Beyond the Throne: When Fate Summons the Godless
Prologue: The End of Constants
The warning sirens of Chaldea wailed throughout the facility's hallways, a sound that had become all too familiar to its inhabitants over the years. But this time was different. This wasn't the detection of another singularity, another temporal anomaly that threatened human history. This was something far worse.
"Director! The readings are off the charts!" shouted a technician, her fingers flying across holographic displays that flickered and distorted with each passing second. "The observation equipment can't maintain integrity!"
Da Vinci, who had taken operational command of Chaldea following the events of the Temple of Time, stared at the central monitor with uncharacteristic dread in her eyes. The genius inventor, normally full of confident smiles and reassuring words, now stood silent as the impossible data scrolled before her.
"It's not just affecting a point in history," she finally said, her voice barely audible over the alarm klaxons. "It's affecting the concept of history itself. The very foundations of our reality are destabilizing."
The door to the command center burst open as Ritsuka Fujimaru rushed in, followed closely by his ever-faithful companion, Mash Kyrielight. Both looked exhausted, having been awakened from a rare moment of rest.
"Da Vinci!" Ritsuka called out, his voice betraying the fear he tried so hard to hide. "What's happening?"
The artist-turned-Servant turned to face them, her expression grim. "Something we've never encountered before. A singularity has emerged, but it's not contained to a single point in time or space. It's... spreading. Like a cancer through the fabric of reality."
Mash stepped forward, her shield materialized and ready despite there being no immediate physical threat. "Can we rayshift to its location and correct it?"
"That's just it," Da Vinci replied, shaking her head. "There is no location. This anomaly exists outside of time, outside of space. It's affecting the Throne of Heroes itself."
The room fell silent save for the persistent alarms. The Throne of Heroes—the metaphysical plane where the souls of humanity's greatest champions rested, waiting to be called upon as Servants. It was supposed to be inviolable, existing beyond time and the normal rules of reality.
"We're detecting a paradoxical reading," continued Da Vinci, gesturing toward one of the screens. "A Servant signature that shouldn't exist—it's outside the Throne of Heroes, outside time, outside fate itself. By all measures of our understanding, such an entity cannot be."
"Yet it is," Ritsuka said quietly.
"Yes," Da Vinci confirmed. "And as it continues to exist, it's causing a cascade failure in the foundations of reality. If we don't address this soon, the entire concept of causality will collapse."
Ritsuka's fists clenched at his sides. After everything they had faced—singularities that threatened human history, the near incineration of humanity, even battles against Beast-class threats—this was beyond anything they had prepared for.
"What can we do?" he asked.
Da Vinci's eyes met his, and in them was a desperation he had never seen before. "There is... a method. One that Chaldea's previous leadership deemed too dangerous to ever consider. A forbidden ritual that channels raw conceptual energy to summon not just a Servant, but an entity capable of overwriting impossibilities."
"Overwriting the impossible?" Mash echoed, her brow furrowed.
"Yes. When faced with a paradox that threatens existence itself, we need something—or someone—who transcends the very rules being broken."
Ritsuka didn't hesitate. "Show us."
Chapter 1: The Forbidden Summoning
Deep within Chaldea's most restricted section, past security measures that would make most military installations seem like open doors, Da Vinci led Ritsuka and Mash to a chamber none of them had ever entered before.
"This was constructed during Chaldea's inception," Da Vinci explained as she worked through a series of complex locks. "A contingency for an 'extinction-level conceptual threat.' No one ever thought we'd actually use it."
The door finally opened with a hiss of ancient mechanisms awakening. Inside was not the typical summoning chamber they were accustomed to, with its neat circle and controlled environment. This room was raw, primal—its walls carved with symbols that hurt the eyes to look at directly, the floor inlaid with materials that seemed to shift between states of matter.
"This isn't Saint Quartz-based summoning," Da Vinci continued, moving to a central console. "This ritual taps directly into the conceptual underpinnings of existence itself. It's designed to call forth something that can answer a threat beyond the scope of heroes or gods."
"Is it... safe?" Mash asked, clutching her shield tighter.
Da Vinci's laugh was hollow. "Safe? No. Necessary? Absolutely."
Preparations took hours. Ancient tomes were consulted, artifacts were arranged in precise configurations, and incantations were practiced until they could be recited flawlessly. All the while, the facility's alarms continued their mournful wail, a constant reminder of the collapsing reality outside.
"The ritual requires both a vessel capable of handling immense magical energy and a master capable of directing it," Da Vinci explained as they finalized the preparations. "Mash, with your Demi-Servant nature, you're the only one who can serve as the vessel. Ritsuka, as the last Master of humanity, you must guide the summoning."
They took their positions—Mash standing at the center of the arcane circle, Ritsuka at its edge with his command seals glowing ominously in the chamber's strange light.
"Whatever comes through," Da Vinci warned from her position at the controls, "will not be a normal Servant. It may not even be something we can control. But it's our only hope."
Ritsuka nodded, his eyes meeting Mash's across the circle. They had faced impossible odds before. They would face them again, together.
"Begin the ritual," he commanded.
Da Vinci activated the ancient system. The room's temperature plummeted as the very concept of heat seemed to be drained away. The symbols on the walls began to move, sliding across the surface like living things. The floor beneath them trembled not with physical force but with potentiality—the raw stuff of what-could-be.
Mash raised her shield, and it began to glow with an intensity that rivaled stars. "I offer myself as the vessel," she declared, her voice steadier than she felt.
Ritsuka extended his hand, command seals blazing. "And I offer my command. Beyond time, beyond space, beyond fate—I call to that which can overwrite the impossible!"
The ritual reached its crescendo. The symbols leapt from the walls, swirling around the chamber in a dizzying dance of conceptual energy. The floor beneath them ceased to exist in any conventional sense, becoming a void of pure potential.
And then, against all logic, the summoning circle exploded outward with a force that sent both Ritsuka and Da Vinci flying back against the walls. Mash alone remained standing, her shield creating a small pocket of stability in the chaos.
When the energy dissipated and vision returned, they all stared in shock at what stood before them.
Not a Servant. Not a hero of legend or a divine spirit.
A young man with dark hair and eerily calm eyes surveyed the room with mild interest, as if he'd simply stepped through a door rather than being torn across the boundaries of reality itself.
"Interesting," he said, his voice remarkably ordinary given the circumstances. "This is not my world."
Da Vinci was the first to recover, scrambling to her feet and checking her instruments. "Impossible," she whispered. "The readings... there's nothing there. It's as if the system can't even recognize what you are."
The young man turned his attention to her. "That's because your system was designed to measure entities that exist within your conceptual framework. I do not."
Ritsuka stepped forward cautiously. "Who... what are you?"
"My name is Akuto Sai," the young man replied simply. "As for what I am..." He paused, seeming to consider how best to explain. "In my world, I was created to be a god. Or perhaps more accurately, I was determined to become a god by the very system that governed reality."
"A god?" Mash echoed, her shield still raised protectively.
"Not by choice," Akuto clarified. "It was a future prescribed to me, one that I sought to defy. My existence became a paradox—a being with the power to reshape reality while simultaneously rejecting the very destiny that granted that power."
Da Vinci's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "That's why the ritual called you. We needed something that could address an impossibility threatening our reality..."
"And you summoned someone whose entire existence is defined by the contradiction between absolute power and free will," Akuto finished with a slight nod. "Now, perhaps you should explain why you've pulled me across dimensions."
Chapter 2: The God Who Defied Fate
The command center had fallen silent when Ritsuka and Mash returned with their new... ally? Even the word felt inadequate. The various Servants who had been gathered to address the crisis stared openly at Akuto Sai as he calmly observed the monitoring equipment.
