Vimana.
A flying vessel that soared through the skies in ancient Indian myths and legends, it is mentioned in both of India's great epics, the 'Ramayana' and the 'Mahabharata.' However, few know that the celestial ship Vimana was not just a means of transportation but also an aerial weapon of decisive battle. Equipped with various Noble Phantasm systems, it also secretly housed a hidden weapon.
Though this secret weapon's lethality paled in comparison to the beloved Ea, the Sword of Rupture, of the King of Heroes, its range of destruction far surpassed it. It was the perfect tool to counter the Conqueror's strategy of overwhelming numbers.
Now, this secret weapon was finally about to unleash its power.
"Rider, the underside of the flying ship has opened!"
"Hmm, I have a very bad feeling about this. Everyone, prepare for defense! Archers, get ready for the second round of volleys!"
The Conqueror's battle-hardened intuition told him that the coming strike would be a significant threat. However, the sheer size of his Army of the King also meant slower movement. Frantic, he could only accelerate the speed of his divine chariot, charging through the air straight toward the King of Heroes.
"Via Expugnatio!"
The thunderous collision, brimming with vast lightning, missed its mark. The green-golden ark had already risen into the air, evading the strike, and returned to its original position after the lightning passed. The King of Heroes, seated firmly on his throne, let out a triumphant laugh.
"Come, Conqueror, witness the end of your dream!"
With the final command input, an unremarkable sphere quietly fell from the opening in the ark.
At first, none of the soldiers paid it any mind, for it was so small, almost insignificant in the face of the vast army that covered the desert. However, by the time the sphere hit the ground and released its energy, it was already too late.
First, a blinding light erupted from the center, followed by a deafening roar. A terrifying magical storm, hundred times more horrifying than a thunderbolt, exploded, devouring everything in an instant.
The magical skeletons melted, the flesh evaporated, and the soldiers' multi-layered linen armor offered no resistance, disintegrating into dust that scattered into the wind.
The sky trembled, the earth shattered. Amid the storm that gradually reduced everything to nothingness, only the rising mushroom cloud stood as a towering monument to destruction, a despairing testament to annihilation.
"This... this is..."
The divine chariot, which had risen to a high altitude alongside the Vimana, narrowly escaped the catastrophe. But even the fearless Conqueror was left speechless, his heart shaken by the scene of destruction before him.
Though Iskandar firmly believed that the saying "third time's the charm" was nothing but an excuse for the weak, at this moment, he truly felt the profound and mysterious "Fate" conveyed by the ancient Eastern proverb.
Having come to understand modern technology, how could he not recognize it? This was the forbidden weapon of modern warfare, the terrifyingly destructive—nuclear bomb!
He suddenly recalled the exchange between Gilgamesh and Sakatsuki during the Banquet of Kings.
Why had the King of Heroes suddenly questioned Sakatsuki about nuclear weapons?
It was because he truly possessed such a weapon of mass destruction in his hands!
After this nuclear warhead fell, everything the Conqueror took pride in lost its meaning. The majority of his forces were annihilated by this weapon of ultimate destruction.
Thus, the Army of the King dispersed. The Reality Marble, sustained by the magical energy of all the summoned heroic spirits, shattered as the troops were decimated. The distorted laws of the world returned to their original state.
The divine chariot carrying the two of them landed once more under the starry sky, with the eternally silent Mount Enzo behind them, as if awakening from a dream.
The golden heroic spirit stood proudly at the other end of the bridge, an arrogant smile on his face. The positions of the two sides remained unchanged, as if the battle had reset time to its beginning.
The only visible change was the Vimana, the ark beneath Archer, from which the ancient nuclear warhead had been launched.
And there was one invisible, fatal change—Rider's ultimate Noble Phantasm, the "Army of the King," had vanished.
"Rider..."
Waver's face drained of color as he looked up at Rider. The giant servant asked him with a serious expression.
"I suddenly have a question to ask you."
"...What is it?"
