One step to the End

As we slowly approached the scene, the tension in the air thickened. The Nautilus remained hidden beneath the surface, gliding silently just below the waves. Through the reinforced glass viewport, we watched the chase unfold above us like a dramatic play on a water stage.

The smaller ship—its sails tattered and hull battered—zigzagged across the ocean's surface, leaving a foamy trail in its wake. Whoever was piloting it was skilled, managing to dodge each cannon blast by mere seconds.

The larger ship, however, was relentless. Its design was not merely grand—it was impossibly majestic. Gold lining traced the edges of its dark hull, and the sails bore a sigil none of us recognized. It was moving with purpose, almost as though it knew where its prey would turn before it even happened.

"Apollo-sama…" Paris whispered, eyes wide. "That ship doesn't look human. Is it really… a Servant?"

Apollo's voice was soft, but steady. "It's likely. That level of control… that presence. It's not just any Servant. Whoever commands that ship is a force to be reckoned with."

Mash adjusted her shield, her voice tense. "Should we interfere? Or… just observe?"

Fujimaru looked uncertain. "We need more information. If one of them is an ally, we can't just stand by… but if they're both enemies…"

"I'll get us closer," I said, my fingers dancing across the controls. "Stay quiet, and be ready.

The Nautilus ascended just enough for the periscope to breach the surface. With a flick of a switch, I brought up a clearer visual feed of the scene above.

As the gap between the two ships shrank, the chaos became clearer—but so did the identities of those involved.

On the deck of the pursuing ship stood a man with short, golden hair, exuding an arrogant aura even from this distance. Beside him, a woman with long, flowing purple hair calmly observed the battle, her eyes sharp and unreadable.

At the edge of the deck, a monstrous figure loomed—his body impossibly massive, towering like a living wall of muscle. With each movement, the deck beneath him groaned under the weight. His eyes burned with a primal intensity. Calling him a man felt inaccurate—that was a beast.

And behind them, watching silently with a tall spear in hand, stood a weathered warrior, his calm demeanor belying the power he radiated.

My breath caught. My expression darkened.

Jason. Medea. Heracles. And… Hector.

All on the same ship. All on the offensive.

I slowly turned the periscope, shifting my gaze toward the smaller vessel.

Despite the damage and fire, its crew stood defiant. At the helm, a woman in a pirate captain's coat barked orders, unshaken. Her confident stance and commanding voice left no room for doubt—it was Francis Drake.

Near her stood a girl with striking twin-tailed purple hair, her posture tense, yet there was a grace in the way she held herself—like a flower blooming even under fire. Her eyes scanned the battlefield with a mix of worry and quiet resolve. Despite her delicate appearance, I knew better than to underestimate her. She was no ordinary girl.

And then there was the giant beside her.

A man—no, a gentle beast—with messy white hair and a pair of twisted horns rising from his head. In each hand, he wielded a massive axe, the blades gleaming under the dim light of the cloudy sky.

His towering frame was just as colossal as Heracles', his muscular form radiating raw power. But unlike the mad titan on the opposing ship, there was something sorrowful in his gaze. A quiet pain, barely hidden beneath the surface. Every movement he made was deliberate, controlled, as if he were constantly trying to restrain himself.

Euryale. And… Asterios.

I recognized them instantly.

My hands trembled slightly as I tightened my grip on the controls, the tension in my chest rising like a tide. The air inside the Nautilus felt heavier.

"All of them… they're here," I whispered, almost as if saying their names aloud might summon them into the cabin. "Jason. Medea. Heracles. Hector… Drake. Euryale. Asterios…"

I leaned back in my seat, eyes fixed on the images through the periscope, the stormy waters churning beneath the two ships like a mirror of what was to come.

"I see now," I murmured. "This isn't just another skirmish. This is it. The final confrontation."

A moment of silence followed, filled only by the hum of the machinery and the distant thunder above the waves. Somewhere, beyond this metal hull, legends prepared to collide—and we were caught right in the middle of it.

"Everything we've done, every step that brought us here… it all leads to this."

I reached for the lever, ready to bring the Nautilus to the surface.

"This the beginning of the end."

The Nautilus rose with a hiss, cutting through the sea's surface like a predator surfacing for breath. The cold wind met the hull with a violent splash, and for a moment, the world outside was nothing but waves and wind—until we finally broke through.

I guided the periscope back into place and stood from the seat, making my way through the narrow corridor toward the main deck. The metallic floor echoed beneath my steps.

