With Romani Archaman's emergence, the Great Temple of Time, which had functioned as his second Noble Phantasm during his days as a Servant, finally lost its last master.
This grand structure—built in imaginary space, constructed from the remnants of endless time and magical laws—could no longer withstand its own weight. It began to emit a desperate wail.
Huge stone columns cracked like spiderwebs. The arches supporting the dome splintered one after another. Through rifts in space, a torrent of data—ones and zeros—exploded like a dam collapsing, pouring out in chaotic waterfalls.
The foundation of the world crumbled. Laws groaned. A timeline-independent world was reaching its end.
"Oh dear… Seems the landlords here can't pay rent either. They're about to be forcibly evicted," Steve observed with a mischievous grin, watching as the apocalyptic scene unfolded all around.
Theoretically, Steve could have snapped his fingers and instantly teleported everyone to Fuyuki City, escaping this collapsing reality without a scratch.
But... where's the fun in that?
How could he pass up the chance to experience such a precious adventure with these adorable children? Such a dramatic finale deserved more than a bland teleportation escape.
"All right, everybody! Daydreaming time's over!" Steve declared, waving his hand as he levitated the unconscious Marisbury—who'd had his magical knowledge and memories erased, just in case—off the throne and floated him over to the group.
He shouted to the Chaldea team, still celebrating Romani's rebirth:
"If you don't want to end up as cosmic dust in the spatial maelstrom, move it!"
"The Shadow Border is parked not far from here! Let's see what you've got—time for a fitness test!"
"Last one aboard cleans the vehicle!"
This sudden burst of tension (and a dash of mischief) jerked everyone from complicated emotion back to immediate reality.
No more time for reflection!
Ritsuka Fujimaru sprang into action, his body moving on muscle memory alone, honed by countless desperate situations. He gently picked up the still-wobbly Romani and dashed off. Mash, swiftly overcoming her own shock, rescued the dazed Olga Marie.
Even the normally clumsy Goetia hesitated for only half a second before catching up.
And so, amidst the collapsing temple, began a thrilling escape for this unlikely band.
Meanwhile, another battlefield was drawing to a close.
With King Solomon and the Temple's magical support now gone, Lord Logres' spiritual foundation visibly weakened.
She glanced at the battered, fleeing Chaldeans, then at the newly born, bewildered human.
A glint of comprehension shone in her starlit eyes.
Her summoner, King Solomon, had for some reason chosen to become human. It appeared he had found something more precious than the identity of King, and had fully joined the other side.
That being the case, there was no reason for her to continue fighting.
She accepted her impending end with a serene calm, turning to pay respect to her two greatest rivals. Truly, they were worthy of the title humanity's oldest hero king, and the knight king of Britain.
Her voice rang out, both divine and dignified: "Your abilities are indeed worthy of such praise."
With these words, she glanced one last time at the figure of Artoria, who shared her face and heart and was about to catch up with the group.
A complex emotion flickered in her eyes—as though seeing both her past self, and another possible future.
Her gaze contained approval, expectation, and—unnoticed by even herself—a faint trace of envy.
In the end, her body, composed of particles of light, dissolved into countless golden motes and was swallowed by the collapsing space.
Artoria felt the weight of that final glance.
She stopped, and saluted with chivalric solemnity toward the spot where the light had vanished.
She turned to rejoin the main group—only to find Gilgamesh, arms folded, unmoving.
"King of Heroes, aren't you coming?" she asked, brows furrowed in confusion and caution.
"Hmph. I have no desire to cram into that rickety vehicle with that gang of rascals," Gilgamesh replied haughtily, chin raised, his bloodred eyes alight with amusement. "This is a marvelous stage play—I mean to savor it a bit longer."
"As for how I'll leave… I have my own ways. There's no need for you to worry, Knight King."
Artoria regarded him deeply, understanding that this proud king wished to end his battle in his own way. She said nothing more, simply nodded, and turned away to rejoin the others.
Once everyone was on board the Shadow Border—the vehicle Steve had conveniently prepared with warp magic—an expert pilot maneuvered it, breaking through the collapsing barriers and vanishing into the depths of the Great Temple.
Soon, in this vast, soon-to-be-destroyed world, only Gilgamesh remained.
He watched the departing craft, an enormous, satisfied smile spreading across his face.
After ten uneventful years in the real world, he had grown utterly bored. Yet today, he had witnessed something extraordinary: humanity's insignificant yet astonishingly tenacious struggle, a king of humans so foolish yet heroic, and the unexpected choice made by the king of magecraft.
All of it had stirred a long-lost sense of joy.
His time in the lower world had fulfilled him; there was no need to return to dreary Fuyuki City.
He raised his hand, as if still feeling the warmth of Avalon's light, humming to himself contentedly.
"Hmph. As expected of my treasure. None but I know its true brilliance."
"Yet… it's true—some things are more beautiful precisely because they cannot be attained."
"Indeed, as you once said, I too have witnessed a truly wonderful achievement in this new life…"
The colossal dome began to collapse, roaring spatial turbulence splitting everything to fragments.
Bathed in the glow of the ultimate apocalypse, Gilgamesh opened his arms wide, just like an actor taking a final bow to an empty theater.
He closed his eyes, the pure joy still on his face, allowing the crumbling world to swallow his golden form entirely.