Does a Doll Deserve to Live a Happy Life? (Patreon)

Chapter 11: Tamamo’s Wrath, Tamamo’s Grief

The very air held its breath.

Our magic auras surged, mine a brilliant blue, and Gilgamesh’s a radiant gold.

They clashed in silence at first. A contest of will before blades.

Then, from behind me, another presence surged forth—Tamamo.

Her aura bloomed in a regal purple, elegant and commanding. It met mine, wrapped around it, and together they twisted into a stunning violet that lit the space between us like a star.

The world itself seemed to pause—watching, waiting.

Then it came.

The evening sky flashed white-blue as a gargantuan beam of azure tore through the heavens like divine judgment. It cleaved clouds apart as it fell all but unstoppable.

But it never reached its mark.

A thunderous impact rang out as countless Noble Phantasms—swords, spears, staves, and axes—erupted from golden portals, intercepting the blade midair.

Each weapon collided with perfect precision, slamming into the azure magic beam and shattering it—nullifying the partial release of my Noble Phantasm.

“Hoh… it seems you have some bite after all, mongrel,” Gilgamesh drawled from his perch, his crimson eyes narrowing. More golden portals shimmered into being behind him, then launched forward in a relentless barrage.

I shifted into a defensive stance, Balmung dancing in my hands as I deflected each incoming Noble Phantasm. Blade met blade, sparks flew, and not one made it past me—not one reached Tamamo, who remained behind me, preparing her counterstrike.

She moved with purpose—chanting quickly, gracefully—her tails swaying behind her.

A barrage of curses erupted from her mirror in the form of Ofudas:

Curse: Fiery Heaven

Curse: Frigid Heaven

Curse: Thunder

And The Bridal Fox’s Day, bathing us in a glowing healing field, pulsing with golden warmth.

Gilgamesh faltered—not from damage, but from the sudden necessity to dodge. He may have been the King of Heroes, but Tamamo possessed an EX-Rank in Curses—and his C-Rank Magic Resistance wouldn’t save him from those if even one struck true.

{Keep going, Tamamo!} I called out through our link, weaving between blades. {I’ll draw his fire. The moment you see an opening—unleash your Noble Phantasm!}

{Leave it to me, Sieg-kun~!} she chirped back, her voice tinged with resolve. {With us working together, there’s no way we can lose!}

Even as the storm of golden weapons crashed against me, I felt a grin tug at the corners of my lips.

The battle was growing more intense by the second and my Campione blood was singing.

This wasn’t just a fight. This was a trial by combat against the closest thing to a god in this war—barring Tamamo herself. And my body? My spirit? They thrived on it.

With every passing heartbeat, my Talents and Template expanded—evolving under pressure like tempered steel.

My defense tightened.

My perception sharpened.

I began to see it—every flaw in my stance, every opportunity to deflect with less effort, every subtle shift in the trajectory of a weapon before it reached me. The training with Tamamo and Kiara had laid the foundation, but nothing compared to this—the growth that came from fighting with your life on the line.

It was exhilarating.

…And that’s when I made my first real mistake.

A lesson I should’ve already known.

Never get overconfident.

Up until now, I’d been allowing some of the Noble Phantasms to skim close—too close—relying on my Armor of Fafnir to absorb any that slipped through. It had worked. Blades glanced off me without so much as a scratch, my focus saved for the strikes aimed at my vitals.

But then—

My instincts screamed.

A split second of clarity.

One of the blades I had dismissed as harmless suddenly surged with killing intent—and I only just managed to shift aside.

Too late.

“Ghk—!”

The blade sliced across my side, clean and deep. A sharp line of pain bloomed as blood spilled freely.

Because that blade… wasn’t ordinary.

It carried Anti-Dragon properties.

That’s why it had slipped past my guard like it was nothing. It bypassed the protections of my draconic blood and bit into me as if my armor were paper.

“Master! Are you alright!?” Tamamo cried out, her voice laced with fear and fury. Her spells grew faster, more intense—her mirror glowing like a miniature sun as she hurled curses with divine precision.

“I’m fine, Caster,” I growled through gritted teeth, forcing myself upright. Blood slid down my side, but I stood firm. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”

I fixed my eyes on the next wave of golden portals, expecting another barrage.

