The Vanguard, who once intended to destroy humanity and annihilate the Earth, had been utterly defeated.
Nameless, sparing no cost, severed the chains of her contract and awakened her humanity once more.
Now—
This being was no longer the Vanguard of the Umbral Star, but the girl to whom Nameless had given a name: "Attila."
A name carried by the one who once galloped across the steppes of Central Asia and Eastern Europe, bringing the Huns to their greatest glory—the Scourge of God himself!
Atilla's expression brimmed with joy.
Those once cold, machine-like eyes—were shining for the very first time.
There was light in her eyes.
The Vanguard, the White Titan—no, now she should be called Attila.
She smiled radiantly.
"Thank you, Teacher. I am Attila the Hun, warrior of the Huns and its King of Combat! I will entrust my strength to you."
At that moment, everyone realized the truth:
The apocalyptic disaster that nearly destroyed Earth had been completely ended—by Nameless.
The duel against the Vanguard—had been won.
The entire world erupted in a sea of celebration.
When the Vanguard had first awoken on the Moon and descended across 300,000 kilometers to Earth, her power far surpassed that of the Council of Gods.
Forget those pseudo-gods—even the true Olympian gods had been forced to abandon their mechanical forms against her.
The Mesopotamian gods, the eastern deities—all of them had struggled desperately.
She alone had nearly wiped out all gods and humankind on Earth.
Now, humanity cheered in jubilation.
—In Chaldea—
Da Vinci, who had been watching tensely, finally exhaled.
"We did it!"
Only a handful had fought on the battlefield itself, but every Heroic Spirit across the world had been mobilized.
Before the battle, they had drawn up countless contingency plans—what to do if she escaped the Underworld, what to do if she broke free, what to do if she reached other nations.
Every possible scenario was accounted for.
The operation had been almost flawlessly executed.
Roman looked at the smiling Atilla and murmured,
"Not a weapon anymore… but a true human. That's wonderful."
In her, he saw a faint reflection of himself.
As the battle footage spread, memories long buried began to return to him.
Roman lowered his gaze to the ring on his hand—a ring bestowed by God Himself.
Once, he had basked in divine grace, granted omniscience and omnipotence through the power of clairvoyance, a being so mighty it defied imagination.
He possessed everything—except a self.
He was a perfect automaton, a puppet on divine strings, beloved by all, yet incapable of feeling love or sorrow, joy or pain.
So he had returned everything to God—just to live as an ordinary man.
To be someone whose name truly meant "human."
Da Vinci smiled at him.
"There's no more need to fight."
That foolish doctor—did he really think he could fool everyone?
Nameless—the last Master of Humanity, the strongest of all Masters—was more than capable of protecting human history.
Roman sighed deeply.
"Unfortunately, the disaster isn't over yet."
The Vanguard came from the Moon.
And before her defeat, Zeus had declared—that terrifying enemies existed not only on Earth, but also upon the Moon and within the Sun.
Each one strong enough to destroy the world.
Could Nameless truly rest easy in Chaldea, knowing that?
Da Vinci glanced toward the small Shield Girl on the monitor and chuckled softly.
"Mash has really grown. She doesn't need our protection anymore—she can protect us instead."
She remembered when that little girl had first arrived—pure, gentle, untouched by the world.
Mash Kyrielight had been created as a tool, nothing more. But Roman, Da Vinci, and the Master had treated her as a person—an equal.
Once afraid of battle, she now stood against the Beast of Humanity and the Vanguard without hesitation.
Roman smiled.
"Indeed. If even Mash can become this strong… then I should do my best too."
To be born human—I am grateful.
With the Vanguard "conquered," the battle was truly over.
In the Underworld, the goddess Ereshkigal pouted slightly.
"Hmph. That hateful man… he really is dangerously charming."
One moment she was his fierce enemy, and the next, his new ally.
Great—another rival in love.
If she didn't work harder, she'd be forgotten in some lonely corner, gathering dust like an old relic!
She glanced at the Mother Goddess beside her—the one who, in the battle, had been the key to victory.
Without her mass healing, mana support, and direct defense against the Vanguard's bombardment, they could never have won.
Beast of Humanity, the Vanguard, the Grand Servants—Nameless' allies were only growing stronger and stronger.
Ereshkigal's emotions tangled within her chest.
A goddess she might be, but why was she powerless to win a single human's heart?
Then—
Nameless smiled.
"By the way, Ereshkigal, the little surprise I promised you—here it is."
"A surprise?"
Her golden eyes brightened with anticipation.
What could he possibly be planning?
Under her curious gaze, Nameless raised the Sword of the Stars.
"May all that is beautiful be blessed—Bloom now, Flower of Hope."
The Sword of the Stars shone.
The lingering flames of hope, born from the Vanguard's defeat, blazed brilliantly once more.
A pillar of light surged upward—
BOOM!
