Blade and the golden Saber rushed him together, their radiant swords cutting arcs of light through the night.
Tsutsumi didn't flinch. He raised his palms and caught both weapons barehanded. Sparks shrieked against his skin, steel biting deep, but he stood unmoving. Masters and Servants froze in disbelief as he began to pry their blades apart with slow, deliberate strength, as if their combined might was nothing more than an annoyance.
With a sharp twist, he tore the swords wide and lashed out. His boot slammed into Blade's stomach, the blow savage, heavier than any strike before. The golden Rider staggered, then was hurled across the dirt, crashing and tumbling until he lay broken in the dust.
Tsutsumi's gaze slid to Saber. In the same breath, his hand snapped forward, closing around her throat, lifting her into the air with effortless cruelty.
"Artoria!" both Fujimaru siblings screamed.
His free hand, unburdened now, thrust into her stomach.
Artoria gasped, her eyes wide, her face twisting between pain, horror, and humiliation. As the crimson dragon of Britain and now a Heroic Spirit, wounds don't mean much to her, yet this was different. She felt his hand invade something deeper, clawing into the core of her being. The sensation was blasphemy. Violation.
With a sickening pull, his hand emerged, clutching a glowing orb, the dragon core that anchored her legend. Artoria collapsed, weakened, clutching her gut, her body already struggling to mend through the threadbare magic of her Master's energy.
The orb pulsed in Decade's hand, then warped, reshaping into a small blue book etched in burning runes.
King of Arthur
The cover shattered, scattering into a set of Rider Cards that slipped through his fingers like blades of light.
Before he could pocket them, the pink-haired swordswoman lunged from behind, her body a blur despite the sickness gnawing at her flesh. Her blade gleamed with killing intent, aimed squarely at his spine.
"First step, swifter than sound... Second step, infinite suffering... Third step, the absolute sword!"
Her voice rang sharp, her spirit flaring brighter than her weakened body should allow.
"Mumyou, Sandanzuki!!"
The strike was flawless, an execution perfected over countless battles, yet it never reached him.
At the last instant, Decade's arms lashed out. His bare hands caught the shimmering blade mid-thrust. Sparks screeched as steel ground against his grip, but his cold expression never shifted.
She froze. The impossible weight of his grasp stopped her ultimate technique as if it were nothing. Panic flickered in her eyes. She tried to wrench the weapon free, straining with every shred of strength left in her, but the blade refused to move.
With a single contemptuous swing, Decade yanked the sword upward. Her frail body was dragged helplessly into the air, spun like a rag doll, then slammed into the earth with bone-cracking force.
The ground shuddered. She gasped, coughing up a mouthful of blood, the crimson spray staining the dirt. Her fingers slackened, the pain tearing away her grip on the sword.
The weapon slipped free, spinning once before Decade snatched it from the air by its hilt. Without pause, he reversed the blade and drove it mercilessly into her chest. The impact was so vicious the steel bent under the pressure, the metal groaning as her body arched in agony beneath the crushing force.
Then a purple blur streaked forward. The dagger-wielding woman lashed out, her chain snaking toward his throat.
Decade moved faster. He blurred past her strike, twisted her chain back upon itself, and yanked it around her neck. She gagged, clawing at the steel links as he pulled her close. Their eyes met, hers desperate, his flat and dead.
She tried to use her Mystic Eyes, to petrify him, but his voice lashed out first.
"Who gave you permission to look at me, huh?"
His purple eyes flared, and the weight of his presence crushed her spirit. Her gaze faltered. Her knees buckled. She collapsed before him, trembling, a weapon undone in the presence of something more tyrant than man.
Change Stag! Change Spider! Change Mantis! Evolution Caucasus! Change Beetle!
Four of a Kind!
Blade staggered back to his feet, his sword blazing with golden power. He roared and charged.
Decade sneered and tossed the purple-haired girl into his path like discarded meat. Blade cursed, breaking his charge to catch her, his attack sputtering out uselessly.
