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This world is one of higher complexity and danger—beyond the current operational classification level.
Shen He knew that well.
But for it to be this extreme… that was wholly beyond expectation.
Entities that should not have surfaced in this timeline had now appeared. In the original record, the water-based mage known as Backstream had annihilated the Saint Kanzaki Kaori with ease. The entire Amakusa-style Church had participated in that battle, and only through Kamijou Touma's series of power-negating interventions had a tenuous victory been achieved—a fortunate anomaly impossible to reproduce.
And this time, the Saint that emerged was likely afflicted—if not completely maddened.
"Shiki, use that one as an experimental control. Identify which death line is connected to the Holy Grail's distortion."
The more chaotic and bleak the scenario became, the more composed Shen He grew.
She likened the situation to a tactical dungeon. "There's no level without a strategy," she whispered. As long as she approached it as a system to decipher, she could push aside despair. And besides—she hadn't even activated the intermediate reinforcement protocols in her Chaldea crest yet.
Ryougi Shiki, bearing both her Ritual and Void versions, locked her demonic Mystic Eyes of Death Perception onto the incoming power signature. Without hesitation, she lunged with her katana, stabbing toward the fluctuating threads of elemental origin.
Elsewhere, Kanzaki Kaori gripped her "Seven Heavens Seven Blades," standing before the rising tide of the spell-laden waterstorm ahead.
Impossible odds.
The moment the enemy stepped into view, Kanzaki instinctively recognized the gap.
Over ten thousand metric tons of water hovered in the air, manipulated without spillage. It formed thin, threadlike strands that wove into a vast, spatially-folded runic array—a high-tier magic circle over four kilometers in diameter. Within its influence, anyone—even a Saint—would face multidimensional bombardments and variable-element attacks on every axis.
Despite being a Saint herself, Kanzaki's gaze settled on the ground below—on what remained of the first wave of allied soldiers.
Ordinary human operatives had been obliterated. Crushed under the dense water barrage, their blood and viscera had been washed away. All that remained were tattered, soot-darkened combat suits.
Though this was a battlefield, Kanzaki's fury simmered.
The enemy hadn't even registered them as opponents—just stepped on them like insects, flaunting divine-level power they never earned.
"This… is the power held by fewer than twenty people across the world. Even magicians fear Saints."
Shen He calmly raised her own blade. Perhaps it was the divine aspect of her cultivation, or perhaps it was the burden of protecting the weaker allies—like Intiqs, Steyr, and Kamijou. Either way, she could not accept the perversion of such power being used for wanton slaughter.
In contrast to her restrained fury, the water-based mage in his berserker trance stood utterly still. Serene as death.
"Flere210."
He pronounced his magic name slowly—the One Who Alters the Cause of Tears. In the world of magicians, the uttering of one's true name marked a battle where one's life was forfeit.
"Steyr," Kanzaki ordered calmly, "take Kamijou Touma and Index. Evacuate them."
With no time to elaborate, she whispered her own magic name:
"Salvare000."
And then the Saint vanished.
She blitzed forward—leaving afterimages even other magicians couldn't trace. For a Saint, ten meters was nothing.
But at that exact instant, the towering, interlocked layers of the magic circle began rotating. Not physically, but mystically—like an engine warming up, gears shifting, and divine will manifesting.
Countless spells detonated.
Some came as lance-like spears of compressed water. Others cracked like serpentine whips. Some coalesced into cannonball-sized spheres crashing down from above. Though water is inherently soft, under the meticulous control of Backstream's spellcraft, it became deadlier than any steel.
More importantly, the pattern density of the attacks was mathematically overwhelming—there was no possible route to dodge.
But Kanzaki was not alone.
"Aha ha ha ha!!"
A sudden, manic laugh echoed through the air as an entire building was ripped from its foundations.
Accelerator stood beside the airborne debris, his hands sunk into concrete. The strongest Level 5 was vectoring gravity and pressure, his brain processing mathematical vectors at godspeed. With a twisted grin, he launched the skyscraper like a cannonball straight at Backstream.
BOOOOM!
A shockwave shattered the air. The flying building slammed into the enormous magic circle, colliding without finesse—but with raw, elemental force.
Stones cracked. Superheated steam exploded in every direction. The sky glowed with moonlight refracted through shimmering mist. Debris fell like meteor showers, igniting into flame from the residual heat.
Even Backstream had to pause and reinforce his circle to endure the impact.
Now!
Kanzaki moved like lightning.
The pressure relief had opened a momentary gap in the spell barrage. She roared and slashed forward—
"Shichiten Shichitou (Seven Heavens, Seven Cuts)!"
The ultimate strike of the Amakusa-style—a sword technique born of countless generations of hidden training. The blow cracked her arm, the sheer force of it exceeding the muscle tolerance even of a Saint.
CLANG!
The impact resounded through the battlefield.
Backstream blocked it with his own relic—a reinforced iron rod with a ribbed, umbrella-like top. His body—already tall and muscular—had expanded even further. Ripped sleeves revealed dense cords of muscle like armor, as if his very body had turned to tempered steel.
"The mercy of the Virgin… has become wrath."
He whispered, and the aura around him deepened to something biblical in magnitude.
The staff he raised began glowing with searing blue and white light. Mana density spiked. Kanzaki's instincts screamed of approaching death.
"Sometimes, to speak divine truth to God. Sometimes, to send kindness to humanity."
As the voice rang out like a psalm, Kanzaki retreated in a burst of air-stepping footwork. But Backstream launched himself skyward, leaping past her defenses.
Above, the crescent moon suddenly gleamed at full brilliance, bathing Backstream in a silver aura—a divine baptismal energy.
"May you ascend—bathed in compassion!"
Backstream descended like a meteor.
The strike crashed down with the force of an asteroid. The resulting explosion eclipsed all sound—so loud it created total silence in its wake.
Steel-and-cement ground ruptured, collapsing down dozens of meters. Entire underground networks were exposed. The area shook with seismic violence, buildings toppling like dominoes. The impact crater spread outward in concentric rings of pulverized cityscape. Several kilometers were reduced to ruin.
Kanzaki hadn't taken the full blow—she'd redirected the angle at the last instant.
Still, she was blasted away like a ragdoll. Blood exploded from her lips. Her internal organs had torn, bones cracked, and blood vessels burst beneath her Saint-level durability.
One more hit—and she'd die.
But before the second blow could fall—
A white-cloaked figure soared through the chaos.
Jeanne d'Arc, the Saint of Salvation, caught Kanzaki mid-air. Her polearm embedded into the ground, trailing sparks and cutting through steel as she used it to arrest her descent.
The battlefield had shifted again.
Shen He and the Chaldea reinforcements had finally arrived.
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