If the foul fairy on Floor 59 had been a Lovecraftian ecological catastrophe, then what Floor 60 presented to humanity was something else entirely—
A pure, merciless blank so extreme it could make every artist despair and every 3D modeler hand in their resignation on the spot.
There were no rocks, no vegetation, not even the texture of moving air. What lay underfoot wasn't solid ground, but a faintly glowing, semi-transparent crystalline substance. It felt like falling into a pre-rendered space that hadn't had its assets loaded yet… or a server crash that left nothing but the underlying code layer behind.
This was the deepest secret of Orario.
The Void Abyss—the place even the gods avoided naming.
"Ah… ahaha… isn't this place's art style a bit too minimalist?" Liliruca Arde clung tightly to Shirou's clothes, her voice sharp with fear. "I swear if I shout in here, the whole map will crash from memory overflow! This is straight-up visual bullying against supporters!"
"Don't say things like that, Lili," Shirou said quietly.
His condition was… abnormal.
He had successfully advanced to Level 4, and the capacity of his "container" had leapt by an entire order of magnitude. But the aftereffects of forcibly half-unsealing a star-class holy sword still clung to him like a curse.
His right hand had become a fully transparent golden beam. Even the outline of his shoulder began to double and blur—like a game character whose GPU was overheating and tearing pixels across the screen.
Every second, he could feel the laws of this world behaving like antivirus software: frantically attempting to identify him as a foreign object and delete him from his coordinates.
"Oi, Emiya. Your face…" Bete Loga spoke as viciously as ever, but the fist he kept clenched gave away the tension in his chest. "If you can't hold it together, say so. I'm not carrying a transparent guy while running. Feels like hauling some invisible—ugh—doll. Gross. You hear me?"
"Thanks for the concern, Bete," Shirou forced out his trademark crooked smile. "If you retract the 'doll' metaphor, I might feel even better."
Leveling up had broadened his magic circuits and improved his control over his body—but it didn't cancel out the world's rejection.
Then Aiz Wallenstein, leading the front, stopped dead.
Desperate hummed in her hand. The little tuft of hair atop her head whipped like a precision radar in the stillness.
"Something… is coming," she said, voice cold as ice. "Not a monster. It's… punishment."
Everyone followed her gaze.
At the far end of the white nothingness, a gigantic black silhouette slowly took form.
It wasn't alive.
It was a humanoid colossus stacked from countless black cubes—each motion leaving behind the kind of glitchy afterimage you'd see on a broken monitor.
Abyss Executioner — Zero (Executioner Zero).
The Dungeon's final bodyguard, made manifest to purge anomalies.
The physical embodiment of law.
"It's Level 7," Finn Deimne said hoarsely. Even at his peak, his thumb was twitching violently. "That presence… it's purer than Ottar at full strength."
He swallowed.
"This is authority granted directly by the Dungeon. Permission labeled 'Erasure.' It doesn't need technique. It is the rule."
Finn drove his spear into the crystal ground. Transparent sparks scattered.
"Everyone! This is the last battle!"
"This isn't for glory or magic stones—this is so our most trusted companion can keep living… as a human being!"
"OOOOH!"
Loki Familia's elites answered with a unified war cry.
Gareth raised the tower shield.
Riveria began a highest-tier chant.
Tiona and Tione became blurs, flanking from both sides.
Executioner Zero merely lifted its right hand—constructed from black cubes.
A faint, semi-transparent ripple spread outward.
No explosion.
No roar.
But the instant the ripple swept through—
Tiona's twin blades, weapons that could cleave mountains, crumbled in midair like dried rations and turned into dust.
"M-My Urga?!" Tiona stumbled back, eyes wide, soul visibly leaving her body. "It… deleted my weapon?! That's illegal! That's not fair!"
It wasn't just weapons.
Gareth's shield began to vanish.
Riveria's mana evaporated as if drained by the air itself.
This was the Void's home turf—anything with "existence," anything that could be called "something," was forcibly assigned the property of "disappear."
