Shirou, Blade of Emiya

[Dunno.]

This is a self-insert, mostly self-indulgent piece of fan work and nothing else. Enjoy this garbage.

P.S: Expect random power-ups.

Chapter 1: Shirou Emiya. (15D/3M/24Y)

[Have fun! Sincerely, Dunnonia.] A youthful voice reached my ears, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"What?" Confused, I turned my head to look at my surroundings, yet found no anomalies in sight that could've caused such a noise. I was alone in my kitchen, running water being the only sound one can hear as I was currently washing the dishes. Blinking a few times, I chalked it up to my mind playing tricks and resumed cleaning the plates before placing them back at the cupboard.

After wiping my hands clean and turning the faucet off, a weak thump sounded from behind me, catching my attention. Upon facing the origin of the noise—an empty wall, my eyes trembled in fear as a wall of fire engulfed my vision, before being violently flung backwards straight into the wall by an invisible force.

"Gah!" A pained shout forced its way out of my mouth as I dropped to the ground. Opening my eyes, I caught sight of my home being ruthlessly swallowed by a sea of flames that seemed twist and writhe with a life of their own. My barely functioning brain processed the information and came up with a probable explanation: an explosion of some sort.

My ears rang a sharp tune, unable to pick up any noise from the surroundings, and my entire being was submerged in a pit of untold agony. Despite the pain my body was subjected to, I clenched my jaw, picked myself off the ground, and immediately rushed towards the back door to escape.

Emerging into the outside world, I was met with a sight that can only be described as a hellscape; the ground below were but of ash and cinder, the buildings groaned then crumbled into fine dust, the sky plagued with ominous clouds that seemed to spell out the end of the world, and pillars of flame that seared anything it touched were everywhere.

I swiftly snapped out of my bewilderment and focused on escaping the area. Trudging across the fiery landscape, my legs threatened to collapse with each step, but I refused to fall and pushed my body to its limits to move even a single centimeter forward.

Screams resonated from all around the place; a man was digging through piles of debris in search of his loved one, a young girl shouted their parents' names amidst a cage of rubble, and a bunch of others were yelling in agony as the flames swiftly consumed them.

"Please!" A desperate voice called out. Halting my steps, I faced the direction of the shout and saw a woman trapped under a concrete pillar "My baby! Please take her!" She extended her arms forward to show me a blanket wrapped around the charred form of what I can only assume to be a child at one point.

"Sorry…" I quietly said before walking past the ill-fated mother, ignoring her pleas that gradually blended into the background. Some might call me cruel for leaving someone to die, but I rationalized my decision by thinking that I, too am a victim in this scenario, trying their best to survive.

I marched through, letting the cacophony of cries go from one ear to the other. I did not know where I was heading, the place was utterly unrecognizable with all the destruction spread about. After a few minutes of non-stop walking, ignoring the pain that came with each stride, the limits of my body has finally been reached, causing it to unceremoniously drop to the scorched ground. The sensation of pain slowly left as my senses began to numb.

"Haa…" A defeated sigh left my lips as I lied on my back, staring at the dark skies above. In my delirium, I spotted a star that shone brighter than most amongst the clouds and reached out for it without much thought. For some odd reason, my limb felt light and shorter, but it was probably my imagination.

My mind and body has failed me, there was nothing else I could do to extend my life for even a second more. A series of blurry images brushed over my head—memories I've come to cherish over the years played in my mind like a feature-film, causing a small smile to form on my lips.

Accepting my fate, I took one last breath as death approached and stopped holding my arm up. However, before it could fall back down, a pair of hands took firm hold of mine as if scared it would disappear the moment they let go.

Suddenly, a burst of golden light enveloped my whole being before vanishing just as quickly as it appeared. Though confused, I swifty threw the phenomenon at the back of my mind.

Then, the voice of a man reached my ears. "Thank goodness..." Relief and happiness could be felt in his words, as to why, I didn't know. Perhaps they mistook me for someone they knew.

My eyes trained on their face; he appeared to be of asian descent with rowdy black hair, his eyes were filled with emotion as tears slid down their cheeks, the smile on his face matching the brightness of a star, and he mumbled out words of gratitude while grasping my hand.

As my conciousness flickered, one final thought crossed my mind. 'Why… are you smiling like that?'

----

"Welp, this ought to be fun." A being of pure darkness muttered. Its shape continuously shifted, but always retained a vague humanoid shape with a silky scarf draped around their neck. It picked up a book labled "Shirou, Blade of Emiya" from a weathered bookcase and made its way through the unnatural structure it resided in.

The being hummed a jolly tune as it walked across the space with swift, yet elegant steps. Eventually, it arrived at a small garden crowded with all sorts of colourful flowers.

The blackened creature sat on the chair in the middle of it all before opening the book in its grasp, eager to read its contents—a story following the life of a normal person who got reincarnated into the world of Fate/Stay Night as a certain Hero of Justice with a System on their side.

----

Through the window, I stared at the endless expanse of white and blue that incased the morning sky, until the silence was broken by the harmonious sounds of children interacting with one another in the same room as I.

Earlier on the news today, the investigation about the particular incident had finished, and the disaster that took the lives of hundreds was concluded to be nothing more than an accident due to a gas leak.

It had been a few days since then, and I had come to discover something shocking upon waking up. "I'm a child again." I whisper to myself. Specifically, a seven year old child with a head of auburn hair and a pair of amber-coloured eyes. No matter how much I tried to tell the doctors and nurses, they remained unconvinced, attributing it to me still being in a state of shock, so I gave up and tried to think of an explanation of my own—which went nowhere as expected.

I mean, how can one even begin to understand the peculiar position I found myself in? I was but a normal member of society, not a scientist. And the fact I was in Japan midway through the year 1994, could write and speak their native tongue as if I had grown up with it all my life, only complicated everything else.

"You must be Shirou, yes?" As I wallow in my own thoughts, a familiar voice pulled me back to reality. I turned, facing the same man who dragged me out of the sea of flames days ago. He wore a black trench-coat that fell just below his shin and had a briefcase on hand for some reason. Unlike when I first met him, his expression was blank, and his eyes shone weakly.

'Shirou… yeah, that's what they called me.' I didn't know why, but my name was registered as "Shirou" in their database even though I don't recall claiming my name to be as such, however, I was too preoccupied with my thoughts at the time to correct it.

"I am Emiya Kiritsugu." My eyes twitched for the briefest of moments, remembering a character of the same name from a certain franchise. "Well, little Shirou, you have a choice. You can chose to go enter an orphanage, or be adopted by me."

I stroke my chin while putting on a thoughtful expression. This man went out of his way to save a kid he barely knew about from a deadly place that could've easily killed him, so I didn't think he'll do anything bad to me, but his empty gaze and impassive face made me a tad apprehensive about accepting his offer. However, his intentions of taking care of me was genuine, that much I could tell. My physical form might've regressed back to a child, but my thought process was still that of an adult.

"Sure." I pointed my hand towards him, welcoming his offer with a kind smile. I feel a little aweful about taking advantage of his kindness, but one should take whatever they could get when thrown into a unfamiliar environment.

The kids around us stared in wonder, causing a bit of a clamour. I did not know how they feel watching another kid in the same circumstances as you be adopted so quickly, but I ignored them in favour of switching into a new set of clothing a nurse had kindly given me.

The nurse felt somewhat off; her eyes were hollow, and her movements punctual, as if she were a robot following a set of instructions. Were nurses in Japan like this? However, what caught my attention the most was the fact that Kiritsugu already had the paperwork necessary to adopt "Shirou", as I am known by at this moment, in the briefcase he possessed.

Though a bit surprised, I chalked it up as him eager to take me in, perhaps he'd started the process right after dropping me off the hospital some days ago. After putting on my new garments, which consisted of a dark jacket and pair of shorts, I followed my adoptive father outside the hospital and hopped inside a black car parked right at the entrance.

Now comfortably sat down with my seatbelt in place, Kiritsugu ignited the engine and drove out of the hospital grounds into the busy highway. He and I never spoke the whole ride, but the atmosphere between us never went awkward, thankfully.

While lazily staring out the window, watching the shifting landscape, my thoughts drifted. I'd already concluded this to be real, and not just some dream my mind had conjured while on the brink of death. I've tried hurting myself, much to the horror of the caretakers, and did everything I could to 'wake up', but all of my attempts failed, leaving me to acknowledge my current reality. As unbelievable as it was, all I could do was accept it and try my best not to fumble this chance I was graciously gifted.

Time whizzed by until the car went into a stop before a wall that wrapped around a traditional Japanese mansion, its splendor out for all to see. It was a sight to behold for sure, but my first thought was rather mundane: 'This place would be a pain to clean.'

The mansion didn't appear to be manned, there were no cleaners or caretakers on sight with the only occupants being Kiritsugu and I, so instead of feeling excited at the prospect of living in such a large house, a sense of unease went over me.

My adoptive father and I emerged from the vehicle and entered the mansion's parameters. Upon stepping into the foyer, I was greeted by an imposing empty hallway which made my eyes narrow slightly. While not abundant, an accumulation of dust could still be spotted on some surfaces, causing an itch to form in my head that badly needed to be scratched.

Kiritsugu, seeing me glare at the floor, ushered me inside with a weak push on the back before strolling past me. Broken out of my thoughts, I trailed behind him and entered a living room with a small low-table in the middle.

"Shirou, I have something to tell you something." Kiritsugu sat down on the wooden floor and declared: "I'm a mage, or 'magus' you could say."

"What do you mean?" I asked, echoing my confusion. Was he some sort of stage magician? How can such profession even let you buy a house as large as this one in the middle of a city? I know this was the past, but buying a property like this shouldn't have been easy even back then.

His face became more earnest. "I know it might sound absurd, but magic does truly exist in the world we live in. The correct term would be 'magecraft', as 'true magic' has been lost to time, the distinction between the two is pretty important."

Then, a sudden jolt of electricity flashed across my mind. My face was stuck in a state of disbelief after finally figuring out why he, and the strange happenings prior to this, seemed familiar.

Kiritsugu Emiya, a man known throughout the supernatural space as the "Magus Killer", was sitting before me, and I was none other than his adoptive son, Shirou Emiya, whom the man rescued from the disaster he, himself created —— How could I have missed such obvious signs?

'I'm in Fate?'

----

Some time later, after getting over the sudden revelation that I now reside in a world thought to be purely fictional, I stood near the kitchen in utter silence, confusion mixed with fear washing over my entire being.

'What the hell happened here?' I thought to myself while watching plumes of smoke occupy the small kitchen area connected to the living room. In the middle of it all was none other than Kiritsugu Emiya holding a spatula of all things.

He turned to me before apologizing with a stoic expression. "Ah, sorry. I was trying to cook dinner."

Seeing his attempt at conjuring a meal, my eyes twitched. I knew he was horrible at kitchen work - as it was repeatedly told in the show, leaving Shirou to do it in his stead - but this was just straight up disastrous. How can one even fail at cooking eggs so badly that it literally got burned into a crisp?

"How about I do it instead?" I kindly suggested. This man should never be placed behind a counter ever again to prevent sudden house fires from happening in the future. Here I thought finding ways to triumph over the upcoming Holy Grail war would take precedence, but it appears the world had other plans for me.

After politely kicking Kiritsugu out of the kitchen and cleaning the wreckage he had created, I took it upon myself to prepare dinner. Thankfully, I wasn't as inept as him in the art of cooking, having lived by myself for many years naturally forced me to learn how to make proper meals.

As we sat across one another at the table, eating our food in silence, I sifted through ways on how to increase my abysmal survival rate in the future, and quickly found a simple solution to that question: Magecraft.

If this body of mine remained true to my memories of the show, the farther the craft strays from the concept of a sword, the more difficult it is for me to comprehend it, leaving me with very little options. However even that wouldn't pose a problem, because unlike the original, I already knew what to do with my limited skill-set.

"Dad?" I paused, wincing a little. It still felt somewhat weird calling someone my own (mental) age 'dad', but I'll get used to it eventually. He turned, facing me with a questioning look. "Can you teach me magecraft?"

He had revealed the existence of mana earlier by using 'Reinforcement', a spell that bolstered a given target's purpose of existence, on himself—increasing his physical strength by two-folds. If I were a normal child to begin with, such phenomenon would pique my interest more than anything else, so he should've expected this outcome.

"No." He shot back immediately, firmly refusing to teach the boy any kind of thaumaturgy,

"Please?" Once again, my request was met with rejection. However, I wouldn't let such setback stop me from getting what I wanted. So for the next couple of minutes, I pestered him on teaching me the art of magecraft until he finally gave in.

"Fine, only after we finish our food." He said with a defeated sigh. I almost let out a shout after hearing his answer, but I reined my excitement in and resumed eating my food with renewed vigour.

Though a little surprised that he caved in pretty easily, you won't find me complaining about it. He'll most-likely only teach me the very basics much like the original, but as stated earlier, it posed little to no problems as long as I master it. If Shirou Emiya (from the show) can do it, then so can I… hopefully.

Later that night, after putting our dishes in the sink, he told me to sit down next to him. Placing his rugged hand on my back, he spoke with a hardened tone. "I'm telling you now, the moment you start this journey, there's no going back, you'll be putting yourself in more danger just by practicing this."

I gave him a simple nod in response. There was no way I was backing out from this as it was the only way for me to possibly avoid the many life-threatening events that are about to come. A cold shiver ran down my spine just from remembering how much strength a single Servant - a hero of past renown summoned to the modern world with the help of an artefact - possessed.

"First off, you need a mental trigger, something to recall whenever you activate your magic circuits, so I want you to imagine an action, like stabbing yourself or breaking something." Quite the morbid thing to tell a child to imagine, but now's not the time to be fixated on that particular detail.

Quietly taking in his words, I pulled my senses inward, imagining two moving swords that produced a flare of sparks upon impact with one another. I could've went for something simpler like the hammer of a gun going off, but swinging swords came more naturally to me.

Possessing Magic Circuits is how one qualifies as a magus, and are needed to employ any form of modern magecraft. It is connected to one's soul and cannot be altered in any way; once destroyed, it remains as such for the rest of one's life. From what I could remember, Shirou Emiya is said to had 27 of these circuits—which was higher than average (20).

Kiritsugu's hand became warmer, followed by the prickling of my skin, then a wave of electricity abruptly spread across my body, causing me to clench my teeth, but the sensation disappeared shortly after. From deep within my very essence, I felt something move in tandem with my thoughts; an intangible force that took whatever shape I wanted it to.

As I drew steady breaths to familiarize myself with the odd feeling persisting all across my form, a translucent screen with written text suddenly appeared before me, startling me somewhat.

[Your Magic Circuits has been opened]

'What?' I stilled, gazing at the interface before me. Is this what I think it is? A tool to aid me in my journey in this world filled with danger and opportunity?

"You alright?" Seeing Shirou's stupefied expression, Kiritsugu asked worriedly after taking his hand off the boy's back. He'd heard that some children went into shock after opening their Magic Circuits for the first time, and he hoped this wasn't the case for his adoptive son.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just a little surprised." I replied calmly to erase his concern. Throwing a swift glance at his face, it appears that he couldn't see the interface that just popped up, saving me the effort of explaining what it was.

Nodding at my words, Kiritsugu told me to head straight to bed for tonight, saying that he'll continue my lessons on magecraft tomorrow after I get used to the mysterious feeling.

END.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 2: System.

In my grasp was a kitchen knife the length of my entire forearm. Some might say giving a knife to a 7 year old is irresponsible—and they would be right, but Kiritsugu knows I can handle myself. And god forbid that man be allowed inside a kitchen, he'll just burn everything down without even doing anything.

With a thought, a surge of magical energy covered the sharp object before breaking down into wisps of light just as quickly. I winced at the sudden flood of information being inserted into my brain; its manufacturing process, material composition, and entire history before & after its creation, played like a film inside my head. The amount of detail being crammed into my head could easily incapacitate the average person, but not me.

[Skill 'Structural Analysis' has leveled up]

A translucent screen appeared before me. Upon reading its contents, a smile creeped its way onto my face, before dismissing the interface with a wave of my hand. It wasn't necessary as the System functioned with my thoughts alone, but I still did 'cause why not.

Sheathing the knife, I stepped off the stool I used to reach the counter top and returned to the living room. It had been an entire week since my Magic Circuits were opened, and Kiritsugu still remained in the dark about my newly acquired powers. I pondered about telling him at first, but ultimately decided not to.

After lowering myself on the floor, a single word rolled off my tongue: "System."

———

-Shirou Emiya-

Wanderer of worlds.
- An entity who've broken through another reality.