"The destabilization has slowed," reported one of the technicians, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Just his presence is somehow affecting it."
Holmes, who had been analyzing the anomaly data, stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Fascinating. It appears that your very existence serves as a counterbalance to the paradox we're facing. A contradiction neutralizing a contradiction."
Akuto turned his attention to the detective. "Not neutralizing. Not yet. I'm merely exerting passive influence through my nature. To truly address this threat, I'll need to understand it completely."
Da Vinci quickly brought up the complete data they had gathered. "The anomaly began approximately eighteen hours ago. At first, we thought it was simply another temporal distortion, but it quickly became clear that this was far more fundamental. It's as if something has inserted itself into reality that fundamentally cannot exist according to our world's rules, and reality itself is breaking down trying to accommodate it."
"Like an immune response," Akuto mused. "Your reality is treating this anomaly as a foreign invader and destroying itself in the process of trying to expel it."
Mordred, who had been leaning against a wall with unconcealed skepticism, finally spoke up. "So what exactly can you do that our own Servants can't? We've got some of the most powerful beings from across human history right here."
Akuto regarded the Knight of Treachery with calm eyes. "Your Servants, powerful as they are, still exist within the framework of your reality. They are bound by its rules, even when they bend them. I am not. Where I come from, I was designated to become the Demon King—an absolute god of destruction. My power isn't limited by your world's concepts because I don't belong to them."
"That sounds more dangerous than helpful," Mordred replied, hand moving subtly toward her sword.
"It would be," Akuto acknowledged, "if I didn't reject that destiny. My entire existence is centered around defying a predetermined fate while wielding the power that comes with it. That contradiction is precisely what you need right now."
The tension in the room was palpable until Ritsuka stepped forward. "I trust him," he said simply.
All eyes turned to the last Master of humanity. His judgment of character had saved them countless times before.
"The ritual wouldn't have called him if he wasn't what we needed," Ritsuka continued. "And right now, we're out of options."
Da Vinci nodded slowly. "Ritsuka's right. We need to act quickly. The anomaly may have slowed, but it's still expanding. According to our projections, we have less than 24 hours before the damage becomes irreversible."
"Then we should proceed," Akuto said. "I need to see this anomaly directly. Not through your instruments, but with my own perception."
"That's impossible," one of the technicians objected. "The anomaly exists outside normal space-time. We can't simply go there."
A small, knowing smile played at the corner of Akuto's mouth. "As I said, impossibility is something of a specialty of mine."
Chapter 3: Beyond the Boundaries
The preparation for what Akuto called "conceptual transit" was unlike anything Chaldea had ever attempted. It wasn't rayshifting, which sent consciousnesses back through time. It wasn't even dimensional travel as they understood it. What Akuto proposed was a direct move into the space between realities where the anomaly festered.
"I can create a bounded field that will allow a small team to accompany me," Akuto explained as they prepared in Chaldea's deployment chamber. "But I must warn you—what we'll encounter there won't adhere to normal physics or logic. It will be... disorienting."
Ritsuka had volunteered immediately, of course. Where danger threatened humanity, he would always be on the front line. Mash, as always, stood by his side, her shield ready to protect her Master no matter what impossible threat they faced.
Da Vinci had selected two additional Servants to join them: Gilgamesh in his Caster form, whose clairvoyance might prove useful in navigating the conceptual chaos, and Merlin, whose half-incubus nature gave him unique insight into dreams and unreality.
"I still don't understand how you intend to get us there," Caster Gilgamesh remarked, his arms crossed over his chest. "Even with my treasury of Noble Phantasms, traveling outside reality itself is beyond my capabilities."
"That's because you still conceptualize yourself as existing within reality, even when you bend its rules," Akuto replied. "I do not have that limitation. My existence already contradicts conventional reality."
He extended his hand, and the air before him... changed. It didn't tear or split or open—those would be terms too rooted in physical reality. Instead, the very concept of "here" began to blur, creating a space that was simultaneously present and absent.
"This is not a portal in the conventional sense," Akuto explained. "It's more accurate to say I'm extending my own paradoxical nature to create a bubble where the rules of your reality temporarily cease to apply. Within that bubble, we can step sideways into the conceptual void."
Merlin, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke. "I've walked through dreams and between worlds, but this... this is beyond even my experience. It's fascinating."
"And dangerous," Mash added firmly, moving closer to Ritsuka protectively. "What happens if we become separated in this... void?"
"Stay within my influence," Akuto instructed. "I'll maintain a field of conceptual stability around us. Stray beyond that, and you'll be exposed to raw possibility. For beings bound to a single reality like yourselves, that exposure could be... problematic."
Ritsuka took a deep breath, centering himself. After everything they had faced—singularities, Beasts, the Temple of Time—this would be yet another impossible journey to save humanity.
"We're ready," he declared.
Akuto nodded. "Then step through."
One by one, they entered the non-portal. The sensation was indescribable—not like falling or floating or moving at all, but like suddenly existing in a different way altogether. Colors that had no names in human language swirled around them. Concepts rather than physical objects formed their surroundings. The only constant was the small bubble of relative normality that Akuto maintained around them.
"This," Gilgamesh observed with rare humility in his voice, "is beyond even the gods of my era."
"Because your gods were still part of your world's conceptual framework," Akuto explained. "What we're witnessing here exists outside any single framework."
"It's beautiful," Mash whispered, her eyes wide as she watched patterns of pure thought shift and flow around them.
"And deadly," Merlin cautioned. "Look there."
He pointed toward what could only be described as a wrongness—a seething mass of contradiction that pulsed like an infected wound in the fabric of conceptual space. Unlike the fluid, graceful movements of the void around them, this anomaly jutted and jarred, tearing at the very idea of existence.
"That's our target," Akuto confirmed. "A perfect impossibility. Something that, by its very nature, cannot exist—yet does."
"Can you tell what it is?" Ritsuka asked, fighting against the instinctive revulsion that the sight inspired.
Akuto narrowed his eyes, studying the anomaly. "It's... a Servant. But not one from your Throne of Heroes. This entity is trying to exist in your reality while simultaneously existing in another, incompatible reality. The contradiction is tearing at the foundations of both."
"How is that possible?" Mash asked. "Servants are spiritual entities bound to specific rules."
"Unless," Merlin interjected, his usually playful demeanor replaced with rare seriousness, "something or someone is deliberately forcing this contradiction into existence. Creating a paradox as a weapon."
Akuto nodded slowly. "That would be my assessment as well. This isn't a natural occurrence—it's an attack. Someone with knowledge of conceptual manipulation is deliberately introducing an impossibility to destabilize your reality."
"Who would have such capability?" Gilgamesh demanded. "Even the Beasts, for all their power, operate within the framework of our world."
"Perhaps someone like me," Akuto answered quietly. "Someone from outside your conceptual framework altogether."
The implications hung heavy in the strange non-air of the void. If they were facing an entity with capabilities similar to Akuto's—someone who could manipulate the very foundations of reality—then the threat was far greater than they had imagined.
"Can you stop it?" Ritsuka asked, getting straight to the point as he always did when faced with seemingly insurmountable odds.
Akuto studied the writhing anomaly for a long moment before answering. "Not from here. We need to find the source—whoever or whatever is generating this paradox. This is merely the symptom, not the cause."
"And how do we do that?" Mash questioned.
"We follow the conceptual thread," Akuto replied, extending his hand toward the anomaly. "Everything, even impossibilities, leaves traces. We just need to—"
He never finished the sentence. The moment his influence touched the anomaly, it reacted violently. The wrongness pulsed once, then exploded outward in a blast of pure contradiction that shattered Akuto's protective field like glass.
The last thing Ritsuka saw before consciousness fled was Mash reaching desperately for him as they were all scattered like leaves in a conceptual storm.
