Fate: Abyss of the Heart

The Harbinger of Despair

Vanitas stood a mere few meters away from Artoria, the distance feeling impossibly small in the oppressive atmosphere that surrounded them. His piercing gaze locked onto her, devoid of emotion, as he spoke, his voice smooth yet laced with a chilling threat.

"Pendragon," he began, the corners of his mouth twitching into a predatory grin. "Let's start something small. If you can evade this, then perhaps this fight will be interesting for me. But if not... you will be cut in half in an instant."

A chill coursed through Artoria at his words, a visceral fear clawing at her heart. The finality of his statement hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, and for a brief moment, her mind raced with the implications. She had faced many foes in her lifetime, but never had the stakes felt so dire. Swallowing her fear, she steeled herself, focusing on the moment, preparing for whatever he had planned.

Without warning, Vanitas grabbed his spear and slammed the pole into the ground with a force that reverberated through the very earth beneath them. Artoria's confusion momentarily clouded her thoughts, but then, like a bolt of lightning, her instincts screamed at her to move.

Dodge!

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, her body reacted before her mind could catch up, propelling her to the side just in time. An invisible force surged past her, a sheer wave of deadly intent that ripped through the air, smashing into the building behind her with a cataclysmic force. The structure crumbled instantly, debris exploding outward as if it were made of sand.

Artoria's heart raced, the sheer magnitude of Vanitas's power sinking in as she stared in shock at the ruins behind her. If she hadn't listened to her instincts, she would have perished in an instant. The realization chilled her to the bone, a stark reminder that she was facing something far beyond a mere adversary. Vanitas was a harbinger of death and destruction, his words proving to be more than mere threats.

"Prepare yourself," he warned, his voice a low growl. "The second one is coming."

Panic surged within her, but she forced herself to focus, summoning every ounce of her strength and willpower. She needed to be ready, to anticipate his next move. But as she gathered her thoughts, a familiar sensation washed over her—a dark, malevolent aura that sent shivers down her spine.

Angra Mainyu. The name echoed in her mind, a haunting reminder of the past. The God of Darkness and Evil. The very entity that had unleashed chaos during the Fourth and Fifth Holy Grail Wars.

A sudden realization hit her like a punch to the gut: Shirou had become a vessel for Angra Mainyu. The weight of that thought sent her heart plummeting, her resolve wavering as dread clawed at her insides.

"Shirou!" she shouted, desperation pouring into her voice. "Why did you become the vessel of Angra Mainyu? Fight against its influence! Please, fight back the darkness!"

Vanitas, now a vessel of the very darkness she feared, simply smirked, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling light. "You're wrong, Pendragon," he said, his voice calm yet tinged with a cruel amusement. "You think Angra Mainyu controls me or that his influence has ensnared my will? How foolish, Pendragon. I accepted Angra Mainyu's powers willingly. I wield his darkness as a tool for my desires."

The admission struck her like a thunderbolt, a chilling revelation that reverberated through her entire being. Vanitas—no, Shirou—had not succumbed to the darkness; he had embraced it.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with," she warned, her voice a mixture of anger and sorrow. "This darkness will consume you! You can't control it!"

He chuckled softly, a sound devoid of warmth or mirth. "Consume me? No, Pendragon. I am no naive pawn. I command this power. The darkness flows through me, enriching my strength, sharpening my resolve. Angra Mainyu and I are intertwined; I have become something greater, and it is liberating."

Artoria's heart sank further as she grappled with the implications. This was not the Shirou she had known, the one who had fought for his ideals and the future he believed in. This was a twisted version, a dark reflection that reveled in the power of despair.

"Shirou," she pleaded, desperation thick in her voice, "you're not a monster. You don't have to do this! You can break free from Angra Mainyu's grasp! You can still choose light!"

His smile widened, the shadows around him twisting and swirling as if they had a mind of their own. "Light? What has light ever given me?" he spat, the venom in his words cutting through her like a blade. "All it does is blind you to the truth—the truth that darkness is power, that it's the ultimate source of strength. I have seen the futility of your light, and I have cast it aside."

As he spoke, the air thickened with a sinister energy, the atmosphere warping around them as if responding to his words. Artoria could feel the oppressive weight of despair creeping back in, wrapping around her like a suffocating shroud. Vanitas was not just wielding darkness; he had become one with it, and in that union, he had found a strength she couldn't comprehend.

"Prepare yourself, Pendragon," Vanitas taunted, raising his spear once more, the shadows coiling around it like serpents. "Let's see if you can survive my true attack."

Artoria steeled herself, her heart pounding in her chest. She had faced many adversaries, but this was unlike anything she had ever encountered. She felt the pull of despair threatening to drag her under, but within her heart, a flicker of hope remained.

I will fight.

Even against the overwhelming darkness, even against the man she had once known and loved. She would not let fear dictate her actions; she would stand her ground. With Excalibur firmly grasped in her hands, she prepared for the onslaught to come, determined to reclaim the light that had been lost.