The red archer darted in, twin blades flashing. His strikes rang against Decade's body, sparking on contact. Decade didn't move. He didn't even blink. Then, with a single, brutal motion, he caught the archer by the throat, lifting him effortlessly.
His dull eyes burned.
Final Form Ride: Arthur!
Decade stretched out his hand. Artoria's body convulsed, dragged toward him against her will. Her form distorted, twisting into a massive blade, a copy of Excalibur.
"Wh-What!? What is happening!?" Her voice cried out from the weapon, horrified, powerless.
He raised her high, and the sword screamed in her voice as he swung down, hitting the red archer, cutting him in half. His empty gaze shifted toward the others before a card was placed into his driver.
Final Attack Ride: A-A-A-Arthur!
The blade ignited, vomiting a colossal wave of golden energy that split the night sky.
"STOP! PLEASE! STOP!" Artoria screamed, trapped within her own weapon as it cut into her allies.
The wave scoured the land, crashing into Blade, obliterating the forest. Trees evaporated into ash, the earth split into ruin, until only barren wasteland remained. Mash threw her shield up, shielding Ritsuka with her Noble Phantasm, but the force tore through it, hurling them all back like ragdolls.
When the light faded, silence swallowed the battlefield. The forest was gone. The world itself seemed scarred.
Decade tossed the massive sword aside. It dissolved back into Artoria's body, her knees buckling as she collapsed into the dirt. Her sobs tore through the smoke-filled air, rage, shame, despair. For the first time, she had not been a knight, nor a king. She had been a tool. A weapon, used and discarded.
Tsutsumi's boots crunched against the blackened earth as he stepped forward, gaze narrowing on Fujimaru Kazuma. Blood leaked from the Rider's lips, red and green mixed.
"Tch. A Joker Undead…" Decade's tone dripped with disgust. "You think you can understand my pain? You? A cursed being trying to embrace it?"
His foot slammed into Kazuma's ribs, bones snapping with the crack of dry branches. Kazuma rolled, coughing blood.
"You're throwing away your humanity," Decade said coldly, his lifeless eyes pinning him in place. "Trying to turn yourself into an immortal monster, a thing that only knows how to fight."
The words struck harder than his blows. The others froze, staring at Kazuma with wide, shaken eyes.
"Onii-san… what does he mean?" Ritsuka asks, clinging to Mash's arm.
Kazuma's voice broke, sharp with desperation. "It's nothing! Don't believe the words of a devil!"
"That's right," Decade crouched beside him, his voice low, venomous. "I am a devil. Whose sin is being born. A devil who mimics humanity, desperately clawing for love." His eyes narrowed, voice bitter. "And you, you would throw away your humanity. To be nothing but a monster. An eternal fight. And yet, I'm the villain here?"
His hand closed over the Blay Buckle, prying it from Kazuma's reach. The Rider gasped, clawing weakly at Tsutsumi's leg.
"Give it back!" Kazuma cried, his voice cracking. "Without it… I can't protect anyone! I'm nothing without it!"
Tsutsumi looked down at him with contempt. "If you're nothing without it… then maybe you shouldn't have it."
The buckle dissolved into motes of light, reshaping into a Rider Card.
Kamen Ride: Blade
Tsutsumi shook him off with a savage kick, sending him sprawling in the dirt. He turned away, the card gleaming between his fingers, and walked off without looking back, leaving behind only ruin, silence, and destruction.
...
"Hey..."
Tsutsumi reappeared in the tower where Jeanne was confined. The room was small, bleak, and suffocating, but she was there, seated quietly as though the cold stone walls were a cathedral. She had been waiting, not for rescue, but for him. Waiting for the fate she had already accepted.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting," he said softly, his voice carrying the warmth he could not show on his face.
Jeanne lifted her head. The smile she gave him was warm, tender, yet weighed with guilt, as though she felt sorry for burdening him with her final days.