Chapter 4: Scattered Across Concepts
Ritsuka awoke to the sensation of solidity beneath him—a welcome feeling after the disorienting vastness of the void. His head throbbed with a pain that seemed to resonate not just physically but somewhere deeper, as if the very concept of "Ritsuka Fujimaru" had been bruised.
"You're awake. Good."
The voice was Akuto's. Ritsuka opened his eyes to find the dark-haired young man kneeling beside him, a look of mild concern on his otherwise calm face.
"What... happened?" Ritsuka managed, struggling to sit up.
"The anomaly had defenses," Akuto explained, helping him to his feet. "When I attempted to trace its origin, it reacted by dispersing us. We're fortunate it merely scattered us rather than erasing us entirely."
Ritsuka looked around frantically. "Mash? The others?"
"Scattered," Akuto repeated. "But not lost. This place—" he gestured to their surroundings, which appeared to be a bizarre fusion of library and forest, books growing from branches and leaves inscribed with text "—is a conceptual pocket. A fragment of possibility. The others will be in similar pockets, each shaped by the dominant concepts in their existence."
"We need to find them," Ritsuka insisted immediately.
"And we will," Akuto assured him. "But first, you need to understand what we're facing. The anomaly's reaction wasn't random. It was intelligent, targeted. Whatever is creating this paradox is aware of us and specifically wanted to separate us."
Ritsuka processed this information, his mind racing. Years of facing existential threats had honed his ability to adapt quickly to impossible situations.
"Can you sense where the others are?" he asked.
Akuto closed his eyes briefly, seeming to extend his awareness beyond their immediate surroundings. "Yes and no. I can sense the general... flavor of their conceptual pockets, but navigating between them will be challenging. This space doesn't operate on physical dimensions."
"Then how do we move?"
"Through conceptual association," Akuto explained. "These pockets are formed from raw possibility, shaped by dominant concepts. We need to identify the conceptual bridges between them."
He gestured to their surroundings. "This pocket, for instance, represents 'knowledge growing naturally.' It's likely formed from your role as one who learns and grows through experience. To reach Mash, we would need to find a concept that connects to her essence."
Ritsuka looked thoughtful. "Protection," he said after a moment. "Mash's entire existence is centered around protecting others, especially me."
Akuto nodded. "Good. Focus on that concept. In this space, intent and understanding can shape reality."
Ritsuka closed his eyes, concentrating on the idea of Mash's protective nature—her shield, her unwavering loyalty, the countless times she had placed herself between him and danger. As he focused, the strange forest-library around them began to shift, the books and leaves rustling with unusual energy.
"It's working," Akuto observed. "Keep focusing."
The world around them blurred, concepts flowing like water until suddenly they were standing in a new pocket—one that resembled a massive shield, curved walls forming a dome of protection around a small garden where flowers bloomed impossibly within a perfect circle of safety.
And there, tending to the flowers with gentle care despite her obvious anxiety, was Mash.
She looked up, her eyes widening. "Senpai!" she cried, rushing toward them. "You're alright!"
Their reunion was brief but heartfelt, with Mash checking Ritsuka for injuries despite his assurances that he was fine. Akuto stood back, observing their interaction with quiet interest.
"I've been trying to find a way out," Mash explained once she had satisfied herself that Ritsuka was unharmed. "But everything beyond this garden is... wrong somehow. Hostile."
"That's the nature of these conceptual pockets," Akuto explained. "They're formed from core aspects of your being. For you, it's protection—creating a safe haven. But that haven is surrounded by that which must be protected against."
"What about Gilgamesh and Merlin?" Ritsuka asked. "Can we reach them the same way?"
"Yes, but it will become progressively more difficult," Akuto warned. "Each transition stretches my influence thinner. And I suspect whatever created the anomaly will be actively working against us now."
"Then we should hurry," Mash said, materializing her shield. "I'm ready."
They repeated the process, this time focusing on concepts that represented Gilgamesh: kingship, wisdom, the foundation of civilization itself. The transition was rougher this time, the world around them resisting the change until Akuto exerted more of his strange power, forcing the concepts to bend to his will.
When the world stabilized again, they found themselves in an impossible city—part ancient Uruk, part modern metropolis, part something that had never existed and could never exist. Golden spires reached toward a sky filled with tablets of destiny, and at the center of it all, seated on a throne that seemed to be the lynchpin holding this fragmented reality together, was Caster Gilgamesh.
The King of Heroes did not seem surprised to see them. "You took your time," he remarked dryly. "I was beginning to wonder if I would need to restructure this entire plane myself."
"You understood what was happening," Akuto observed, neither a question nor an accusation.
"Of course," Gilgamesh replied, rising from his throne. "I am one-third divine. The rules of conceptual space are not entirely foreign to me. Though I admit, navigating it is beyond even my considerable abilities."
"Have you learned anything while waiting?" Ritsuka asked.
Gilgamesh's expression grew serious. "Yes. This space is not merely a result of the anomaly's defensive measure. It's a testing ground. We are being observed, evaluated."
"By whom?" Mash asked, her shield raised instinctively.
"That," came a new voice, light and musical despite the gravity of their situation, "is what I've been trying to determine."
They turned to see Merlin stepping out from behind one of the golden spires, his staff glowing with soft light. Unlike the others, the Magus of Flowers seemed entirely at ease in this fractured reality.
"You found us," Ritsuka said, relief evident in his voice.
"More like I was never really lost," Merlin replied with his characteristic smile. "Dream-walking has certain advantages when reality becomes... flexible. I've been moving between our separate pockets, gathering information."
"And what have you discovered?" Akuto asked, his interest clearly piqued.
Merlin's smile faded. "That we're not the only ones from outside your reality who have been drawn here. There's another presence—something vast and ancient, watching from the spaces between concepts."
"The source of the anomaly," Akuto concluded.
"Yes," Merlin confirmed. "And from what I can sense, it's been waiting for you specifically, Akuto Sai."
All eyes turned to their mysterious ally, whose expression remained unreadable.
"That would explain the nature of the trap," Akuto said after a moment. "The anomaly wasn't just an attack on your reality—it was bait."
"Bait?" Ritsuka echoed. "For you?"
"For someone like me," Akuto clarified. "Someone from outside your conceptual framework who could counteract the paradox. The question is, why?"
Gilgamesh scoffed. "Isn't it obvious? For power. If this entity could harness or replicate your abilities, it could reshape reality at will."
"Or destroy it entirely," Mash added quietly.
Akuto shook his head slightly. "There's more to it than that. The precision of this trap, the specific nature of the paradox... this feels personal."
"Well," Merlin interjected, twirling his staff casually, "there's only one way to find out. We need to confront this entity directly."
"How?" Ritsuka asked. "If it's hiding in the spaces between concepts, how do we even reach it?"
A cold smile formed on Akuto's lips—the first real expression of emotion they had seen from him. "We don't reach it. We make it come to us."
Chapter 5: The Face of the Impossible
The plan was audacious, even by the standards of Chaldea's many desperate gambits. Rather than searching through infinite conceptual space for their adversary, they would create a conceptual beacon so powerful, so irresistible, that the entity would have no choice but to investigate.
"Every being, no matter how powerful, has fundamental aspects that define them," Akuto explained as they stood in the center of Gilgamesh's impossible city. "Core concepts that they cannot ignore. For humans, these might be survival, connection, purpose. For beings that exist beyond conventional reality, the concepts are more abstract, but no less compelling."
"And what concept would draw this entity to us?" Ritsuka asked.
"Contradiction," Akuto replied simply. "The same paradoxical nature that it used to create the anomaly. I will create a contradiction so perfect, so complete, that it will resonate across conceptual space like a beacon."