Because in a place where nothing existed…
To "have" was a crime.
Shirou watched his companions being forced into a losing struggle, and the fire in his chest finally ignited completely.
Level 4 was no longer a burden.
It was the foundation of his counterattack.
He understood, with clarity sharp enough to cut:
The only thing that could oppose the Void…
was his Infinity.
Because the Void was zero.
And Infinity was everything that followed one—endlessly, without limit.
He extended the right hand that was nearly fading away.
This time, he didn't project a sword.
He projected—
himself.
"Trace…"
Analyze composition: the causality named Emiya Shirou.Construct base framework: the pride of twenty-seven magic circuits.Grant true attribute: the obsession of the one who would be a hero of justice.
The Moon Goddess' blessing behind him detonated into countless silver feathers.
Those feathers did not drift away.
They pierced the blank space like nails—pinning the Void in place.
"If this world rejects me…"
"Then I'll use my world…"
"…and forcibly overwrite this one."
His inner world surged outward.
Reality Marble — Partial Deployment.
The pale crystalline ground was swallowed, replaced by a dark red wasteland.
Massive iron gears appeared in the sky, turning slowly with crushing weight.
Under a red sunset, countless swords of every shape stood embedded in the earth like grave markers.
Reality Marble — Unlimited Blade Works (Reconstructed):Moonlit Sword-World: Cradle of the Star.
Because this was a foreign, off-law world that did not belong to the Dungeon's logic, the erasure ripple slammed into its boundary—
and shattered with a glass-like crack.
"Aiz! Use the swords here!" Shirou roared.
Aiz blinked, then seized a longsword at her feet—its blade carried a flow of turquoise wind.
The moment she drew it, she froze.
This sword… was responding to her mana.
It wasn't only her.
Finn received a spear etched with sure-victory runes.
Gareth grasped an axe that felt capable of supporting the sky.
Bete stepped onto boots that carried wings of wind.
Inside Shirou's world, everyone gained tailor-made conceptual reinforcement.
This was the true strength of Level 4 Emiya Shirou—
He alone was an entire armory at full specification.
"This is my battlefield," Shirou said, walking toward Executioner Zero.
"And this is my will."
His right hand finally stopped trending toward transparency.
Instead, dense red luminous lines—like a circuit board—spread across his entire arm.
They drank in the Void's energy greedily, converting it into something new.
Shirou smiled, taunting.
"You faceless creep… are you trying to scare me with that mosaic skin?"
"Sorry. I've seen uglier things than you."
Executioner Zero seemed to react—anger, perhaps, or simply a recalculation.
Its cubic body collapsed, then reassembled into a black blade so vast it could blot out the sky.
The blade fell, carrying the power to annihilate all "existence," to cleave Shirou's world open.
"You want to cut Infinity?" Shirou lifted his arm calmly. "Then you'd better learn how to count first."
He did not dodge.
He raised his newly forged, red-and-gold arm.
"Projection—ultimate release."
Behind him, thousands of famous blades resonated at once.
They weren't decoration anymore.
They became streams of light, rotating around Shirou in a gigantic spiral.
"This is my answer."
He clenched his fist.
End-Sword — Moonlit Draft:Full Armament Form.
A golden light-sword more than a hundred meters long formed in his right hand.
It had no "physical" body.
It was built from concept, experience, blessing, and the raw wish to live.
A miracle shaped like a blade.
"Cut."
The golden sword collided with the black giant blade at the center of the Void Abyss.
In that instant, Floor 60 of the Dungeon lost all color.
After blinding light came absolute darkness.
For Loki Familia, senses vanished. Only their own heartbeats remained, pounding like war drums inside their ribs.
It felt like watching a max-volume film at the center of a universe's birth—
so overwhelming it made you nauseous.
Then, after what might have been seconds or centuries…
Vision returned.
Executioner Zero had shattered into drifting glitch-data—like a digital funeral—and dissolved into the abyss.
Shirou's Reality Marble dispersed as well.
The boy knelt on one knee, gasping.
His right hand was no longer transparent.
