Fate: But This Is Not Solomon I Know!

Fuyuki, Miyama Town – submerged in malice.

Malice surged like a tsunami, drowning the entire town in thick, black sludge. The townspeople screamed in terror, fleeing in chaos and despair as the darkness swallowed them whole—none could comprehend what was happening.

Ark's stood motionless at the center. From his position, his gaze swept across all the Servants present, before stopping on Artoria. He spoke—his voice calm yet cold as death:

"Confirmation: King Arthur – Artoria Pendragon. I didn't expect to encounter you here."

Artoria took a half-step back, unable to conceal her wariness. She assumed a defensive stance, eyes locked on the armored figure.

"Indeed… I didn't expect to meet again, Berserker. That last war was truly eye-opening… especially your battle—with Assassin."

High above, Zoth furrowed his brows in confusion. He activated [Omni Visions] to investigate, but all was blank—nothing showed. Frustrated, he roared:

"Oi! Ark's! What the hell are you doing here?! And what the hell happened during the Third Holy Grail War?!"

Ark's turned his head slowly upward. The blood-red dual lenses of his helmet fixed on Zoth. Not fast, not slow, he replied in a monotone:

"Response: I have no reason to answer you, Solomon."

From atop Vimana, Gilgamesh stood with arms crossed, staring down at Ark's with utter disdain. Behind him, countless golden portals of the Gate of Babylon opened at once, sacred treasures glimmering inside.

"You mad dog… sullying the land of this king? Pay for your sins—with death!"

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A barrage of treasures rained down like divine wrath from the ancient gods. Yet Ark's remained still. He gently stomped the ground—an explosion of dark energy erupted, erecting a wall of malice that blocked the onslaught.

KRA-KOOM!!

A thunderous detonation echoed as the treasures struck the dark barrier. But Ark's did not flinch. The malicious voice from his Driver system resonated:

[Malice, Terror, Wrath, Hatred, Despair, Flight, Bloodlust.]

He swung his hand, slamming the Progrise Key down — a crimson flash ignited. The Driver's voice triggered the Finisher:

[Perfect Conclusion! Learning 7.]

His entire body erupted in malice. Blood-red glyphs spun around him like cursed incantations. He bent his knees, then launched skyward like a meteor—his target: Vimana.

His gaze locked onto Gil. His right arm clenched, malice surged down it like molten lava.

No words. No warning.

He threw a Rider Punch straight at him.

BOOM!!

All the compressed malice exploded in one blow. The punch crashed into Vimana, swallowing the divine airship whole, slamming it from the skies and detonating it deep in the mire like a bomb.

Gil twisted midair to dodge, landing with poise. His jaw clenched, veins throbbing—his face contorted in sheer fury.

"Mad dog… you dare destroy this king's treasure?! You… are beyond salvation!!"

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

A dozen Gate of Babylon portals flared behind him, golden mouths opening like the jaws of divinity. Dozens—hundreds—of sacred weapons surged forth at his command.

SHWING! SHWING! SHWING!

They rained down toward Ark's like a meteor storm, golden light roaring through the air — an apocalyptic tempest.

But Ark's was unfazed. He tilted his head, blood-red eyes glowing bright. Then — he charged, weaving through the golden rain like a dancer among blades.

From his back, he drew a black case — Attache Weapon. The instant his hand gripped it, it transformed into a tactical sword, steel gleaming cold in the midst of malice. With precise, fluid strikes, he shredded three—no, four sacred treasures mid-air.

"Confirmation: King of Heroes – Gilgamesh."

"Warning: Extremely dangerous entity."

"Analysis in progress… Searching for optimal solution…"

His gaze locked onto Gil — but before he could close in, a sword slashed down from behind.

SHHK!!

He ducked at the last second, twisting and kicking his attacker square in the ribs.

"Agh–!"

Artoria was flung like a ragdoll, crashing into nearby ruins. Debris flew, and she struggled up, blood at her lip.

"UURRGGHHH–!!"

Lancelot roared, lunging like a specter. He slashed down with Arondight, but Ark's caught the blade barehanded, unfazed.

BOOM!!

Malice surged from Ark's palm, blasting Lancelot back like he'd been hit by a truck. His body smashed into stone, shattering it.

