With Einzih's help Rick found his fighting spirit again. He gripped the wedding ring he and Shuvi had shared, shutting his heart once more.
This time even the last spark vanished from his eyes; he became the Rick seen at the video's start—
the Rick who had not yet met Shuvi.
magical girl illya
Ah...
Illya's heart ached at the sight. She could feel his pain: if her parents and brother died, she would surely become just like him.
Yet even as her heart broke she wanted to shout: Don't give up, Rick!!!
"There's still hope," she declared, staring at the screen. "Win the star cup, become the One True God, and you can undo everything."
To Illya, gods were all-powerful; that world's sole god could rewrite reality itself.
In the future the Blank Siblings would use the power of rules to defeat Jibril head-on—
avenging Shuvi in a way, for Jibril would become their servant by her own promise.
Illya longed to see how Jibril would be treated as their "maid," but right now she yearned for Shuvi's return.
Yes—after a brief lapse she regained her composure and saw the solution.
Like Da Vinci from another dimension, she believed the star cup could keep Rick alive and perhaps bring Shuvi back.
...
Miyu said nothing, but a dark premonition stirred within her.
The truth was simple: even with the star cup, Shuvi might never return.
Though an Ex-machina, she was still a unique individual of her race—
like a human, once gone, forever gone.
All that remained of Shuvi was the wedding ring and the name Corone had etched on a gem.
Perhaps Rick would survive, become the One True God, and craft a world without war.
Or perhaps—Miyu watched Rick on the screen—this tale's real twist would come later: Rick on the verge of victory, only to fall at the final step.
She shook the thought away; it was too cruel. After a lifetime of defeat, couldn't Rick win just once?
"Hang in there, Rick!!!"
Naïve Illya cheered with all her might. "For Shuvi, for humanity's future—beat them all!!!!!"
magical ruby chimed in eagerly, "Yeah! Keep going, husband of Shuvi! Don't stop—if you keep moving forward, Shuvi will be waiting!"
No Game No Life World
...
In contrast to the commotion next door, the Blank Siblings sat in silence while Stephanie stared wide-eyed.
She knew peace had been hard-won, yet she had never imagined war could be so brutal—the Flügel truly were terrifying!!!!!
That humanity had survived the ancient war felt nothing short of miraculous.
When the sky fell, Stephanie had felt it herself: against such power, humans had no chance at all.
Terrifying—she'd heard the Flügel called god-slaying weapons, but this is beyond terrifying!!!!
"Ah… the plan has truly begun."
Blank spoke, his expression twisted. "The final piece… was Shuvi? I thought I was ready, but seeing it happen is unbearable."
"Unbearable."
White nodded, equally stricken as she watched the video of Riku after losing Shuvi. She squeezed Blank's hand. "Big brother, you're not allowed to die before me."
"Shut up!"
Blank's stomach lurched—classic death flag! No way would he let his adorable sister die like Shuvi had!!!!
"Ehe~" White smiled at his outburst, then turned back to the screen. "The final battle's starting."
"The last piece is in place. Riku's victory is certain."
The Blank Siblings rattled off insights Stephanie couldn't follow; she blinked, utterly lost.
"Um… did you two spot something?"
Watching them, Stephanie ventured the question. She'd viewed the same footage.
Yet all she'd grasped was the bond between Riku and Shuvi, the horror of the ancient war, and the broad strokes of Riku's grand design.
Whatever "final piece" the siblings meant remained a mystery.
Did Shuvi's death summon the Ex-machina race? Or did her death strip Riku of all fear?
"Put simply," Blank told her, dead-serious, "Riku's plan is solid, but he holds too few trump cards. In the endgame, Elf Race, Goblin Race, and Flügel will all flex their muscles."
"Relying on Shuvi's Traffic control devices thing—even if we miraculously pool enough power to summon the star cup—I doubt it lands in Riku's hands. More likely it appears mid-battle or right in front of some deity."