[You are gifted a System to aid in your journey]

Sword Incarnation.
- A sword given the form of a human.

[Boosted learning efficiency with 'sword' related skills by 800%. Lessened learning efficiency from any other form of magecraft unrelated to a 'sword' by 400%.]

Bearer of Avalon.
- You, who've become one with the sheathe of Excalibur, are blessed with great vitality.

[Increases Vitality by 3 per level up, and amplifies health regeneration by 800% for long as the Player has Avalon equipped.]

Saber-face.
- Given by an entity beyond Man's understanding for the fun of it.

[Those who possess this will bear a great resemblance to none other than Saber.]

Level: 3

STR: 0.7
VIT: 9.3
AGI: 1
MAG: 0.8
Points: 6

Skills:
Cooking (D - 1) - Reinforcement (E - 3) - Structural Analysis (E - 2)

Reality Marble:
Unlimited Blade Works.

Quest:
1,818 days remaining until the next quest.

———

A videogame-like interface, one that's invisible to everyone but myself, answered my call. Not in a million years did I expect to have a System after being reincarnated as Shirou Emiya of all people, but here it was. Like a child on Christmas eve, giddiness lingered over me despite spending an entire week familiarizing with it.

I went over this many times before, studying its features and understanding its effects on my entire being. First of: my body still functioned like normal; sleeping doesn't wisk away any injuries I've sustained, nor does consuming food quicken my regeneration. Second: a point in any parameter corresponds to a single person's. Meaning I, a seven year old, could easily outlast 5 people in an endurance race thanks to Avalon, the Everdistant Utopia.

As for how it was functioning at its maximum capability despite being separated from its rightful owner, King Arthur, I did not know. It probably had something to do with the System's mechanics if I were to guess.

'Skills' were self-explanatory; my abilities and mastery over them. [Saber-face] made my eyebrows rise, why in God's name is it there, was the almighty being who brought me just bored? Anyways, the 'Quest' at the very bottom would remain a mystery until 5 years later, so I can't do much except wait.

While recalling everything I knew about the System, the sliding door leading to the hallway opened, revealing Kiritsugu standing behind it carrying a folder and a small bag in his hands. He acknowledged my presence with a simple nod, to which I returned in kind, before placing the items on the table.

"What's that?" I spoke first, expressing my curiosity.

After making himself comfortable on the cushion, he replied while pushing the bag across the desk. "A new semester is starting in a few days, so I enrolled you to a nearby school and bought everything you needed."

Opening the bag, an arrangement of school supplies could be found inside neatly packed together. A groan almost escaped my lips after seeing them. The idea of reliving school irked me, but there wasn't much I could do to avoid it. I pushed the items aside with a sigh of acceptance, stood up from my seat, and strode towards the kitchen area.

"I'll start preparing lunch, are you fine with rice and omeletes?" I asked, yet received no response. I turned and saw Kiritsugu's unmoving form, a layer of mist seemed to cover his eyes. "Dad?"

Snapped out of his reverie, my adoptive father answers after a short pause. "Oh, sure."

Hearing his delayed response, my lips threatened to curve downward. Was the curse inflicted on him by the source all evil - Angra Mainyu - already taking a toll on him this early on? A weight pressed against my shoulders, causing them to slump. Despite my newfound ability, there wasn't much I could do to avoid his death. Avalon might help, but I doubt it'll do much apart from delaying the inevitable.

In the midst of preparing our afternoon meal, a System notification broke me out of my depressive thoughts.

[Skill 'Cooking' has leveled up]

'How in the—didn't it just rise a rank this morning?' One of the things I've had trouble wrapping my head around for the past few days was the fact that my 'Cooking' skill leveled up faster than my other skills. Why can't the others be that quick? Was this some sort of joke?

After eating lunch with Kiritsugu, I emerge from my home with a small box in my hand containing some food I've prepared prior. I left the periphery and stopped at a crosswalk, and after checking both sides of the road, making sure no heavy-vehicles blind side me to another world, I briskly crossed and entered a familiar residential house I've been visiting for the past few days.

Upon entry, an old man with whitening hair and a robust build for someone his age came into view. He was sitting on a wooden chair while his gaze ran through the newspaper in his grasp. The heels of my shoes produced a noise with each step, catching the man's attention. Hearing my approach, he lowered the papers and glared my in direction, a deadly glint flashing across his eyes. After seeing who it was that neared however, the threatening air around him was heavily subdued.

"Oh, young man. You're here again." He greeted the boy with a nod before pulling his eyes back at the newspapers, having grown used to the child's sudden unannounced visits. "Do you ever get tired of this, helping an old man like me?"

"Hello Soichirou," I bowed slightly then casually replied, "not really, and is it wrong to do so?" I then placed the food container atop the table beside him and unwrapped it from its case. Unable to refuse the food's delicious aroma, he neatly folded the newspaper and took the box off the desk.

He devoured the meal like a starved beast, gaining a chuckle from me. The man before me was Tanaka Soichirou, a veteran who survived World War II before peacefully retiring in Fuyuki. I met him some days after settling into town, and it was through him that I discovered something important. As my growing anticipation reached its peak, a screen appeared in front of me.

[You have completed a side-quest]

A smile captured my lips upon seeing the System notification. I had learned about the existence of "side-quests" after I had cooked way too much food one morning and decided to hand it to Tanaka, who lived nearby and was coincidentally hungry at the time.

I went through a lot of trial and error figuring out the mechanics of these side-quests; ways to trigger it, and how to complete them. It was quite a simple system really, all I had to do was figure out what a person was having trouble with and provide a solution or finish the task for them, and my reward for doing so was experience points with its amount in accordance to the objective's difficulty.

For the next few days after that, I've done nothing but run around town, offering my assistance to anyone I've spotted encountering a problem to the best of my abilities, netting me with enough EXP to level up twice in just 2 days. Tanaka was one of the people who constantly gave me side-quests, providing a steady stream of experience points for me to harvest.

At first I felt bad at taking advantage of the old man's inability to cook for himself, then later realized what I was doing wasn't even harmful in the slightest, rather the exact opposite. He's received perhaps some of the best food he's ever had - his words not mine - for free, while I grow stronger in exhange, a fair trade in my opinion. Some people I've met around town had even given me some treats after recognizing my face, which I took without shame. An adult I might've been, but free treats were free treats.

"You know, kid," Tanaka gulped down the last parcel of rice inside the lunchbox and spoke to me, "Kiritsugu is really lucky to have a child as bright as you."

I let out a stifled giggle at his comment. If you consider having a broken child without an identity of his own, merely following the footsteps of the person he admired, which the original Shirou Emiya most certainly was, then I suppose Kiritsugu Emiya is a lucky man. Now however, with me at the helm, things wouldn't go as fate instructed it to.

----

The morning breeze brushed past my face as I stared at the monolithic structure that loomed a dozen or so meter from me. The chatter of children and adult alike flooded the surroundings, their voices blending into a mix of laughter and excitement as they waved goodbye to one another. At the moment, I was standing alone before a large metal gate which lead to the school my adoptive father had enrolled me in. Speaking of, Kiritsugu couldn't see me off unfortunately, but it mattered little to me.

I entered and walked into the enourmous gym that's the size of a basketball court the preschool of all things possessed, went through the arduous task of staying awake during the entrance ceremony, then entered the bustling halls of my new school and was immediately assaulted by a gaggle of kids asking questions about my unique appearance. Auburn was a rare hair colour in Japan, especially at a time when foreigners were few and far between.

Fairly certain the chances of you finding a ghost was higher than spotting someone who came from another country. Japan during the mid nineties were quite apprehensive towards anyone not of their ilk, but did not treat them harshly and gave them the minimum amount of respect.

It took the majority of my remaining will power to not tell them to screw off. I deftly weaved through the crowd of curious children and headed straight towards my classroom which was just around the corner. Around 15 other kids around my age were already inside, talking about various topics with one another.

My entrance went unnoticed, which I was grateful for, I'm afraid I might just start saying the most traumatizing stuff these toddlers had ever heard if they gang up on me once again. There were no desks specifically assigned to me, so I just took the empty seat at the very back and hoisted my bag at the side before sitting down.

Naturally, I felt out of place. I was a functioning member of society before waking up as Shirou Emiya, while my peers were talking about various television shows, favorite toys, and whatnot—acting like proper 7 year olds. I simply sat in the back and stared wistfully at the cloudless blue sky, plans for the imminent future brewing in my head.

Soon enough, after half an hour of waiting, a teacher dressed in casual garments came into the classroom and introduced herself to the crowd, then encouraged us to do the same with a kind smile of her face. Honestly, their names disappeared to the deepest parts of my brain the second they appeared, forever forgotten till the heat death of the universe.

Next, they spoke of their aspirations; some wanted to be astronauts, musicians, or professional sports players, the usual stuff kids wanted to be but failed to achieve later on in their life.

Truth be told, I could not be bothered to remember any of them. Disassociating myself might be the best course of action so I could focus more on training myself. Though my anti-social attitude might land Kiritsugu a few phone calls here and there from the school, my safety came first and foremost.

----

A young girl dressed in crimson passed through the busy halls with swift and elegant steps, an air of nobility shrouded her form, preventing anyone from halting her gait. Her hair, black as the night itself, were tied into twin-tails which complimented her soft features.

Rin Tohsaka, the lass in red, entered the large garden connected to the cafeteria with her gaze locked in front of her, silently passing by her fellow schoolmates who were interacting with each other.

Upon passing a certain tree however, her stride came to a screeching halt. Rin's teal eyes widen by a small margin as she felt an intangible force crawl up her skin. As the sole successor of the Tohsaka family's magecraft, she was taught in the art of thaumaturgy from a young age and was quite familiar with the peculiar sensation.

'A magus?' Rin thought while training her gaze in the direction of the strange phenomena, which felt awefully similar to a magus operating their magecraft. What were they doing inside a preschool of all places? she asked herself, and came to an answer immediately after; a rogue magus had probably kidnapped a child attending this school to conduct their sick experiments to.

Magi (plural of Magus) were an odd—nay, deplorable bunch, going so far as to commit atrocious acts to further their research on magecraft, indifferent to the lives they've ruined. And as the second owner of Fuyuki - a title passed onto her after her father, the previous owner, had perished - she had to enforce her authority and keep any rogue magus from creating chaos in her territory.

Steeling her nerves, she switched directions and went towards the origin of the disturbance to investigate. However, instead of her worst fears coming to life, what she found was rather mundane.

"You need something?" A boy with a head of red hair asked in a monotone voice, his eyes flashed with a hint of recognition for a brief moment upon seeing her appearance. He was in a seated position, back resting against the sturdy tree, with a pair of chopsticks stuck betwixt his fingers.

"You…" Rin looked down at the item in his grasp—a pair of lunch boxes filled with an assortment of home-cooked meals that released a delectable scent, making her mouth water.

"You want some?" The boy spoke after seeing her stare at his meal - breaking Rin's train of thought - and extended the container in his hand towards her. "Take one, I don't mind."

"Can I?" She responded, wholly tempted by the sweet aroma. 'No wait, what am I doing!' She quickly snapped out of her trance and asked the boy: "You, who are you!"

The redhead merely raised his brows at her question before dropping his arm, calmly placing the lunch box atop his lap, and shifted his legs to a more comfortable position.

"Aren't you supposed to introduce yourself first?" He returned with a grin that irked her more than she thought for some unknown reason. She stilled upon registering his words, a bit embarrassed by her blunder. She was raised better than this, how can she make such a simple mistake?

"I-I am Tohsaka Rin from class A-1." she said while planting her hands on her hips, trying her best to project an image of superiority, intentionally ignoring the stuttering of her voice. The boy was utterly unimpressed by her act, finding it amusing more than anything.

"Emiya Shirou, class B-1. Nice to meet you, Tohsaka." The young girl recognized the name, he was one of the smartest bunch in the whole school, quite mature for his age, and was favoured by many teachers. "So you want one or no?" He said, pushing the savory delight right in front of her once again.

Rin was about to refuse when her stomach let out a loud rumble in protest of her thoughts, causing Rin's face to be dyed cherry-pink with imaginary steam wafting off her head.

"Don't laugh!" She exclaimed, sending the boy a glare that promised violence, completely forgetting about her purpose of coming here in the first place.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Shirou openly chuckled, fueling Rin's piling embarrassment. Deep in his mindscape, he desperately fought off the urge to ruffle the young girl's head.

She let out an audible "Hmph!" before swiftly turning around and walking away without taking a piece of the boy's food despite his openhanded offer.

"Your loss," he shrugged, "you should be more honest next time!" The redhead hollered, his voice echoing throughout the coutyard. In response, the girl in red glowered in his direction just as she was about to turn a corner in. As Rin disappeared from the boy's sight, he let out a relieved sigh.

"That was close... I did not expect her to be here." Shirou whispered to himself while staring at his lunch box. The idea of him being the same preschool with none other than Rin Tohsaka, one of the 3 heroines from Fate/Stay Night, never crossed his mind. So it caught him by surprise when she decided to appear out of nowhere.

Throughout their entire interaction, a cold sweat trickled down his back. The Tohsaka heir had almost caught him using magecraft, but thankfully, he managed to pull the conversation elsewhere before she noticed anything odd. Children are generally pretty easy to distract with other things.

He lifted his legs, revealing a pair of sharp sticks hidden underneath, something most people would discard if found on the side of the road. However, these weren't ordinary tipped sticks, but deadly weapons capable of penetrating flesh with little effort.

How can a twig do so? some may ask. The answer was quite simple—magecraft.

[Skill 'Alteration' has leveled up]

A weak smile made its way across Shirou's lips, his excitement about leveling up one of his skills dampened by the fact he almost got found out due to his carelessness.

Altercation, the ability he'd successfully learned earlier today, as the name suggests, lets him transform and reshape any object within his grasp to however he sees fit. Much like Structural Analysis, Alteration was a skill that stemmed from the only magecraft Kiritsugu had ever taught him; 'Reinforcement'.

He rejoiced at the amount of skills he's picked up over a short time frame. All that was left now was a single skill to complete Shirou Emiya's original skill-set, that being 'Projection', or 'Gradiation Air' as some called it. It was a practice involving the materialization of an object based on the caster's imagination.

While it might sound powerful at a glance, the summoned object would shatter if struck or once a certain amount of time had elapsed, so most magi deemed it useless. With Shirou Emiya's Reality Marble however, Projection became capable of replicating even the most powerful of weaponry mankind had ever seen.

'Honestly, if not for the System, I doubt I'd even have half the skills I have now.' When he first started learning Reinforcement, he struggled to even comprehend the process in manifesting it, until the System registered it as a skill, that is, flooding him with enough knowledge to be considered an amateur of the craft. And with each level up, even more information about the specific ability enters his mind, filling in the blanks.

The System he possessed made learning things way easier, and Shirou was forever grateful for its existence.

"Well, let's finish this up." Shirou Emiya quickened his pace and finished eating his food a few minutes later before making his way back to his classroom.

END.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 3: A withering flower.

"Shirou… is it ready yet?" A young woman's tired voice sounded from the living room.

"In a moment, so stop whining." I replied while keeping my hands busy. They danced between countertops, deftly chopping vegetables with practiced precision. The sizzle of onions hitting the hot pan greeted me as I added them, followed by a medley of garlic and peppers.

As the sauce bubbled and thickened, I turned my attention to the main course. Tender cuts of chicken sizzled on the grill, releasing a tantalizing scent that made mouths water. With a flourish, I plated the dish, arranging the colouring vegetables around the succulent chicken.

With a satisfied smile, I dropped down the stool and carried the plates to the table, where a young woman with short brown hair in a high school uniform awaited. As I placed the dish down, her eyes lit up with anticipation, like that of a tiger about to pounce on their prey.

[Skill 'Cooking' has leveled up]

I dismissed the System notification and sat down across from the girl, who took her share with a bowl of rice already in her hands before I could even settle down. She was brimming with energy, her previously depressive mood was nowhere to be seen.

"Thanks for the food!" The young woman exclaimed, clapping her hands together. As the teen eagerly munched down on the fruits of my labour, I, too started feasting, but with much more restraint; eating at a much slower pace.

While doing so, I threw a swift glance at my companion. The girl was none other than Taiga Fujimura, surrogate older sister, future legal guardian of Shirou Emiya, and most important of all, the granddaughter of Raiga Fujimura—the head of an old Yakuza group situated in Fuyuki.

Kiritsugu introduced me to her over a month ago, saying that she was the family of a friend of his, and ever since then she's been visiting me on the regular to eat breakfast. I couldn't blame her, really. If one were to taste the dishes I've made, everything else would seem bland and uninteresting.

