Fate Grand Order: Broadcasting Master Love — Chapter 111

Chapter 111: Wait, and Hope

“But I haven’t given up. I must stop you, stop your insane attempt, and prevent all tragedies from repeating—”

Jeanne’s voice echoed with absolute resolve. The moment the final syllable left her lips, her form shattered into a cascade of glowing spirit particles, scattering into the stagnant air of the Fourth Hall of Judgment.

The Avenger watched the golden motes fade into the gloom. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, quickly escalating into a full-throated roar of laughter. “Disappeared? Ha! You have no way out of here! Sooner or later, I will tear you apart!”

He threw his arms wide, embracing the oppressive dark. “Because this is the Château d’If! It is a hell of vengeance forged by my own two hands! No one leaves this place alive!”

He tilted his head back, bursting into a hideous laugh that echoed throughout the prison. “Haha! Hahaha! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!”

Fujimaru Ritsuka stood his ground, watching the man consumed by his own dark flames. A knot of complex emotions tightened in the young Master’s chest. Stepping forward, Ritsuka’s voice cut through the lingering echoes. “Who exactly are you, Avenger?”

The hideous grin on the Avenger’s face slowly melted away, leaving behind a mask of chilling indifference. He cast a sidelong glance at Ritsuka. “…Why ask at this point?”

A beat of silence passed. Then, the corners of his mouth twitched upward into a strange, almost gentle arc. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped into a deep, resonant murmur. “I am the one who guides your soul.”

“I haven’t told you where our destination lies yet, have I?” He tilted his head, a dark playfulness dancing in his tone. “Rest assured, it is not by the side of the Lord worshipped by that naive Saint and her Knights.”

He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath as if savoring the scent of the damp prison air. “The path I grant you leads only toward the far side of love and hatred.”

His eyes snapped open. Piercing golden irises locked onto Ritsuka, exuding a crushing, unquestionable pressure. “Whether you surrender or struggle, I will cast your soul into that abyss.”

He paused, letting the threat hang heavy in the air. A cruel, razor-sharp smile flashed across his face. “When that time comes, will you be able to survive? Or rather…”

He closed his eyes again, his voice dripping with cold malice. “Will you be imprisoned forever in this pit of despair, sinking into madness until you walk, step by step, toward your own death?”

In the Fourth Holy Grail War timeline, inside a perfectly ordinary residential room in Fuyuki City, Waver Velvet was slumped over a wooden desk, his eyes glued to the glowing light screen. Watching the Avenger’s terrifying, inscrutable display, the young magus rolled his eyes.

“Why do I get the feeling this guy has nothing but the worst intentions?” Waver muttered, rubbing his temples. “Is he really one of those so-called ‘MasterLove’ Servants?”

Back on the screen, it was almost as if the Avenger had heard Waver’s distant complaint. The harsh lines of his face softened once more. He raised a single, elegant eyebrow at Ritsuka, a genuine smile playing on his lips. “You should look forward to it. Ah, right. I suppose I should phrase it like this.”

Leaning in close, his voice dropped to a captivating, theatrical whisper. “—Wait, and hope.”

The scene shifted to the next morning. Inside the freezing confines of the cell, Ritsuka slowly blinked awake on the unforgivingly hard bed. Pale, watery sunlight filtered through the narrow iron bars set high in the wall. Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and turned to Mercedes, who was keeping a quiet vigil nearby, immediately asking about their missing companion.

“…What? You’re asking where Lord Avenger went?” Mercedes blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. A soft, gentle smile quickly graced her lips. “Ah… he mentioned wanting to scout the perimeter to see if there were any abnormalities. He left on his own just a short while ago.”

She looked at Ritsuka, her gaze warm and reassuring. “It seems he will return shortly. He also asked me to relay a message: you don’t need to go looking for him. Just wait peacefully in the cell.”

Ritsuka scratched the back of his head, letting out a small sigh. “You know… for all his posturing, the Avenger is actually quite kind.”

“…Yes,” Mercedes agreed softly. She lowered her gaze to the cold stone floor, her voice steady with absolute certainty. “I believe that although that lord is exceedingly blunt in his speech and somewhat unpredictable in his actions, he definitely doesn’t mean to look down on you.”

She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. “One could even say…”

The words caught in her throat. She stopped abruptly, as if a sudden realization had struck her.

“No, it’s nothing. Perhaps I am simply overthinking things.” Mercedes shook her head, offering an apologetic smile.

In the Fifth Holy Grail War timeline, inside the elegant living room of the Tohsaka Residence, Rin Tohsaka sat rigidly on the sofa, a delicate teacup clutched in her hands. Her eyes were locked onto the light screen. Watching Mercedes swallow her words, Rin’s patience snapped.

She slammed her teacup down onto the saucer with a sharp clatter. “What do you mean, ‘one could even say’?!” she snapped at the screen, her face a portrait of sheer frustration. “Can’t you just finish your sentence?! This cliffhanger is going to kill me!”

On the screen, Mercedes remained blissfully unaware of the red-clad magus’s outburst. She turned back to Ritsuka, her expression clouded with genuine worry. “…You have to fight every single day, don’t you? Against the rulers lurking within these Halls of Judgment.”

She clasped her hands together. “Back then… the day you saved me, it felt as though I were witnessing a living myth.” A glint of lingering awe flashed in her eyes. “Whether it was your own valiant conduct, or the overwhelming presence of that beast-demon calling himself Fergus… it was all like a scene torn straight from an ancient heroic legend. It is simply hard to believe that such things actually exist in reality.”

She let out a soft breath. “Lord Avenger said that those gathered here are all souls imprisoned by some unfathomable existence. Beings forgotten by the world itself. Even Heroic Spirits… those outstanding souls who have transcended humanity, are no exception to this cage.”

Mercedes shook her head gently, a self-deprecating smile touching her lips. “I am not such an outstanding person. I couldn’t possibly be a Heroic Spirit.”

In the bustling Servant Lounge of the new Chaldea base, the gathered Heroic Spirits watching the broadcast exchanged a collective look of sheer disbelief. A mixture of exasperation and fond amusement rippled through the room. Those who had personally survived her aggressive brand of medical care all wore identical, deadpan expressions that practically screamed: You are being far, far too modest.