Like fireworks, it burst across the sky, unfolding into a vast, resplendent flower. Then, its petals scattered—becoming countless small blossoms that drifted gently to the ground.
The Underworld… was blooming.
Ereshkigal stood there, dumbfounded.
"The Underworld, once only death and darkness… is blooming with flowers of hope?"
She could tell clearly—this wasn't some illusion from that useless magus.
These were real flowers.
"The Underworld blooms—for you alone." Nameless smiled gently.
Through countless battles, he had received her help again and again. Now, he wanted to repay her—not by deceiving this adorably gullible goddess of the Underworld with sweet words, cough cough, but by fulfilling her deepest wish.
"Thank you~"
Ereshkigal's eyes glimmered with tears.
For countless ages, she had lived in solitude within the Underworld.
She adored flowers—was obsessed with them—yet had never been able to make a single blossom survive in that realm of death.
But now, an endless sea of flowers filled her Underworld, giving her the grandest garden imaginable.
These flowers were born from the hope of human civilization—the power that transcended death itself.
Even in the land of the dead, they could stubbornly bloom and thrive.
The Flowers of Hope had blossomed.
At that moment—
Ishtar, who had been watching from the side, could no longer hold back her envy.
"Unbelievable! Flowers blooming in the Underworld—how romantic! I want that too!"
She had wanted to join the battle earlier, but everyone had refused without hesitation.
No one dared let this accident-prone goddess participate.
After all, during the "Absolute Demonic Front" incident, she lost the Bull of Heaven and nearly doomed everyone.
Who would dare team up with such a walking disaster?
That would be suicide!
Buzz—
Golden ripples shimmered beside Gilgamesh as he drew a treasure from his Gate of Babylon.
"Here. A gift for you."
"What is it?"
Ishtar instinctively took it, her eyes lighting up—perhaps it was a jewel, or gold?
But the moment she looked closer, her face froze.
On the object was carved a line of cuneiform:
[I am a useless goddess.]
"???"
Ishtar blinked once—then exploded.
"AAAAHHH! You shameless exhibitionist king! I'll kill you!"
That arrogant Hero King—he had preserved her black history from the Uruk Age, four and a half millennia ago—and now, in a worldwide live broadcast, he had shown it off again!
Just when people were starting to forget that embarrassing episode—he had to remind them!
How much blackmail material did this man store in his treasury?!
"This is a valuable memento. Of course I'd never forget it," Gilgamesh said, grinning with pure satisfaction.
Not just this useless goddess's humiliation—he also had the full recording of that time he and Sanjiro teamed up to genderbent Merlin.
All those embarrassing moments—eternally preserved.
Now this was true joy.
While the two bickered, Attila gazed at the flowers blooming around her, awe shining in her eyes.
"The Flowers of Hope, born from death… Teacher, you never cease to surprise me."
"Then from this day forward, help me protect this hope," Nameless said with a calm smile.
Another disaster loomed ahead—and he'd have to overwork himself again.
Why was it so hard to just retire in peace?
Attila smiled firmly.
"Gladly. After all, destruction and battle are all I'm good at."
As the enemy of civilization, her very existence had been forged for endless war.
But this time—she would fight not as a weapon of destruction, but as a protector.
The battle was over.
Everyone left the Underworld and returned to the world of the living.
As the sun rose, Attila looked toward it, her tone grave.
"Teacher, in my memory… there is one even greater god among the Olympians. He resides within the Sun itself."
"You mean—the Primordial Father, Chaos?"
Nameless also raised his gaze toward the blazing Sun.
The Olympian gods came from the far reaches of the cosmos.
When their homeworld was destroyed by some monstrous entity from the Oort Cloud, the Primordial Father, Chaos, used up 97% of his systems to teleport them to the Solar System—to remake Earth into the New Olympus.
After their defeat by Attila, the Twelve Olympians chose to become Earth's Greek deities.
But Chaos himself had long since vanished, beyond even the reach of the gods.
These were the warnings Athena had once whispered to him—that the Primordial Father slumbered within the Sun, and that if he ever awakened, humanity would be enslaved—or annihilated.
The Earth itself would burn.
"It must be him," Attila said solemnly.
As the Olympians' supreme mothership, Chaos possessed the terrifying power to teleport across galaxies—a feat even the Wandering Star that created her could not achieve.
For all its grandeur, the Wandering Star itself merely traveled at light speed, scouring the cosmos for worlds capable of birthing civilization.
Attila continued, "Besides the Primordial Father, the next imminent threat is the planetary consciousness of Mercury. It appeared even before the Olympians."
After humanity's birth and reckless exploitation of Earth, Gaia, Earth's own consciousness, sensed danger.
She began summoning the Ultimate Ones—the planetary wills of the Solar System—to unite in extinguishing humankind.
Later, the Wandering Star descended, attempting to consume Earth.