No hesitation — Ark's turned on Artoria. The Attache Weapon reshaped into a sword — he raised it high, ready to strike down—

KRA-KA-BOOOM!!

Thunder cracked. The sky roared.

From above, a pair of massive bulls pulled a war chariot down like divine lightning, ramming Ark's from the side and sending him skidding through the black mire.

"Olalala~ Looks like we arrived late, Master!"

Iskandar – King of Conquerors – stood proudly on the chariot, his boisterous laughter shaking the battlefield. Behind him, Waver clung to the edge of the chariot, trembling, eyes wide like he was about to cry.

"A—why did you drag me here?! Are you insane?! I want to live, you maniac!!"

BONK!!

Iskandar casually knocked Waver on the head like tapping a drum, arms crossed, grinning:

"You're my soldier, so you fight with me! Hiding like a rat is disgraceful!"

Suddenly, he turned toward Artoria. His tone relaxed, like bumping into an old friend at the market:

"Oh ho! Saber! What's happened to you? Truly a shame to see you like this!"

Artoria gritted her teeth. Blood dripped from her lip, but she silently wiped it with the back of her hand — her eyes burned with resolve:

"Rider! Defeat that Berserker—he's extremely dangerous. We cannot let him run loose any longer!"

Iskandar's grin vanished. His face darkened — eyes solemn, for once. He looked at Ark's and nodded, pointing straight at him:

"That one, huh? Good. Then this is a rare moment you and I shall fight side by side, Saber."

Artoria didn't answer. Her eyes were locked on Ark's. She raised Excalibur, radiant golden light bursting forth. The Invisible Air shattered, revealing the true form of the divine sword.

No words.

She roared, channeled her mana — and dashed forward like lightning, swinging full force at Ark's.

He looked up. No retreat — he parried the strike head-on — steel clashed, sparks flew.

The two clashed at point-blank, their speed breaking the very air around them. But Ark's quickly gained the upper hand. With each clash, he read more of her movements — her defenses unraveling piece by piece.

That monotone voice returned:

"Confirmation: Learning complete. Analysis finished."

"Conclusion: You've lost, Saber."

Artoria's face changed. She leapt back — but too late. Ark's was already there. He grabbed her arm, and from his palm—

"AGHHH!!"

She screamed in agony. Malice invaded her spirit core, corroding her will and mana like acidic despair. She thrashed, trying to break free — but couldn't.

AT THAT MOMENT—

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A flurry of exploding treasures forced Ark's to back off. He turned—

Gilgamesh stood, arms crossed, eyes frigid with contempt:

"Mad dog... Who gave you permission to touch the woman this king desires?"

Ark's tilted his head, helm's red eyes locked onto Gil, voice cold as iron:

"I respectfully disagree. Saber… has never agreed to be your woman."

Gil scoffed, smirking arrogantly:

"She will, sooner or later. As for you—mad dog… die for this king."

BOOM!!

Another storm of sacred treasures rained down. But now Ark's had read them all — he danced through them like death incarnate. His Attache Weapon shifted into a bow. He drew and fired:

THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!

A salvo of crimson energy arrows shot toward Gil, who casually waved his hand, summoning layers of golden shields to block them all.

"Olalala~ Berserker! Don't forget I'm still here too!"

Iskandar roared, charging down from the sky in his chariot, sword slashing from behind — only to be stopped cold by Ark's malice barrier, leaving not even a scratch.

"ARRRGGHHH—!!"

Lancelot charged in again—this time wielding… a streetlamp. He swung wildly, but Ark's caught it, crushed it with a Rider Punch, and launched Lancelot flying.

Tension spiked.

Ark's looked at the Servants surrounding him — eyes unblinking. He tapped rapidly on his Driver. The voice echoed like judgment:

[Malice, Terror, Wrath, Hatred, Despair, Flight, Bloodlust, Ruin, Extinction, Destruction!]

[Perfect Conclusion! Learning: END.]

His body erupted in crimson-black fury. The glyphs of "DEATH" spun around him in a ring of despair.

The ground cracked beneath him. Red energy of annihilation seeped into the soil. The air itself shivered.

"AGHH!!"

He flung his body outward — a crimson shockwave exploded from him, flattening everything.

BOOOOOM!!!

The blast tore through the battlefield. All the Servants were blasted away (except Gilgamesh), slamming into walls, rooftops, columns — like puppets cut from their strings.

