338 Hell
Heracles released his grip, and his obsidian longbow fell to the ground, crumbling into countless fragments and powder.
This weapon, which had witnessed countless victories and miracles alongside him, finally met its end.
Heracles walked with heavy steps, approaching the dying Siegfried not far away. It wasn't until he reached Siegfried's side that he finally stopped his step.
"Congratulations, Archer..." Siegfried, who rarely smiled, showed a faint, shallow smile on his face. "This is your victory."
"This is our victory."
Heracles declared firmly as he crouched down, tightly grasping Siegfried's hand.
The glow of light particles flickered like fireflies on Siegfried's body. His vital spot in his back was fatally injured, and for him, this was an irreversible outcome. If it weren't for his stubborn will to witness the end of the battle, he would have disappeared long ago.
"Although it's a bit irresponsible to say this, I'm counting on you for what comes next..." Siegfried tightly grasped Heracles's hand. "My Master, and those homunculi..."
"I know." Heracles nodded with a serious expression.
"Thank you..."
Siegfried nodded, looking up at the dark sky above, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"It's really great... Defeating powerful enemies together with a trustworthy companion until the last moment... I have no regrets..."
After murmuring like that, Siegfried closed his eyes. His body completely dispersed into light particles and soon merged into the endless dark sky.
Saber of Black, Siegfried, exited the stage.
*Cough!*
Heracles's body went limp, half kneeling on the ground, crimson blood continuously coughed out from his mouth.
Though he miraculously managed to pull off the thirteenth resurrection chance of God Hand with sheer willpower at the final moment, the damage inflicted on him by Ozymandias was still significant. Even his ability to hold himself up without collapsing now was nothing short of miraculous.
Now, the only thing that could pull him back from the brink of death was command spells.
Heracles focused his mind, reaching out through the contract to contact his Master.
After a moment, he hastily opened his eyes with surprise.
No response.
Though he could definitely feel his Master's presence, he couldn't establish communication, as if an invisible barrier stood between them, blocking their connection.
What in the world happened?
However, as Heracles still pondering his Master's situation, suddenly—
*WHOOSH—!*
A crimson spear shot from afar like a meteor. The scorching flames around it distorted the air, spreading with astonishing speed as if to ignite the entire world.
This was the flame of the sun god, the spear once used to slay gods. This spear's owner seized upon Heracles's weakest moment, intending to end him with this blow!
"You won't succeed!"
As a deep voice echoed, the earth rumbled violently, and countless black iron stakes rapidly emerged, forming an immensely solid impenetrable wall in front of Heracles, blocking the fatal strike.
*BOOOM—!*
Vlad descended from the sky before Heracles, his domineering figure akin to a pillar holding up the heavens and earth, instilling an unparalleled sense of reassurance.
"Rest assured, my friend. I'll handle things from here on out!" Vlad said calmly while looking ahead.
Meanwhile, not far away, Shirou sighed softly as he saw this scene.
"Did we fail again?"
Ordering Karna to launch a surprise attack on Heracles was their last chance, but even then, it was still stopped by the troublesome Lord Impaler.
With Ozymandias gone, did their side still stand a chance at victory?
"Come on, Father Kotomine, didn't I say it before? As long as it's not over yet, nobody can guarantee who will be the ultimate victor here."
Kiara chuckled lightly, shifting her gaze to the distant hills covered in thick fog.
===
"What... What the heck is this place?"
Mordred muttered in confusion while holding Clarent, cautiously scanning her surroundings. The other five—Darnic, Gordes, Caules, Fiore, and Kairi, were also confused by the sudden change of location.
Everything familiar had vanished, replaced by an unusually cold city shrouded in cold fog. The air was filled with nauseating stenches—the stench of decay, vomit, and organs.
People on the streets moved stiffly, not a single glance thrown their way. The vacant stares of these people seemed empty, stirring an unsettling feeling of unease and nervousness.
Was this an endless nightmare or an unfathomable hell?
The biting cold wind pricked at everyone's skin, crumpled newspapers fluttering down to their feet.
Caules picked up the newspaper, and the first thing that caught his eye was a line of large text.
—From Hell - Jack the Ripper.
"Hell..." Caules murmured the word softly, suddenly feeling a chill creeping into his heart.
What was hell?
Was it endless despair, never-ending slaughter, or perhaps endless torture?
Maybe all of the above or maybe none of them. Any place could be called hell since everyone's perception of hell should be different.
If so, why was this place called hell?
Everyone's vision suddenly twisted, the scene changed, and in the moments that followed, everyone finally witnessed—
A true hell.
They saw it with their own eyes.
They saw a scene of a girl being violated by a burly man for survival.
They saw a boy beating a girl with a stick to snatch bread from her hands, yet they saw the bread, grabbed at the risk of life by the boy, taken away by an adult using despicable means, and ultimately ending up in the hands of someone completely worthless.
They also saw many dead fetuses, the innocence abandoned by the world.
In this hell, children weren't killed; they were consumed.
In this hell, the light in the eyes of the children dimmed; the world wrapped around them like a spider's web, rendering them motionless, swallowed by a monster called 'time'.
The City of Fog, for certain people, was undoubtedly hell. Surviving in this place was extremely difficult, let alone living a life with dignity.
In a world where a nine-year-old girl must sell her body, there was no dignity to speak of. The stench of tanneries and meat processing plants permeates every moment, while rats and cockroaches frolic merrily in dirty corners.
There was no hero, only miserable weaklings, pitiful victims, and cruel evildoers.
Yes, hell.
This was hell, this was what hell looks like.
Besides hope, everything in this place was filled with Pandora's box—various disasters and despair flow in and intensify like filth constantly being scattered.
Cruel prostitutes sell their bodies inside and out, using the money gained to snuff out lives born from such actions.
Crush it to bits.
Repeat it over and over.
Crush it to bits.
Repeat it over and over.
Blood and flesh flowed into the rivers, but it didn't matter since factories were already discharging wastewater; adding a little more protein wouldn't make a difference.
Indeed, it didn't matter, it was completely fine.
From the perspective of the rivers, these things were just a lump of filth.
Indeed, this was hell, purgatory, a city of sin where inhumane creatures resided.