"Waver Velvet, would you like to serve me as my subject?"
The intense emotion made Waver tremble, tears streaming down his face like a bursting dam.
This was the question he had longed for, knowing it was impossible. There was no need for hesitation; the answer had long been prepared, hidden in his heart like a priceless treasure.
"Only you are—"
For the first time, the boy, called by his name directly, did not wipe his tears. He stood tall, his voice firm as he declared.
"—Only you are my king. I am willing to serve you, to sacrifice and dedicate myself to you. Please guide me, let me see the same dream as you."
This vow brought a smile to the face of the Conqueror. For a subject, his smile was a reward beyond all others.
"Good, then."
Just as Waver felt he was about to float into the sky with excitement—he suddenly found himself back on the ground.
"...Huh?"
The king lifted the boy's small frame from the chariot and gently placed him on the ground.
"To reveal the dream is the duty of a king. And as a subject, your duty is to witness the dream shown by the king and pass it on to future generations."
With a bright smile, the king issued his decree in a firm tone.
"Live, Waver. Witness all of this, then live to tell the tale. Tell the world how your king lived with joy, tell the world how Iskandar's charge was unmatched in its bravery."
The hooves of the divine oxen struck the ground, letting out a bellow that sounded like encouragement—whether it was for the king about to face his death or the subject burdened with a heavy mission, no one could say.
Waver lowered his head and did not raise it again. Iskandar took this as a sign of agreement. No words were needed. From now until the end of time, the king's figure would forever guide his subjects, and the subjects would forever remain loyal to this memory. Before this vow, farewells had lost their meaning, for under Iskandar's command, the bond between king and subject transcended time and space, eternal and unbreakable.
"Now, let us go!"
The Conqueror kicked the side of his mount, beginning his final charge. With a mighty roar, he rushed toward the enemy awaiting him.
He was a strategist, well aware that the outcome of this battle had already been decided. But "that" and "this" were entirely different matters. Conqueror Iskandar had no choice but to charge at the golden heroic spirit. There was no other way.
In his heart, there was no surrender, no despair—only an excitement that threatened to burst from his chest.
Incredible, that guy is truly incredible. To wield such a weapon, he must be the strongest enemy in the world.
That man was his final enemy.
That was the final obstacle in this world, loftier than the Hindu Kush, hotter than the scorching sands of the Makran Desert. How could the Conqueror not rise to the challenge?
"Glory lies beyond."
Precisely because it was out of reach that he had to strive for it. For the sake of the subject who watched his back, he would sing of the path of the Conqueror, demonstrate the path of the Conqueror.
The King of Heroes, seated atop the Vimana, watched the challenger with ease, simultaneously unleashing the treasures from his vault. Twenty, forty, eighty—a multitude of shining Noble Phantasms spread across the sky like a sea of stars. The radiance of these treasures reminded the Conqueror of the starry skies he had once gazed upon in the East.
"Ahh—"
A joy that shook his heart made him let out a long roar as he drove his chariot, following the charge of the oxen.
The rain of stars came with a heavy howl, waves of relentless impacts mercilessly ravaging his body. But compared to the exhilaration of the charge, this pain was nothing.
The "end" he had been seeking now stood before him. After crossing countless mountains and rivers, he had finally found his goal.
He had to surpass the past.
Step over the enemy before him.
One step after another, he repeated the same motion. No matter how distant that figure was, as long as he accumulated each step, he would surely be able to reach that person with his blade.
The golden enemy, with an expression that seemed to know everything, appeared to be saying something in resignation. But he could not hear it, nor could he hear the sound of the wind as light flashed past his ears.
All he could hear was the sound of waves.
The distant shore was empty, the waves crashing back and forth. It was the sound of the waves of the final sea of this world.
Ah, so that's it. With a heart full of clarity, he finally understood.
Why hadn't he realized it before—this surging sensation in his heart was the sound of the waves of the sea at the end.
"Haha... ahahahaha!"
***
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