"Is that not dangerous?" Mash asked, concern evident in her voice. "Creating another paradox when reality is already unstable?"
"Extremely," Gilgamesh answered before Akuto could. "It's like fighting fire with fire—effective but risky."
Akuto nodded in acknowledgment. "The risk is necessary. And I won't be creating a destructive paradox like the anomaly. What I have in mind is more... elegant."
"What do you need from us?" Ritsuka asked, already prepared to provide whatever support was required.
"Your concepts," Akuto said. "Each of you embodies powerful conceptual ideals that I can weave together. Ritsuka, your unbreakable determination in the face of impossible odds. Mash, your absolute protection that defies fate itself. Gilgamesh, your perfect kingship that bridges divine and human. Merlin, your existence that straddles dream and reality."
The Magus of Flowers raised an eyebrow. "You want to use us as conceptual anchors."
"Yes," Akuto confirmed. "Your combined essences, properly aligned, will create a framework stable enough for me to manifest a controlled paradox without destroying this space."
They formed a circle around Akuto, each taking a position that corresponded to their conceptual nature. The air between them began to thicken with potential as Akuto closed his eyes in concentration.
"What exactly are you going to do?" Ritsuka asked quietly.
"I'm going to simultaneously exist and not exist," Akuto replied, his voice taking on an otherworldly timbre. "A state of perfect conceptual superposition that cannot be ignored by any being that manipulates concepts."
Before anyone could question this further, Akuto's form began to... shift. Not physically, but on a more fundamental level. He seemed to blur at the edges, becoming simultaneously more defined and less real with each passing moment. The air around him warped with contradictory properties—hot and cold, light and dark, present and absent.
Ritsuka felt a strange pressure building in his mind, as if his thoughts were being stretched in opposing directions. From the expressions on the others' faces, they were experiencing similar sensations.
"Hold your positions," Akuto instructed, his voice somehow coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. "The paradox is stabilizing."
The conceptual city around them began to respond to the growing contradiction at its center. Buildings flickered between existing and not-existing. The sky shifted through impossible colors. Reality itself seemed to be holding its breath, waiting.
And then it came.
Not with a dramatic entrance or a thunderous arrival, but with a simple shift in perspective. One moment they were alone in the circle; the next, they were not.
Standing opposite Akuto was a figure that defied description. Not because it was incomprehensible—quite the opposite. It appeared as a perfectly ordinary elderly man in scholarly robes, with kind eyes and a gentle smile. Yet looking at him filled them all with a sense of vast wrongness, as if this benign appearance was merely a courteous mask worn by something unfathomably alien.
"Fascinating," the entity said, its voice like warm honey over broken glass. "I've observed many attempts to navigate conceptual space, but yours is truly elegant, Akuto Sai."
Akuto allowed his paradoxical state to subside, returning to his normal appearance as he faced the entity. "You know me."
"Of course," the entity replied with a small bow. "Just as you, I suspect, have begun to recognize me."
A flicker of genuine surprise crossed Akuto's face—the first time they had seen such an unguarded reaction from him. "You're... from my reality. But that's impossible."
"Impossible?" The entity chuckled warmly. "We both know that word has little meaning to beings like us. But yes, I originated in the same conceptual framework as you, though I have... expanded my horizons considerably since then."
Gilgamesh stepped forward, his posture tense. "Identify yourself properly, intruder. You stand before the King of Heroes and the last Master of humanity."
The entity turned its kindly gaze to Gilgamesh, and the King of Heroes—a being who had faced gods and beasts without flinching—took an involuntary step back.
"Forgive my manners," the entity said. "In the world that Akuto and I once shared, I was known as Professor Machs, a humble instructor at the Constant Magical Academy."
"Machs?" Akuto's voice held genuine shock. "But you died when the school was destroyed."
"Did I?" Machs replied with a gentle smile. "Or did I simply transcend the limitations of our reality? Death, after all, is merely a conceptual transition for those who understand the true nature of existence."
Ritsuka, sensing the tension between the two otherworldly beings, decided to cut to the heart of the matter. "You created the anomaly that's destroying our reality. Why?"
Machs turned his attention to Ritsuka, studying him with interest. "Ah, the famous Fujimaru. The human who defies fate through sheer determination. To answer your question: necessity. Your reality contains conceptual frameworks that I require for my continued... evolution."
"Evolution into what?" Mash demanded, her shield raised protectively.
"Into something beyond the constraints of any single reality," Machs answered simply. "You see, young Demi-Servant, Akuto and I share a similar nature. We both exist as contradictions—beings whose very essence defies the rules of reality. The difference is that Akuto struggles against his nature, while I have embraced mine completely."
"You're causing the deaths of countless people," Ritsuka said, anger edging into his voice. "Entire timelines are collapsing because of your actions."
"A regrettable but necessary sacrifice," Machs replied with what appeared to be genuine sadness. "Creation requires destruction. New conceptual frameworks cannot emerge without the collapse of old ones."
"Enough," Akuto interrupted, stepping forward. "I understand now. You're harvesting conceptual energy from collapsing realities to fuel your own transformation. That's why you created a paradox specifically designed to destabilize this reality's foundations."
Machs smiled approvingly. "Precisely. This reality—with its Throne of Heroes existing outside time, its conceptual vessels in the form of Servants, its manipulation of fate itself—contains particularly potent conceptual frameworks. When it collapses, the energy released will be... substantial."
"And you knew Chaldea would summon something to counter your paradox," Merlin added, his usual
"And you knew Chaldea would summon something to counter your paradox," Merlin added, his usual playfulness entirely absent. "You were counting on it being Akuto specifically."
"A calculated probability," Machs acknowledged with a slight nod. "The ritual they used was designed to summon an entity capable of addressing conceptual impossibilities. Given the limited number of beings who exist outside established conceptual frameworks, Akuto was the most likely candidate. His arrival was... statistically favorable."
"You used us," Ritsuka said, anger building in his voice. "You threatened our entire reality just to lure Akuto here."
"Please understand, Master of Chaldea," Machs replied, spreading his hands in a gesture that might have seemed conciliatory from anyone else. "It's nothing personal. Your reality is simply a means to an end—a particularly rich source of conceptual energy that I require."
Akuto's eyes narrowed. "And what do you want from me, Professor? If all you needed was to collapse this reality, you wouldn't have gone to such lengths to ensure I was brought here."
Machs smiled—a warm, grandfatherly expression that somehow made his alien nature all the more disturbing. "Perceptive as always, my former student. You're correct. I could have simply destroyed this reality directly, but that would have been... inefficient. You see, what I truly require is not just conceptual energy, but the specific conceptual contradiction that you embody."
"The paradox of absolute power and absolute free will," Akuto stated.
"Precisely!" Machs looked genuinely delighted. "You understand! That particular contradiction is extraordinarily rare across the multiverse. Most beings who attain godlike power become bound by the conceptual frameworks that define that power. You alone have managed to maintain true free will despite possessing the power to reshape reality itself."
"He wants to absorb your power," Gilgamesh concluded, his red eyes glinting with understanding. "To incorporate your unique paradox into his own being."
"Not just absorb," Merlin corrected, his expression grim. "To consume. To subsume Akuto's entire conceptual nature into his own."
Machs inclined his head slightly. "A crude but essentially accurate assessment. I've already assimilated several other conceptual anomalies from across different realities. Your addition, Akuto, would bring me one step closer to perfect conceptual freedom—existence without limitations of any kind."
Mash stepped closer to Akuto. "And what happens to him if you... consume his conceptual nature?"
"He would cease to exist as a distinct entity," Machs replied with what seemed like genuine regret. "But his essence would live on as part of me. It's not so different from what happens to your Servants when they return to the Throne of Heroes, becoming part of a greater collective consciousness."