Like a vow carved into time, Tsutsumi stayed. He remained by her side until the day of her execution, refusing to let her face the end alone.
He cooked for her...
"This is delicious," Jeanne said with puffed cheeks, her face lighting up as she tasted the meal. "Food like this… even nobles would envy it."
Tsutsumi only smiled faintly, setting another dish in front of her. Watching her enjoy such simple pleasures felt more nourishing to him than eating ever could.
He read to her...
"There is this world," he began, his voice steady, "where an amnesiac scientist uses his invention to fight… for a world of Love and Peace." He sifted through stories from his memory, carefully choosing the ones she might enjoy, stories about sacrifice, about hope, about fighting for others.
She listened quietly, her hands folded on her lap, her gaze never leaving him.
They gazed at the stars together...
"Tonight doesn't have as many stars as yesterday, huh…" Jeanne whispered, her tone tinged with the awareness of time slipping through her fingers.
"It seems so," he answered absently, his hand finding hers. Their fingers intertwined, clinging to a fragile eternity.
"Ryo… during my final moment, promise me you won't cry, okay?" She looked up at him, eyes filled with fragile hope.
"You've been by my side to this point already. If I see you cry, I'll worry. And then… I might not be able to leave." Her smile carried a hint of playful teasing, but her voice shook with the weight of her fear. She leaned against his shoulder, her warmth searing itself into him.
"Can you promise me that? That you'll continue to find happiness even after I'm gone?"
"I'll try." His reply was weak, almost broken. He didn't know if happiness was something his fate could ever allow, or if he was doomed to stand alone at the end of the world.
"Please don't give up… on finding your happiness," she whispered, almost pleading. "There is always a light in the darkness. Don't give up, Ryo."
He didn't answer. He only tightened his grip on her hand, silently vowing to never let go until he was forced to.
Then came the day.
Jeanne was bound to a cross, firewood piled high at her feet. The crowd swelled, their hatred rising like a storm.
"She's no saint guided by God! She's a witch cursed by demons!"
"She deceived us!"
"Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!"
The venom in their voices was deafening. Yet Jeanne's eyes searched through the mob until they found him, Tsutsumi, silent and unmoving, his lips never joining their cruelty.
Her heart clenched, but she smiled. Even though she hadn't wanted him to see this, she was grateful. He had kept his promise. He had stayed by her side to the very end.
The torches dropped. Flames caught, curling upward, devouring the wood. Heat surged, but her gaze never left him.
Tsutsumi's entire body trembled. Every instinct screamed at him to break free, to slaughter the mob, to tear her from that cross. But he stayed rooted, his resolve chaining him as tightly as her bonds chained her. If he broke now, all she had endured would be for nothing.
The fire climbed higher. Jeanne did not scream. She did not beg. Instead, she pressed her hands together, her voice clear, unwavering, carried by faith and love:
"My end lies here. My fate ends here. My life ends here!"
"With what remains of me, may I protect him and remain by his side!"
"O Lord, I entrust this body to Your will!"
"And let my soul stay with him, to build a world of Love and Peace!"
The blaze roared, her voice dwindling until it was swallowed by the fire.
Then, from the inferno, a small white orb rose, drifting gently toward Tsutsumi. Her spirit formed before him, glowing faintly, smiling with that same playful glimmer she always carried.
"Ryo, you promised me you wouldn't cry."
His lips trembled, his throat tight. He forced the words out, quiet and heavy, each one a wound:
"Devil never cry."
Her spirit continued to smile as her body began to disappear. "Maybe even a devil may cry when he loses his loved one."
Her spirit dissolved, flowing into his palm, condensing into an eyecon.
Kaigan! Jeanne d'Arc!
The eyecon split, reshaping into two glowing cards resting in his hand.
Form Ride: Jeanne d'Arc
Kamen Ride: Ghost
Without another word, Tsutsumi turned his back on the burning pyre. The Aurora Curtain shimmered open before him, and with heavy steps, he left that world behind, carrying her memory, her plea, and her light within him.