Chapter Text
The source of all evil in the world felt distraught.
His rebirth had been interrupted by the bright light wielded by the last Servant of the Sword. Her Master had become aware of his impeding return and so had ordered his puppet to shatter the prize. His cocoon broken, his body spilled onto the world without form, without purpose, consuming life wantonly.
The source of all evil in the world felt weak.
He could not be wholly destroyed however, not by an Heroic Spirit he himself had sent forth. His soul had been weaved into the essence of the Grail long before, corrupting its contents fully. His strength would, given time, return he was certain. The next iteration of Heaven's Feel wouldn't be far off. He would not be denied a second time.
But the weakness lingered instead... something felt wrong. Wrong.
The source of all evil in the world felt wrong.
Something else was creeping in...
Consuming...
Usurping...
Freezing...
Cold... so cold...
The source of all evil in the world felt fear.
He could not stop it. He had the entire power of the Holy Grail at his disposal, but he could not stop it. The very core of his essence was being devoured, much like a forlorn prey having its insides feasted upon by its killer.
Torn asunder... Mutilated...
Ravaged manifold... Defiled...
Utterly broken... Ruined...
...his conscious began to unravel, gradually reverting back to that of the simple child tasked by the people of his village to burden all of their hatred, to forever carry all the evils of the world within him, to absolve them of their sins. So small, so insignificant, so frail...
The source of all evil in the world felt he was dying.
Dying...
How could the Grail die!?
He screamed.
How could evil itself die!?
He trashed.
How could he die!?
He refused.
HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!? HOW!?
The Grail's contents boiled and stirred, an ultimately futile attempt to shake off the unrelenting and inescapable entropy. The hopeless struggle of a being that could not accept this fate.
The source of all evil in the world knew these were his last moments.
Angra Manyu, known once as the Servant Avenger and now reduced to a disjointed assortment of thoughts, pleaded as he had done in a bygone age. When a mere mortal boy pleaded to the World to become the personification of all its evils. He yet held some sway. He was the embodiment of the tool of which miracles could be granted still. And so he beseeched it.
He cast his desire right as the black mud within froze solid.
Make it stop...