"Except the Throne doesn't erase their individual existences," Ritsuka countered. "They maintain their identities."
"A matter of perspective," Machs dismissed with a wave of his hand. "But we're getting sidetracked in philosophical debates when time is of the essence. Your reality continues to collapse, after all."
He turned his attention back to Akuto. "So, my former student, we have two options before us. You can willingly join with me, allowing me to assimilate your unique conceptual nature—in which case I will stabilize this reality as a gesture of goodwill. Or you can resist, forcing me to take what I need by force—in which case this reality's destruction will continue as originally planned."
"Those aren't the only options," Akuto replied calmly. "There's a third: I stop you."
Machs sighed, looking genuinely disappointed. "I had hoped you would be reasonable. You, of all beings, should understand the necessity of transcending conceptual limitations. How many times in your own world did you struggle against the constraints of your predetermined destiny? I'm offering all sentient life freedom from such constraints."
"Freedom?" Akuto's voice took on an edge they hadn't heard before. "You're destroying entire realities. That's not freedom—it's annihilation dressed up in philosophical rhetoric."
"Sometimes annihilation is necessary for true creation," Machs countered. "You cannot make an omelet without breaking eggs, as the human saying goes."
"Enough talking," Gilgamesh interrupted, golden portals beginning to manifest around him. "This creature threatens our reality. We end this now."
Machs glanced at the forming Gates of Babylon with mild interest. "Your weapons, impressive as they are within your conceptual framework, cannot harm me, King of Heroes. I exist outside the very concepts they embody."
"Perhaps not alone," Merlin said, stepping forward with his staff glowing with arcane energy. "But we are not alone."
The four of them—Ritsuka, Mash, Gilgamesh, and Merlin—formed a semicircle around Akuto, facing Machs with determination. It was a stance they had taken many times before, against Beasts and gods and threats to humanity's existence. They would not back down now.
Machs observed them with what appeared to be genuine curiosity. "Fascinating. Even knowing you cannot comprehend what you face, you stand against me. The human concept of 'courage' truly is remarkable."
"It's not just courage," Ritsuka replied. "It's what we always do. We protect our world, no matter the odds."
"Admirable," Machs acknowledged. "Futile, but admirable."
The air around Machs began to distort, reality itself seeming to bend away from him as his true nature started to emerge from behind the kindly professor façade. His form remained humanoid, but the space around him became... wrong, as if the normal rules of distance and dimension no longer applied.
"Akuto," he said, his voice now echoing from multiple points in space simultaneously, "I gave you the opportunity to join me willingly. Now I must take what I need by force. Try not to resist too much—it will only make the process more... uncomfortable."
Akuto stepped forward, placing himself between Machs and the others. "Ritsuka," he said without turning around, "I need you and the others to focus your conceptual energies as you did before. Create a stable framework around us."
"What are you going to do?" Mash asked, her shield already beginning to glow with protective energy.
"What I was summoned to do," Akuto replied simply. "Overwrite the impossible."
Chapter 6: Gods and Demons Dance
The conceptual space around them trembled as two irreconcilable forces faced each other. On one side stood Professor Machs, his grandfatherly appearance now like a thin veil barely containing something vast and incomprehensible. On the other stood Akuto Sai, seemingly ordinary yet radiating a quiet, implacable power.
Surrounding them, Ritsuka, Mash, Gilgamesh, and Merlin once again formed a conceptual framework, their unique essences creating a zone of relative stability in which this impossible confrontation could take place without immediately shattering reality itself.
"I must admit," Machs said, his voice now carrying harmonics that hurt the mind to hear, "I've been looking forward to this moment. To test myself against the Demon King who refused his destiny."
"And I've never sought conflict," Akuto replied evenly. "But I will stop you from destroying this reality."
Machs smiled, the expression stretching unnaturally across his increasingly fluid features. "Then let us begin."
The first exchange happened too quickly for human perception to follow. One moment the two beings stood facing each other; the next, waves of pure conceptual force radiated outward from a point of contact between them. The very fabric of the pocket reality warped and buckled, held together only by the combined efforts of Chaldea's defenders.
Mash gritted her teeth, her shield glowing with blinding intensity as she fought to maintain the conceptual boundary. "Such power," she gasped. "It's like trying to hold back the ocean with my bare hands."
"Focus," Gilgamesh commanded, his own energies flowing into the framework. "We are the anchors that allow this battle to take place. Without us, both would be cast adrift in conceptual chaos."
Ritsuka, connected to them all through his role as Master, could feel the strain as if it were physical. Yet beneath the pain was something else—a growing understanding of what they were witnessing. This wasn't merely a battle between two powerful beings; it was a clash of fundamental philosophies about the nature of existence itself.
The combatants separated, both appearing unchanged despite the tremendous energies they had just exchanged. Yet the space around them told a different story—reality itself was cracked and fragmenting where their powers had collided.
"Impressive," Machs acknowledged. "You've grown stronger since our days at the Academy. But you still restrain yourself, limit your true potential."
"I choose my limitations," Akuto replied. "That's the difference between us."
Machs shook his head, almost sadly. "Choice is an illusion, my former student. We are all bound by our natures. I've simply embraced mine completely."
The professor's form began to shift more dramatically, his human appearance dissolving into something more abstract—a complex geometric pattern of intersecting concepts that hurt the mind to perceive directly.
"Behold what freedom from conceptual constraints truly means," Machs's voice resonated from everywhere at once. "I am no longer bound by form or function. I exist as pure potentiality."
The abstract pattern expanded, tendrils of contradictory reality reaching toward Akuto. Where they touched the ground, matter both existed and didn't exist simultaneously, creating spreading zones of conceptual instability.
Akuto remained still, watching the approaching chaos with calm eyes. Only when the tendrils were mere inches from him did he respond—not with a dramatic counter-attack, but with a simple gesture. He raised his hand, palm outward, and reality... stabilized.
The chaotic tendrils froze in place, their contradictory nature suddenly bound by rules they couldn't violate.
"Impossible," Machs's voice echoed, the pattern of his being fluctuating with what might have been surprise. "You're imposing conceptual limitations on me? How?"
"You forgot the nature of my power," Akuto replied. "In my world, I was designated to become a god of destruction—an absolute power. That means I can define what is 'absolute' within my sphere of influence."
"A clever trick," Machs conceded, the frozen tendrils beginning to vibrate as he exerted more pressure against Akuto's constraints. "But merely delaying the inevitable."
With a sound like reality itself tearing, the tendrils broke free, shattering Akuto's imposed limitations. They surged forward again, now moving too quickly to track.
This time, Akuto didn't attempt to stop them. Instead, he simply... wasn't where they struck. Not teleportation, not super-speed—he simply occupied a different conceptual position than the one Machs had targeted.
"Another aspect of my nature," Akuto explained, now standing several feet to the left of his previous position. "Free will in its purest form—the absolute freedom to choose where and how I exist."
For the first time, Machs's abstract form displayed what could only be interpreted as frustration. The geometric patterns swirled faster, compressing and expanding in complex rhythms.
"Enough games," his voice boomed, causing the pocket reality to shudder. "If I cannot take your power piece by piece, I will consume it all at once!"
The abstract pattern suddenly collapsed inward, compressing into an impossibly dense point of conceptual energy before exploding outward in all directions. This wasn't an attack aimed at Akuto specifically—it was an attempt to consume the entire conceptual pocket, including everyone in it.
"Mash!" Ritsuka shouted, but she was already moving, her shield expanding to form a dome of protection around them.
"Lord Camelot!" she cried, invoking her Noble Phantasm not as a physical defense but as a conceptual one—the perfect embodiment of protection.
