"The flame has been lit, so one must cast their vote." Ashamed? Ask your heart, no, there is no shame.

Though she did not perform perfectly, though she might have been a failed King, though she was destined to live the rest of her life burdened by pain and regret, still... she had no shame before her own heart.

From beginning to end, she considered only the nation and its people, dedicating her life and human emotions to her ideals, striving to become an ideal King. Therefore...

"My conscience is clear," the girl declared, looking up with ringing conviction. Even if everything she held dear was negated, even if all her beliefs were shaken to their core, this one thing she dared to proclaim with pride before anyone: what she, the King of Knights, had done was without fault in her own eyes.

"Then that is all that matters," Lin Luo smiled. The girl named Artoria had shouldered the hopes of an entire era upon her young shoulders—a weight impossibly heavy.

Yet, in the end, she was merely a young girl clinging to a dream. Abandoning the delicate poetry of love, casting aside romance, she fell into the endless curse known as Ideals.

This self-inflicted cocoon, while heartbreaking to watch and maddening in its stubborn adherence, was precisely what made her charming. So, wouldn't it be stirring if someone could pull her from that cocoon?

And so... "So move forward," Lin Luo said loudly, as if cheering her on, gazing at the girl whose expression was firm but concealed fragility and doubt.

"Carry your clear conscience, carry all your pride, and use the holy sword in your hand to carve out a broad, clear path that belongs only to you. Let the world sneer and defame; as long as you hold fast to the justice and ideals in your heart, and follow the path of kingship you have chosen—regardless of whether the ending is good or bad, whether it is victory or defeat—you will ultimately be able to stand tall and proudly announce your name as the King of Knights, won't you?" "I..." The girl opened her mouth, wanting to speak, but ultimately remained silent.

Only her previously clouded eyes gradually cleared, the confusion receding, and her faith seeming to deepen. "Thank you." Irisviel watched as Saber seemed to recover, and with a sense of relief, bowed slightly to Lin Luo in sincere gratitude.

Though the two sides were currently in a truce, they were ultimately enemies. If Saber were allowed to collapse here, it would undoubtedly benefit him.

Yet, he did not seize this chance to strike; instead, he offered encouragement. It had to be said, this was not an action an ordinary Master would take.

"No, it's nothing, just some presumptuous words I spoke. Don't mind them," Lin Luo replied with a faint smile before looking away.

"Hmph, bastard," the golden-haired, red-eyed girl snorted, but her tone noticeably lacked its usual sarcasm and disdain. "You truly haven't disappointed me," Nero glanced at him, a smile in her eyes, saying happily.

Irisviel seemed to understand a little now. There was a reason this man could summon a tyrant like Nero and a perfect King like the White King of Knights; at the very least, this integrity and decisiveness gave him the absolute qualification to be their Master.

Suddenly, a thought sparked in her mind: what if this man had summoned the King of Knights standing beside her? What kind of scene would unfold then?

They would likely get along very well; after all, both were so utterly upright... Irisviel did not pursue the thought further.

It wasn't because her role as Saber's Master demanded she abandon this intriguing idea, but because the thunderous sounds of slaughter and clashing weaponry were already echoing throughout the entire space. Her gaze turned toward the battlefield: the King of Conquerors and the King of Knights—the armies led by the two monarchs had engaged head-on.

This was absolutely not a battle one could witness in the real world; no, perhaps not even in the most relentless ages of war could such a magnificent engagement be seen. The King of Conquerors and the King of Knights, rulers from two different eras, gambling on the Path of Kings they each believed in without reservation or hatred, seeking only victory to validate themselves.

"Warriors! I, Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, command you: Charge!

Conquer the formidable enemy before you!" The King of Conquerors sat astride his warhorse, his imposing figure like a pillar reaching the heavens. With a sweep of his arm, clouds moved in all directions.

The moment the roar of the Ionioi Hetairoi erupted, it was like the earth shaking and mountains swaying—the surging momentum was nothing short of a bolt of lightning from a clear sky, invincible against ten thousand men. "Conquer!

Conquer! Conquer!" It wasn't just arrows and javelins; the flashes of blades released by Noble Phantasms shot toward the opposing side in an instant, like a rain of light.

"Knights! Valor, loyalty, and belief are our immortal glory, and you are the swords that defend this glory, the shields that guard it!

Now, use your swords and shields to inscribe a new glory!" At some unknown point, the pure white Knight had also mounted a snow-white steed. This was no ordinary horse, but a Divine Beast spoken of only in legends...

a Dragon-Horse, infused with dragon's blood, only rideable by the King of Knights possessing the bloodline of the Red Dragon— The King sang, the horse neighed, swords clashed, and hot blood flew high. "Glory!

