Action

I crossed into the world of Type Moon and, for some reason, the Root itself recognized me.
    As long as I die an abnormal death, I can ascend to the Throne of Heroes and become its lord, an existence stronger and freer than even the Seven Grand Servants.
    So, in order to die, I started acting like a complete fool across the Nasuverse.
    I cursed Gilgamesh to his face in Uruk, challenged almighty Zeus in Greece, openly kidnapped Skadi in Northern Europe, proclaimed in Israel that Solomon was a demon god instead of a holy king, and even stood at Morgan’s side in Britain.
    Yet for some reason I am still alive.
    By 1994, Fuyuki City, history has given me a ridiculous list of titles: the third friend of the Most Ancient King, the first prime minister of Mesopotamia, the man favored by the Greek gods, the king of giants in Northern Europe, the incarnation of God who awakened Solomon’s humanity in Israel, the miracle worker supported by Prince Camelot.
    On top of the Fuyuki Bridge, a young yet world weary Lovi sits on the railing, staring at the city lights and sighing.
    “Tell me, what exactly went wrong? Or you could just kill me here and let me finally ascend to the Throne of Heroes. Please.”
    Kiritsugu Emiya lights a cigarette, glances at Artoria holding the Holy Spear, at the treasury of the King unfolding beside Gilgamesh, at the crimson spear tip reaching out from the distant Kingdom of Shadows.
    The cigarette in his hand trembles slightly.