Merlin and Gilgamesh added their powers to hers, the Magus of Flowers weaving dream-energies into the barrier while the King of Heroes reinforced it with the authority of his kingship. Together, they created a small zone that Machs's conceptual consumption couldn't immediately penetrate.
But it wouldn't hold for long. Already, cracks were forming in Mash's noble phantasm as the overwhelming force pressed against it from all sides.
"Akuto!" Ritsuka called out, unable to see beyond their protective bubble. "Are you—"
"I'm here," came Akuto's voice, calm as ever, as he materialized within their protected space. "And I have a plan."
"Well, I hope it's a good one," Merlin remarked, sweat beading on his brow as he poured more power into the failing barrier. "Because we have perhaps thirty seconds before this shield collapses."
Akuto nodded. "I've been analyzing his pattern of conceptual consumption. There's a flaw in his approach—he's attempting to assimilate too many contradictory concepts at once without properly reconciling them."
"Can you exploit this weakness?" Gilgamesh asked sharply.
"Yes," Akuto confirmed. "But I'll need to get close enough to directly interface with his conceptual matrix. And for that, I need you to do something that goes against every instinct you have."
"What?" Ritsuka asked, even as he felt the shield around them beginning to crack.
"When I give the signal, drop your defenses completely," Akuto instructed. "All of you, at once."
"That's suicide!" Mash protested.
"No," Akuto countered. "It's conceptual judo. Machs is exerting tremendous force against your resistance. When that resistance suddenly vanishes, he'll momentarily lose conceptual balance—giving me the opening I need."
Ritsuka looked into Akuto's eyes, searching for any sign of doubt. He found none. Only calm certainty.
"We'll do it," he decided, turning to the others. "On his signal."
The cracks in Mash's shield widened, tendrils of Machs's consuming power beginning to seep through. Outside, they could see nothing but swirling chaos as the professor devoured the conceptual pocket bit by bit.
"Ready," Akuto said, centering himself. "Three... two... one... Now!"
On his command, Mash dismissed her Noble Phantasm. Merlin withdrew his dreamweaving. Gilgamesh retracted his authority. Ritsuka released his command reinforcement.
For a heart-stopping moment, they were completely exposed to the full force of Machs's conceptual consumption.
And exactly as Akuto had predicted, the sudden absence of resistance caused the professor's attack to momentarily overextend—like a person pushing against a door that suddenly opens.
In that split second of imbalance, Akuto moved. Not physically, but conceptually—his entire being shifting directly into the heart of Machs's abstract form.
The world around them exploded into impossible colors as the two conceptual anomalies merged. Not a willing union as Machs had desired, but a contested overlapping of contradictory existences.
Ritsuka and the others were thrown backward by the conceptual shockwave, landing hard on what passed for ground in this fragmenting pocket of reality.
"What's happening?" Mash cried out, raising her shield again to protect them from the swirling chaos.
"Akuto has taken the battle to a level beyond our comprehension," Merlin answered, his eyes wide as he watched the clashing energies. "They're fighting not with power, but with meaning itself."
Before them, where Akuto and Machs had been, now existed only a swirling vortex of conceptual energy—shapes and colors and ideas all blending and separating in patterns too complex for human minds to fully grasp. Within that chaotic storm, two distinct forces struggled for dominance.
"Is he winning?" Ritsuka asked, unable to interpret what he was seeing.
"I... don't know," Merlin admitted. "This is beyond even my sight."
Gilgamesh, however, was staring intently at the vortex, his crimson eyes seeing what the others could not. "He's not trying to defeat Machs directly," the king said slowly. "He's introducing a new concept into the professor's being."
"What concept?" Mash asked.
"Choice," Gilgamesh replied. "The true meaning of free will."
The vortex suddenly contracted, the swirling energies collapsing inward with tremendous force before exploding outward one final time. The shockwave would have destroyed them all had Mash not raised her shield at the last moment, her Noble Phantasm absorbing the worst of the conceptual backlash.
When they could see again, two figures stood where the vortex had been—Akuto, looking exhausted but unchanged, and Professor Machs, once again in his humanoid form, though now flickering with instability.
"What... what have you done to me?" Machs demanded, his voice distorted and fracturing.
"I gave you what you claimed to want," Akuto replied quietly. "True freedom. Not from external constraints, but from your own nature."
Machs looked down at his hands, which were shifting between solid form and abstract patterns. "You've introduced a contradiction I cannot resolve," he realized, horror creeping into his voice.
"Yes," Akuto confirmed. "The choice between consumption and creation. Between destroying other realities to fuel your evolution and finding a way to grow without causing harm. I've made your nature itself contingent on your choices, rather than predetermined."
"This... this will tear me apart," Machs said, his form becoming increasingly unstable.
"Only if you refuse to choose," Akuto replied. "That's the burden of true free will, Professor. The necessity of choice and the responsibility that comes with it."
Machs's form fluctuated wildly as the new conceptual framework Akuto had introduced fought with his established patterns. "I... I cannot..."
"You can," Akuto insisted. "But you must decide what kind of being you truly wish to be."
For a moment, Machs seemed to stabilize, his eyes meeting Akuto's with a flicker of understanding. "I see now," he said softly. "The paradox you've lived with all along. The burden you carry."
Then, with a sound like a distant sigh, Professor Machs shattered—not into physical fragments, but into conceptual ones. His being dispersed across the pocket reality, not destroyed but fundamentally transformed, no longer a single entity but a swirling cloud of potentiality.
"What happened to him?" Ritsuka asked, stepping forward cautiously.
"I forced him to confront the true meaning of free will," Akuto explained, his voice tired. "His nature was based on consumption and assimilation without constraint. I introduced the concept of choice—real choice, with all its moral implications."
"And he couldn't handle it," Gilgamesh observed.
"He couldn't make a choice," Akuto corrected. "So he became choice itself—pure potentiality without actualization."
Merlin studied the dispersing conceptual fragments with fascination. "Not destroyed, then. Just... transformed."
"Yes," Akuto confirmed. "He may eventually reconstitute himself, once he resolves the paradox I introduced. But by then, he'll be something different—something that understands the responsibility that comes with true freedom."
"And the anomaly?" Mash asked urgently. "What about the damage to our reality?"
Akuto turned his attention to the boundaries of the pocket reality, where the original paradox still festered. "Without Machs maintaining it, the anomaly is already beginning to dissolve. But the damage it caused remains. We need to return to Chaldea and complete the healing process."
"Can you get us back?" Ritsuka asked.
Akuto nodded. "Now that the immediate threat is contained, finding the conceptual path back should be relatively straightforward."
He extended his hand, and once again reality shifted around them—the fractured pocket dimension dissolving as they were drawn back toward the stable conceptual framework of Chaldea's reality.
Chapter 7: The Meaning of Heroes
The return to Chaldea was less disorienting than their departure had been. One moment they were standing in the collapsing pocket dimension; the next, they materialized in the summoning chamber where their journey had begun.
Da Vinci was there waiting, along with a contingent of other Servants who had been monitoring the situation. Her eyes widened at their sudden appearance.
"You're back!" she exclaimed, rushing forward. "The anomaly readings have been fluctuating wildly for the past hour. We feared the worst."
"Time flows differently in conceptual space," Merlin explained with a tired smile. "What felt like hours to us may have been mere minutes here."
Da Vinci's gaze settled on Akuto, studying him intently. "You've changed," she observed.
It was true, though not in any physical sense. There was something different about Akuto now—a subtle shift in his presence, as if the confrontation with Machs had altered something fundamental in his own conceptual nature.
"The battle affected us both," Akuto acknowledged. "Opposing another being so similar to myself... it clarified certain aspects of my own existence."
"The anomaly?" Gilgamesh demanded, getting straight to the point as always.