Dust engulfed the area. Crimson flashes pulsed. The air was shattered.

They struggled to their feet — bloodied, breathing heavily, eyes dead serious.

Their gaze locked on the one standing amidst the mire...

Ark's — no longer a Servant.

He was a calamity.

The final conclusion of humanity's malice—

An end born purely of hate.

---

In another corner of the battlefield…

Amidst a wasteland scorched black by ash and ruin—where the echoes of distant destruction still trembled faintly—Zoth stood alone.

He had undone his transformation. The armor had dissipated, revealing a weary human body. Yet in his eyes burned a fire of sharp vigilance.

In his hands—a thick book of crimson and white—was the Omni Force.

But now, it was no longer a weapon.

It had become the [Almighty Book]—a tome of omniscience, housing knowledge that transcended space, time, and even causality itself.

Zoth gently flipped through its pages.

They were not made of paper, but radiant layers of living data—flowing like waves of raw information.

He sought answers:

Why had Ark's appeared here?

Why had he—Zoth—been pulled into this world?

…And what he saw made him freeze.

It wasn't just information.

It was truth.

A truth so overwhelming, he could never have imagined it.

Everything… began with a war—

The Final War between the Kamen Riders and Kamen Rider Zein.

Zein—wielder of the [Dimensional] power—had overstepped all limits, tearing apart the structural fabric of the dimensional planes themselves.

The space-time collapse spread like a chain reaction, a domino effect unraveling all realities.

The veil known as the Dimensional Wall, once protecting and dividing the worlds, shattered.

From these cracks, Rider Cards fell—drifting out of the timeline, out of all universes, severed from any system of existence.

And then—

They fell into a world wholly foreign:

Type-Moon.

A realm that knew no Rider System, no concept of Kamen Rider logic or phantom structures.

Type-Moon's system immediately deconstructed the Cards—breaking them back into their cores:

Drivers, raw abilities, and the very soul-essence of each Rider.

But it didn't stop there.

Because the world of Type-Moon, though alien, shared spatial attributes akin to Earth—

It absorbed the lost souls drifting between the universes after the dimensional veil had collapsed.

These souls did not vanish.

They were reconstructed—rebuilt to fit the logic of this world.

And when a person came into contact with a Rider Card—be it by accident or by the threads of fate—their soul would resonate with the scattered fragments of Rider power floating between the planes.

The result…

Was Zoth.

Was Ark's.

And many others.

They were not "coincidentally" transported here.

They were the inevitable byproducts of dimensional chaos—

Rider powers twisted and reborn into new vessels.

Zoth wiped his brow. Beads of sweat clung to his face.

His eyes flickered with unease, and he let out a dry, bitter laugh—a laugh that masked exhaustion, anxiety, and spiraling thought.

"Well shit… Thought Decade was the main cause of all this crap, but turns out it was Zein… wait…"

His brows furrowed. Lips moved in a whisper:

"Wait, What about the others…?"

That thought chilled him to the bone.

Like he'd just glimpsed the tip of a pitch-black iceberg that stretched infinitely below.

He stared at the floating Omni Force, its radiant pages still turning—each one a storm of information encoded in divine light.

He was contemplating his next move, when—

BOOOOMMMM!!!

An explosion rocked the wasteland. The shockwave tore through the ground, flinging rocks and dust into a blinding storm.

Zoth snapped his head toward the blast.

His eyes narrowed, sharp and cold—but with a flicker of something wild, something excited.

"Tch… Let's settle things with that pain-in-the-ass bastard first. We'll deal with the rest later."

From the broken earth, the mechanical echo rumbled:

[Kamen Rider… Solomon!]

[Fear Is Coming… Soon…]

A swirl of black and gold light surged out, engulfing Zoth. In an instant, his form was clad once more—Kamen Rider Solomon had returned.

His armor gleamed with false divinity—a regal white and gold sheen masking a chilling, corrupted ego beneath.

Zoth flexed his arms outward.

From his palms materialized two living swords:

Saikou — the Sword of Light

Kurayami — the Sword of Darkness

They sang with a metallic screech, layered with ghostly wails.

Zoth grinned—a half-smile laced with venom.

"It's time…"

BOOOM!!!

Like a golden arrow of judgment, he shot forward—

His body a beam of sacred blasphemy tearing through the sky.