Bracing for the storm.

But the barrage… didn’t come.

Instead, a laugh echoed above us.

Not amused. Not mocking.

Delighted.

“Kukukuku... I see. So that’s it!” Gilgamesh chuckled, throwing his head back, basking in the revelation like it was a gift from the heavens. “I couldn’t quite place it before—your trick had deceived even my senses—but after that little mishap, the truth’s practically screaming at me.”

His crimson eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

“And that’s why Gram resonated so strongly earlier,” he continued, tone rich with certainty. “There are only two beings who wield a dragon-slaying blade and wear armor forged in draconic blood. Sigurd... or Siegfried.”

His gaze dropped down to me, face splitting into a wicked grin.

“You’re not the real Siegfried, of course,” he said lazily, as if stating a fact of no importance. “You’re a faker. A copy. A shadow wearing a hero’s skin.”

He said it with the smug assurance of a god pronouncing a verdict.

But I didn’t flinch. I met his gaze.

“Even a faker,” I said, voice low and steady, “has something worth protecting.”

The moment hung heavy between us.

I could already feel it, the shift.

The next wave of weapons would be different.

Blades meant to kill dragons.

I wouldn’t survive another mistake.

It was time to go all out.

I pushed aside the distant sounds of battle—roars, explosions, the titanic echoes of Saber and Berserker clashing in the background.

I felt my magic rush into Balmung, flooding it with light. The blade shimmered—no longer just a weapon, but an extension of my will.

{Tamamo.} I reached out to her through our bond. {I’m going to unleash Balmung at full power. Use the opening when his guard drops to fire your Noble Phantasm. I don’t think it’ll be enough to finish him… but it’ll give us the chance to retreat and regroup.}

{Please be careful, Sieg-kun.} Her voice rang gently in my mind, warm and unshakable. {We haven’t even gone on our first date yet.}

That brought a faint smile to my lips.

{I will.}

I stepped forward. Balmung surged with energy, igniting in a storm of azure flame, one far brighter, far fiercer than before.

“The evil dragon shall fall...”

My voice rang out across the battlefield, and the earth seemed to answer.

Gilgamesh clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Tsk. Now now… I don’t recall giving you permission to end this encounter just yet.” His voice dripped arrogance. “But if you’re that eager to die pathetically, I suppose I can oblige you.”

A portal shimmered open above him. From it dropped a single object.

A golden key.

He caught it.

Turned it.

And in an instant, the very air shifted.

The key became a sword unlike any other—Ea, the Sword of Rupture. It materialized in his grip with a hum that made the world tremble. The ground groaned. Space itself seemed to bend.

“And the world will reach its sunset...”

I continued my chant, voice unwavering, raising Balmung high above my head.

Gilgamesh’s eyes narrowed.

His grip tightened.

Ea began to spin—its core glowing a seething red, as if the fabric of reality was about to be unraveled.

“Enuma—”

“I will bring you down—”

“Elish!”

“Balmung!”

The sky split.

¾ God vs Godslayer.

Two worlds.

Two truths—collided.

=====

Saber vs Berserker — Moments Ago

Saber’s POV

Clang! Clang!

The sound of steel clashing against steel echoed through the clearing, each strike ringing like a bell.

Two figures danced in battle.

One—a knight of peerless beauty and precision, her every move honed through honor and discipline.

The other—a fallen knight, shrouded in shadow, driven not by purpose but by raw instinct and unending wrath.

Artoria’s grip tightened on her blade, Excalibur whistling through each swing as she parried another brutal blow from Arondight.

Her arms trembled—not from fatigue, but from the heartbreak beneath each strike.

‘Lancelot… why?’ she thought, sorrow tightening her chest with every clash.

She had recognized him mid-battle. There was no mistaking the man beneath the madness. The knight who once stood at her side now raised his blade against her, lost to rage and guilt.

And she blamed herself.

For not stopping him. For not saving him. For being the king who failed her knight.

Already weakened from her earlier duel with Lancer, Artoria fought on with dwindling strength. Her muscles screamed. Her breaths came sharp. Her arms trembled under the weight of every parry.