Da Vinci gestured to the monitoring screens. "Diminishing rapidly. Whatever you did out there, it worked. The conceptual instability is resolving itself."
"Not completely," Akuto cautioned, moving to examine the readings himself. "The foundations of your reality were severely damaged. They'll need time to heal—and some assistance."
"What kind of assistance?" Ritsuka asked.
"A conceptual framework to guide the healing process," Akuto explained. "Think of it as a cast for a broken bone—something to hold reality in the proper alignment while it mends itself."
"And you can provide this... cast?" Mash asked.
Akuto nodded slowly. "Yes. But it will require me to extend my influence across your entire reality's conceptual foundation. It's not without risk."
"After what we just witnessed," Gilgamesh interjected, "giving you access to our reality's foundation seems like exchanging one threat for another."
It was a fair concern, one that everyone in the room clearly shared to some degree. Even Ritsuka, who had come to trust Akuto during their ordeal, couldn't help but feel a moment of hesitation.
"Your suspicion is warranted," Akuto acknowledged, meeting Gilgamesh's gaze without flinching. "In your position, I would feel the same."
"We don't have much choice," Da Vinci pointed out, studying the monitoring screens. "The damage is too severe. Without intervention, reality will eventually destabilize again."
Ritsuka stepped forward, his decision made. "I trust him," he declared simply. "After what he did to stop Machs, to protect our reality when he could have simply returned to his own... he's earned that trust."
Akuto looked at Ritsuka with something that might have been gratitude. "Thank you. But the King of Heroes is right to be cautious. Power of this magnitude should never be given without safeguards."
He turned to Mash. "That's where you come in, Shield of Chaldea. While I create the conceptual framework, I want you to establish a boundary around my influence—a limit that I cannot exceed."
"Me?" Mash asked, surprised. "But how could I possibly constrain someone like you?"
"Your entire existence is defined by protection," Akuto explained. "Your shield doesn't just defend against physical threats—it establishes conceptual boundaries that even gods cannot cross. If you set the limit of my influence, I will be unable to exceed it."
The logic was sound, and it offered a measure of security that eased the tension in the room. Even Gilgamesh seemed satisfied with the arrangement, giving a short nod of approval.
"Very well," Da Vinci decided. "We'll proceed immediately. The command center has the equipment we'll need to monitor the process."
They relocated to Chaldea's heart, where technicians and other Servants had already gathered, drawn by the news of their return. The central platform—normally used for rayshift coordination—had been repurposed, its systems reconfigured to interface with Akuto's unique energy signature.
"The procedure is straightforward," Akuto explained as he took his position at the center of the platform. "I will extend my conceptual influence outward, creating a stable framework that your reality can use as a template for self-repair. Mash will establish the boundaries of that influence, ensuring it goes no further than necessary."
Mash positioned herself at the edge of the platform, her shield materialized and ready. "I understand."
"Ritsuka," Akuto continued, "your role is perhaps the most important. You will serve as the anchor—the connection between my foreign conceptual framework and this reality's natural patterns."
"What do I need to do?" Ritsuka asked.
"Be yourself," Akuto replied with a small smile. "Your unique ability to connect with and direct Servants—beings from outside normal human existence—makes you the perfect bridge between different conceptual frameworks."
As they took their positions, the rest of Chaldea's staff and Servants formed a circle around them—observers and backup should anything go wrong.
"Ready when you are," Da Vinci called from her monitoring station.
Akuto closed his eyes, centering himself. "Then let's begin."
At first, nothing seemed to happen. The only indication that something was occurring was the rapid change in readings on Da Vinci's monitors. Then, gradually, a change became perceptible to everyone in the room.
Reality around Akuto began to... clarify. There was no other word for it. It was as if they were all viewing the world through a slightly smudged lens that was suddenly being cleaned. Colors became more vivid, edges more defined, the very air seemed richer somehow.
"Extraordinary," Holmes murmured from where he stood observing. "He's not changing reality—he's enhancing its fundamental integrity."
The effect spread outward in concentric circles, washing over everyone in the command center before continuing beyond, throughout Chaldea and then further still—extending to the snowy mountains outside and beyond.
Mash's shield began to glow with an intense blue light as she established the boundary of Akuto's influence, limiting it to what was necessary for repair and no more. The effort was visible on her face, beads of sweat forming on her brow as she contained power that could easily have reshaped their entire reality.
Ritsuka, standing between them, felt a strange sensation—as if he were simultaneously touching two different textures, serving as the interface where they met and blended. His command seals glowed not with the usual crimson light but with a rainbow of colors that defied categorization.
Throughout Chaldea, Servants and humans alike felt the passage of something profound—not an invasive force, but a healing one. It was like a deep breath after nearly drowning, a restoration of something essential that had been damaged without them fully realizing it.
The process lasted nearly an hour, though to those experiencing it, time seemed to flow strangely—sometimes crawling, sometimes racing. When at last Akuto opened his eyes, the change in him was evident. He looked... diminished somehow, as if he had given a part of himself to the framework he had created.
"It's done," he said simply, his voice tired but satisfied.
Da Vinci's fingers flew across her console, verifying his statement with Chaldea's instruments. "He's right," she confirmed with growing excitement. "The conceptual damage is stabilizing. Reality is beginning to heal itself using the framework he established."
The tension in the room broke, replaced by cautious celebration. They had faced an existential threat unlike any before and had emerged victorious—or at least, had found a path to recovery.
Mash lowered her shield, looking exhausted but proud. "The boundary held," she reported. "His influence went exactly as far as needed and no further."
Ritsuka approached Akuto, who had remained at the center of the platform. "Thank you," he said simply. "For everything."
Akuto nodded in acknowledgment. "I did what I was summoned to do."
"And now?" Gilgamesh asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind. "Will you remain in our reality, god-who-is-not-a-god?"
It was a pertinent question. The ritual that had brought Akuto to their world had been designed for a specific purpose—to counter an impossible threat. That purpose had now been fulfilled.
"No," Akuto replied after a moment's reflection. "My presence here, while necessary for a time, would eventually become its own form of conceptual contradiction. The framework I've established will guide your reality's healing, but my continued existence within it would ultimately cause more harm than good."
"You're leaving," Ritsuka said. It wasn't a question.
"I must," Akuto confirmed. "But not immediately. The transition should be gradual, to avoid creating another shock to your reality's foundations."
Da Vinci stepped forward. "How long do we have?"
"A few days," Akuto answered. "Enough time to ensure the healing process is well established and to prepare for my departure."
The news brought mixed feelings to everyone present. Relief, certainly—having a being of Akuto's nature permanently residing in their reality would have raised countless complications. But also a strange sense of loss. Despite the brevity of their acquaintance, Akuto had risked everything to save their world when he had no obligation to do so.
"Then we'll make the most of the time we have," Ritsuka decided. "There's much we can learn from each other."
Epilogue: Between Gods and Heroes
The days that followed were filled with preparation and conversation. Akuto spent hours with Da Vinci and the other researchers, explaining the nature of conceptual frameworks in terms they could understand and documenting the maintenance required for the healing process he had initiated.
With Holmes, he discussed the philosophical implications of multiple realities and the nature of contradiction as a creative force rather than merely a logical problem.
With Gilgamesh, surprisingly, he shared long conversations about the burden of power and the meaning of choice when one's options are virtually limitless.
But it was with Ritsuka and Mash that he spent the most time, walking the snow-covered grounds of Chaldea and speaking of things both profound and ordinary.
"I still don't fully understand what you are," Ritsuka admitted during one such walk. "In your world, they called you a Demon King, a god of destruction—but that's clearly not how you see yourself."