White picked up: "Which means Shuvi, who couldn't even beat Jibril, has zero shot in the coming star cup scramble. Humanity's odds drop to zero."
With the intel gathered and the ghosts' fearless sacrifices, the war had reached its climax; every faction hesitated.
That was already the limit of what Riku and Shuvi could force; once the star cup surfaced, the best they could hope for was mutual slaughter among the camps.
But for humans to claim the cup? Nearly impossible.
Coming from another world, the Blank Siblings knew true peace required both luck and matching might.
Riku had luck—and comrades—so his plan limped along.
Might? Six-thousand-years-ago humanity had none. Even their representative, Shuvi, wasn't top-tier.
Yet Shuvi's death patched Riku's final weakness.
"Now it's different. Backed by the Ex-machina race, Riku has an entire species on his side. Coupled with his earlier setups, victory is inevitable—just as Shuvi said."
"Checkmate." x2
The Blank Siblings spoke in perfect sync—bona-fide super-geniuses whose everyday quirks were easily forgiven.
"Checkmate… really?"
Stephanie felt dazed. Humanity stood on the brink of certain victory? It felt surreal.
Ancient humans had been that formidable? Scheming even against Old Deus, earning awe from the siblings who'd beaten Jibril?
She flipped the gem in her palm, turning it to the side engraved with three names.
'What became of Riku in the end?'
She already knew Queen Corone Dola's fate; now she needed Riku's.
After all, the current One True God is the God of Games—Tet—the final victor of the Great War.
Stephanie wasn't the only one hungering for the full story; the Blank Siblings craved it too.
Because by every visible metric, Riku could not lose; the odds were microscopic.
Unless… the siblings exchanged glances, both landing on the same heartbreaking possibility.
The video rolled on.
Scene shift: atop the Phantasma Avant Heim, young Jibril lay with eyes shut, regaining strength.
Nearby, Azriel—emerald hair, heterochromatic blue-gold eyes—squealed, "So cute, meow! Regeneration Cursed Technique, how I hate it—getting to see tiny Jibril again after so long, meow!!!"
Truly, birds of a feather.
Azriel adored Jibril; one look at the child form and she slipped into full doting maniac mode.
She looked ready to yank Jibril out of the regeneration field and cuddle her senseless.
But Azriel's face soon turned grave as she stared into the distance. "What are those scrap-heaps plotting?"
Jibril's intel was crucial.
Azriel couldn't fathom why Elf Race and Goblin Race now stood off, dragging the Flügel in as well.
Jibril had been clear: the Ex-machina race was hatching something—details unknown, definitely no good.
"Meow!!!"
Azriel yelped, sensing something shocking.
Someone had unleashed a Heavenly Strike.
A Flügel shouted, "Multiple energy signatures astern—this is—!!!!"
Above Avant Heim, countless pseudo-Heavenly Strikes—copied by the Ex-machina race—rained outward, a deliberate detonator for war.
The camera pulled back, showing the audience a breathtaking sight: meteors of faux Heavenly Strikes plummeting ground-ward.
Though smaller than the blast Jibril had earlier unleashed, each still promised ruin.
However, the sheer number of these Heavenly Strikes created a striking visual impact.
"What on earth is going on, meow! Who just fired a Heavenly Strike, meow!" Azriel had earlier voiced disdain for the Elf and Goblin Races, but that contempt was only for show.
She knew very well that once war broke out, her side—the strongest power—would be placed at a severe disadvantage.
At this critical moment, who had unleashed Heavenly Strikes on such a scale? It was practically forcing the Flügel into a state of war!
Azriel shot toward the distance; she would find the mastermind!
Below, the Goblin fleet sensed the descending Heavenly Strikes. They had never imagined the Flügel would launch an early attack at this point.
By all logic, this shouldn't have been possible, but with the enemy baring their blade, they had no intention of simply taking the hit.