Albeit short, our time spent together had been nothing but fun and enjoyable, so I've grown quite attached to her. I welcomed Taiga's presence as much as I do with Kiritsugu's. Soon enough, the two of us finished our food and placed the plates in the sink to be cleaned.

"Ah, that hits the spot." She comments while patting stomach, a content smile plastered on her face. "You know Shirou, you should totally open a restaurant in the future."

"Perhaps, I just might." I answered out loud as my thoughts stirred. 'If nothing ruins my plans for the future, maybe I could.' I turned the faucet off, carefully stored the clean plates, then left the kitchen area only to find Taiga on the wooden floor, slipping into a blissful slumber while muttering incoherent words to herself.

Stealing a glance at the clock stuck against the wall, I spoke. "Hey, Taiga. It's half past 7 already, you better get going if you don't want to be late for school."

"Gah!" She immediately shot up to her feet before grabbing her bag and rushing towards the foyer in undue haste. Her next words made me giggle a bit; "Your food is just way to good, Shirou. I thought I entered heaven for a second!"

I joined her at the entrance and watched in amusement as she struggled to put on her shoes. After finally inserting her feet in, she opened the sliding door and walked into the front yard. She turned, motioning towards me to convey her goodbyes. "Well, see you later, Shirou! Don't go accept candies from random strangers, alright?"

A warm smile spread across my lips as I returned a wave of my own. "I should be the one telling you that with how much of an airhead you are. Be careful out there."

She disappeared into the distance a short while later, leaving me alone inside my not-so humble abode. A sigh escaped my lips upon reaching the living room once again, seriously, this place is way too big for my taste. It especially felt even more empty when my adoptive father, the only other occupant of the house, was absent for the next month or so.

Kiritsugu said he simply had some unfinished business back in Europe, but I knew it wasn't that simple. He was undoubtedly trying his best to rescue his daughter, Illyasviel, from the Einzbern family. And he would repeatedly fail until his body deteriorated due the curses ingrained onto it, depriving Kiritsugu of his ability to employ magecraft and weakening him greatly.

As for me, school had been suspended for the next 3 days, something along the lines of pipes being broken—the reason already disappeared from my mind. The only thing I took out from this was that I had more time to master my magecraft and harvest EXP from random strangers.

Unknown to Shirou however, Rin Tohsaka, after sensing the presence of a magus, decided to postpone school activities using her authority as the Second Owner in order to investigate it, but she would find nothing but disappointment in the future.

"Well, I've got nothing better to do." Changing into a more comfortable set of apparels consisting of a red sweater and dark shorts, I left my home and went to the market to assist anyone I could find in order to complete side-quests. At the moment, only about a dozen or so experience points were needed in order for me to graduate from the fifth level, and I was hoping to accomplish it by today.

----

"Just place it over there, Shirou." A man with jet-black hair directed me to a corner. I followed his instructions and gently planted the cardboard box in my arms atop another.

The very second the package left my hands, a transparent partition appeared before my eyes, signaling the end of a side-quest, which was followed up by another screen that I was most eager to see.

[You have leveled up]

'Yes!' My mind raced. It had been some time since I've begun helping people out, and my level had finally risen.

As it was early in the morning, there were still some people that were opening their shops, and I was there to aid them no matter how small it was. Need help cleaning your store front? or perhaps some trash needed to be thrown out? You bet I'm helping. Even something as little as arranging furniture rewarded me with a bit of experience points, so I did them since it literally takes no time to do so.

"Good work, Shirou. That's all for today." The same man entered the scene with a friendly smile on his face. "You should take a break, I don't wanna be the one who gets blamed if you all of the sudden dropped dead due to exhaustion."

"I'm good, I can easily go for a few more hours." I casually replied. Oh boy, if he only knew how much I eclipsed him in pure stamina. With the amount of points Vitality currently had, I could continue working for many hours straight without taking a single break.

"Well okay, if you want, go take a beer from—" His next words failed to manifest as he noticed a young woman dressed in green appear behind the red-haired boy's back. A look of terror quickly spread across his face upon recognizing who it was.

I turned my head, facing the new addition to our conversation. A ring could be found fitted on one of her fingers and a similar one could be seen on the man's, signifying their relationship.

"What were you going to give him, dear?" She stood at the elevated doorway, a hint of madness whirling within her eyes as she looked down at her significant other.

"Uh," he paused for a moment before squeaking out a single word: "beer?"

"You are giving a child… beer. What are you thinking?" A frown marred her otherwise beautiful face upon hearing his honest answer. An air of oppression radiated off from her as she crossed her arms below her chest.

"Go man the register, now." She commanded, to which her partner obeyed without asking questions, lest he suffer her unbridled wrath. After seeing him off, she then turned to me with a different aura altogether. Her features had softened, and her eyes no longer sharp as a blade.

Gone were the crushing air surrounding her being, and was instead replaced by a motherly presence that brought safety and warmth to anyone near it. Honestly, it was scary how she could switch from one to another so seamlessly without any prior indication.

"Are you alright, Shirou? He didn't make you do anything too much for you, did he?" She worriedly asked while giving my form a once-over. Unbeknownst to her, I could probably win a fist-fight against most adults as I am right now, so her worries were unwarranted, but she didn't need to know that of course.

"Don't worry, he didn't. And please don't be too harsh on him, I was the one to wanted to help." I replied with a bright smile to ease her concerns for my well-being.

"You're such a kind child, aren't you?" The woman took out a small food container from God knows where and handed it to me. "Here, take this. Don't forget to eat or you'll grow up thin and skinny, alright?"

Accepting her gift, she then gently caressed the top of my head, which I did not mind. It still annoyed me at certain times, but I was gradually getting used to my physical age and how people treated me because of it.

With that, I left the couple's store, was kindly greeted by a lot of people, and made my way towards the nearby park then settled down on a wooden bench. My legs swayed back and forth, humming joyously as I opened the plastic container—which bore an assortment of freshly prepared sandwiches. One of them quickly found its way into my mouth, a small bite having been taken out of it.

While indulging myself, my eyes caught sight of a young girl's sleeping figure below a large tree. She slumbered in a seated position, her form gently slanted to the side, resting against the sturdy trunk for stability. She possessed a head of silky purple hair, donned a simple muted dress, and looked a year younger than me.

Out of the blue, my chest begun to twist in pain before disappearing just as quickly. My vision refused to process anything else apart from the child's figure.

Unable to hold my curiosity any longer, I slid off my seat, walked right in front of her slumped body, and lowered myself to the ground. My approach produced a noise loud enough to be captured by the girl's senses, causing her mind to jolt awake.

Stirred from her sleep, she slowly opened her eyes to reveal a pair of amethyst-coloured irises that stared back into mine. Upon closer inspection, I notice that her gaze appeared listless, as if a layer of mist clouded her vision.

"Hello there, are you alright?" Unconsciously, my voice came out rather tender. For some reason I could not put my finger on, a sense of protectiveness overwhelmed me.

The girl continued to stare into my eyes instead of providing an answer, forcing me to act in order resume the conversation. I placed the sandwiches between us and incentivized her to take one. "Go on, take one. I don't mind."

She tilted her head slightly, looking a the box with curiosity for a while, before reaching out to pick one. She placed the food next to her mouth then took a small bite, and to my surprise, a hint of life flared from within her blank eyes before swiftly dissipating into nothingness, causing my chest to knot tightly.

She took another bite, but to my disappointment, not a smidgen of light appeared within her gaze. I patiently waited for her finish her sandwich before saying; "I'm Emiya Shirou, you are?"

After a minute of silence, she opened her mouth to speak. "I'm Toh—" she stopped before correcting herself, "Matou… Sakura."

A frown threatened to replace the smile on my lips. Truthfully, I had my suspicions, but hearing it directly from her caused an even heavier weight to grapple onto my heart. I dropped my head, glaring at the flowing grass beneath while biting my lower lip.

She was Sakura Matou, one of the main heroines of the story, and was perhaps the saddest character throughout the series, undeserving of the suffering she had went through. Sakura had originally been part of the Tohsaka family, but was given to the Matous by her father at a young age, essentially abandoning her, and forcing the poor girl into a life of untold pain and misery due to the machinations of Zouken Matou.

"I see," I raised my head and looked at Sakura, "oh, you have some bits on the corner of your mouth, let me get rid of them."

I pulled out a handkerchief from my pocket and cleaned the foodstuff off her face while doing my best rein in the rage bubbling within me. She didn't react to my sudden physical touch, merely staring at me with a mix of apathy and confusion.

"Hey, how about we play together at my house? It's pretty cozy there." People would've taken my words differently if I were an adult talking to a child, my next actions evermore so; I did not wait for the purple-haired girl to answer and rose to my feet, wrapped my hand around her's, then gently pulled her up to stand.

Sakura was startled to say the least, yet did not do much to separate from my hold. What I was about to do was literally kidnapping, but I could not care any less, my mind was occupied with nothing but thoughts of rescuing the ill-fated girl.

Keeping our hands intertwined with one another, I turned and started walking with Sakura in tow, who offered little to no resistance to my pull. My actions were slow and steady, as if she were a delicate piece that would shatter at the slightest touch.

Emerging from the park, the two of us crossed many streets and passed through various crowds. Along the way, I could not help but throw a glance at everyone who neared, in fear that one of them would suddenly jump and take away the frail girl at my side.

Thankfully, we arrived at the Emiya residence without any problems—well, apart from the weird and expectant looks some of the adults who knew me were giving, there was nothing to worry about.

The entrance was clean and tidy, not a speck of tarnish was visible. Seeing this, a sense of pride swelled within me. It was a herculean task and a half to clean the entire mansion by myself, with a child's height no-less, but the end result was all worth it. Besides, the intense labour did wonders in increasing my stats.

Reaching the living room, I told Sakura to get comfortable however she liked and opened the television to occupy her mind for the time being, while I made my way towards the kitchen with shaky steps. It was incredibly idiotic of me, a completely irrational decision—I knew that, but my mind could not think of anything else at the moment.

The moment I decided to help Sakura, a scythe loomed over my shoulders, primed to lop my head off at any moment. Alas, I had revealed my existence to Zouken Matou, Sakura's adoptive grandfather and the man behind her torment. His main body - a worm he'd transferred his soul into via magecraft - should have already been planted beside Sakura's heart, giving me no choice but to confront the old maggot himself when he makes an appearance in the future.

'I should've thought this more thoroughly…' A whirlwind occupied my head at the time, preventing me from forming a coherent thought. There was a myriad of ways to handle this situation if I only thought more rationally, but there was no going back now.

To remove the turbulent thoughts forming in my head, I started preparing the best meal I could feasibly create with my current skills for the two of us to eat. With practiced hand, I seasoned an arrangement of mackerel fillets with a blend of herbs and spices before placing them over lit stove, the hiss of the fish echoing in the room.

With a gentle clatter, I transferred the golden-brown fillets onto a large platter and turned to the table where Sakura sat, who watched my actions with slight interest, then laid out the mackerel with care. She stared at the food for a moment, taking in the delicious aroma, then shot me a look as if asking for permission to continue, to which I positively gestured.

Shoving a piece of mackerel into her mouth, vitality appeared within her languid gaze which lasted for a whole second before going away. She ate slowly at first, but gradually increased her pace and finished her meal at the same time as I did.

As the night chased away the sun, blanketing the sky with darkness, Sakura pulled her attention away from the TV screen and tried to return back to that abominable place she called a home, but reluctantly stayed over for the night after a short discussion with me. More than happy to accommodate her, I lead Sakura to an empty room situated beside mine and gave her a futon to sleep on.

Later inside my room, I sat on the floor with my legs crossed, a thoughtful look on my my face. My first idea was to contact Kirei Kotomine - a priest of the Church - and ask for help on this matter, but immediately tossed that idea overboard. He would pose even more of a problem if he catches a whiff of my existence, that emotionless man wanted nothing more than cause pain to people.

An hour later, my mind all but failed to come up with a plan of action, causing me to drag my hands down my face in utter exasperation. With a defeated sigh, I ceased my current thoughts, deciding to leave it up for tomorrow, then crashed into bed. For now, there was nothing I could do other than hope for the best.

I gazed to my left, staring at the thin wall separating my room from Sakura's. "I'll keep you safe… I promise." I made a silent vow before entering a deep slumber.

----

On the other room, Sakura rested peacefully on her bed, blankly looking at the ceiling with her gem-like eyes. Unlike the pit of worms below the Matou manor, where Zouken Matou told her to lie inside of daily, the soft matress underneath her back was heavenly. It wasn't painful, much more comfortable, and there was not a single grub on sight to breach her insides or emerge from it.

Despite staying at a complete stranger's home, she was calm, and perhaps a little glad by this development. She had wanted to escape that chasm of filth, scream out for help, but she knew nobody would offer a hand to someone unclean as her. What would happen if this boy, Shirou Emiya, find out the truth about her? She was afraid that he might leave her like everyone else, dwindling what little hope she had left.

When they first met on that park, she could see it; deep within his amber eyes, the desire to save her shone brighter than everything else. 'But why?' She asked herself. She was a failure, even her own father abandoned her, what does he see in her that compelled him to do what he did? It was probably a lie; the concern he showed, the smile he sported, he must've showed that to everyone, she wasn't anyone special.

Truthfully, she began to think that this might not even be real in the first place, perhaps she was still stuck inside of that deplorable pit, being indoctrinated by her grandfather, and had merely started hallucinating to escape from the pain.

Even if this were indeed a dream, Sakura hoped for it to never end.

END.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 4: Training.

The bell sung its melodic tune, signaling the end of today's school activities. Thankfully, I wasn't on cleaning duty, so I was allowed to leave immediately. Many of the students barreled out of the gates and ran into their guardians, while I continued walking without giving any of them a smidgen of attention.

My pace gradually increased with each corner I turned. My steps were slow and steady at first, but it eventually turned into a full-blown sprint the moment my figure was out of everyone's sight. For some odd reason I could not put my finger on, a foreboding feeling washed over my being, telling me to rush back home this instance.

I surged through secluded alleyways, vaulted over obstacles while doing my best to remain undetected, and arrived at my house a minute later. Having the combined agility of 3 people and the stamina of 15 certainly made my journey back way easier, I was practically a superhuman already despite not even allocating a single stat point yet.

Upon reaching the Emiya residence, my movement came to an abrupt halt. A freezing hand gripped my heart as I trained my gaze at the shady figure standing by the entrance; it was a bald man with a hunched back, the creases on his face showing his age. He wore a plain set of robes, a walking stick in his grasp, and was surrounded by a revolting air that elicited unconditional hatred with just a glance.

'Zouken Matou.' My mind flared with recognition, the old maggot who pushed Sakura into a decade of pain was standing right before me. He remained oblivious to my presence and stared at the young girl by the doorway, who trembled as if an earthquake had accosted her entire body.

Without a second thought, I bolted forward and placed myself in front of the terrified girl, my arm hovered protectively over Sakura as I sent the old magus a sharp glare. His eyes widen slightly, taken aback by my sudden appearance, but quickly recovered and switched his gaze towards me, scrutinizing my form in utter silence.

The atmosphere around us slowly became unbearable for me as we continued our impromptu staring contest. A tinge of hostility formed within my gaze after recalling the unforgivable sins the old man had committed against Sakura and the others that came before her.

Zouken Matou cared for no one except himself and was a monster in human skin, literally; his body was nothing more than a swarm of worms that, when destroyed, could reform itself by devouring humans, making him pseudo-immortal. The only way to effectively kill him was to eliminate his main body which resided next to Sakura's heart, something I've been planning to do.

"You," I initiated, unable to take the silence any longer, "what are you doing here?" He let out a hum, seemingly confused by my accusatory tone, before opening his mouth to speak.

"You know me, boy? I don't remember meeting a child like you before this." The magus replied, tapping the ground with his cane. His voice was jarring; grating my ears with each word.

"No, I don't. But you look like you came straight out of my nightmares." I spat out in discontent, letting my thoughts about him known.

"An honest youth, you are." He barked a laugh, not taking the boy's insult to heart. Staring into the boy's eyes, Zouken found something interesting. Burried deep within the mountain of scorn, a blinding wish to protect shone more beautifully than anything else, bemusing the old man.

'What could have possibly drove this child into harbouring such strong feelings?' He questioned himself before looking behind the boy and quickly found the source of this desire—his adopted granddaughter. Sakura averted her eyes from meeting Zouken's and grasped the edges of the redhead's uniform, granting her a sense of safety and comfort she's never had before.