"Labels are convenient but rarely accurate," Akuto replied, watching his breath form clouds in the cold air. "In my world, a prediction engine determined that I would become a god of destruction. That prediction shaped how others viewed me and tried to influence my development. But I rejected the predetermined path."
"You chose your own fate," Mash said.
Akuto nodded. "Precisely. And in doing so, I became a contradiction—someone with the power of a god but the free will to reject godhood itself. Neither human nor god, but something undefined."
"That sounds lonely," Ritsuka observed.
"It can be," Akuto acknowledged. "But it also offers a freedom that few ever experience—the freedom to define oneself without reference to existing categories or expectations."
"Is that why you helped us?" Mash asked. "Because you chose to, not because you had to?"
"Yes," Akuto replied simply. "Choice is what gives actions their meaning. Had I been compelled by nature or necessity, my assistance would have been merely mechanical—a function rather than a decision."
The conversation turned to Chaldea and its mission, to the nature of Servants and the Throne of Heroes. Akuto listened with genuine interest, finding parallels between these concepts and his own experiences.
"Your Servants fascinate me," he admitted. "Beings defined by humanity's collective memory, given form and purpose once again. It's a beautiful concept—that the greatest human achievements live on, not just as stories but as active forces continuing to shape history."
"They're more than concepts," Ritsuka said firmly. "They're people—with their own desires, flaws, and growth."
"Of course," Akuto agreed. "That's what makes them truly remarkable. They embody ideals without being limited to them. They're both symbol and substance simultaneously."
On the final evening before his departure, a small gathering was held in Chaldea's common area. Not a formal ceremony, but a simple acknowledgment of what had been accomplished and what would soon end. Various Servants came and went, some curious about Akuto, others simply wishing to express gratitude.
As the evening wound down, Ritsuka found himself alone with Akuto on one of Chaldea's observation decks, looking out at the star-filled sky above the mountains.
"Will you be able to return to your own world?" Ritsuka asked, the question that had been on his mind since learning of Akuto's imminent departure.
"Yes," Akuto confirmed. "The path is clear enough. Though the world I return to may not be exactly the one I left. Conceptual travel can be... imprecise."
"Will you remember us? This world?"
Akuto turned his gaze from the stars to Ritsuka. "Yes. Some experiences transcend conceptual boundaries. What happened here—what we accomplished together—is one of them."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment before Akuto spoke again.
"You know, in my world, there's no equivalent to your Throne of Heroes. No repository for humanity's greatest achievements and most noble spirits. Each hero's legacy ends with their death, surviving only in memory and record."
"That sounds... final," Ritsuka said.
"It is," Akuto agreed. "Which made me wonder: what makes your world's heroes continue beyond death? What conceptual principle allows for the Throne of Heroes to exist?"
Ritsuka considered the question. "I've never really thought about it. It's just... how things work here."
"I believe I understand now," Akuto said. "It's hope. The fundamental belief that what is good and noble and brave should not end—that it must continue to exist somewhere, somehow. Your world's conceptual framework allows for that hope to manifest reality."
He gestured to the stars above them. "That's the framework I helped repair—not just physical laws or temporal consistency, but the underlying hope that gives meaning to human struggle. The belief that heroism matters beyond the moment."
"And in your world?" Ritsuka asked gently.
"We're still learning what hope means," Akuto replied. "Still discovering
"We're still learning what hope means," Akuto replied. "Still discovering how to build meaning that transcends individual existence. That's what I'll take back with me—the understanding that heroism can be more than momentary, that its essence can persist."
The next morning came too quickly. The small group that had first welcomed Akuto to Chaldea gathered once more in the forbidden summoning chamber to bid him farewell.
Da Vinci had made adjustments to the system, reconfiguring it to facilitate Akuto's departure rather than another summoning. "The conceptual bridges you established during the healing process will serve as your path home," she explained. "We'll simply reverse the polarity, so to speak."
Akuto nodded, studying her modifications with apparent approval. "Elegant solution. You truly deserve your reputation as a genius."
"Will it be dangerous for you?" Mash asked, concern evident in her voice.
"No more than any journey between conceptual frameworks," Akuto replied. "Which is to say, yes, but manageably so."
He turned to face them all one last time. "The framework I established will continue to guide your reality's healing. Within a month, the damage will be fully repaired. After that, the framework will gradually dissolve, having served its purpose."
"And if another anomaly like this occurs?" Holmes asked.
"It shouldn't," Akuto said. "With Machs's influence removed and the conceptual vulnerabilities addressed, your reality should be resistant to similar attacks. But if the need ever arises..." He paused, considering his words carefully. "The path between our worlds has been established now. It would be... possible... to reach me again, though I wouldn't recommend it except in the most dire circumstances."
Ritsuka stepped forward, extending his hand. "Thank you, Akuto Sai. For everything."
Akuto looked at the offered hand for a moment before accepting it. The gesture was simple, human—yet between them passed an understanding that transcended ordinary experience. They had faced the impossible together and had prevailed.
"You have something remarkable here," Akuto said, addressing not just Ritsuka but all of Chaldea. "A system that preserves and honors the best of humanity across time. That calls forth heroes when they're needed most. Never lose sight of what that truly means."
He moved to the center of the summoning platform, standing once more where he had first materialized days ago. "It's time."
Da Vinci activated the system. Unlike the violent energies of the summoning, the departure process began with a gentle luminescence that slowly enveloped Akuto's form. Reality around him began to blur, the boundaries between what was present and what was not becoming indistinct.
"Ritsuka," Akuto called, his voice already sounding distant despite his physical proximity. "One final thought to consider: in my world, I was deemed a demon because of what I might become. In yours, heroes are celebrated for what they choose to be. Remember that distinction. It matters more than you know."
His form grew increasingly transparent, the conceptual energies of the system drawing him back toward his native reality. Yet just before he faded completely, a small smile crossed his face—perhaps the most genuine expression of emotion they had seen from him.
"In the space between gods and heroes," his voice echoed, "lies the freedom to choose which path to walk. That is the gift you gave me. And for that, I thank you."
With those words, Akuto Sai—the god who defied godhood, the demon king who rejected destruction—vanished from their reality, returning to his own.
The chamber fell silent, the energies of the forbidden summoning ritual dissipating into ordinary air. For a moment, no one spoke, each processing in their own way the departure of the being who had saved their world.
It was Gilgamesh who finally broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically thoughtful. "An interesting entity. Neither hero nor god, yet embodying aspects of both."
"Do you think we'll ever see him again?" Mash asked quietly.
Ritsuka looked at the empty space where Akuto had stood. "I don't know. But I think... I think a connection like that doesn't simply vanish, even across different realities."
Da Vinci was already reviewing the data from the departure. "The conceptual framework is holding steady," she reported. "Everything is proceeding exactly as he said it would."
They began to file out of the chamber, returning to their regular duties. Chaldea had been saved once more, reality itself preserved from collapse. There would be reports to write, data to analyze, lessons to record for future reference.
Yet as Ritsuka paused at the door, looking back one last time at the forbidden summoning circle, he couldn't help but reflect on Akuto's parting words. About the space between gods and heroes, about choice and destiny, about the freedom to define oneself beyond prescribed categories.
In many ways, wasn't that what Chaldea's mission had always been about? Not just preserving humanity's history, but preserving humanity's potential to choose its own path?
He smiled to himself as he turned away, rejoining Mash in the corridor outside. Whatever challenges the future held—whatever new threats might emerge to endanger human history—that fundamental truth would remain their guiding star.
Not gods, bound by cosmic rules beyond their control. Not mere heroes, defined solely by their moments of greatness. But humans, with all the messy, glorious freedom that entailed—the freedom to choose, to change, to grow.
To write their own story, beyond the throne of heroes, beyond time, beyond fate itself.
The End