Zoth streaked toward the battlefield like a divine blight, locked onto a single prey:

Ark's.

He howled, laughter echoing with rage:

"The rest can wait till later!!

First—LET'S WRECK THAT BASTARD!!!"

---

On the other side of the battlefield—

The ground was devastated, riddled with deep cracks and scorched slash marks.

A corrupt aura bled like poison veins across Miyama town, choking the very air with malice.

At the heart of the chaos—

The battle still raged.

Blades of radiant light tore through the thick black haze.

Artoria pressed her assault, slashing relentlessly—her sword carving arcs of brilliance through the air, aiming straight for Ark's.

But he dodged them all effortlessly, slipping like a phantom between the flashes of steel.

From afar, gilded Noble Phantasms rained down like a storm from the Gate of Babylon, piercing Ark's armor and staggering him. Some weapons embedded themselves deep into his frame.

"Target change: King of Heroes – Gilgamesh."

BOOM!!

Ark's rocketed toward Gilgamesh like a living bullet—but before he could reach—

SHUNK! SHUNK! SHUNK!

More Gates opened above, unleashing a meteor shower of divine weapons that pinned Ark's straight into the dirt.

"Hmph! Even a mad dog dares to touch The King? Know your place, mongrel."

Ark's slowly rose, seemingly unphased. He reached for his Driver—

[Evil God Stlash!!]

A mechanical voice echoed from above.

Then—a massive golden sword descended from the heavens, tearing the sky apart.

High above—Zoth, as Kamen Rider Solomon, floated in the storm. His red cloak flapped like torn wings, eyes razor-sharp, voice dripping sarcasm:

"Ark's!! Let's see if you can tank this one!!"

He swung his arm.

The colossal Caladbolg responded, cleaving through the sky—surging with a vortex of gold-and-black energy—slamming down toward Ark's.

BAAAAAAM!!!

The impact roared like thunder.

Ark's braced, arms raised—but the raw energy rattled his core, forcing him back across the shattered earth.

"Ohhh! Berserker of the Third Holy Grail War!! Take this full combo, baby!!"

From the distance—Iskandar thundered in, his chariot splitting the battlefield like a bolt of war.

He crashed into Ark's, sending him flying, tumbling, slamming into the dirt in a blur of limbs and impact.

Before Ark's could fully recover—

Caladbolg loomed above again.

CRASH!!

The blade struck, launching him straight through a crumbling building—debris, flame, and shrapnel exploded outward.

Zoth landed hard, whipping his head toward Artoria and shouting:

"HEY!! Ahoge King! Use your damn Noble Phantasm already!!"

Artoria's brow twitched, her eyes blazing with royal fury. She glared at Zoth:

"I am NOT some 'Ahoge King'! I am the King of Britain! Kindly address me properly!"

Zoth waved his arms frantically:

"We don't have time to argue about titles!!

Just nuke him off the map with Excalibur already!!"

Grumbling, Artoria turned.

She raised Excalibur, energy gathering as her chant rang out, regal and terrifying:

"Sheathed in the breath of the planet,

a torrent of shining life.

Feel its wrath—EXCALIBUR!!"

BOOOOOOM!!!

A golden beam shot skyward,

then tore downward like divine judgment—cutting through the night and sweeping toward Ark's.

He had just crawled out from the rubble—

only to be consumed by holy light.

CRACK!!!

The beam blazed across the battlefield, shredding darkness, purifying malice.

Magic energy scattered like sparks, disintegrating in the wake of the divine blast.

Ark's still stood—

But barely.

His armor was fractured. He panted heavily, body swaying.

From beneath the cracks of his helmet, his eyes flickered—mockery? Or hate?

"So this is how you fight… Ganging up on one enemy.

Do you still even care about things like honor?"

Zoth barked a laugh, shrugged with total indifference:

"Pfft—Bro, this is the specialty move.

Ever heard the saying:

'If you can gang up, why the hell would you solo?'"

Ark's froze.

Just for a moment.

As if…

He had just learned a brand-new life philosophy.

Zoth didn't miss a beat.

He raised Saikou and Kurayami, both glowing with menace, a wicked grin spreading beneath his helmet:

"Ark's! Better brace yourself—

'Cause the combo ain't over yet!!"