He did not know how, but it seems the boy had an inkling of what he's done to the girl and decided to intervene. Zouken didn't even suspect Sakura of asking for help. He originally wanted to get rid of the child after he made his appearance and take Sakura back by force, but he changed his mind upon seeing her inclination towards the peculiar boy. An opportunity to break her state of mind even further had graciously presented itself in front of him, why wouldn't he take advantage of it?

Out of the blue, a sinister smile crept up to the old magus' lips that sent a cold shiver down my spine. The disgusting aura permeating off him was magnified by two-fold before vanishing just ask quickly, almost making me take a step back in fright.

'What the hell is this old maggot up to now?' My brain stirred; thinking of ways to escape this situation if an altercation were to suddenly erupt. However, his next words stopped this train of thought.

"I see... enjoy your time with him, granddaughter of mine. Be sure to take care of yourself." Zouken chuckled and took a step back. "I can see that my presence is unwanted here, I'll be out of my way."

He turned around then started walking away without giving us a second glance. 'What? That's it?' I stared at Zouken Matou's retreating figure in bewilderment. Soon enough, he left the compound without issues, leaving Sakura and I alone at the foyer.

Sensing his presence disappear into the distance, I faced the girl behind me and inquired worriedly. "Sakura, are you okay? He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

I quickly scanned her form, ensuring that not a single abnormality - apart from what I already knew - could be found on her body. Thankfully, it seems Zouken Matou didn't do anything harmful to her before I arrived.

"No-no… he just told me to go home, he didn't do anything…" Her voice lost its vigour after each word she spoke. I swiftly pulled her into a comforting hug, to which she returned after a bit of hesitation.

"Don't worry. I'm here, I won't leave you." At my reassurance, she eventually stopped shaking and relaxed in my arms. We ended our embrace some time later and went inside the house. I watched the door intently as we walked, as if expecting someone to go throught it, but nobody did.

As I began preparing a simple dish, Sakura surprised me by asking if she could help. Knowing it would distract her from her recent meeting with her grandfather, I welcomed her into the kitchen. Being a complete novice, Sakura clumsily handled the kitchenware and made a few mistakes. Instead of reprimanding her, I patiently guided and encouraged her, hoping to lift her spirits.

By the time we finished our meal, the sun had vanished, casting the world into darkness. Sakura retreated to her room for some rest, while I stayed behind to wash the dishes.

Lost in my thoughts, I remained in the living room, keeping watch over the manor throughout the night by expanding my senses to detect any form of disturbances. Fueled by paranoia, I had ended up staying up all night, but fatigue failed to encroach my mind thanks to my superhuman stamina.

Only when the morning rays streamed through the windows did I snap out of my trance. First thing I did was check on Sakura, and found her still asleep within her room. A sense of relief washed over me, albeit tinged with lingering caution.

Satisfied that the night had passed without incident, I began preparing for today's activities.

----

A week after encountering Zouken Matou, with nothing amiss happening, the weak pings of a chime entered my ears as I sauntered into the common room. A moment later, Kiritsugu Emiya opened the sliding door and entered the scene, his shoulders were a little slouched and a mask of impassiveness covered his face as usual.

I'm guessing he had failed to rescue his daughter from the Einzberns, and would probably make an attempt again after recovering from his injuries. He might not show it, but I could tell he pertained some nasty wounds from how differently he conducted his movements.

"Oh, hey dad. Welcome back." I greeted him, to which he responded with a nod before taking his coat off and placing them to the side. Only after doing so did he finally take notice of another figure, a young girl with purple hair, sitting next to me.

"Who's this? a friend of yours?" Truthfully, Kiritsugu didn't expect Shirou to bring anyone over to their home with how distant he treated everyone apart from himself and Taiga, so he was a little curious who it could be.

"This is Matou Sakura." Said girl addressed Kiritsugu by lowering her head, but otherwise stayed quiet and allowed me to continue. "She has nowhere to go right now, so she's staying here for the time being."

The surname Shirou had spoken piqued the Magus Killer's interest, he sifted through his memories and recalled the basic information he had on them. The Matous were one of the three founding families - the others being Tohsaka and Einzbern - who gave birth to the Heaven's Feel ritual, also known as the Holy Grail war; a blood sport that he, himself had taken a part of some time ago for a chance to realize his wish, only to attain nothing but destruction.

"Care to explain?" He sent a cursory glance at the young girl and gave me a questioning look. Having dispatched a multitude of magi throughout his life, Kiritsugu possessed an air of oppression that made one falter just by being in his sight.

I steeled my nerves and successfully pushed through the crushing atmosphere. "What do you mean?"

"I have told you not to engage with any of the magus families staying here, yet you still did." His tone then shifted, and his face became more earnest. "You never know what those magi are up to, it's best to steer away from their kind."

True, he has repeatedly instilled the cruelty of those attuned with the supernatural into my head and told me not to interact with them in any way shape or form, and I agree with that notion. Magi weren't the kindest bunch and would eliminate anyone who even accidentally stumbles upon a lick of magecraft—but Sakura was a special case that I couldn't possibly ignore.

"But I couldn't leave her alone in that decrepit place, do you even know what that old maggot was doing to her? That fucking monster is making his familiars eat her Magic Circuits, violating her with those worms almost everyday!" Each word I spat out carried the sharpness of a blade.

"Hm?" Not once had he heard Shirou raise his voice before, always sounding indifferent to those around him, so he was genuinely taken aback by the boy's small outburst. Kiritsugu ignored his casual use of profanity and asked: "And how do you even know that? Did go into their home? Willingly venturing into a magus' workshop, a space they have full control over, is one of the most dangerous things you could do, Shirou."

His eyes turned into slits, the air surrounding us becoming colder by the second. His instincts as the Magus Killer, a name feared by many in the world of Mysteries, flared into life, causing the ends of my hair to stand in alarm. Realizing his misunderstanding, I decided to clear the air.

While keeping the System's existence hidden, I revealed my ability to analyze anything and even catch a glimpse of their history, explaining that this very skill is what allowed me to discover what was happening inside Sakura's body. It was a lie, of course. Revealing the real truth would simply spawn more questions. What was I even supposed to say? that they were nothing more than fictional characters in my eyes until some time ago?

Sakura on the side became more demure, an aura of depression surrounded her form the more she heard the boy speak. She wanted to keep it a secret, she wished that he never found out about how dirty she was, but it seems Shirou already knew from the start. She waited for him to push her away, throw words of disgust in her direction for what she truly was, but it never did. He still accepted her despite the filth she's been tainted with. She's seen him deliver unparalleled kindness to everyone he met, but the moment it happens to involve her, he'll drop everything to be at her side, which sparked a fire within her static heart.

Unbeknownst to her, a hand covered in utter blackness once again extended itself, but refused to interact with anything as if unsure of its decision, before ultimately retreating. It remained vigilant however, its claws ready to pounce at the boundless emptiness when needed.

Kiritsugu was surprised to say the least and was quite skeptical of my claims, having the ability to glean into an item's past was unheard of. Kiritsugu quickly concluded that it was an advanced form of Structural Analysis I had somehow developed, but still didn't believe the full extent of my words much to my annoyance.

"That particular spell cannot possibly go that far—" He tried to refute my application of Structural Analysis, but I quickly opened my mouth and talked over him.

"But mine does. I've seen what that old coot has done to her and I'm not going to let it be." I met his hardened gaze with my determined glare, then declared: "I'll protect her. For long as I breathe, Sakura will receive the happiness she deserves."

Sakura, who was doing her best to minimize her presence by holding her head down, couldn't help but squirm in her seat and fought down the heat in her cheeks. A small smile made it across her lips, which stuck for the next few minutes. She remembered the days they've spent together, which brought her nothing but joy. The walls she's constructed around herself to separate from others creaked, opening a path for a single person to pass through—Shirou. If Sakura really delved into wishful thinking, she hoped for Shirou to continue being that way.

Seeing my firm stance on the matter, Kiritsugu relented with a sigh before asking something unexpected. "I want you to answer my next question truthfully, Shirou. If you were to pick between two sinking ships, one with 100 people while the other has 10, which one would you save?" Truth be told, the retired hitman was worried the boy had a bad case of survivor's guilt, leading Shirou to value himself less.

"Depends who's on it. If someone I care about is on those ships, then I'll do everything in my power to rescue them." I replied without missing a beat. "Even if it results in me getting hurt, I'll do it if it meant their safety."

"What about the other passengers on those ships? Do you think you can help them in time?" He reminded Shirou about the presence of other people, thinking it would make the boy pause even for a little while, but he was dead wrong.

"I missed the part where that's my problem." I answered in the most straightforward tone I could muster. As much as they aren't responsible for my life, I'm not responsible for theirs. Not that I'm completely indifferent to people's lives, but when forced to pick between a stranger and a loved one, I'm choosing the latter without hesitation.

The Magus Killer's eyes widened by a margin in reaction to the boy's words, seemingly caught off guard by them. He stayed quiet as the memories of his mentor, the one who taught him everything, and his wife, the woman who brought him even a sliver of happiness, resurfaced from the darkest pits of his mindscape, both of whom Kiritsugu ended with his own hands in favour of saving the majority, because that's what a hero does, no?

Regret slowly swelled within him; his chest becoming more tighter, vision turning hazy. Had he chosen those who he knew instead of a faceless crowd, he wouldn't be in the abyss he had found himself in today, he would've been happy. He was a person with a beating heart, yet possessed the mind of a machine—an ill-fated combination. The only thing that kept him from breaking down was the boy he's speaking to at this moment and the faint chance of seeing his daughter once again.

Kiritsugu snapped out of his reverie and took a book from his bag then slid it across the table, stopping right in front of me. It appeared worn with scratches here and there, yet well taken care off. There wasn't a label on its cover or anything, just a plain book you'd find anywhere.

"What's this?" I asked, wrapping my hands around the seemingly ordinary object. It was thick, for my current size anyway, and casted an arcane feel.

"An introductory book about Bounded Fields, go read it later. You want to protect Sakura, right?" He answered, motioning towards the sheepish young girl beside me. "Then I'll give you the means to do so starting tomorrow."

My brows to rose a tad, I would've never thought he'd breach the topic without me asking him. And so, my tutelage under the renowned Magus Killer begun.

----

A few weeks had passed since then, and my lessons went along swimmingly. Currently, Kiritsugu and I stood in front of one another inside the shed situated behind the main building.

"You see, Shirou, using your Magic Circuits raises the temperature of your body. Even if you can't detect them using your senses, you can still pinpoint a magus' location using modern technology, something the majority of magi overlook, don't forget that." He handed me an infrared scope and laid his forearm bare for me to inspect.

My mind quickly stored the information. Magi weren't the best when it came to modern technology, deeming them inferior to the miracles of magecraft, so having a way to detect their kind without tipping them off was a great boon to have. Cameras, due to their non-magical origins, would effortlessly slip past even a trained magus' senses.

I placed the scope over my right eye and peeked through it, staring at Kiritsugu's arm with interest. With my natural senses, I felt something in the air stir; an ethereal force manifested from nothing and gently wrapped itself around his forearm. While in the infrared scope, his arm began to glow an iridescent orange, displaying the sudden change in temperature. Shortly after, the invisible energy turned back into a state of nonexistence, and so did abnormal readings shown by the scope.

I removed the object from my face and heard Kiritsugu speak. "With this, it's easy to track a magus if you ever lose them in a crowd or an unfavorable environment. That's it for now about magical energy. Time to move on to the next."

He then took a unassuming briefcase off a shelf and placed it in between us. With a satisfying click, the box opened to reveal a handgun—more specifically, a standard Baretta M9, along with an extra set of magazines laying beside it.

My brows furrowed upon seeing the case's contents. It hasn't even been a month since we started, the only thing I've learned so far were the intricate mechanics of Bounded Fields, a few practical spells that could potentially give me an edge over my opponent, and how magical energy affected the human body, and now we're tackling another topic entirely.

I activated my skill and watched as a wave of magical energy glossed over the item, before swiftly dissipating after completing its task. From what my Structural Analysis gave me, the firearm was made a few months back, bought using less than legal means, and was carefully smuggled into the land of the rising sun (Japan) from the land of the free (America).

"Now that I've taught you how to identify them, it's time I teach you how to kill them." He said bluntly. Both of us ignored the fact that he was about to teach a child how to commit murder.

'He's teaching me how to use a gun this early?' Excitement swelled from within as I carefully took the pistol from its place. Not a tinge of worry marred Kiritsugu face as he watched me do so, he'd already taught me how to handle a firearm and could be trusted around such objects.

The two of us then emerged from the shack and stood at the open yard. The place was eerily silent, the sounds of ruffling leaves and morning breeze being the only perceivable noise.

"Is this fine? The neighbours would definitely hear if I shoot this thing." I relayed my concern. Even if we live in a pretty isolated part of town, the sound of a gun going off wouldn't go unnoticed, the cops would undoubtedly swarm this place almost instantly.

"I've already set up a Bounded Field to stop loud sounds from leaving the backyard, and there's no need to worry about Sakura, she'll be fine inside the house." Kiritsugu reassured. It seems he's already thought about it, as expected I suppose. He then lifted his arm, pointing at the bright circular target placed at the end of the yard. "Aim, then shoot. You'll be doing this every other day for the next month until I say otherwise."

With a heave, I raised my arms and held the firearm forward, peeking through its iron-sights with my right eye. My breath stilled and the surrounding noise disappeared, my attention fully engrossed at my current objective.

With a pull of my finger, a loud bang erupted from the pistol, causing my ears to ring a sharp tune which lasted for a few seconds before returning to normal. The gun was forced backward due to recoil, but my firm grip prevented it from flying off. To nobody's surprise, the target in the distance remained untouched; the bullet having missed it by an entire meter to the left, burying itself deep into nearby the concrete wall.

Instead of wallowing at my terrible accuracy, anticipation rose from within. Not a moment later, a transparent screen that's invisible to anyone but myself made an appearance.

[Skill 'Firearms mastery' has been learned]

A stream of information suddenly entered my conciousness; basic knowledge about firearms usage and maintenance work filled my brain. It took a moment, but I eventually acclimated with my newfound instincts and entered another trance. I assumed a firing stance and pulled the trigger, this time however, the result was considerably better than the last.

The edge of the target was struck, but I didn't stop there. I lined up my sights once more and fired, again and again, causing a burst of loud bangs to echo throughout the space. At the corner of my vision, the progress bar of my newly acquired skill steadily increased with each bullet that left the gun's barrel. My ears ultimately got used to the piercing noise and my skills with the weapon improved at a visible pace.

[Skill 'Firearms mastery' has leveled up]

I dismissed the notification and deftly removed the empty magazine, letting it fall to the ground, then swiftly replaced it with the grace of a trained soldier. Kiritsugu's surprise grew as he watched me hit the target's center multiple times in a row while only making a margin amount of error.

The Magus Killer's stunned state didn't last long however, as the lesson plans he had created for Shirou began to shift to accommodate his seemingly supernatural ability to handle firearms. It appears he'd underestimated the boy's drive to protect Sakura, who knew he had such hidden potential within him.

'If I train him, he might be able to rescue… no. There's no need to bring him into my problems.' Kiritsugu shook off his current thoughts and went back to observering Shirou. After the boy emptied 5 magazines, Kiritsugu promptly stopped their session and went back to the house in order to modify his plans for the coming months.

I followed him back and arrived in my room to begin my own magecraft training. My concentration level reached a new height as I pulled upon the space know as Unlimited Blade Works located inside my soulscape. The reason for how it remained eludes me, as from what I could remember, it was Shirou Emiya's distorted way of thinking that spawned his Reality Marble—the physical manifestation of one's inner self. I was under no delusions in the first place, so perhaps the System had something to do with it.

"Trace on." Following those words, a blue spark appeared atop my open palm that quickly took the form of a small knife, which appeared similarly to the one we had inside the kitchen, even down the little nicks and chips on it.

[Skill 'Projection' has been learned]

"Haha! I finally did it!" I cheered, jumping onto my feet and pumping my fist in the air. With this, all the skills required to replicate Noble Phantasms has been assembled, all it needs now was to master them. In the heat of my celebration, I did not notice Sakura enter my room.

"Um, Is everything alright?" Her voice was weak, but laced with worry for my well-being.

"Oh…uh, yeah. I'm fine, just a little excited that's all." Thrown out of my joyous moment, I replied with welcoming smile to ease her concerns.

Nodding with a hint of red on her face, she then brought out a plate of omeletes for me to eat. I gently pat Sakura on the head and gave her my heartfelt thanks.

END.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 5: Time skip.

