A prolong inhaling of the smoke, lingering before the magus allowed to flow out of his mouth as his cynical words came out:
❝ World peace. ❞
Emiya Kiritsuru was a humorless man for the most part, despite how outrageous it sounded it was his sincere wish . A ‘hmf’ accompanied by a bitter smirk as the disheveled man elaborated – the king of knights, so proper and pristine was such a mismatch for him that the mage had to struggle to wrap his head around the notion.
❝ This world is cruel and cynical. Heroic Spirits? Chivalry cannot save the world, so it was in the past and it will be in future. There is little difference in good and evil when it comes to the method of battle, the victors claim to have pride but there is no such a thing: the battlefield is always Hell. There is no place for hope or righteousness, the flames of war will always scorch mankind. Blood will be spilled, dreams crushed as the piles of corpses will cause people to avert their gaze, such is the story of mankind. The so-called heroes fancy themselves as shining examples of mankind, her great feats bedazzling the eyes of the crowds, having their splendid legends recounted despite being butchers like those who lies in defeat, bleeding to death fated to infamy and being forgotten. ❞
A pause, the man wasn’t used to voice his thoughts – with Maiya it wasn’t necessary and Iri could never possibly understand his words; a pristine existence out of a test tube, untainted by the evils of the world. His wish is her wish only because she believed in him. Lancer, however, had witnessed countless battlefields – perhaps the king will disagree with his words, but they didn’t need to agree as long the end goal was the same.
❝ My wish… Is that this shall be the last blood spilled. A world without conflict. In short, world peace. ❞ he dropped the cigarette to the ground, stepping on it. ❝ This is my end goal, my wish. If I must shoulder all of the world’s evil to attain that and be the last butcher, so be it. ❞