Fate: Abyss of the Heart

Vanitas' Victory: The Night of Despair

Artoria lay sprawled on the ground, staring in absolute horror at the remnants of Excalibur, the once-mighty blade now reduced to mere fragments scattered around her like shattered dreams. Each jagged piece glimmered in the dim light, taunting her with memories of glory, courage, and the countless battles she had fought. How could this be happening? Excalibur was supposed to be unbreakable, forged in the fires of the Age of Gods, a weapon meant to slay the White Titan and stand against the darkness. It was more than a sword; it was a symbol of her resolve, her identity, her very essence.

The reality of her situation began to settle in, a weight so heavy it felt as if the ground itself were trying to swallow her whole. She had fought valiantly, had poured every ounce of her being into this battle, yet here she was—defeated, broken, staring at the remnants of her hope. The anguish twisted her heart as she looked up, searching for the boy she had sworn to protect, the boy whose spirit had once burned brightly in her presence. She turned her gaze toward Vanitas, who stood before her, his expression a cold mask devoid of any emotion, and for a fleeting moment, she hoped to see a glimmer of love or understanding in his eyes. But what she found instead was a chilling emptiness, a void that seemed to swallow everything around it.

Vanitas stood over her, his amusement clear as he observed her pitiful state. "Look at you, Pendragon," he mocked, his voice dripping with condescension. "The once-great King of Knights, now reduced to a mere shadow of your former self. All that bravado, all that noble pride, shattered alongside your precious sword." Each word he uttered twisted like a dagger in her heart, each syllable a reminder of her failure.

Still dazed and vulnerable, Artoria felt the icy grip of despair close around her. The very core of her spirit felt frayed, the unyielding strength she had clung to now slipping away like sand through her fingers. She had fought for so long, had held the weight of the world upon her shoulders, but now all she felt was the crushing inevitability of defeat. As she gazed up at him, tears welled in her eyes, not just from pain but from the bitter realization of what was to come.

With a sudden, fluid motion, Vanitas jabbed his spear into her side, the sharp point piercing through her armor and flesh. Pain shot through her body like wildfire, and she gasped, blood spilling from her mouth as the spear struck her spirit core. She could feel the light within her flickering, the very essence of who she was shattering under the force of his dark power. Artoria's heart sank further as she sensed the destruction of her spirit, an agonizing emptiness taking its place.

Vanitas leaned closer, their eyes locking in a moment that felt eternal. "Your time is over, Pendragon," he said, his voice a low, mocking whisper. "You've fought well, but now you will join the ranks of the heroes I have slain, another failure in the annals of history."

In a single, fluid motion, he swung his spear, the force of it propelling her body through the air. She felt weightless for a brief moment, suspended in a cruel reality where time stretched and warped around her. Then, she crashed into a nearby building with a bone-shattering impact, the structure groaning under the force of her arrival. Pain coursed through her body, sharp and unrelenting, as every bone and organ screamed in agony, the echoes of her destruction resonating through the rubble.

Blood pooled around her, warm and viscous, a stark contrast against the cold stone beneath her. She lay there, disoriented, her mind racing through the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. This was it—the end of her journey, the culmination of her failures. She had come so far, had sacrificed so much, and yet she had not been able to stop Vanitas. The weight of her shortcomings pressed down on her, suffocating and absolute.

"I failed to save him," she thought, the thought stabbing deeper than any blade. "I failed to save Shirou." In that moment, the darkness closed in around her, and despair seeped into her soul. She had envisioned a future where she could protect him, where they could fight side by side against the encroaching shadows. But now, all of that was gone, reduced to mere ashes in the wind.

Vanitas's voice rang out through the haze, cold and mocking. "Now, you can join the ranks of all the heroes I have killed, Pendragon," he sneered. "Your title as the King of Knights means nothing now. You are just garbage, like the rest of them." Each word was a hammer, driving home the reality of her defeat, erasing the last vestiges of hope she had held onto.

Artoria's heart twisted painfully at his words, and she felt the last of her resolve shatter alongside Excalibur. The darkness loomed closer, and as she lay there, her spirit shattered, bloodied, and broken, she could only wonder if the light she had fought so hard to protect would ever return.