In the secluded yard of the Emiya residence, a small workshop, formerly an ordinary shed turned smithy, hummed with rhythmic clang of metal against metal. Inside, a young man with crown braided auburn hair worked diligently, his hands moved expertly shaping glowing metal into the form of a straight blade—a two-sided broadsword.

The forge roared with intense heat as he poured his heart and soul into the sword, channeling the wisdom he's accumulated throughout the years with each precise movement. Sweat beaded on his brow, yet he pressed on, his hands steady and sure as he shaped the broadsword's deadly, yet elegant edge.

Magical energy begun to swirl around the young man's form as his undying desire to cut the intangible was projected into the blade itself, manifesting into something real. The weapon lets off a weak shimmer, capturing his wish, and started to develop an ability of its own.

With a final flourish, he quenched the blade in water, the hiss of steam echoing through the silent space. And as the first light of dawn painted the sky, the young man stepped back, his heart swelling with pride at the sight of his creation.

As he wiped the sweat off his face using a clean towel, an ever familiar screen appeared before his eyes, resulting in a smile to cross his face.

[Enchantment 'Inferior soul slash' has been added to the item]

"Haha! Yes!" I exclaimed. After many failed attempts, I had finally succeeded in crafting a blade that could rend not just flesh, but the soul itself, albeit imperfectly. Some tweaking still needed to be done for it to be completed. As for why I require such a thing, it's for a certain old magus that refused to die through natural means.

Satisfied with my recent creation, I wrapped a pristine cloth around it and carefully stored it away before extinguishing the dancing flames of the forge. Emerging from my small smithy, I entered the manor and cleansed myself of filth with a hot shower.

After changing into some fresh clothing and donning a red apron upon reaching the kitchen, a single word left my lips: "System."

———

Shirou Emiya

Title(s):

Wanderer of worlds.
Sword Incarnation.
Bearer of Avalon.
Saber-face.
Fuyuki's Helping Hand.
(-Collapse-)

Level: 17

STR: 5.6 (+3)
VIT: 55 (+3)
AGI: 14.5 (+3)
MAG: 6 (+3)
Points: 41

Skills:
(-Expand-)

Quest:
3 days remaining until the next quest.

———

Five years had passed since my reincarnation into the world of Fate/Stay Night, and a lot had happened during that time. First of, my level; I have reached the 17th level through side-quests alone, and had stalled on it for the past 3 months with little to no progress being done; helping random strangers just wasn't enough anymore. An alternative was needed, but I have yet to find any.

So, I placed my attention elsewhere—blacksmithing. I took up the craft a few years ago and had created over hundred blades with the sole purpose of making a weapon that could strike the soul.

Forging a sword that could hurt one's inner-self was an incredible feat in itself, something most smiths could only dream of, however, I wasn't satisfied with that. My goal was something even more grand—creating a weapon that could dissect the fabric of reality itself. Any swordsmith worth their salt should strive to make a blade that could not only slash the material, but the abstract as well. Unfortunately, that's for another time as my current skills with the forge cannot possibly reach such heights. Perhaps I could even create an item to call my own, something people would associate with nobody but myself in the future.

Second: the newly acquired title, obtained after helping people with their problems for half-a-decade straight. It's effect was pretty easy to understand; my entire parameters sheet receives a slight boost whenever I'm inside Fuyuki. It might not sound much, but that's four whole levels (a level up rewards 3 stat points) given to me for simply standing within the city borders.

On that note. Despite having yet to allocate a single point into my stats, my physical prowess - without the aid of magecraft - already surpassed every normal human being on this planet. Thanks to Avalon's miraculous powers, sleep became nothing more than an enjoyable pastime. Meaning most of my time, excluding school activities, was spent either hanging out with Sakura or honing my abilities from the break of dawn till the dead of night.

Speaking of Sakura, she started going to school as well. I was completely against the idea at first, feeling a sense of doom at the thought of leaving her unprotected, but eventually got over it so she could experience what it was like to be a child. I still watched her closely, picking her up from school everyday, just in case something does happen. Zouken made no attempts on us so far, and this inactivity had brought me nothing but worry. What was he concocting in that rotten brain of his?

Well, no matter. I've already collected everything that was needed to take the old maggot down, all that's left now was to enact judgement. Five whole years was enough time to prepare, and his dismissive attitude towards me only worked greatly in my favour. It was only a matter of time.

Back to whatever I was currently doing. My hands practically moved on their own without my input; the vegetables were cut, the meat was seasoned and perfectly cooked before being plated, a good chunk of it was placed on the side and packed inside a plastic container. Bending forward, I opened the oven which caused hot air to spew out directly into my face, but I remained unperturbed and took out a bunch of freshly baked cookies from within, then arranged them in a small basket. Satisfied, I unwrapped the apron from my waist and headed out of the house with the packed foodstuff in my hands.

After crossing some roads, I arrived at a familiar residential abode—Tanaka Soichirou's home. Without even knocking, I swung the front door open and went in, dropping my slippers off by the entrace. This place was practically my second home at this point with how frequent I've visited here, mostly to deliver Tanaka lunch or dinner. Out of habit, my steps were swift and silent and the magical energy being emitted by my body was so miniscule, a magus would've mistaken it for a random animal.

Inside the common room, the television was turned on, airing some sort of children's show, and in front of it was a child sitting on the ground, about 7 years old, with short black hair and a round face. His ocean-blue eyes were glued to the screen, utterly fascinated by the program.

"Hey, it's not good to stare at a screen all day, it might damage your eyes. You don't wan to have bad eyesight, right?" I strode beside the kid and placed the cookie basket down on the floor, then ruffled his head because why not. "Here, your favorite cookies. It's still hot so be careful. Oh, be sure not to cause a mess or gramps would be mad, got it?" He nodded with a grumble.

I navigated my way through the house with familiarity and ended up in the backyard, where an old man, Tanaka Soichirou, could be seen sitting on a reclining chair. His hair was pure white, reminiscent of the clouds he was observering in the sky, displaying his age. His health, while not as great when we first met, was still in good shape.

"Morning, gramps. Here's breakfast." I made my presence known and handed him the plastic constainer.

"Ah, Shirou. Good morning." He turned from his seat, returning with a warm greeting of his own. He took the food case and opened it, sending a delicious aroma to drift into the air. "How's Ritsuka? Still at that television, I'm guessing?"

"Still at it, unfortunately," I shook my head, "he'll be blind by the time he's an adult if he keeps this up, I just know it. Kids these days, they spend all their days inside instead of going outside to play."

"Careful, now. You're starting to sound like an old man. Let kids enjoy the things available to them. Isn't that the whole point of advancing? to let the next generation live a better life? Stop being a stuck-up brat." Tanaka took another bite of his meal and continued. "Aren't you like, what… twelve? I keep thinking you're older with how you act. You should properly enjoy your early life as much as he is, you might regret not doing so."

"I wish I could. Unfortunately, there's a lot of things in my mind at the moment." The Holy Grail War, and many other variables such as the Mage Association, was constantly on the forefront of my mind, leaking into my everyday thoughts and putting me under great stress. I practically had no time to think about normal things. Hearing my answer, the old man leveled a blank stare at me. Confused, I asked: "What?"

"Ha!" He barked out a hearty laugh. "What's even going in your head, huh? All you think about is helping people around town and scaring other boys from approaching Sakura, you two are practically inseparable. At least you're enjoying your youth one way or another."

Warmth encroached my face, but it quickly died down. "You've got to understand, gramps," my voice lowered to a dangerous octave, "if I ever catch any of those boys do something bad to her, not even God would save their sorry asses from me."

"Goodness, you're sounding like my son whenever he talks about his daughter—his little princess or whatever." Tanaka rolled his eyes, then puts on a toothy grin. "You'll be a great dad one day, you already have the foundations for it."

We continued our talk for a few more minutes until I promptly ended it, saying there's still some stuff for me to do back home.

"Yeah yeah. Can't go on for more than an minute without needing your dose of Sakura. Shoo-shoo." He motioned as if pushing an animal away, then resumed gorging. I reentered the house with a sigh and found Ritsuka, the 7 year old boy, still staring intently at the television screen.

"Hm?" My brows quirked slighly upon spotting an empty basket beside him. It was the same one I gave him earlier, now devoid of cookies. 'Did this kid really just eat all of that in a few minutes? I baked 30 pieces!'

Thankfully, he followed my words and made no mess on the floor, but his cheeks were covered in crumbs instead. I took out a handkerchief and crouched down to clean Ritsuka's face, who didn't give my action much attention, fully entranced by the show he was watching.

"Kids these days, really." I stood back up and headed to the door. "Hey Ritsuka, I'm leaving now. Don't cause any touble, alright?" The dark-haired boy replied with nothing more than a hum as I exited the place.

We met less than a year ago; when he and his parents decided to move in nearby. The two adults were a bright pair, even inviting me to their place to eat several times. As for why Ritsuka's here, he would take shelter inside Tanaka's home whenever his guardians were out for work. The old man had no problems with that and allowed the child wander around his house.

Imagine my surprise when I first learned about his full name—Ritsuka Fujumaru. At first, I couldn't figure out why the name sounded so familiar, but then it dawned on me on the very next day. The protagonist of "Fate Grand Order", a gacha game in my previous life, possessed the same name and appearance, possibly hinting towards Finis Chaldea's existence in this world.

I kept my eyes on the boy, basically becoming an older brother figure to him which I didn't mind. What worried me the most was that if this world were to follow FGO's line of events, then my plans for the future would go down the drain before it even started. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do apart from hope and prepare for the worst.

A couple of twist and turns later, I arrive back home and found Sakura inside the living room holding a broom that's taller than herself. A warm smile was etched onto her lips as she noticed me enter. I tried to dissuade her from doing such menial tasks, but couldn't bring myself to refuse any of Sakura's wishes.

We talked to one another for a short while before splitting off; Sakura resumed sweeping the floor while I walked straight towards the storage room near the end of the hall. Entering, not a smidgen of dust could be found inside the space, I'm fairly certain my diligence in cleaning had turned into an obsession at this point.

Carefully moving a couple crates containing deadly explosives to the side, I unearthed a briefcase that was intricately hidden behind a false wall then returned everything to their original position as to not draw attention to that particular spot. Before leaving the mortal plane, Kiritsugu gave me access to his most deadliest armament yet, which was in my hands at this very moment. I knew it was here, but not once have I touched it until today.

It had been 6 months after Kiritsugu's death, and my training and drive for self improvement had not diminished since his passing. Speaking of him; my feelings for the man was a complicated mix of emotions. Due to my past life's memories, it prevented me from treating him like a proper parent, instead he was more of a mentor to me. That doesn't mean we did not spend time together like how a father and son would, but only on rare occasions as I have not the same interests nor mindset as a child would have.

A click resounded around the room as the case opened to reveal a collection of seemingly regular bullets painted in brass. They were anything but ordinary, of course. Every single one of them was an Origin bullet made from Kiritsugu's own lower ribs. Apart from me, not a single soul on this planet knew of its true power—as everyone who've seen it had perished. There was originally 66 pieces, but 37 had already been used by the Magus Killer in the past; each bullet having successfully killed their intended target.

"I'll try my best to not ruin that streak." With a quick scan of my eyes, Unlimited Blade Works immediately went to work, adding the ammunition to my soulscape. The bullets would take a substantial amount of magical energy to replicate, as it was the farthest thing from the concept of a 'sword', but not crippling.

I closed the briefcase and tucked it inside my sleeping quarters with great care before joining Sakura by the living room to eat breakfast. On the television screen, a news segment about a string of murders that's been happening inside the city was playing, warning us of a possible serial killer on the loose, and repeatedly told everyone watching to stay safe and lock their doors.

This caught my attention, so I shelved the information on the back of my mind and continued eating. A homely atmosphere whirled around the two of us as we engaged in a myriad of topics. Sakura had more or less opened up to me, showing more emotion than ever before, but I could tell she was still repressing them quite a lot.

Truth be told, she was afraid. Afraid that that Zouken might take the little happiness she had left in the world away from her. She didn't want Shirou to disappear, she wanted her grandfather to wisk away, crushed like the bug that he was. A shadow nestled within Sakura's soul fed on her emotions, but it wasn't enough to cause any external reactions.

'Don't worry, Sakura. Just wait a bit more and that old worm is going to die, I promise you that.' I thought to myself.

----

Later that afternoon as I was leaping from one roof to another, doing my usual patrol over the city, a prickling sensation washed over me, forcing my stride to halt. My nose picked up the scent of blood and decay, catapulting me into a heightened state of alertness.

Following the peculiar smell, I ended up in front of an abandoned warehouse. There was nothing odd about it; the area was silent and the air was calm—from a distance at least. Leaning forward, a translucent membrane emitting a small amount of magical energy could be seen covering the entire compound. At the back of my mind, the urge to turn around and vacate the area arose, but I shrugged the feeling off fairly easily.

Raising my hand, I gave the invisible wall a few taps and quickly concluded that it was a Bounded Field. The entire space was blocked off, preventing civilians from nearing or seeing whatever was happening inside.

Without a second thought, I pushed myself forward and breached through the magical barrier with relative ease, as its main purpose was to simply turn away anyone nearby, and saw the warehouse's true state; mutilated corpses were strewn all around, fresh blood painted the walls and dismembered limbs decorated the ground. A bile went up my throat as an intense wave of rot assaulted my nose. Fortunately, I managed to force it down and took a moment to regain my calm.

With a clear head, I took another look at my surroundings. Despite missing critical organs like the lungs and heart, a few fallen carcasses still moved as if it were alive, dragging themselves across the pavement using whatever was left of them. Their eyes appeared hollow, devoid of substance, not a hint of intelligence could be seen behind them. Seeing this, a single thought crossed my mind: 'Ghouls.'

Ghouls were nothing more than reanimated corpses, their sole purpose being to serve whoever brought them to existence. It was a foul practice most magi would look at in utter contempt due to its association with Dead Apostles—vampire-like beings. Their main strength comes from their overwhelming numbers as an individual undead was no better than the average human. I trained my sight on the trail of bodies on the road, it seems whoever preceded me had already taken out most of them, leaving only a dozen or so to mindlessly scamper around.

While taking stock of the area, a sudden noise caught my attention; the sound of metal clashing against one another reverberated from behind the building, indicating some sort of battle. I swiftly went into motion and marched towards the source of the noise, only for an undead with one missing arm to suddenly block my path.

With a neutral expression, I extended an arm and pulled my conciousness inward. A spark, caused by two blades striking each other, flew across my head. Magical energy begun to coalesce atop my open palm, shaping itself into a sleek and compact firearm adorned with intricate engravings.

A few years ago, using Kiritsugu's old connections, I had ordered a custom firearm that appeared exactly like the "Hunter Pistol" from the video game 'Bloodborne', one of my favorite games ever in my past life. The one in my hand was a copy using magecraft, of course, the real handgun was safely stored back home.

Mana entered the gun's singular chamber, morphing into a silver-hued bullet. Projecting ordinary ammunition, while costing less than an Origin bullet, still required an abundant amount of magical energy compared to a sword. Squeezing the trigger, the hammer at the end snapped forward. A single bullet left the chamber accompanied by a loud bang and traced a straight line directly into the undead's forehead, tearing through its rotting flesh with ease. The living corpse, deprived of its motor functions, dropped with a sickening thud.

[You have slain an undead]

"Oh?" On the status screen, I watched the experience bar increase by a noticeable amount. As expected, much like any other video game, killing monsters was the superior method of raising one's level. A feral grin broke through my stoic facade as I locked gazes with another ghoul that was dragging its battered body towards my position. Whatever problem was happening behind the storehouse could wait, leveling up took priority.

In a manic fit of bloodlust, I eliminated every single straggler I could find within the premises with extreme efficiency, gaining enough experience points to almost level up, but not quite. The amount of EXP I've gained in the last few minutes alone was equal to a week's worth of side-quests. After successfully purging all abominable creatures by the entrance, I made my way behind the structure where a group of men dressed in priestly robes could be seen circling an unmoving body lying over a pool of blood.

The presence of priests was unexpected, surprising me somewhat. So, I'm guessing whatever's been causing the recent murder spree was the same one they've just killed. Their breaths were laboured and a few of them were even covered in wounds, blood having stained their clothing, yet they appeared unbothered by it and continued on like normal.

"Hm?" A tall man with a neatly groomed beard noticed my appearance, in turn putting the his companion's attention on me, then asked in a friendly tone: "What might you be doing here, young man? This place isn't safe, I'd recommend vacating the area immediately."