"Confirming declaration-of-war attack from Avant Heim! Ready to launch Marrow Burst!"
The Goblins prepared to fire their Marrow Bursts, while the Heavenly Strikes raining from the sky seemed deliberately off-target—not a single Goblin vessel was hit.
It wasn't just the Goblins.
The Elves reacted the same way. Sinkan Nirvalen spread her arms and shouted, "Release all Cursed Techniques of Void Ranko Zero! Right wing, attack Artosh! Left wing, attack the Goblin fleet!"
After issuing the order, Sinkan Nirvalen stretched a hand forward; several green magic circles appeared before her. Puzzled, she thought, "A declaration-of-war attack from Avant Heim? No… this is—!"
Instinctively she sensed something wrong, but there was no time for second thoughts—this was an open scheme to drag every race into war.
Even feeling that something was off, she could only follow the Goblin commander's example and give the order to attack.
High above Avant Heim,
Azriel flew out. Seeing the scene before her, she showed a very 'gentle' smile—because an ocean-like host of Ex-machina lay ahead.
Yet she showed no fear; instead she grinned wickedly. "You've underestimated us, scrap-heaps!"
Countless Heavenly Strikes slammed into the earth, vaporizing seas and ravaging the land—but that was unimportant.
What mattered was the anomaly unfolding among the Flügel.
Boom—!!!
Purple lightning fell from the sky; countless Flügel stared in shock. Azriel, who had been about to attack the Ex-machina, froze and looked up. "Lord Artosh?!"
As the purple bolts descended, a voice of overwhelming majesty rang out.
"I have waited long for this moment, my true enemy."
With those words alone, the very weather shifted. The Goblin and Elf commanders couldn't help but look skyward.
The War God, Artosh—a figure mentioned in the background many times.
He was the mightiest Old Deus in the world; Riku and Shuvi had spoken of him more than once, their voices full of dread.
Now he appeared, his oppressive aura making most viewers hold their breath. He might be the most powerful being to step onstage so far.
As if seeing through everything, Artosh continued, "I see. For the mighty to be dragged from the stage by the weak—is that our shared fate?"
Boom—!!!!
Purple lightning seemed to sweep across the entire continent.
In a calm voice Artosh asked, "Isn't that right, monkey?"
He seemed to be speaking to someone, and the one he called 'monkey' slowly opened emotionless eyes.
Yes, the enemy Artosh had named was none other than Riku.
He appeared to have seen through everything and knew exactly who his true opponent was.
On the other side, Riku, unable to hear Artosh's words, said calmly, "Firing a Heavenly Strike from behind Avant Heim won't harm anyone. Once it's done—"
At Avant Heim, an Ex-machina commander stated evenly, "Eleven races are moving to the designated coordinates."
Riku continued, still calm, "In moments, an all-out clash that drains every last ounce of power will erupt."
"All units, prepare."
Artosh's majestic voice sounded again, as though heralding what came next.
In the next instant, countless Flügel rose into the air, devoting all their strength to Artosh for the coming strike.
Riku spoke once more.
"The enemy is an Old Deus; a human's petty tricks are easily seen through. Even so… they will strike back with everything."
"Because that is the law of the strong, the way of the strong."
Gather every race to oppose the War God and the Flügel—that was Riku's goal, to force them to unleash the legendary God Strike.
Once Artosh used the God Strike, even he would enter a period of weakness—and then the Ex-machina would move to seize his god-soul.
Artosh most likely knew their aim, yet Riku also knew that a god like him, when challenged, would attack head-on even if defeat loomed.
After all, he was the War God—Artosh.
The power of the Flügel began to gather. Though not yet released, the merest leak of that force made tempests howl and the earth crack.
Artosh's majestic voice rolled out again.
"You wretches who know not the heights of heaven, nothing but motes of dust and trash—struggle, resist."
"No matter how you insects swarm, to challenge a celestial being is to invite annihilation."
A vortex appeared in the sky, and terrifying power gathered at its center.
