Fate: Abyss of the Heart

The Weight of a Twisted Reality

In the blink of an eye, Artoria found herself stumbling backward, her surroundings shifting as if reality itself had folded. She blinked, trying to comprehend the absurdity of it all. She was several meters away from Vanitas, yet her head was intact, resting on her shoulders as if the horrifying moment of her beheading had never happened.

Was it all an illusion?

Confusion washed over her, battling with a rising dread that clawed at her insides. She glanced at Vanitas, and what she saw sent a chill down her spine. He stood there, a wicked smile twisting his lips, his amber eyes glinting with sadistic glee. The sinister energy emanating from him felt almost palpable, wrapping around her like a suffocating fog.

As Artoria's gaze narrowed, she noticed something unsettling. Her hands trembled, shaking uncontrollably at her sides. No, it wasn't just her hands; her entire body quaked in fear, an unfamiliar sensation that felt foreign to her as a knight and king. How could this be happening?

This wasn't the fear of battle or the anxiety of a looming enemy; it was something far more primal. For the first time in her life, she felt truly terrified. Not even Morgan, her twisted sister, nor Vortigern, the usurper, had ever instilled this level of dread within her.

As the reality of her situation sank in, Artoria's heart raced. This wasn't just an opponent she faced; this was a twisted reflection of everything she held dear. Vanitas—once Shirou, once the embodiment of hope and love—had transformed into something dark and unfathomable. How could the man she fought beside, the man she loved, become this?

The despair that enveloped her felt like an icy hand tightening around her heart. Each breath felt heavier, as if the air had thickened with her mounting dread. She could hear the echoes of her own thoughts screaming in her mind, urging her to flee, to escape this nightmare that had become her reality. But she was a king; she had faced countless adversities, yet this was unlike any battle she had ever fought.

Artoria steeled herself, forcing her body to stop trembling, to regain control. She had to understand, had to fight back against this overwhelming terror that threatened to consume her. But even as she gathered her resolve, she couldn't shake the chilling feeling that she was standing at the edge of an abyss—one that Vanitas was ready to push her into with a mere flick of his wrist.

"Are you scared, Pendragon?" he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "You can't even stand against me. Look at you—shaking like a leaf."

His words struck deep, igniting a firestorm of emotions within her. No! She would not allow him to see her fear. She was Artoria Pendragon, the once and future king, a warrior forged in the fires of battle. Yet, as she faced this warped version of Shirou, the weight of her own fear felt heavier than any sword she had ever wielded.

Yet, even as she fought to regain her composure, the flicker of dread in her heart remained. Artoria realized that this wasn't just a battle for survival; it was a battle for her very soul. She had to confront the darkness that Vanitas embodied, or risk losing not just herself but everything she had ever fought for.