Feeling the combined weight of their scrutinizing glare, a weak shiver crept up my back. "Ah, I was nearby and noticed a commotion. I came to offer my aid, but it appears it wasn't needed."

A shame, really. I was hoping to earn more experience points by killing monsters, but there was nothing I could do about that. Had I arrive a tad bit earlier, my level would've already risen. Though, there was one thing I could do that will benefit both parties. "I can see some of you had suffered, I could offer my prayers and help quicken your recovery."

This piques the priest's interest. "Are you perhaps a member of the local church?"

Naturally, he did not suspect me of being an ordinary citizen, as only those who has knowledge of the supernatural could bypass the barrier they had erected around the compound.

"Not exactly, but I do go there on a regular basis." While true, my purpose of going there wasn't to seek the Lord's guidance, but had something to do with the System.

"I see." He nodded, mistaking my identity as a deacon. "We're plenty exhausted from the fight, we would greatly appreciate your help, young man."

The group's tense atmosphere loosened up, some sat down on the floor to rest while others opted to remain standing. I lowered my head and held my hands together in a prayer, then employed one of the skills I gained after many days of attending the Lord's home.

As holy energy swirled around us, the priests' eyes widen in shock. The energy combined into a malevolent pillar, casting a radiant light upon my entire figure. The believers dropped to their knees, cupped their hands above their chest, offering heartfelt prayers in reverence. Their wounds, from most grievous to the slightest cuts, swiftly closed, while their fatigue was gently swept away by the warm light.

As they basked under the pillar's brilliance, a System notification appeared before me.

[Skill 'Healing Prayer' has ranked up to C - 1]

Healing Prayer was, as the name suggests, a skill that mended all kinds of wounds dealt to the body and also restored some of the target's vitality. Due to its nature as a holy sacrament, it was wholly unaffected by [Sword Incarnation] as it wasn't a form of magecraft.

After regularly attending church services, I gained this extraordinary ability. Apparently, anything can be turned into a skill if you practice it for long enough, even something as abstract as praying. I wonder if it's possible to gain a skill that could make anything spontaneously explode if I wished for it hard enough?

Anyways, since then, I've been visiting hospitals to heal the wounded. However, I didn't want to turn Fuyuki into a city of miracles, so I decided to only make occasional visits to hospitals to avoid drawing too much attention.

The members of the Church stood in awe of what they had just witnessed. They couldn't believe it—they had just seen the Lord's light in action. The bearded priest had expected some form of healing art or magecraft disguised as a Sacrament, but what they experienced was beyond their expectations.

The Church had always been opposed to the use of magecraft, but they couldn't deny its usefulness. So, some higher-ups in the Vatican decided to select a few specific thaumaturgy methods - such as Bounded Fields - and repurposed them. However, what they were witnessing now wasn't any of that; it was a genuine gift bestowed by the Lord himself. Within the Church, only the most devout followers had ever been granted this power, but it had never been this potent before. Only figures like Martha or Joan of Arc, saints of long ago, had ever received such strong favour from their deity.

For some odd reason, I felt a warm and comforting sensation across my very being, like that of a mother's touch, before it briskly disappeared. I brushed the feeling off, chalking it up to the skill's effects. Having already obtained what I wanted, there was no need for me to stay here any longer. I took advantage of their stunned state and kicked off the ground using all of my strength, vanishing out of sight with a flurry of dust.

"What—where did he go? Find him! We mustn't lose someone chosen by the Lord!" The bearded priest broke out of his trance and exclaimed, then turned to his most trusted person in the group. "George, call the others. The air is still rife with holy energy, have them come here, quickly!"

Little did Shirou know, this little stunt of his would reach the Pope's ears in a matter of minutes, raising a furor all across the Vatican and bringing unwanted attention to himself.

END.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 6: Extermination.

As night broke across Fuyuki, I emerge from my room with newfound determination coursing through my veins. Tonight was the night where my plans came into fruition. Before that however, there was one last thing I needed to do.

Opening a sliding door, my entry into Sakura's room was soundless thanks to Kiritsugu teachings. On the floor, resting underneath a fluffy blanket, lied Sakura's sleeping form. School activities had drained her quite a lot, resulting in her retiring to bed earlier than usual. I crouched beside her while keeping my presence minimal, then induced myself in a state of hypnosis to tap into Unlimited Blade Works' countless armaments. I went through a sea of blades and found what I was looking for atop a grassy hill, shining brilliantly amongst a crowd of colourful flowers.

"I am the bone of my sword." The first line of Shirou Emiya's aria rolled off my tongue, followed by a burst of golden light. Not a moment later, a beautiful blue and golden sheath, the Ever Distant Utopia—Avalon, answered my prayers and appeared before me. It radiated an otherworldly glow that brought safety to those nearby.

It was a copy of course, nothing more than a fake made with modern magecraft, yet despite all that, its essence was near indistinguishable to the original, a near perfect replica of Avalon thanks to me having a deep understanding of the genuine article. Throughout the years, I've pushed my Projection ability to its absolute limits, causing a small patch of my forearm to darken as a consequence, in order to replicate Avalon's full might just for this very moment.

I motioned the sheath forward and merged it inside Sakura's body without a problem. She let out a weak hum in response to the change before slipping back to sleep. The fake scabbard should only last for an hour at best, which was more than enough for tonight's objective—killing Zouken Matou. After giving Sakura the Ever Distant Utopia, I quickly left the abode and headed towards the Matou residence while blending into the night to prevent anyone from spotting me.

A short while later, a weathered manor came into view. Each corner of the structure released a disgusting feel that sent goosebumps all over my body. A Bounded Field encased the whole place to keep anyone from entering, as expected, but it did not prevent me from breaching through as if it was never there. Kiritsugu had taught me many things in the past, one of them was how to effectively bypass a magus' Bounded Field without triggering it, and combine that with a skill of mine, "Presence Concealment", which blurs my existence inside people's minds, I became nigh-undetectable through normal or magical means.

Without hesitation, I went inside the decrepit abode. My movements were swift and utterly muted, eyes going to and fro, analyzing every surface of the way for any anomalies. Zouken Matou's familiars covered the whole house which made my infiltration more difficult, but not impossible. Eventually, without alerting any of the despicable creatures, I arrive at my destination—a stairwell leading down the basement oozing with the smell of decay.

After carefully making my way down the flight of stairs, I was greeted by a sight one could only stare at in absolute abhorrence. Stuffed inside a pit was a bed of phallus shaped worms wriggling in place, eager to violate anyone unfortunate enough to fall on top of them.

Gazing into the gorge of filth was none other than Zouken Matou, not much had changed about him, he still possessed a repulsive air I could not help but hate. I intentionally increased the noise of my heels striking the floor, causing a loud tap to echo throughout the space. The old man turned around after hearing the disturbance, surprise clearly evident on their face as he saw me standing idly by the entrance.

"Hoh? I did not expect a visit from you at this time of day." The worms crawling on the walls stirred, locking their beady eyes upon my lonesome figure. "My, you've grown into a splendid young man since we last met, Emiya Shirou. How's my granddaughter fairing?"

"She's doing way better now, that's for sure," I calmly replied, humouring the old coot. "Answer me, Zouken. Why didn't you do anything to take her back? Surely you wouldn't have abandoned the only heir to the Matou magecraft, right?."

For some demented reason I could not comprehend, magi families would only pass down their craft - otherwise known as a Magic Crest - to one child and left the other siblings to fend for their own. To them, family was no more important than the air they breathed. Sakura was one such victim of this practice and was given away at a young age to become the Matou heir after the previous heir, Shinji, showed not a smidgen of talent in the art of thaumaturgy.

From what I could recall, he would have Sakura lie in that worm infested hole every waking moment of the day all in the name of 'training'. Zouken's familiars latched onto her insides and regularly force her into ejaculating to feed themselves, as the liquid substance was a potent way to recover mana without hurting the ill-fated girl.

He sighed, placing both hands around his back. "I'm getting old, is it wrong for me to leave my granddaughter in good hands until she's old enough to take over the family business? Everyone in town speaks nothing but kind words about you, I knew you'll take care of her just fine."

"That's bullshit and you know it." Fury coated my words, turning the atmosphere around us tense as a result. "You just wanted to turn her into a lesser Grail, didn't you?"

He blinked, taken aback by my sentence. "I'm certain not even the Mage Association knows of this, did you figure it all out by yourself? Pretty impressive, I might say. As expected of the Magus Killer's successor." Of course he knew who my adoptive father was, that wasn't much of a surprise to be honest. "I suppose you won't tell me how you came across that piece of information?"

"No. Figure it out yourself." I venomously snapped back. I've known what he precisely wanted since the start—it was to turn Sakura into a vessel for the Holy Grail using a shard of the Grail itself, which would've killed her had it been completed. He merely wanted to use me to break her state of mind even further and accelerate the process. I just wanted to hear it from his mouth, but it seems he won't grant me that wish.

Without uttering another word, my magic circuits hummed to life, causing magical energy to erupt from my body. There was no need to speak of my reason for being here, my apparent hostility towards him was enough of an answer on how this meeting would end.

"Are children nowadays allowed to simply barge into an old man's home and attack them?" He gave out nothing more than an amused laugh in response to my aggression. Then, an eerie grin spread across his face as he spread his arms outward. As if responding to his actions, a loud thump reverberated from behind the walls, making the whole place shake. "As unfortunate as it is, you will die here, young man. Perhaps if you had come here in peace, we could have struck an accord that would benefit the both of us."

The partition behind him suddenly collapsed, revealing a tide of grubs that swiftly moved towards my direction, each of them possessed a pair of wings and a row of sharp teeth that could no doubt penetrate steel in one bite. Fear did not take hold of me, for my will was that of steel.

"Trace on." I chanted. A sensation of warmth welled from within my chest, gradually spreading throughout my entire being, infusing me with newfound strength and vigor.

Next, a new set of apparels manifested into existence; my figure was draped in flowing burnished robes that billow around my form like dark clouds. Adorning my head is a winged helmet of similar hue, its sleek curves and intricate detailing reminiscent of ancient warriors of legend. The entirety of my right arm was encased in armour painted in gold, and my hand wielded a long, curved blade carrying an air of menace and power.

It was a carbon copy of Malenia the Severed's garments, who is one of, if not my favorite character ever. I have not a shred of shame for imitating her style, could anyone even blame me? All I needed now was a healing effect on my blade that mends my own wounds whenever I draw the opponent's blood, and everything would be complete. One day, once my smithing skils were high enough, I'd be able to make it.

Its past is totally empty, being made no longer than 2 months ago with ordinary materials by yours truly. Of course, I have never seen Malenia the Severed, so there was no feasible way for me to replicate her garb including its unique properties and history. My equipment was nothing more than pale imitations of the real thing.

"Interesting get-up you have there, boy." He commented on my peculiar appearance as swarms of his familiars quickly surrounded me from all sides. He undoubtedly dismissed the magical constructs as a whole due to its nature as a Projection, a spell known for its less than practical effects.

I part my lips and responded with: "Time alter—square accel." In my eyes, the movements of the world itself slowed to a snail's pace, yet for some odd reason my whole body remained unaffected by this phenomenon, moving at what seemed to be normal speed. It was the power of none other than the Magic Crest engraved on my left shoulder.

Surprisingly, Kiritsugu had passed down the Emiya family's Magic Crest, a craft known for its ability to manipulate time inside a designated space, onto me before his passing. Though he only possessed a fragment of the Crest due to an incident in the past, the Magus Killer utilized the magecraft to its fullest, breaking through human limitations and moving at such insane speeds that the human eye failed to register even a flicker of his figure.

With a flourish, I raised the blade and lashed out, cutting through the flood of worms with deadly expertise. Each arc it passed was a path of death, resulting in a dozen or so worms being sliced into two halves by the second. To the outside world however, not even a fraction of that time had elapsed.

"Release." I muttered out, disabling Time Alter and returning my accelerated senses to normal. As the effects fizzled out, a rain of invertebrate carcasses fell from the air, creating a circle around me as if an invisible barrier had stopped them in their tracks.

Suddenly, a stiffled grunt escaped my lips as a formless rope tightly wrapped itself around my entire being, before disappearing just as quickly as it appeared. Time manipulation had it own sets of drawbacks like everything else. Using 'square accel', the final stage, should have destroyed me from the inside in an instant, but the punishment was balanced out by the combined forces of Avalon's miraculous healing and my innate endurance.

Zouken wasn't surprised in the slightest, he had expected some form of resistance from the boy. The old man swiftly responded by sending even more winged worms at the redhead to overwhelm him with sheer numbers while also ordering another batch of familiars he had hidden around the mansion to gather. He had done his research, he knew of what just transpired. 'The Emiya boy shouldn't be able to use that technique for an extended period of time.' He thought, blissfully unaware of what said boy had in store for him.

Brandishing my curved sword, I cut and slice through the sea of flying critters while steadily narrowing the distance between the old magus and I. He showed little to no worry, clearly undermining my abilities. Out of the blue, an explosion of concrete and dust erupted from the ceiling as an amalgamation of worms the size of a car dropped into the scene with a shrill screech, forcing my march to halt.

"Time alter—triple accel." I recited, increasing my overall speed by three-fold. Without wasting another moment, I brought my weapon to bear and delivered a myriad of slashes at the fat invertebrate, dismantling the poor thing in one fell swoop. The boost in agility remained as I continued my rush to my opponent. I twist and twirled, pressing forward like a storm.

As the fight raged on, Zouken unleashed a swarm of winged worms to obscure my vision, creating an opening that he briskly exploited. A dozen of his familiars broke through my defenses and dug their dirty fangs onto my legs, stealing my attention away for a brief moment. With a violent swing, the distasteful creatures were thrown off my legs and quickly met the heels of my boots. The floor shattered underneath the force of my stomps, sending shards of stone flying in all directions. Within that small time frame, the wounds they've inflicted had already recovered thanks to Avalon.

To my left and right, a pair of inflated worms abruptly bursts forth with the grace of a car being driven by a drunkard, their razor-sharp teeth primed and ready to tear me apart. As I was about to cleave the beasts into bite sized pieces, a sea of winged grubs appeared from all sides, enveloping my whole form in a heartbeat and began eating away at my frame.

"Square accel." I whispered then twisted my wrist. In one moment; I was trapped inside a sarcophagus of vile worms, and in the next; each critter popped into a mist of blood as if air itself had denied their existence. "Release." I drew a sharp breath and spoke again. "Time alter—triple accel."

More and more of Zouken's familiars entered the cellar from various entry points and did their best to halt my charge, but no matter how many disgusting bugs threw themselves at me, the results remained the same; I continued advancing without stopping.

Eventually, I managed to breach the wall of creepy-crawlers and honed my sights on the old magus hiding at the back end. Raising a hand, my mana reserves dropped by a large margin as a sleek handgun appeared in my grasp with a shimmer of light. With a tug, the gun fired a single Origin bullet at Zouken's form. Not a hint of concern marred his disgusting face as the projectile flew at him at high speeds. The bullet struck him dead in the chest with a crunch, but the old magus treated it nothing more than a slight annoyance, expecting the hole to fix itself.

As Zouken stood in place, a creeping sense of dread washed over him. It started as a subtle tremor, a faint quiver running through his body, but quickly escalated into something far more sinister. A collection of familiars that made up his muscles tensed and spasmed uncontrollably, as if rebelling against his commands. With each passing moment, it felt as though his very essence was slipping through his fingers, dissolving into nothingness.

A smile went up my face as I saw panic surge through him. Kiritsugu's Origin bullets did more than inflict physical wounds, it also broke down the magic circuits of whoever it hits, taking away their ability to manipulate magical energy and perform magecraft. Given enough time, Zouken would eventually lose his control over his familiars, preventing the magus from reforming another vessel at a later date.

"Trace on." Malenia's hand (the curved sword) vanished from my hand and was swiftly replaced by a peculiar broadsword. Putting strength into my legs, I launched forward with a burst of speed, killing everything that blocked my path like a raging berserker and crossed the distance between him and I in a blink of an eye. Stopping before the man, I rotated my upper body, held the sword high above my head, then executed a swift vertical slash.

Unable to move away in time, Zouken quickly raised a limb to intercept my attack, however it did nothing to stop the blade's sharp edge from effortlessly cleaving his right arm clean off his shoulders.

"Gah!" Suddenly, a piercing pain tore through Zouken's body, sharp and agonizing, as if his very being was being torn apart by the seams. The sensation disoriented him, this shouldn't have been possible, his familiars should have been the one that got hurt as his main body was still beside Sakura's heart, yet he felt as if unseen hands were tearing his soul, pulling him apart piece by piece. He tried to rationalize the strange occurrence, but the boy prevented him from expanding on this thought.