Fujimaru, Mash, and Paris were waiting for me near the hatch. Apollo, in his sheep form, rested calmly on Paris head as always, his gaze ever-watchful. They looked up as I approached, their eyes filled with concern.

I took a deep breath and began explaining.

"Those ships out there… they're not just chance encounters," I said, gesturing to the monitor where the two vessels hovered in a tense standoff. "On the larger ship, we've got Jason and Medea. Alongside them—Heracles and Hector."

Mash's eyes widened, her voice laced with realization. "Jason...? So we've finally caught up to them…"

I gave a grim nod. "Yeah. And it's worse than we thought."

Turning toward the group, I lowered my voice, the weight of the truth pressing down on my shoulders.

"They're after a Divine Spirit. Or at the very least, a Divine Servant. That's why they're targeting the smaller ship."

"So… someone divine is aboard that ship?" Paris asked, tilting his head slightly with a rare seriousness in his tone. "What do you think, Apollo-sama?"

Apollo, still perched calmly atop Paris's head, narrowed his tiny eyes. "Indeed. There is a divine presence aboard… faint, but unmistakable."

Paris looked back at me. "Do you know who it is, Caster?"

I nodded slowly, the name heavy on my tongue.

"It's Euryale."

Paris's lips parted in surprise. "Euryale…? She's a goddess, right?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "A Divine Spirit—albeit in a diminished form. But her essence is still divine. She's one of the three Gorgon sisters, born from the sea and tied to ancient myths. That alone makes her a perfect target."

Mash's expression hardened. "So they want to capture her…"

"Exactly," I said. "Jason and his crew aren't just hunting for power. As David say they're planning to offer a Divine Spirit as a sacrifice—to awaken The Ark."

That single name—The Ark—cast a heavy silence over the room, like a storm cloud looming just beyond the horizon. Everyone felt it. The weight of what was at stake. The quiet hum of the Nautilus's engine seemed almost deafening in that moment.

Apollo lowered his head slightly, his golden eyes shadowed by a rare solemnity. "Then we cannot let this continue. If The Ark awakens… if they succeed in using a Divine Spirit to power it… this world, and everything in it, will be reduced to ash."

His voice echoed with an eerie finality, as though he were already seeing that grim future unfold.

"Indeed," I murmured, my fingers tightening around the controls. "It's not just a threat—it's a certainty if we let them carry on."

I exhaled slowly, steadying my thoughts, and eased the controls forward. The Nautilus responded with a low rumble as it advanced beneath the waves, drawing ever closer to the two ships.

Through the periscope monitor, the silhouettes of the vessels grew sharper—Jason's grand ship brimming with tension, and the smaller, scrappier vessel, where Drake and her companions prepared for the inevitable clash.

"They're moments away from boarding," I said, eyes locked on the screen. "We need to Interfere soon. If we wait any longer, it'll be too late."

Mash nodded firmly. "Then we'll fight."

Paris stood upright, his expression unusually serious, while Apollo perched silently on his head.

Outside, The Nautilus was almost ready to going closer.

I adjusted the final settings, then glanced back at my companions.

"Prepare yourselves," I said. "Once we near them… there's no turning back."

With a sudden lurch, the Nautilus moving through the ocean's surface, water rushing off its metallic hull in thick sheets. The sun above cast golden light across the sea, illuminating the tense scene playing out between the two ships.

The moment we nearing them, alarms must've gone off on both vessels. I could see movement—figures scrambling, heads turning toward us in surprise. The third party had arrived, and both sides knew something had changed.

I opened the upper hatch and climbed into the open air, the salty wind whipping against my face. Behind me, Mash, Paris, and the others followed swiftly.

We stood atop the Nautilus as if it were a new piece on the battlefield's chessboard.

I watched as Jason stepped forward on the deck of his ship. His posture was rigid, and a flicker of irritation crossed his face the moment he laid eyes on the Nautilus.

He was clearly not expecting interference—especially not from us. The wind ruffled his golden hair as he squinted toward our direction, annoyance growing more visible with each second.

Beside him, Medea took a slow, deliberate step forward. Her violet eyes narrowed like a blade unsheathing, instantly recognizing the nature of the threat we presented.

She didn't speak, but the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curled slightly as if ready to summon a spell, spoke volumes.

Heracles remained still, a towering monolith of muscle and menace. His presence alone radiated enough pressure to make even the bravest hesitate. He didn't need to posture. His silence was the warning.