Gaia, forced to cooperate with Alaya, nurtured the first wielder of the Holy Sword, who struck the Wandering Star down in a single, world-saving blow.
The Wandering Star failed—but humanity only grew more dangerous.
And when Gaia merged with the Demon King who ignited human history, she began to view humanity itself as the enemy that must be erased.
Humanity could defeat external invaders—but never the planet it calls home.
Unless humanity abandoned Earth entirely.
"Down in South America, the great spider has begun to awaken," Nameless sighed.
He had defeated and "recruited" Atilla to prepare for the next threats—the ones upon the Earth and within the Sun.
He had to keep getting stronger—and find new allies powerful enough to fight alongside him: Grand Servants, Beasts, gods themselves.
"I must return to the Moon," Attila said apologetically. "There's a device the Wandering Star left there—only I can guard it. If left unchecked, it might summon the Wandering Star once more."
As one of the Wandering Star's Harvest Units, she knew the mother ship had prepared contingency devices: to collect energy, and if collection failed—to send a distress signal.
If she stayed gone too long, it would trigger the signal—and summon the Wandering Star itself.
No human strength could resist that.
After all, even she was merely one of its tools.
"…Go, then," Nameless nodded.
Planting a spy within the enemy's ranks—that too was part of his plan.
If the Wandering Star ever tried to reestablish contact, Attila could intercept it.
And given that the Wandering Star roamed the cosmos for thousands, even tens of thousands of years between communications, one successful cover-up might buy humanity enough timeto step beyond Earth—to ascend as a divine interstellar civilization.
The great thinkers would handle that technological climb.
And the Vanguard's technology would fuel a new, impossible revolution— the Industrial Age of Heroes.
After Attila departed—
Ding.
Sanjiro's phone chimed.
And in that instant, the world froze.
Time itself stopped—as if he'd just activated his Noble Phantasm, [The World].
On the screen appeared a pink-haired little girl, smiling sweetly, yet with eyes sharp as knives.
"Congratulations, Sanjiro," she said. "You've conquered your greatest enemy."
It was—Alaya.
"Tch. Weren't you the one who set that up?" Sanjiro muttered, glaring at the manipulative capitalist in loli form.
The Vanguard could never dream.
It had been over a thousand years ago when Alaya herself intervened, planting a "dream" within the machine—a dream of becoming human.
Otherwise, under the Wandering Star's Three Laws:
First Law: A Vanguard must not harm the Wandering Star, or stand idle while the Wandering Star is in danger.
Second Law: A Vanguard must obey all commands from the Wandering Star.
Third Law: A Vanguard must, without violating the first two laws, preserve its own existence.
Under these laws, Attila could never have developed a will of her own.
But Alaya had exploited the Third Law.
After Sanjiro defeated Sefar—the Vanguard—and with the Wandering Star itself absent, Alaya had quietly implanted within Attila a human heart.
That was the true reason she awoke.
"I am the collective survival instinct of humanity," Alaya said lightly. "Everything I do is to ensure humankind endures."
Sanjiro scowled.
"Typical."
The cunning little loli pointed at the Sword of the Star in his hand.
"The enemies ahead will only grow stronger. So—how about I give you another helper?"
"…Oh? Let's hear it first."
Sanjiro didn't immediately agree.
The Sword of the Star—a blade forged personally by the planet itself to serve as its ultimate protector.
This sword had once chosen Artoria as the Second Generation Wielder of the Holy Sword, remaining under her guardianship ever since.
Unfortunately—the planetary consciousness, Gaia, had no fondness for humankind. In fact, she wished for humanity's extinction.
Because of that, the sword's true power could never be fully released.
When completely unsealed, however, the Holy Sword's strength would rival Excalibur Morgan—and moreover, it possessed an inherent anti-existence attribute, capable of destroying all beings that threatened the Earth itself.
"Then, as you wish."
Alaya's voice was calm—almost gentle.
Click—click—
The clock's hands began to turn again.
Time resumed its normal flow.
Mordred ran over, her ponytail bouncing.
"Hey, hey! You okay?"
The terrifying battle earlier had forced her to sit on the sidelines as a mere spectator, unable to participate at all.
"I'm fine."
Sanjiro turned his gaze toward the blonde king standing beside her, smiling softly.
"So… would you like to become the Grand Saber, and continue fighting by my side?"
The Grand Class—a genuine, ultimate-level one-time enhancement buff.
He didn't need the title itself; even as a sacrificial boost, its destructive potential was powerful enough to overwhelm even a Beast of Humanity.
"Of course."
Artoria extended her hand and accepted the Holy Sword.
"For the rest of my life—please, take care of me."
Meanwhile, Mordred kept glancing between them.
…Why did she suddenly get the weird feeling that these two were the real lovers here, and she was just some unwanted sidekick they picked up out of a trash can?