I swiftly withdrew my weapon and executed a flurry of strikes at my opponent, aiming to lay as much suffering as I possibly could. To my surprise, the old maggot's injuries mended itself at a pace that matched my swings. I notice that his remaining familiars had forgone attacking me altogether in favour of attaching themselves onto Zouken's current body in a vain attempt to keep their host alive. I wasn't alarmed by this, the blade in my grasp struck one's soul, restoring his body only gave me more opportunities to inflict pain upon him. I swung, again and again, severing his soul's hold over the mortal plane in an act of unfiltered violence. Soon enough, the amount of worms that followed his instructions lessened, leaving him with nothing more than a withering upper body to work with.

"Release." I deactivated Time Alter, ignoring the throbbing pain that came with it, and strode towards the old coot's slumped form.

"You—" He tried to speak, but I cut him off by grabbing his head and brutally pummeling it onto the ground, scraping it across the surface. A few more cuts from the broadsword would have fully extinguished his soul, but there was something else I wanted to do just as a precaution. I took a deep breath before opening my mouth to speak.

"I kill. I let live. I harm, and I heal. None will escape me. None will escape my sight." I activated the only holy sacrament skill in my arsenal.

Due to Zouken Matou's unique existence, he was extremely susceptible to such practices, hence why I went through the trouble of learning it.

"Be crushed. I welcome those who have grown old and those who have lost." A pillar of malevolent light answered my words, connecting up into the sky and bathing the entire basement in an ethereal glow. "Devote yourself to me, learn from me, and obey me." Holy energy swirled, enveloping the area with warmth. "Do not forget song, do not forget prayer, and do not forget me." All across the city, members of the Holy Church took notice of the divine column in the distance and hastily made their way to it. "I give you rest. I will lighten your burdens and make you forget them."

Zouken's eyes threatened to pop out of its sockets. While his body convulsed in reaction to the sacrament, he uttered in disbelief: "What—?" He did not understand where the boy got all of these tricks from. He had watched him from the sidelines since the day he took Sakura away, and concluded that he was nothing more than a kind young man with an inflated sense of justice.

And that sword, the blade that struck his very essence—where did he get it? The old magus knew Shirou dabbled in smithing, but what can a 12 year old upstart magus realistically do with bars of metal? Not once did he even consider the redhead a threat, and now the magus was paying the price for his hubris. Decades worth of work to achieve his goal, gone right before his eyes all because of a child's interference.

His body refused to move even an inch and could do nothing but watch as his remaining frame crumbled into fine dust due to the Lord's light. He'd known that Shirou attended the local kirk, but he never could've expected him to attain such strong connection with the Lord during that short amount of time.

"Did you receive guidance from God, child?" Zouken strained himself to speak, longing wrapped his words for some odd reason. In truth, his corroded soul slowly reverted back to its natural state, allowing memories he'd long forgotten to play in his mind. It brought him back to a simpler time.

Letting his words flow from one ear to another, I continued the rite, "Do not pretend. Retribution for forgiveness, betrayal for trust, despair for hope, darkness for light, and death for the living." White lines suddenly weaved across the old magus' skin, covering his entire form like a web. "Solice is in my hands. I shall pour oil unto your sins and mark you. Only in death will eternal life be given." As the rite neared its conclusion, the holy pillar shone brighter. "You'll find forgiveness here. On my Incarnation I swear——Kyrei Eleison." Following my words, Zouken's soul shattered, torn into a thousand fragments by the light of God, never to walk amongst the ranks of Man ever again.

Now without a master to follow, the left over familiars scurried away from my figure in a panic. The grubs' presence all over the city brought me little concern as once daybreak hits, each and every single one of them would hurl over due to mana exhaustion. Even if a few of these critters somehow survive, they'd have no choice but to cannibalize one another for magical energy to live even a second more, culling their numbers without me having to do anything.

After ending the sacrament, the divine beam gradually dispersed into beautiful motes of light and I rose to my feet. A burst of System notifications appeared, telling me that "Purify" had reached B rank, but I pushed it aside and took another deep breath to calm my bubbling excitement.

"I did it." Just like how Kiritsugu had taught me, I had dispatched my target with extreme efficiency, there was no need to draw the battle out when there was nothing to gain. While the process had some rough edges, it went as well as I had expected. Had the poor bastard taken me seriously from the start, our fight would've ended differently, too bad he couldn't take into account that I had a video game System on my side.

To be honest, it was a bit of an overkill to use a literal God given gift to end him, but better to err on the side of caution. With a near perfect copy of Avalon planted within Sakura, she should be fine even if Zouken did anything with his main body out of desperation.

Manic laughter bursts out of my mouth, before it was briskly shot down. 'Celebrations can come later, I need to get back home first.'

Upon emerging from the Matou mansion, I was immediately confronted by a group of men dressed in dark vestments standing idly by the foyer. A myriad of expressions donned each of their faces as they stared at my appearance, the most prominent being shock and reverence. Thankfully, the winged helm covered the majority of my facial features, preventing them from determining my identity. However, I have no doubt they eventually would with enough time, given that red hair wasn't really that common around here.

As for the members of the Church, they could not help but gawk at the red-haired boy's blinding figure. A strong amount of holy energy continuously radiated off of him, flooding the entire area with warmth and mellowness. A weak glimmer accompanied his every step, as if a messenger of God walked right beside him. Truly, a mark of the Lord's chosen, they all collectively thought. The bearded man, the highest ranking cardinal in their group, took a step forward and presented himself with a small bow. "Good evening young man, I am Ivan Williams, a member of the Holy Church. May I ask what has happened here?"

"Good evening," I nod my head slightly, but refused to announce my name, "nothing too serious, I can assure you. There was merely a force of evil that needed to be taken care of," I spoke the truth, yet remained vague on the details. "Now, If I may, there's a place that requires my immediate presence. Have a good night."

I quickly went into motion to vacate the area, but the man known as Ivan Williams raised his arm as I was about to walk past him, halting my stride. "A moment, please. Would it trouble you to tell us your name?"

"I am nothing more than a simple man of the Lord. Hopefully that would suffice," I spoke calmly, fully knowing my answer would not satisfy even a quarter of their curiosity, before speaking in a whisper, "Time alter—square accel."

The following phenomena left the priests frozen in astonishment. As if blessed by the Lord himself, a pair of malevolent wings made of pure light hovered behind Shirou's armour before he vanished with a flash of light, leaving the starstruck clergymen abandoned on the Matou residence. After his disappearance, they quickly went into action, some tried to follow the boy but lost him after a single turn, while others stayed behind to investigate the place, later finding an unconscious boy with a head of blue hair and took him into an infirmary.

I swiftly left the scene while supressing my presence to seamlessly blend into the surroundings, fully ignorant of the events that just transpired behind me. While weaving through the familiar streets of Fuyuki, a translucent screen appeared before my eyes, saying something about gaining a new title. I pushed it aside for now and placed my attention back at my current task. Soon enough, I arrive back home and dematerialized my equipment, then quietly entered Sakura's room.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw the young girl squirming in her bed while donning a face of discomfort. I dropped to the ground and took her into my arms, hoping to soothe whatever pain she was going through. As I gently embraced her, Avalon registered my touch and went into overdrive, producing a golden glow from within her chest as it did its best to fix whatever damage Zouken's remaining familiars inflicted on her.

Sakura's hair colour shifts into a darker shade of purple for some odd reason. Seeing as how Avalon wasn't reacting to the change, it was probably nothing harmful. As time progressed, Sakura's breathing returned to normal, her spasms stopped and her face now sported one of comfort. Seeing this, I released a breath I was unconsciously holding and gently tucked her back into bed, then opened the System menu to check on something.

[Title 'Saint' has been acquired]

"What?" I muttered in surprise. I checked its contents and found out what it did; the title provided me a major experience boost in everything that's related to holy energy. It acted similarly to [Sword Incarnation], except it's for divine sacraments instead of swords. It was most-likely generated due to some misunderstanding created by my ability to utilize the Lord's gifts, but you wouldn't see me complain about it. A power up was a power up.

And with that, I caressed Sakura's hair one last time and left her alone to recover.

----

As the morning rays shone through the windows, Sakura stirred from her slumber and sat upright right while rubbing her eyes. Relief washed over the young girl as she scanned the whole room, realizing that she was still inside Shirou's home and not her grandfather's.

It had been many years since she'd left that place and was offered a new home, but Sakura still felt as if it was a dream. Dread kept a firm hold over her mind, she was deathly afraid that the times she has spent with Shirou was all but a lie created by Zouken to torment her even further. She doesn't want this to end, hoping this moment would last forever. But, she knew it wouldn't last, like always. Her uncle had already tried and failed in the past which lead to his demise, what's to say this would go any different?

Upon rising to her feet, she immediately noticed that the worms inside of her was awefully silent. Usually, they would wiggle and crawl, giving her a sense of formication (the feeling of insects crawling in, on or under your skin) at every waking moment, but for some reason she could not feel any of those dastardly creatures, as if they had disappeared. She didn't give it much attention though, they'll probably awake later and continue like normal.

Reaching the dining room, she quickly spotted Shirou sitting down by the table, a heavy atmosphere circled the boy like clouds during a storm. Witnessing this side of him that she's never seen, a tinge of nervousness spread across her body.

"Oh, Sakura. Come here, I have something to tell you." A cold hand grasped her heart as she heard him speak in a weighty tone. Had he gotten tired of her? Disgusted by the filth that befouled her person? She hesitated, stopping just before entering the room. Seeing her odd behavior, Shirou worriedly asked: "Is something wrong? Do you need some help?"

She regained a fraction of her wits back and replied with a stutter. "O-oh… it's nothing." Sakura shuffled her way to the desk and sat down beside him, her fingers digging into her thighs as she waited for him to start. Did her grandfather do something to him? Maybe he threatened Shirou to give her back? She quickly tossed those thoughts away, Shirou wouldn't do something like that, right? She prays that's not the case.

"Sakura," the redhead looked directly into her eyes, "you don't have to worry about Zouken anymore. He's dead, I killed him," he decided to speak the truth without beating around the bush. The redhead said it with such conviction that she almost believed it to be true.

Whatever was brewing inside Sakura's head could not even compare to what Shirou had just revealed. She stilled, thinking she heard wrong, but Shirou made it abundantly clear that the man known as Zouken Matou had perished not too long ago by his own hands.

"But…but how?" The young girl squeaked out in denial. She knew what her grandfather was capable of to some extent, so it shouldn't have been possible for Shirou to do anything to him, yet he claims to have gotten rid of Zouken? It confused her more than anything. She fervently hoped that nothing harmful happened to him, otherwise she might just lose the only one who gave her joy.

Shirou then went on to explain what had transpired last night while excluding the gruesome details of course, and told her that he had been preparing for this moment since they day they met. By the end of his account, Sakura's mind whirled like a hurricane. Then, she realized why the worms inside her stopped—they had vanished along with Zouken's death.

A choked breath escaped the young girl as tears slowly formed in her eyes. She doesn't deserve any of this, there was no reason for Shirou to go that far for someone like her, yet he did for no other reason than he cared. She felt happy to say the least, yet guilty for dragging Shirou into her problems.

"I-I'm sorry," she sputtered out, a stream of tears rolling down her cheeks. "I didn't want to drag you into–" she paused due to a hiccup, "–how can I even thank you for this… I don't even have anything to—"

Shirou pulls her into a tender hold, cutting her words off. "Hush. Don't apologize. You deserve this much, Sakura. Just continue living your life, whatever makes you happy makes me happy as well."

Sakura wrapped her arms around the boy's neck in response, slamming her whole body onto his as tears resumed to flow from her eyes. For the next hour or so, the young girl refused to let go of Shirou as if afraid something would take him away from her. This is fine, right? If whatever she did made him happy, then he wouldn't mind staying with her for a while, no? In her mind, she made a silent vow to never leave the boy's side, no matter what the world threw at her.

Deep within her soul, a being of pure darkness screamed, its shrill cries reverberating across the space it inhabited, thrashing as if showered in molten lava. Nothing answered the creature's shrieks until a loud crack sounded from across its blackened form. Suddenly, the thing was split into two distinct entities: one made of raw hate and wrath, while the other emanated joy, love, and a hint of obsession. It even had a form of its own, which was eerily similar to Sakura's physical appearance.

The two opposing existences stared at one another for a moment until the former was abruptly banished out of the vast emptiness by an unseen force tinged with a shred of divine into the material plane—right inside the Matou manor's ruined basement.

"You finally made your appearance. You kept me waiting, you insolent cur," a man with golden hair spoke. He exuded a kingly aura no one could reject, forcing anyone to kneel with just a glance from his penetrating gaze.

As the beast of enmity roared in response to the man's presence, a series of chains emerged from brilliant portals behind the golden-haired man and swiftly enfolded the creature, binding it to the ground.

"Although you are only a fraction of it, under my care, you'll become an adequate weapon to extinguish this era's blight," he declared in a haughty voice.

END.

Author's Notes: Uh, yeah—Didn't plan much ahead when I wrote the fight scene. Oops?

I'll be writing notes every chapter from now on because I can.

Also, I've been playing a game called Supermarket Simulator, and it's quite addicting.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 7: A moment of peace.

Inside an enormous kirk situated at the heart of the Vatican, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, two men stood before a magnificent cross, the symbol of their faith, with their heads tilted in reverent worship.

"The Lord has given me directions," spoke a middle-aged man adorned in a resplendent white robe, enriched with intricate gold accents that shimmered in the flickering light of the candles. His voice carried the weight of authority and devotion.

"Garcia, tell everyone who's been sent to Fuyuki days prior in search for His light to recoup. Do not to disturb God's chosen for now and keep away from the traitor touched by the world's evil," he commanded, his tone unwavering in its conviction.

"What of their charge, the Tohsaka heir?" Garcia, a figure cloaked in shadows at the back of the chamber, expressed his concern for the young lass under the traitor's guardianship.

"Leave the child be. She remains oblivious of her guardian's workings. Now go," the holy man said.

"By your Holiness' will," Garcia responded with a respectful bow before swiftly departing. The echo of his footsteps reverberated across the hallowed halls of the prayer room before fading into silence.

Left alone amidst the ethereal ambiance, the head of the Holy Church clasped his hands together and drifted off into a prayer, his words a whispered invocation to the divine.

"May the light of God guide you, young man," the Pope whispered softly, his voice a gentle benediction, as he offered a silent prayer for the wellbeing of the newly appointed Saint.

----

I stood in front of the school gates with Sakura standing closely beside me. After telling her about what happened to Zouken, we proceeded with our lives like normal and prepared to go to school.

"Are you sure you're okay? You aren't uncomfortable anywhere, right?" I asked the lavender-haired girl in front of me, who gave a warm smile that could melt the hearts of those bearing witness to it.

While the old worm might be gone, a shard of the Holy Grail was still inside Sakura's body, worrying Shirou. 'I'll think of something to get rid of it,' he told himself. Unbeknownst to him, however, the grail had already been removed and replaced by something else entirely.

"I'm perfectly fine, senpai. I am doing better than ever," Sakura beamed. It frustrated her that they would be separated for a while, but she could always make up for that lost time back at home, when the two of them were truly alone with one another—unless a certain hungry Tiger (Taiga Fujimura) decides barge into their abode. Unbeknownst to her hero, Sakura's affection towards him was emboldened by the unknown being nestled within herself, morphing into slight possessiveness.

"Alright. I'll see you later." Hearing her spirited voice, I toned down my worries and waved her goodbye before splitting off to our respective classes. Lately, she's been calling me her senior, or 'senpai', making me cringe for a while until I got used to it. The word didn't even sound right in my head anymore due to my exposure to anime in my past life.

As I settled down on my seat, my thoughts began to drift. To be honest, Sakura's health still occupied a large portion of my mind since Zouken's death not even a day ago, fueling my paranoia that something wrong might happen to her, even though I already looked over everything and definitively concluded that the chances of anything wrong occurring was practically non-existant.

The day whizzed by like a speeding bullet and before I knew it, lunch time had arrived. I grabbed my packed meal and quietly went out of the classroom, doing my hardest to avoid interacting with anyone of my physical age. A child I might be at this moment, but I could not bring myself to act like one. Though, I cannot deny that I am childish at certain times.

While crossing an open path that lead to my usual go-to spot, a football that rolled over to my legs caught my attention. Glancing to the left, I saw a bunch of kids by the playground waving their arms at me, gesturing me to kick the object back. I obliged and sent the ball flying in their direction, before rolling to a stop right at the closest boy's feet. They shouted their thanks and went back to their activities without paying me another glance.