That dreadful force finally made the Elf–Goblin alliance unable to sit still.
Sinkan Nirvalen swept an arm, her expression grim, shouting, "Void Ranko Zero—simultaneous omnidirectional release!!!"
From the Goblin side, twelve Marrow Bursts shot skyward.
"Full omnidirectional Marrow Burst launch!"
And it wasn't just the twelve Marrow Bursts; eight Dragonias, bound by contract, gave their lives to fire eight Howling Blasts.
An attack like this would have been magnificent by any past standard.
Because the most lethal races each held a trump card—one shot that could incinerate an entire continent.
Now, faced with the threat of War God Artosh and the Flügel, the two allied camps had mustered their forces and launched a simultaneous assault on Artosh's faction.
But… it was all in vain.
"God Strike."
Like a whisper before the end of the world, Azriel spoke, her eyes devoid of mercy, as though she had already foreseen what would follow.
"Bzzzz——!!!!!!"
Centered on Azriel, a pair of wings unfurled and blanketed the entire battlefield.
Light—blinding light—appeared.
In that instant, countless beings understood what true power was: beneath God Strike, all were ants.
A sun rose in the sky. Under its radiance, the combined attacks of the Goblin and Elf alliance looked laughable; the two forces simply weren't on the same level.
Outside the video.
In the Type-Moon/Fate World, inside the Church.
"War God… Artosh?" Even Gilgamesh wore a deeply wary expression; faced with this power called God Strike, he instinctively knew he was no match.
The two existed on completely different planes; the opponent was simply too strong. Reluctant as he was, Gilgamesh admitted the other was formidable.
"Do you think there's still any chance of victory?"
Watching the video beside him, Kirei Kotomine showed a curious smile, no trace of fear on his face.
Whether War God Artosh was powerful or not had nothing to do with him—he probably couldn't even beat a single Flügel under the god's command, so why bother thinking about it?
What he wondered was, with a terrifying God Strike like this, did the human Gilgamesh favored still have any hope?
"There is."
Gilgamesh answered calmly, "Humans aren't beings who rely on individual strength. Besides, those Ex-machina have already become his aid. What comes next will surely be the 'divine reversal.'"
Facing such a fearsome God Strike, even proud Gilgamesh felt he couldn't withstand it.
Because this single blow might be enough to destroy a planet.
He said "might" because Gilgamesh had never experienced it himself; he didn't know whether a strike that looked so visually apocalyptic could truly shatter a world.
"Divine reversal?" Kirei smiled, anticipating whatever that reversal might be.
A lofty god defeated? Or would Rick's plan fall apart?
Either outcome was fine by him—both would bring genuine delight.
In the No Game No Life World, inside Avant Heim.
Azriel, her hair like jade and eyes mismatched in blue and gold, looked dazed.
Although she already knew Jibril had, in a sense, ignited the war and betrayed Lord Artosh, she didn't dwell on it—nor did any other Flügel.
For millennia they had pondered only one thing: with their master gone for more than six thousand years, why did the Flügel still exist?
Throughout that long span, they and Avant Heim had wandered in search of that Answer.
And secondly: why had mighty Lord Artosh lost—what had he lost for?
Even now, watching the video and the God Strike no race dared look upon, Azriel could feel Lord Artosh's might.
Yet now, she seemed to understand a little.
Lord Artosh had once said there were things he couldn't comprehend—things only the weak could grasp—and that ignorance might bring his defeat.
At the time, Azriel had thought it a joke.
Back then, none in heaven or earth could rival Lord Artosh; the star cup had been within his reach.
Now she saw.
"The weak—the Human Race—Rick."
As though grasping something, Azriel stared solemnly at the God Strike and murmured, "Could this 'heart' be the unknown Lord Artosh could never understand?"
With that thought, she flew off, gazing into the distance as if watching for something.
In the Naruto World, the Akatsuki hideout.
