Shinji Matou at Your Service

In the consciousness space filled with light, a hint of blue quietly appeared.

That was the color most abundant on the surface of this planet, the color of the sea, and it was also the color of Shinji's soul.

The moment the blue appeared, the brilliance condensed from connection and thoughts seemed to be summoned, directly flowing into the blue.

With the help of this brilliance, the blue became increasingly pure, rapidly expanding outward and soon rendering the entire consciousness space blue.

Not only his soul, but Shinji's body in reality also underwent similar changes.

The white halo surrounding his body vanished, replaced by a blue mist. This phenomenon, formed by high concentrations of magical power, swirled around Shinji like a gigantic vortex.

Seeing this, Shirou laughed heartily and pointed his sword forward.

"Not bad at all. Come on, let me see how much you've changed."

"As you wish!"

Shinji raised his head, the battle spirit in his eyes burning fiercely.

In the next second, both figures vanished simultaneously, only to clash violently in mid-air.

As promised, Shirou unleashed his eight-strike technique, Octaslash. Shinji, not to be outdone, used his newly acquired power to block all eight strikes simultaneously.

Then, both figures disappeared again, reappearing in another location to continue their fierce battle.

With the reinforcement of nine Command Spells, Shirou was now unrestricted. Whether it was Dimensional Leap, Reduced Earth, Void Slash, or other Noble Phantasm-level techniques, he wielded them effortlessly.

For a moment, anomalies emerged one after another.

In his hands, the katana was no longer an ordinary cold weapon but a terrifying device capable of unleashing unimaginable attacks.

At this point, Shirou had completely transcended the realm of Servants.

Yes, completely. Whether in skill, spiritual foundation, stats, or magical power, he was far beyond what could be achieved by merely stacking attributes through Noble Phantasms. Those monsters with raw power but lacking the necessary realms to control it would only be crushed before the current Shirou.

However, Shinji was no longer the monster with mere raw power either. As Shirou compensated for his weaknesses, Shinji gained entirely new strength.

This was the power rooted in the deepest part of every person's soul, sealed by the subconscious: the core meaning that existed since the creation of chaos, the cause decided at the soul's birth, accumulating through countless cycles of reincarnation.

This power was called Origin.

When Origin awakens, tracing back to the cause of its birth, one gains the immense power accumulated over endless time.

Since this power inherently belongs to oneself, there would be no discomfort in wielding it, nor any worry about having too much strength and not enough realm to control it.

Of course, awakening one's Origin is not without its drawbacks. As the price for gaining the accumulated power of reincarnation, the previous lives will also revive. A personality formed in less than a hundred years cannot withstand the core meaning accumulated over such a long time and will ultimately be devoured. At that point, the person ceases to be themselves, becoming a collective of countless existences, forever unable to escape the control of the Origin.

But—what if one is not devoured by the accumulated previous lives?

The answer lies in the present Shinji.

Indeed, a personality formed in a few decades is insufficient to resist the long history of countless lives, but as Shinji said, he is not fighting alone.

Behind him stand many people who care for him. Their thoughts gather around him, accompanying him.

A single soul's accumulated previous lives are powerful, but the gathered thoughts are even more formidable. With their support, Shinji successfully suppressed his own previous lives and fully controlled his Origin rather than being controlled by it.

Faith is magic, and willpower can create miracles.

In his confrontation with the Origin, Shinji truly created a miracle.

Next, he will create more miracles, together with those who care for him, and with the Origin they jointly control.

Thoughts gathered, infusing Shinji's soul, and with the assistance of the awakened Origin, Transformation, further sublimating the newly born Third Magic.

And this is precisely Shinji's capital in his confrontation with Shirou.

Thoughts transformed into magical power, allowing Shinji to not worry about depletion.

Bonds solidified into substance, capable of being the hardest shield, the sharpest spear, and transforming into any shape according to Shinji's will.

"With everyone's support, I can do this! Even if you have reached the pinnacle of martial arts, you cannot defeat me!"

After blocking Shirou's Octaslash once again with the all-encompassing Power of Thoughts, Shinji's power surged once more.

The blue mist that filled the battlefield recoiled and condensed around Shinji, forming a humanoid figure over ten meters tall with countless arms.

This was not a physical mutation caused by the Crying Warmonger, but Shinji's newfound understanding of his Origin.

"Transformation, divine manifestation—Thousand-Armed God!"

(Shinji used Susanoo.)

◇◇◇

Meanwhile, Jeanne and Shakespeare had also reached the deepest part of the garden, the shattered altar.

The moment they stepped out of the passageway, they saw the massive Holy Grail placed in the central area.

Besides that, there was nothing else. To be precise, there should have been other things, but they had been destroyed by continuous explosions.

"What a tragic scene," Shakespeare commented nonchalantly, arms crossed.

"By the way, I don't see my master, nor do I see the Black Assassin. Could they have been blown up?"

Jeanne closed her eyes, then quickly reopened them and let out a long sigh of relief.

"My privilege indicates that the Black Assassin is still alive. Since you haven't sensed anything unusual, it means Amakusa Shirou Tokisada is also still alive." (Amakusa Shirou Tokisada is not part of this Holy Grail War, so Jeanne can't ascertain his status.)

"I see. So where are they now? I'm quite interested, as their actions are closely related to the direction and conclusion of this story."

"They should be above us. I can sense two intense magical fluctuations in the sky."

"In the sky? This is getting more and more interesting."

Jeanne pointed to the sky, and Shakespeare pulled out a telescope with a handheld stand from his coat and placed it on his nose.

"Oh, I see them! Both the master and the Black Assassin are even more outstanding than I imagined. Ah, inspiration is coming, my brain is trembling."

With a gesture from his free hand, a large book and a matching quill pen materialized and began writing automatically under Shakespeare's direction.

"Red Caster."

"Please don't interrupt my creative process, Holy Maiden of France. I assure you, this will be a good story."

"I'm not interrupting you on purpose; I just hope you stay away so you won't be affected."

"Huh?"

Hearing Jeanne's words, Shakespeare quickly removed his glasses and looked at her in surprise.

Jeanne, however, was not looking at him. She was calmly gazing at the Holy Grail.

"The damage to the Holy Grail is less severe than I expected. We don't have much time left. Caster, if you don't intend to stop me, please leave now so we can have a bit more time."

"Ruler, you intend to—"

"I will complete the task he couldn't. This is my duty."

Jeanne drew her sword.

The silver sword bestowed upon her at the Church of Saint Catherine was a fine weapon, yet Jeanne had never used it until now.

Now, she finally wielded the sword, not against the Holy Grail, but against herself.

The blade sliced across her palm, but Jeanne's face showed no pain, nor did she care about the blood that oozed out. She knelt, hands clasped together, and closed her eyes.

The graceful posture made Shakespeare think of a martyr.

"The heavens declare the victory of God; The skies proclaim the work of His hands.."

"Please wait, Miss Jeanne."

Just as Jeanne began her prayer, a voice echoed from within the altar.

Next, pure white spirit particles materialized out of thin air, coalescing into a figure so exquisite it seemed almost inhuman.