But her spirit refused to yield.

Not yet.

She could still fix all of this.

If she could just win the Grail, she could go back. Back to before she ever drew the sword from the stone. She could let someone else take the crown. Someone better. Wiser. Kinder. Someone who wouldn’t make the same mistakes she did.

Someone who could save the kingdom she failed.

But her thoughts came to a halt.

A sudden surge of mana—absurd in scale—blazed across the battlefield, cutting through the noise of her own fight.

She turned, instinct flaring.

Her eyes widened.

In the distance, where the King of Heroes stood, the strange boy—Sieg—was facing him head-on.

And between them, two forces were building.

No—clashing.

Two Noble Phantasms, fully unleashed, their power bleeding into the air and making the world tremble in anticipation.

Artoria blinked in disbelief.

‘He was holding back during our duel.’

Now that she looked back, it made sense. Sieg had shown no fatigue during their bout, even as the battle wore on. In fact… it felt like he was growing stronger, adapting with every swing.

‘He was going easy on me,’ she realized. ‘Because I wasn’t at full strength.’

“There are things about this war that you don’t know,” he had told her.

His voice echoed in her mind.

And now, she wondered:

‘Could there be truth in his words?’

Before she could reflect further, the world exploded.

Light met light.

Power met power.

Two powerful Noble Phantasms collided—

—and the result was cataclysm.

Artoria barely had time to brace herself before the shockwave hit.

Wind howled. Magic cracked. The very air screamed.

Everything around them was blown away in an instant.

=====

Back with Sieg vs Gilgamesh

“Ha… haha… he’s one tough bastard,” I muttered under my breath, a small chuckle escaping as I leaned on Balmung for support. My body ached. My lungs burned. But I was still standing.

Barely.

The smoke from our clash lingered like a curtain over the battlefield, curling and writhing in the wind. When it finally cleared, the result became clear.

A stalemate.

‘I can’t believe I wasn’t able to overpower Ea—even with Gilgamesh being weakened by his Servant status and me wielding all of Siegfried’s might,’ I thought grimly, gritting my teeth. ‘I guess they call it the Sword of Rupture for a reason.’

When the dust finally parted, Gilgamesh stood unharmed.

His golden armor gleamed. Ea remained in his hand, humming with quiet menace.

But something was different.

Gone was the smug, lazy arrogance.

In its place—rage.

Pure, unfiltered, kingly fury, like I had just spat on his throne and stole all of his treasures.

“You… FILTHY MONGREL!” Gilgamesh bellowed, eyes blazing. “You dare to live after being greeted by the mightiest of my treasures!? You should have been erased! Repent for your insolence, you faker!”

Despite the pain, I managed a weak smile.

“Sorry,” I said, voice quiet but steady. “I’ve got people waiting for me back home… so I’m gonna have to decline.”

Gilgamesh’s snarl deepened. “Di—!”

“It is YOU who will be dying today, mongrel!”

The voice cut through the battlefield like lightning and Gilgamesh froze.

His eyes widened just slightly in surprise.

“Eightfold Blessing of Amaterasu!”

Tamamo’s voice rang with divine authority, as her Noble Phantasm burst forth in a cascade of radiant golden light.

Tamamo’s Divine Mirror floated skyward, glowing like a second sun.

A circle of ofuda burst forth, surrounding the battlefield in perfect symmetry then shimmered, transforming into radiant torii gates of spiritual energy.

The stage was set.

Tamamo leapt into the air, her voice rising with divine fervor. Empowered by her Noble Phantasm and a torrent of unlimited mana, she unleashed hell.

Curses—Fiery Heaven, Frigid Heaven, Thunder, and dozens more—rained down like wrathful starlight, each one laced with her power, her fury, and her love.

“Feel the wrath of this fox maiden for daring to harm her future husband~!” she shouted, a manic grin lighting up her face. “Take that! And that! And that!”

She was unrelenting.

Magnificent.

Terrifying.

From the ground, I watched her work with wide eyes, a bead of sweat trailing down my neck.

‘...Okay. That’s a new side of Tamamo I never knew.’