"…"
Deidara swallowed, eyes sparkling as he stared at the God Strike. Like Sasori moments earlier, he seemed to have spotted something he adored.
"Art—this is true art!!!!!!!"
Deidara was ecstatic; though he'd said the same before, he was clearly overwhelmed—it was simply too beautiful, no matter the angle.
This power called God Strike was what truly deserved the title of art.
"This is the might of a god."
Konan was stunned by the force; even through the screen she could sense its terror and power.
Earlier displays—the Void Ranko Zero Cursed Technique, Marrow Burst, the initial howl, and Jibril's Heavenly Strike—had all been frightening, yes.
But this God Strike eclipsed every ultimate move shown in the video.
"Terrifying power."
Sasori's voice brimmed with dread; though he had no right to dread, having become a puppet. Against an attack that could rip the sky and shatter the earth with a mere hint of its strength, a puppet stood no chance—its power had limits.
"Indeed, terrifying. As expected of a legendary god?"
Kisame spoke gravely, feeling no desire for such power, only a faint awe toward the word "god."
It was so overwhelming that even the legendary Six Paths Sage would probably tremble before it, Kisame believed.
Anyone who saw God Strike would feel the same.
Uchiha Itachi remained silent, staring at the sun in the sky with only one thought: could a being that mighty truly be defeated by humans?
He did not deny the War God's might, yet Uchiha Itachi, a human himself, placed greater faith in Riku's stratagems: the latter was the weak, the War God the strong.
The strong fear no challenge; the weak stake everything to snatch victory.
Who would prevail—the War God who embodied power, or the human Riku represented?
Uchiha Itachi's Sharingan quietly spun into a Mangekyo Sharingan; he would engrave every coming instant into memory.
He was not alone—Nagato did likewise, and far away Uchiha Madara, while hunting Black Zetsu, still spared a glance at the broadcast.
All were transfixed; that strength was too mighty, too beautiful.
One-Punch Man World.
"So this is a god…?"
Genos stared in shock at the God Strike on-screen; he had thought Heavenly Strike, Marrow Burst, and Void Ranko Zero were already unspeakably terrifying.
Any one of them, brandished alone, could serve as a weapon of mass destruction.
Only now did Genos understand what true power meant.
Light blazed in his eyes—he wanted that force; it was simply too overwhelming!
"…" Tatsumaki fell silent, watching the God Strike and sensing, in her own way, the dreadfulness of the Phantasma Race.
What surprised her was that the foe already knew his enemy was merely human.
Even so, he advanced to meet the challenge, and in full force.
In that era, humans—unable to wield spirit corridor and fragile—sat at the very bottom of the contempt ladder.
Even in the future Jibril declared bluntly that humans were nothing special in her eyes; her respect for the Blank Siblings stemmed solely from their otherworldly origin and the knowledge she lacked.
War God Artosh, however, faced the "trap" Riku had wrought: every race united against the Flügel and himself.
Knowing the enemy sought to draw out his Heavenly Strike, he—strongest of that world—accepted the challenge openly.
Tatsumaki was puzzled, though she admitted she too would retaliate with full force if openly provoked.
Yet if she knew she might lose… well, she would still strike back.
"Nice."
Saitama spoke up, eyeing the God Strike with open envy. "That god must be overjoyed."
Different vantage points, different interpretations.
Genos saw unmatched might.
Tatsumaki saw a proud warrior's pride.
Saitama saw an undefeated champion thrilled to have found a rival—like the earlier Boros.
Perhaps War God Artosh had simply been invincible too long; he craved a true foe before him.
In the end he got his wish: Riku and Shuvi appeared and let the War God taste defeat.
That was why Saitama sighed, "Nice."
Both Boros and Artosh had found fulfillment; Saitama longed for an equal to brawl with—though he knew it would never happen.
The video rolled on.
Riku's voice rang out again.
"Void Ranko Zero, even augmented by Marrow Burst and Howling, cannot stop Artosh's God Strike."