Glory! Glory!" The Knights of the Round Table waved their Noble Phantasms, which emitted a light more dazzling than the sun, instantly dyeing the entire heaven and earth white.

Because under their King's guidance, fearless courage seemed to take physical form, blocking all incoming attacks in an instant. Protected by the Knights of the Round Table, no attack could reach the King, for that was their highest honor.

"Warriors, do not hesitate! Believe in yourselves; we can conquer everything!" The King of Conquerors led the charge, bursting forth from his ranks straight toward the Knights of the Round Table, and the Ionioi Hetairoi followed without slowing, galloping alongside him.

"Knights, belief dwells in our hearts, and dreams are not hard to realize. I only tell you one thing: We are...

Heroes!" The Dragon-Horse spread its wings, soaring high in the sky, its piercing dragon cry tearing through the heavens. In this moment, the pure white Knight was the supreme King.

"Hero! Hero!

Hero!" Boom With a world-shaking collision, the two awe-inspiring armies finally made full contact. Right here, right now, armed with their absolute belief in victory, with the faith that they must not lose, they were determined to bring success to their respective Kings.

That wave-like momentum swept across the land; no one could stand against it. Clang The pure white Knight astride the Dragon-Horse brought his sword down fiercely from mid-air.

The King of Conquerors, spurring the spirit-form warhorse, drew his sword from its scabbard. It was merely an ordinary sword, not a powerful Noble Phantasm, but held in his hand, it radiated the might of one.

The edges of their blades met, and their gazes locked, both simultaneously showing a smile. "King of Knights." "King of Conquerors." The next moment, the two swung their blades again.

Where steel met steel, violent ripples caused space itself to tremble slightly. The confrontation between Kings required no words.

No one dared to disturb the duel between the two leaders. Whether it was the Knights of the Round Table or the Ionioi Hetairoi, they kept a respectful distance, each finding their own opponents.

It was not that they did not wish to protect their King; it was because they held the absolute conviction that their King was invincible—no matter the opponent, their King would surely triumph. "Hah!

Isn't that the God of War? Come fight me!" A tall, imposing knight laughed heartily as he charged toward one of the enemy's ranks, unleashing a terrifying battle spirit.

The opponent, upon noticing him, immediately met the challenge with fearless courage. "Sir Kay, the Knight of Martial Prowess, let us test our valor!" A burly man wielding a giant axe from the Ionioi Hetairoi furiously assaulted a specific member of the Knights of the Round Table.

The collision of weapon against weapon, the shedding of blood and heads—this was war. "To defend the glory of my King, come taste my infinite martial arts!

Lancelot, the Knight of the Lake, is here!" Wielding the untarnished Lake Light, the Holy Sword immediately erupted in dazzling radiance, instantly shredding the dozen or so Heroic Spirits besieging him into a shower of light and making them vanish. Yet, such bravery did not cause retreat; instead, it drew more to attack him.

"Which Knight are you?" "I should be asking you, which hero are you from?" A knight and a warrior drove their Noble Phantasms into each other's bodies. Blood spurted from their mouths, but neither showed pain or resentment on their faces; instead, they wore smiles of mutual recognition—the acknowledgment between warriors.

Finally, just before dissolving into light particles, both shouted simultaneously: "May our King be victorious!" "Bedivere, the Knight of Loyalty, swears to defend my King's honor to the death!" His helmet shattered, long hair flying, Bedivere, the most loyal Knight to the King of Knights, though female, possessed martial prowess equal to any on the battlefield. Her Noble Phantasm shone brilliantly under her attacks as she slew one enemy after another.

"My King guides the path before me, conquering all!" A warrior wielding twin spears, after reducing one Knight to light particles, was himself slain by another Knight, yet he stood straight, bearing witness to the righteous path forged by his King. ...The battle had reached a fever pitch.

Though as Heroic Spirits they could not truly die, at this moment, every warrior on the field had forgotten their status as such. They wielded their swords to kill with one purpose only: to fight for their respective Kings and guard their sovereign's glory...

dying without regret. Watching such a display, the onlookers held their breath.

Forget everyone else; even those who were usually arrogant, like the King of Heroes and Nero, showed due respect for the warriors engaged in the fray. To possess such ministers is the King's fortune.

To have such a King is the minister's glory. This battle was waged not out of hatred or enmity, but solely for the highest Path of Kings in the world.

"King of Conquerors!" "King of Knights!" The shouts pierced the clouds. The two supreme Kings, though holding different paths, shared equal prestige, once again clashing violently.

Victory or defeat? It no longer mattered.

The soldiers in this battle were all heroes.