Curious, I pulled up my Target Tracker app and exhaled in relief when I saw the glowing icon for Gilgamesh disappearing off the map.

“Looks like we made it,” I muttered, tension bleeding from my limbs. I also noticed that the overwhelming clash had forced both Saber and Berserker to retreat.

With that, I released my transformation and reverted to my base form.

{Tamamo. He’s gone. We should retreat while we have the chance.}

At the sound of my voice, Tamamo halted her barrage. Her Noble Phantasm faded, and she dropped lightly to the ground, hands on her hips, preening with satisfaction. Her three tails swayed behind her like a parade of smugness.

“Hah! That’ll teach that jerk to raise his blade against my Sieg-kun~” she huffed, nose in the air. “Next time, this Tamamo won’t be so kind~!”

I chuckled weakly, already walking toward her—

—when I stopped.

Suddenly, something warm spread through my chest.

I frowned.

Looked down.

And blinked.

A blade—long, thin, and cruel—was protruding from my chest, blood dripping freely down its edge and onto the ground.

“Gghk—!”

A sharp cough forced blood from my lips.

Pain flared.

Slowly, I turned.

Behind me stood a man cloaked in darkness, wearing a white bone mask—emotionless, cold, faceless.

Assassin.

“MASTER!!”

Tamamo’s voice broke full of panic, horror, rage and especially fear.

Before I could fall, a brilliant flash of light erupted behind me.

The masked figure crumbled to ashes.

The blade slid free from my chest.

My hand flew up to the wound, trembling as it tried in vain to stop the bleeding.

Strength left my body.

My knees gave way.

But I didn’t hit the ground.

Soft arms caught me.

Held me.

Cradled me.

I looked up, and saw Tamamo’s face—eyes brimming with tears, lips trembling as she spoke words I could no longer hear.

Everything was starting to fade.

My fingers moved on their own—slowly, gently. I cupped her cheek. Wiped the tears from her eyes.

And with my last breath, I whispered:

“At least… this time, I’m not alone.”

Darkness took me. My last thought being that of a Ram strangely.

=====

Tamamo’s POV

‘This can’t be happening! This can’t be happening!’

‘Please don’t die! Please don’t die!’

The thoughts looped like a desperate prayer in Tamamo’s mind, echoing with every step as she tore through the quiet streets of Fuyuki.

She moved as fast as she could without jostling the precious form in her arms. Every second mattered. Every breath.

All that mattered now was reaching the nearest portal to the Demiplane.

If she could just get there—just get to Kiara—Sieg could be saved. This nightmare could be over. It had to be over.

Tamamo glanced down at the young man cradled against her chest. His skin was pale, his breath shallow. Blood still soaked through his clothes.

Tears streamed freely down her cheeks.

She hated herself.

She knew—deep down, she had always known—that this world would turn on her eventually. She had been born an enemy of humanity, after all.

But she had dared to hope.

Dared to believe that with him—with Sieg—it would be different. That perhaps, just this once, someone would accept her. That two beings cast aside by the world could forge a happy future together, no matter what anyone else thought.

But she had been wrong.

Even with her strength partially restored, she had been useless in the moment that mattered most. And now, the one who had captured her heart—the one who had made her feel like she belonged—was suffering because of her.

Because of her failure.

Because of her karma.

If she had been at full strength…

Oh, if she had been at full strength, she would have burned this city to the ground.

Saber.

Saber’s Master.

Gilgamesh.

Berserker.

Assassin.

His coward of a Master.

She would have reduced them all to ashes.

Even if Sieg came to hate her for it—even if he never looked at her again—as long as he lived… she would endure that pain.

“Please… forgive this foolish fox, Sieg-kun,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She leaned her cheek against his forehead, her tears falling into his brown hair. “For being a terrible Servant… But I promise you, what happened today—will not happen again.”

She would protect him.

Even if she had to tear through gods and kings to do it.

Then—

A glimmer of light ahead.

The portal.

Hope surged through her chest like a final breath.

Without hesitating, without looking back, Tamamo rushed forward and stepped through—vanishing into the shimmer of magic.

Unaware of the eyes watching from the shadows.

Unaware of the presence that had tracked them both.