And no longer purely flesh.
It had become a half-crystalline material, with molten gold flowing through it like lava under glass.
It worked.
Shirou had taken the Dungeon's attempt to erase him—its "Void"—
and used it as raw material to forge his own body.
In plain terms:
He had forced himself into physicality.
From this point onward, neither correction forces nor the Dungeon's malice could easily shake his existence.
Because his body now…
was itself a sword capable of bearing star-light.
"Emiya…" Aiz staggered toward him—then stopped one step away.
She stared at his right hand, eyes full of confusion and worry.
"…Are you still you?" she asked softly.
Even her hair tuft drew into a tense question mark.
Shirou lifted his head.
His amber eyes were still gentle—still human.
And there was even relief there, like someone who'd returned from the edge.
"If I'm not me," he said, breathless but smiling, "then who's going to remember to go back to camp and cook you all that cheese fried shrimp tempura?"
"…Even if the ingredients are a little scarce right now."
Silence.
Then Bete's laughter split it open.
"Bastard! At a time like this, you're thinking about fried shrimp?!"
"You're hopeless! A cook whose brain is nothing but flour and oil smoke!"
"I'm impressed, I really am!"
Lili and Haruhime clutched Shirou and sobbed, releasing every ounce of fear they'd been holding back.
Riveria stepped closer, studying his right hand with a complicated gaze.
She reached out, fingertips brushing the golden glow—and felt a mystery that made even an elven royal bloodline shiver.
"Level 4 can no longer fully define you, Emiya," she murmured. "Numerically you may still be below First-Class adventurers… but your quality has touched the realm of the gods."
She exhaled slowly.
"This is balance-destroying for Orario."
"And there's more." Finn approached, expression severe. "Everyone—look."
Where Executioner Zero had broken, a massive rotating vortex had appeared in the Void Abyss.
It wasn't a trap.
From it drifted the fresh scent of grass and trees—surface air.
The Great Hole.
The shortcut to the surface.
The oldest wound at the Dungeon's heart.
Finn's shoulders loosened, and he smiled with honest relief.
"Looks like the Dungeon actually conceded. It probably decided that instead of keeping you—a special-grade virus who keeps wrecking the house—it's cheaper to throw you out."
"It's executing an uninstallation."
"Seems so," Shirou said, standing and flexing his restored right hand.
The sensation was like upgrading to a top-tier latest-generation graphics card—
even breathing felt smoother.
As the expedition prepared to enter the vortex—
Bzz.
A powerful sensation of being watched pierced the air again.
This time it was stronger than ever, almost overflowing a divine mirror.
Freya's gaze—
mad, burning, possessive—
pressed down as if it could touch skin.
"Ah… Emiya Shirou," her whisper seemed to slip straight into his ear. "You're finally complete."
"That hand… that radiance…"
"Even if I have to destroy the world, I will take you."
"You are mine—my only original treasure."
Shirou stopped.
He raised his golden right hand and made a quiet fist in empty air.
"Then come and try, Lady of Beauty."
"No matter what script you've prepared… no matter what power you intend to use…"
"I'll write my ending with this hand."
"My fate is never decided by gods."
He turned to his companions.
"Let's go."
"Back to Orario—then we're eating until we drop!"
"And while we're at it, we'll go hand in that pile of fines!"
A cheer erupted—bright, alive, stubbornly human.
Loki Familia's expedition vanished into white light.
A man in a black robe watched the fading afterimage through crimson compound eyes.
"Heh…"
"Even the Executioner couldn't kill him."
"So Thanatos's trash was right."
"This outsider must be eliminated—priority one."
"The stench on him… Mother feels threatened by it."
He turned to the huge fleshy cocoon behind him—slowly growing, pulsing with ominous wrongness.
"Accelerate the process."
"Before that boy reaches Level 5…"
"We'll make all of Orario understand what real…"
"…apocalypse looks like."
Darkness writhed again in the abyss.
And Emiya Shirou's legend—
had only just entered its true midgame.
This time, the world would not be gentle.
....
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