On the screen, the torrent of battle continued unabated, but the scales of victory did not move—and remained perfectly tipped toward Marisbury's side.
Fujimaru Ritsuka clenched his jaw.
Even as his body grew rapidly, fierce mental exertion made him tremble faintly.
Maintaining the Shadow Servant at full power, he continued to calculate at lightning speed in his mind.
That silvery briefcase was his only remaining support, containing the Spirit Origin data of up to 450 Servants he might someday bond with.
However, before coming here, Steve had made clear to him—this was no inexhaustible treasure trove.
There was nothing like the end-times Chaldea singularity, with its massive power system backing all of Chaldea, nor any legend, in which countless Servants spontaneously responded and arrived from the Throne of Heroes.
Each summon was a pure expenditure.
Every Servant illusion would vanish forever after their Noble Phantasm was unleashed.
He had only 450 chances in total.
And now, in the short time Steve was fighting those seventy-one Demon Pillars, Ritsuka had already exhausted forty-five phantasms.
But these forty-five Noble Phantasms of varying power were like cows sinking into the sea—before the true King of Magecraft, they couldn't even stir the hem of his cloak.
Solomon himself, and even the leisurely old supervisor behind him, had suffered not the slightest loss.
A physical breakthrough seemed completely impossible.
Sweat began streaming down Ritsuka's cheek.
With a deep breath, his face showed a composure beyond his years.
If victory could not be achieved by force, then ask with words and will!
He momentarily focused all his magecraft on defense, bracing for King Solomon's seemingly casual yet impenetrable barrage, and forced out a shout:
"King Solomon! You already know!"
"You must know, your master—Marisbury Animusphere—desires the freezing of Humanity!"
"That is absolute evil, a future that destroys us all!"
"If you're a great mage entrusted with safeguarding humanity, why do you help him?!"
His soul-baring cry echoed through the empty Temple of Time.
But what came back was a cold, eerily formulaic reply.
Solomon sat on his throne, still wearing that indifferent, pitying smile. His voice was so steady and flat, it sounded like a pre-recorded message.
"Obeying the summoner's command is a Servant's highest priority.
My lord wishes for victory—so I bring victory. There is nothing more to it."
Ritsuka was left momentarily speechless.
Why would such a mighty hero follow blind orders like a soulless machine, even when they led to ruin? He couldn't understand.
If the burning of humanity was caused by the Human Order Revision Ritual left behind by Solomon, then this mechanical demon king before his eyes could, in a sense, cause the same chaos once more.
No—in that future, it really had succeeded once already.
Whether burning or freezing Human Order, the only reason either succeeded was because of the chaos sown by the Demon Pillars born of that very origin, and because the King's disciples and descendants would go on to become modern magi lords.
As his thoughts deepened, Ritsuka began to comprehend why the proper heroic spirits who descended to Chaldea during the Human Incineration era had so inexplicably detested that doctor.
But what Fujimaru Ritsuka did not realize at that moment was that, beneath Solomon's calm exterior, entirely different thoughts were stirring.
"Assist Marisbury with freezing Human Order..."
Within his heart—a heart as still as absolute zero—a thought flickered.
"...That is impossible."
As a king able to see both past and future, Solomon better than anyone knew the unrecoverable contradiction at the core of Marisbury's plan.
His wish was destined to remain unfulfilled.
But Solomon had no intention of suddenly revealing this cruel truth to his supremely confident master—not out of malice, but from the peculiar mercy of a "king."
Since Marisbury wished to prove the correctness of his path through this battle, let him enjoy his dream of false victory to the very end.
So, Solomon remained silent.
He simply wished to be a perfect "servant," fulfilling his primordial duty to eliminate the enemy before him.
But Solomon's performance in this "human-machine mode" completely ignited a long-suppressed rage in another's heart.
"...There he goes again! Always the same old routine, as if he's missing any self-awareness, so arrogant and self-centered!"
Lev Goetia let out a sharp laugh filled with hatred and ridicule.
He pointed at the true Solomon on the throne and shouted at Ritsuka beside him:
"Boy, do you understand now? This is what the seventy-two Demon Pillars hate most about him!"
"He's always correct and logical, always like an emotionless machine! To him, we're nothing but handy tools—he never tries to understand our suffering, and never even wants to!"
"That's why trying to talk to him is worthless! Every word you say to this man is a waste of your life!"
"He cannot be persuaded or moved!"
"The only thing we must do is use every means at our disposal to drag him off that damnable throne, and defeat him!"
Lev's roar, born from eons as the Demon Pillar Flauros, was the most direct condemnation one could make to their creator.
With these words, Ritsuka abandoned the idea of conversation altogether.
He clenched his fists again, the confusion in his eyes replaced by resolute fighting spirit.
Elsewhere, Steve watched the scene unfold, and a faint smile crept onto his lips.
"Good job, Ritsuka, you're starting to understand."
He thought silently to himself: Sometimes, there are enemies with whom communication is impossible.
When faced with absolute "rationality," only an even purer, irrational "will" can oppose it.
Behind him, lively debate broke out among the Demon Pillars:
"Flauros, as always, angers too easily."
"But he's right. The King's 'rightness' can drive people mad."
"Looks like that boy noticed. His eyes have changed…"
...On the screen, the battle resumed. This time, Ritsuka's attacks were even more intense—reckless, desperate.
…