloody history behind it at first glance.
"The Soul of Vengeance? I see. This was the First Black Expedition."
As he spoke, he slowly turned his head, his gaze falling on Sigismund nearby. In those blue eyes, deep as a star sea, a trace of complex emotions spanning 30,000 years passed. His voice when he spoke was calm and heavy, with the unique majesty of a genetic primarch:
"Sigismund, long time no see. I truly didn't expect that when we met again, it would be 30,000 years in the past."
When Sigismund clearly saw the opponent's face and recognized him behind the cobalt-blue power armor and laurel crown, he was so shocked that his knees buckled. He immediately knelt on one knee, the knee armor of his power armor smashing into the metal deck covered in bullet casings, producing a dull, loud sound.
He lowered his head, his voice full of absolute loyalty and undisguised apology, his words resounding:
"My lord..."
Seeing that the always rebellious Sigismund, who dared to fight even the oldest king, would make such a gesture of submission, Gilgamesh was the first to react.
He rubbed his feet from the temporary throne, his burgundy pupils suddenly contracted, staring at a scene that completely subverted his thinking, and blurted out a cry of complete disbelief: "Impossible!"
On the side, Red A, Ilya, and the others looked at each other with blank expressions.
They looked at the kneeling Sigismund, then at the majestic cobalt-blue figure, their eyes full of confusion, as if silently asking: Who is this?
At this moment, Fujimaru Ritsuka clenched her Command Spell, which still had lingering light on her wrist, took a deep breath, suppressed the trembling in her heart, and clearly announced the true identity of the newcomer according to the information Leonardo da Vinci had just urgently transmitted.
"He is the genetic primarch of the future Thirteenth Legion, the Ultramarines. Lord of Ultramar, ruler of the Five Hundred Worlds, and one of the twenty inheritors of the Emperor of Mankind."
She paused, looked at the quietly standing figure, and solemnly spoke the name word by word:
"Robert Kiliman."
And then Robert Kiliman slowly stepped forward, looking down at the kneeling Sigismund. In his bright blue eyes, there were no waves, like a sea of frozen stars, only the absolute majesty of an emperor's inheritor, born and unable to be ignored.
His voice was not loud, but it clearly drowned out the roar of artillery fire around him, and every word was like a declaration engraved on the tablets of Imperial law, shattering into everyone's ears:
"In the name of the Thirteenth Genetic Primarch of the Ultramarines Legion and the Regent of the Imperium of Man, I declare that the rules of this duel of honor are hereby changed. From this moment forward, you are the opponents of this duel."
He slightly raised his eyes, a cold gaze sweeping over the seven Space Marines present. His tone was calm and unshakable, but with the absolute confidence to turn the tide of battle:
"I intend to achieve seven."