And then there was Hector—calm, composed, one hand resting lightly on the shaft of his spear. His gaze scanned us with a subtle sharpness, as if already calculating the path of the battle before it even began.

Jason raised a hand and pointed directly toward the Nautilus.

"Oi! Who the hell are you people?!" he barked, his voice cutting through the sea air like a whip. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up in the middle of our operation. Don't tell me you think you can play hero just because you're riding around in some fancy tin can!"

His voice dripped with irritation, but underneath it, I could sense it—uncertainty. He hadn't planned for this. Our sudden arrival had thrown off his perfect scenario.

And that meant we still had a chance to change how this ends.

I let out a low chuckle at Jason's outburst, unable to resist the irony of the situation.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.

"Who are we?" I repeated his question, voice smooth, almost playful. "Just someone who happened to be passing by… and decided to take a closer look."

I could see Jason's face twitch with irritation, his golden brows furrowing deeper. My deliberately vague answer clearly struck a nerve.

"Tch—Don't screw with me!" Jason snapped, stepping forward. "You think this is a game?!" His voice cracked across the sea like thunder. "If you're trying to act mysterious, save it! This is our operation—and you're not invited!"

Medea placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering something I couldn't hear, but Jason shoved her hand off with a frustrated motion.

His temper was boiling over, and I could tell—this wasn't the calm, calculating leader of a legendary crew. This was a man who was watching his perfect plan begin to unravel.

Still smiling, I tilted my head slightly as I responded again, this time with a colder edge to my voice.

"It's funny. You talk like someone who owns the sea. But from here, it looks like you're just another tyrant chasing power you can't control."

Behind me, Mash stood tensely, gripping her shield. Paris narrowed his eyes, and Apollo—still perched on his head—remained ominously silent.

Jason's crew was already on edge. Heracles hadn't moved, but his gaze had settled on the Nautilus with the focus of a predator waiting for its prey to make the first move. Hector's eyes flicked toward Medea, as if silently questioning whether it was time to strike.

But we had no intention of letting this devolve into chaos just yet.

The air grew heavier.

A moment of silence passed between both sides.

And the sea itself held its breath.

Right…

Now what should I do?

Attacking them directly from here… that was an option. With Artoria's Noble Phantasm, I could unleash a powerful blast—Excalibur would be more than enough to blow them away. Even if it didn't defeat them outright, it could scatter their formation, give us a temporary edge.

But then I hesitated. There was a problem.

Fighting without solid footing would be troublesome. If Jason's ship was destroyed or pushed back by the blast, they wouldn't be the only ones affected. We'd lose the battlefield entirely. There would be nowhere to stand, nowhere to maneuver. The sea was not our ally in this situation—it was a void.

And the Nautilus, the vessel beneath my feet, was far too small to act as a battleground. It wasn't built for open combat, especially not against a legend like Heracles.

I grit my teeth and ran through a hundred possible plans in my mind. There had to be another way.

A focused strike. A surgical blow to take out the most dangerous piece on the board.

Yes… if I couldn't defeat all of them, then I could at least remove the greatest threat.

My gaze shifted toward the towering figure standing silently on Jason's deck.

Heracles.

Even now, the sheer pressure he exuded was suffocating. A walking fortress of muscle and fury, a Servant blessed with near-infinite strength and cursed with Twelve lives. As long as he stood, he was the unbreakable wall in our path. The ultimate weapon of Jason's twisted cause.

If I was to do anything—it had to be him.

I slowly reached for the core of my Noble Phantasm, fingers trembling slightly as power stirred beneath my skin. The Act of Imitating—my greatest ability, the power to borrow the strength and skills of another Servant. It wasn't perfect, and it came with limits, but it was enough.

All I needed was the right choice.

Who… who could I imitate to take down Heracles?

My thoughts raced. Dozens of names flashed through my mind. Warriors. Kings. Assassins. Dragons slayer. But none felt right. Not for this.

Then—like a blade cutting through fog—a single name rose above the rest.

Emiya Archer.

A man who fought countless battles.

A hero not through birthright, but through sheer resolve.

And his Noble Phantasm—Unlimited Blade Works.

A Reality Marble.

A world of infinite weapons, tailored to counter any opponent.

Yes… that was what I needed. If I could lock Heracles inside, away from his allies, isolate him in a space of endless blades… then maybe, just maybe, I could sever those nine lives.