"All that energy will collide, converge, and bloom into the light that proclaims the end."
Across the world, all who beheld that terror felt despair.
It was an absolute, unbeatable blow; Sinkan Nirvalen tasted despair, the scene dragging her back to that day twenty-five years ago.
Three thousand casters had raised a ward then, yet a single Flügel's Heavenly Strike had shattered it.
Afterward Sinkan crafted a seal—'Far-flung Fourth Ward'—using the same Old Deus Canas's blessing.
This time it would stop Heavenly Strike; of that she was certain—yet as she watched the God Strike she gave a wry smile.
Against this, even paper-thin defense was doubtful.
The radius after contraction and dispersion was incalculable.
But judging by one shot of Void Ranko Zero, she could imagine.
At the most optimistic estimate, half the continent would die; every race within that span would be annihilated.
With nearly every race gathered here, only Artosh and the Flügel would survive.
Sinkan was not alone; every watching race shared the same thought.
Then the anomaly struck.
The Passage Control nodes Shuvi had planted rose into the air, diverting the world-shattering God Strike elsewhere.
"!!!" Sinkan gasped. "It's veering off?!"
With a hum the God Strike vanished from the continent; while everyone stood dumbstruck, Sinkan alone traced its path.
Unfolding eight Yae-style spells, she scried the far distance—and saw the Ex-machina race!
Sinkan Nirvalen's eyes widened; she could scarcely believe it.
Riku's voice returned, solemn: "We will turn that power…"
The soundtrack turned sacred and tragic as the Ex-machina stood unflinching beneath the incoming God Strike, faces fearless.
An Ex-machina spoke: "We are all machines, tools without hearts; we live without life, and die with a heart—end of statement."
Countless Ex-machina answered in unison: "Understood."
This solemn scene, streamed across the video, moved countless viewers.
Though the Ex-machina insisted they were heartless tools, everyone watching knew they had gained a 'heart' from Shuvi.
They were now Ex-machina with 'hearts', conscious beings just like Shuvi.
Yet even so, for Rick's sake they gave their lives; though the purpose remained unknown, there had to be a special reason.
Sure enough, in the next instant—
Rick held a cube in his hand, and a mechanical female voice issued from it.
"Eleven races and four thousand eight hundred seven individuals—report: redesign complete! Initiating synchronization!"
"Codex deployment, Org.0000 [True Canon – Star Slayer] entrusted to you."
The cube in Rick's hand exploded outward, assembling into a weapon in moments.
A gun shaped like a small tower, its barrel stabbed into the ground.
It contained the combined energies of God Strike, Void Ranko Zero, Marrow Burst, and Howl.
A spear able to reproduce more than seventy percent of that force: the True Canon – Star Slayer.
No single human—no, no number of humans—could lift it, but its creators had foreseen that.
With its muzzle planted in the earth, the upright 'gun' simply waited for someone to pull the trigger and end the war.
...
To the swell of stirring BGM, Rick stared ahead with emotionless black eyes and placed his hand on the trigger.
"Then it's a draw! No moves left!"
Rick's voice rang out again; his victory was now certain.
Sinkan Nirvalen, observing the scene, clenched her teeth, murder in her eyes!
To be outmaneuvered by a mere human—!
"Sorry, gods," Rick murmured, squeezing the trigger; he felt immense power surge through the Star Slayer.
The barrel jutting from the earth spewed blinding light.
Seventy percent of the force that could incinerate continents and turn planets to cinder.
That power condensed into a needle-thin beam that pierced the planet.
The beam lanced through the world's core and shattered the spirit corridor.
The instant the spirit corridor broke, countless fighters froze: the war was over, the final victor stood revealed.
Before Rick appeared an object—a glowing, star-shaped dodecahedron ringed by pentagrams: the star cup.
The conceptual device of the One True God!
Rick had done it; he need only touch the star cup to become the One True God.
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