Even if I couldn't kill him permanently, I could delay him—neutralize him long enough for the others to win the greater fight.

My decision was made.

I clenched my fists and closed my eyes for a moment, reaching deep within. The incantation, the projection, the imitation… it all began to form.

The final battle had already begun.

And I would fight it—

Inside a world forged of steel and resolve.

The salty wind whipped around us as the Nautilus floated just beneath the waves, only its deck and conning tower visible above the surface. Our feet stood on steel, the sea beneath us calm, but the tension in the air was anything but.

I glanced at the distant ship—Jason's flagship—and then turned toward the others gathered around me.

"I've made a decision," I said, voice steady, yet filled with resolve. "We can't afford to wait anymore."

Mash stepped forward, her shield raised slightly. "What are you planning, Caster?"

I turned my gaze toward the largest figure standing on Jason's deck. A mountain of muscle. A living weapon.

"Heracles is the biggest threat. If he enters the battle, the fight becomes a nightmare. I need to take him out of the equation."

Fujimaru tensed. "You're going to fight him?"

"Not just fight—trap him."

I closed my eyes and drew in a breath, focusing as magical energy slowly began to hum beneath my skin. "I'll use My Noble Phantasm. I'm going to borrow the power of someone who can create a battlefield of their own."

Paris tilted his head. "Wait… don't tell me—"

I nodded. "I'll imitating someone that's has a Noble Phantasm that can created a Reality marble."

Apollo, still perched on Paris' head, narrowed his eyes. "A Reality Marble? That's no small feat. Once activated, You'll be alone in there."

"I know," I said. "But it's the only way. If I can lock Heracles inside even for a few minutes, it'll give us the opening we need. Jason's group relies on brute force. We take out their strongest piece, and their plan falls apart."

Mash stepped beside me. "Then we'll defend this ship and protect the others. You just focus on surviving in there."

Paris grinned. "Heh. About time things got dramatic. I'm in!"

Fujimaru nodded. "We all are. Do it."

I looked once more at the opposing ship. Jason's irritation, Medea's calculating gaze, Heracles' silence, and Hector's unreadable calm. All of them were waiting. But so were we.

"They want to awaken The Ark by sacrificing a Divine Spirit," I said grimly. "If they succeed, this world is finished."

I stepped forward, magic swirling at my fingertips. "So let's make sure they don't."

The sea roared behind us.

The sky darkened.

And in that moment, the battlefield began to shift.

The salty sea wind lashed against my face as I stood atop the Nautilus, the cold steel beneath my boots trembling slightly from the humming engine below. Our foes—Jason, Medea, Heracles, Hector—stood on the opposing ship like dark omens. And yet, behind me, my allies waited. Believed.

I could feel their eyes on me—Mash, Fujimaru, Paris, Apollo—all of them watching, trusting me to turn the tide.

And I knew what needed to be done.

Heracles wasn't someone we could fight half-heartedly. Not here. Not now.

"I'll take the monster," I said at last, my voice cutting through the roar of the sea. "You all—handle the rest."

Mash clenched her fists. "Understood."

Fujimaru nodded. "We'll keep them off your back."

Paris tilted his head slightly. "You'll fight him alone?"

I gave him a faint smile, and then nodded.

Turn around, I took one breath. Then extended my hand forward.

"Hesnin."

In that instant, the air itself seemed to still. A brilliant surge of magical energy erupted around me, spiraling upward in radiant arcs of light and steel.

The sea rippled as if recoiling from the sheer force of transformation. My body began to change—my clothes dissolving into glowing fragments, reshaping, reforging, piece by piece.

My uniform melted into black and red fabric; My hair become short white, and my skin becomes brownish.

I felt my very presence shift. My thoughts sharpened. The world felt colder. Cleaner.

I looked down at my new hands—calloused, precise, familiar yet foreign.

And when I looked back up, I no longer wore the face of Captain Nemo.

I had become Emiya.

"...So this is how it feels to become you," I murmured.

The air rippled around me as mana surged into my core, ready to be shaped, ready to be used.

I turned my eyes to Heracles—his massive figure watching, unblinking.

"Let's have a rematch," I said, as I'm smiling faintly.

And with a single leap, I launched into the sky—toward the enemy ship, toward the coming storm.

***

Author note:

I know that this chapter is terrible...

Tomorrow will be the end of the Okeanos Arc, I promise you.

Sorry I'm just not feeling so well.