[You have completed a side-quest]

'Huh, neat.' The fact that something as simple as passing a ball reward me with experience points, albeit a minute amount, only fed to my instincts to aid anyone near me, which I was fine with. Not like I'm putting anyone in danger and I get stronger in the process.

After turning a few more corners, I arrived at an isolated part of the garden that even the elusive groundskeeper rarely ever visits and popped open the food container in my hands. The school rooftop was inaccessible for obvious reasons, but even then I wouldn't chose that place to eat my lunch as it was too damn sunny up there. While ranting about my dislike for roofs, a figure of short stature made an appearance from behind a bush.

"Hah, you're here. I knew it," a young girl dressed in crimson said, flicking her twintails back with her hand. Only two people in the entire campus knew where I usually hid during break: one being Sakura Matou, and the other was Rin Tohsaka. Sakura was placed on another wing of the school as she was an underclassmen of mine, so there could only be one person who came to find me.

"Oh, Rin. Nice to see you. Sit, sit." I pat the open space beside me, signaling the girl to lay down. "I have some extra food if you want a share," I spoke with a smirk, causing Rin's eyes to twitch ever slightly. By the gods, she's incredibly easy to poke fun of.

After our first meeting all those years ago, I've since become close friends with Rin and always kept her at arm's reach, we'd even hang out at times. She'll behave normally when we're together, but acts coy whenever Sakura, her biological sister, gets involved. Sometimes she would even make up an excuse on the spot to leave.

Truth be told, her inability to fully express herself had placed me on the verge of losing it a few times, but I had gotten accustomed to it over the years and even began to use this particular behavior of hers to tease and give her enough courage into showing her true emotions.

Huh, who knew people with Alexithymia (difficulty in verbal expressions, resulting in physical complaints) would be troublesome to communicate with at certain times.

"I am not your pet, Emiya, I will not be swayed in by your words." She crossed her arms, putting on an air of indifference that quickly collapsed like a house of cards upon hearing my next words.

"Sakura and I gave our best to make an extra portion just for you, you're telling me you don't want it?" The Second Owner of Fuyuki flinched, a tinge of guilt marring her otherwise adorable face.

I knew she still cared for her sister dearly, yet could not bring herself to act due to an agreement between their families. It practically meant nothing anymore considering the two who signed it are dead and the only family members left to uphold that promise are Rin and Sakura, but I had a feeling Rin would lock herself away the moment she realizes that fact. Slowly but surely, I was trying my best to pave a facile path for the two to reunite and become a family once more.

"F-fine!" she exclaimed, "Since you're offering, I might as well join you, Emiya." As a matter of fact, eating with Emiya was one of the few things the young magus looked forward to during school, it took her mind off the annoying things her caretaker had obtruded on her. He didn't need to know that, of course.

"You know, just 'Shirou' is fine. It feels awkward that only I call you by your first name, you should as well," I suggested as Rin fixed her skirt to sit next to me.

"Can… can I?" she inquires. Her sapphire eyes briefly met mine before she quickly looked away, her figure fidgeting slightly.

"Of course you can, I've been saying this for years, but you keep calling me by my last name." I reached out, putting a box filled with an assortment of foodstuff on her lap.

"Okay," Rin breathed in before awkwardly speaking, "Thank you... S-Shirou." She took hold of the item on her person and briskly opened it.

A look of surprise spread across my face, she actually spoke words of gratitude for once instead of getting physical for once. Progress! I cheered in my head. While a simple 'thank you' might not be much, it was better than than nothing.

"There you go, it wasn't that hard, was it?" I let out an amused laugh. She raised her head and responded with an embarrassed "Shut up" before setting her sight back on the food.

----

After school ended, Sakura and I went home together as usual. Taiga called saying she wouldn't be able to join us for today, much to her dismay, as she had some things to deal with at her end, leaving the two of us be the only occupants of the house.

I went to my room, took a handfull of exotic mushrooms from a sealed container and shoved it in my mouth. The fungi was without taste, mostly because it instantly killed my sense of taste. Upon swallowing, its additional effects was immediate; my whole mouth began to sting, followed by a paralyzing feel that jolted across my entire body, resulting in my muscles to numb.

[Skill 'Poison resistance' has leveled up to C - 10]

"One more level till it reaches B rank. Christ Almighty, this feels like absolute garbage," I winced. My slumped back picked itself up as the petrifying sensation gradually fizzled out.

For the past few years or so, I had been eating various poisonous objects once a day to raise my immunity against the ailment for no other reason than I could. Perhaps if I consumed enough, it would be possible to develop a skill similar to the 'Scarlet Rot', without corrupting or deforming my body of course. And maybe, just maybe, turn into the God of Rot when I'm pushed to a corner. A man can only dream of gaining such powers.

It was a disease that Malenia the Severed and many others in the Lands Between had been exposed to, gnawing away at their mind and driving them into insanity, causing those who bore this affliction to act like starved beasts.

"Senpai?" My housemate's head peeked out from around the corner, calling out to me.

"Yes?" I turned, facing the girl. Sakura stood before me, her attire consisting of a purple apron atop a peach dress, as if she had just emerged from the kitchen.

"Dinner is ready," she announced with a warm smile, confirming my thoughts.

"Okay, let me put this back first." I carefully placed the box I was holding back in its place and followed Sakura to the common room, where a collection of food had been lovingly prepared and neatly laid out on the table.

Sakura gracefully removed her apron, hanging it on a hook by the wall, before joining me at the table. She sat closer than usual, but I welcomed her presence and thought nothing much of it. Expressing my heartfelt thanks, I noticed a slight blush tinting her cheeks before we both began to enjoy the delicious meal she had prepared.

As we ate, we engaged in pleasant conversation, savoring each bite and relishing in the comfort of each other's company. Sakura seemed more animated than usual, her expressions ranging from smiles to laughter to occasional frowns, which warmed my heart. Witnessing both Rin and Sakura express themselves in such a genuine manner was truly the highlight of my day.

In the background, the television screen played a news segment. Reports detailed a recent sighting of a large number of worms exiting and roaming the sewers around Fuyuki, sparking concerns of a potential infestation. Authorities had dispatched exterminators to cleanse the city's underground trenches, aiming to appease the worried populace.

Watching the news, a sense of satisfaction washed over me. I'm willing to bet that only my companion and I were privy to the truth behind the mysterious events unfolding in our city. With Zouken Matou gone, I could finally take a break without encountering any trouble for a good while——God, I just jinxed it, didn't I? Recalling Shirou Emiya's horrendous luck, a frown forced its way onto my face. That level of misfortune shouldn't have been transferred to me, right? Please?

"Is something wrong?" Sakura commented on my change in expression, trepidation coating her voice, "Was the food n-not good?"

She seemed scared that I'd be dissatisfied with her cooking, which was blasphemy deserving of death—nay, eternal torment in the deepest pits of Hell itself. No one gets to call anything Sakura makes unsatisfactory. While she might not contend with my culinary expertise due to the System's aid, her ability to conjure meals is most definitely top tier.

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. I just thought of something, don't worry it's nothing serious." I swayed my hand in a reassuring manner, hoping to dismiss her worries.

She nodded with a look of relief on her face. The creature of love resting inside her soul quietly observed their interaction, burning every detail of the boy's appearance and habits into its memories.

I couldn't help but raise my hand and gently stroke her head, causing the girl to let out a silent yelp. She quickly averted her gaze, shuffling on her seat while doing her best to fight down the heat in her cheeks. To be honest, I didn't really do this much often. Petting someone's head just wasn't something that crosses my thoughts that much. But I still do it on occasions.

[Skill 'Head pat' has been acquired]

'What?' Upon seeing the System notification, my thoughts abruptly crashed head first into the nearest imaginary pole, killing at least half of my brain cells.

Meanwhile, inside a room crowded by shelves containing a myriad of books, a being of utter blackness sporting a scarf around their neck stiffled a laugh.

END.

Author's notes: Just a filler chapter with nothing much happening.

One more thing, expect the overall quality and update frequency to drastically drop. I'm currently going through burnout right now.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 8: First Quest (1/3) - A pair of Saints.

As the sun broke through the horizon, bringing light across Fuyuki's cityscape, I sat on the porch while Sakura stood behind me, comb in hand. She brushed my lengthy hair, her touch gentle yet firm before tying the lower half into a fine braid, leaving the top and sides of my face to be covered with locks that lifted at the end fringes.

"It's done," the girl with lavender hair announced with a warm smile, setting the brush down. After Zouken's departure, her troubled mind had been alleviated, replaced by an iron-clad spirit that conveyed yearning and expectation when directed at the auburn-haired boy.

"Thank you, Sakura." I turned around, giving the young girl a hug to which she eagerly responded in kind.

She and I talked for a little bit, enjoying each another's presence, before separating soon after to do our own thing. She headed to the kitchen in order to prepare breakfast, including Taiga's who would without a doubt appear as she always did, while I quietly made my way to the smithy out back to clean it up.

As I dropped a container filled with metal bars in a corner, a System notification appeared in front of me.

[A new Quest is available]

"Hm?" I hummed, brows arcing upward. To be frank, the 'Quest' timer at the very bottom of the System's head-up display had largely left me considering the fact that it had barely anything to do with my everyday life, only being relevant once 5 years had passed—which was now. It's pretty crazy to think that so many years had passed.

My lips thinned. The years I've spent in this reality had been short, a measly 5 years of my newly attained youth, yet it was more laborious than the last, but at the same time even more rewarding. Long have I accepted my circumstances (abrupt reincarnation), but that doesn't diminish the absurdity of it all. If not for the System's presence giving me a sense of safety, my state of mind would've deteriorated the longer time dragged on due to the untold dangers that this world had in store.

Shaking my head, my attention went back to the notification. "What's this supposed to do?" I asked myself while opening the System's interface, only to be left confused upon reading its contents.

[Quest: Assist Ruler and destroy the Greater Grail]

[You may return once you complete the Quest]

"What—" Before my mind could fully process the information, an invisible hand pulled upon my very being and threw me into a space of utter darkness, stealing my sight. Panicked, I twist and turn, but failed to properly orient myself as each direction felt all the same, yet foreign at the same time.

Just as abruptly, I was spat back out into the mortal plane with the subtlety of a typhoon passing through the streets of Miami. A loud boom traveled across the land as I crashed back first into the earthen ground, sending dirt into the sky and forcing a groan of pain to escape my lips.

'Damn that hurt,' I winced at the pain surging across my body. The fall must have been pretty high for it to actually cause me some amount of injury.

I left my recovery in Avalon's hands and swiftly shot to my feet, eyes bouncing to and fro, scanning the area for any signs of danger. Finding nothing amiss, the breath I was unconsciously holding got released, calmness washing over me.

"Where in Mother Earth's ample bossom am I?" Looking around, I had somehow crash landed beside an expressway in the middle of an open vista. It was undoubtedly the System that took me here, as for the reason? Probably something to do with the 'Quest' I just received.

Out of the blue, a dense pocket of magical energy appeared in the distance, making me to turn my head. Having nothing else to do, I bent my legs and rushed to the direction of the disturbance until a pair of blurry figures on the road came into view. With the help of Reinforcement, my eyes gained a new level of clarity, allowing me to determine their forms.

Stood atop a road sign is a man with a ghostly complexion and unkempt hair of equal colour. His form-fitting clothes were pitch black with an open front, exposing the rubellite gem planted on his chest. His legs were covered in blinding armour and two golden constructs reminiscent of an eye hovered over his shoulders, and a red cape draped over his form like clouds during a storm. A spear longer than he is tall was firmly in his grasp, its tip pointed at the ground.

He radiated a hint of divine as he stared at the sole person below whom returned with a glare that matched his. Standing on the road was a beautiful woman wearing a battle-dress with hair bright as wheat that's weaved not too dissimilarly to mine. Chains wrapped around her chest, accentuating her bust, donned a pair of silver gauntlets that covered her hands, and some form of hair ornament was placed on her head.

Out of habit, I examined the slender rapier on the young woman's waist, replicating the weapon inside Unlimited Blade Works in the blink of an eye, before moving to the pale man's spear. As my eyes studied its sleek surface, an intangible power started assaulting my head from all sides, as if beating it with hammers, forcing me to halt my analysis, not before determining the pole-arm's name however, causing my eyes to widen.

My mind jolted, immediately discerning their identities. The one above was of Hindu origin—a demigod named Karna. While the blonde was none other than the Saint of Orleans—Jeanne d'Arc. Two existences thwt shouldn't even be here, yet they were. There was only one reason for their presence here; they were both Servants - heroes of long past - brought forth by a magical artefact known as the Holy Grail to participate in a bloody conflict between two factions—Red and Black.

'Am I in Fate Apocrypha?' From what I could recall, Apocrypha was another version or timeline of Fate, but my knowledge of the show were blurry at best.

I never knew the System had the power to travel across dimensions, I thought it only allowed me to level up and gain Skills. Admittedly, I was worried about my world. What if Sakura came searching for me in the shed after she's finished cooking, only to find me missing? I hope to God nothing bad happens to her while I'm away.

"I'll be back soon." Thankfully, the objective only required me to aid Jeanne d'Arc, also known as the Ruler-class Servant, and destroy the source of this conflict, the Greater Grail, not to fight the Servants themselves. With my current strength, I would no doubt shatter like glass the moment I engage with any of them.

Though I might not tussle with them, a wave of nervousness still persisted within me. To alleviate this feeling, I decided that now was the time to allocate my stat points in the small chance that I do confront a Servant in the coming future.

———

-Shirou Emiya-

Title(s):
-Expand-

Level: 20

STR: 20
VIT: 61
AGI: 24
MAG: 31
Points: 0

Reality Marble:
Unlimited Blade Works.

Skills:
-Expand-

Quest:
[Assist Ruler and destroy the Greater Grail]

———

I had forgone adding anything to Vitality because Avalon already had that department under control, and placed the majority of my spare points into Magic. Albiet narrow in selection, magecraft was where most of my strength lay.

A wave of vigour ran across my whole body, signifying my sudden increase in strength. I shook the odd feeling off, already attuned with the change thanks to the System's machinations, and closed the interface. With this, my rate of survival should've increased, even by a minute amount. Back to the pair, they began to talk to one another, but due to the immense distance between us my ears failed to capture anything. Using Reinforcement, my hearing received a large boost, allowing it to capture their voices.

"I shall end this with a single strike," the demigod spoke, his voice resolute as he decided his next actions, causing the ends of my hair to stand. Now's not the time to dawdle, I can't have Ruler die on me just yet. I didn't even know what completing this Quest entails, but I hope it wouldn't be anything detrimental.

"Trace on." With a flicker of mana, a large, custom-made bow accompanied by a steel sword appeared within my grasps. Using Alteration, the blade's shape changed, stretching into a more aerodynamic form before being notched into the bow like a normal arrow would.

The Lancer of Red, Karna, heaved the spear in his hand, directing it to the Saint of Orleans, prompting her to summon a regal war banner in her hands, then assumed a defensive stance. Suddenly, the spearman released a torrent of magical energy, causing the winds itself to whip around erratically.

Taking aim with my back stuck straight, the bow's shape bent into a "C" as I pulled the sturdy string back with all my strength. Upon release, the sword-turned-projectile surged through the sky at an unbelievable speed and reached their position in a span of a second. Archery was another skill I've been learning vigorously throughout the years in tandem with blacksmithing.

To his credit, Karna immediately noticed the disturbance in the air and calmly turned his head to the side out of instinct, evading the speeding sword by a finger's length. The demigod raised his head, eyes sharpening, and traced the trajectory of the 'arrow', instantly discerning my location.

"Best I could do is distract him," I whisper, not at all disheartened by the missed shot. That didn't really come as a surprise, there was no way a being of his strength could be taken down by a mere steel sword, the best it could do was annoy him. At the very least, it did stop him from releasing his most powerful strike upon Jeanne.

Perhaps if I possessed a Noble Phantasm - a Servant's weapon or ability - it would be possible to land a scratch on him. I could try Projecting Ruler's banner since my Reality Marble had already made a copy of it, but it wouldn't do much as a weapon because it was, at its core, a Noble Phantasm meant to protect. The demigod's spear on the other hand was impossible for me to replicate due to its nature as a Divine Construct— armaments made by gods or some other powerful being. That was the reason my Structural Analysis failed earlier, my mind literally could not fathom how it was made for it was not created for mortal hands to wield.

"Where the hell are you, Saber?" I sifted through the vague memories I had of the original show. The Saber of Black should have already arrived at this point in time to ward off Karna from approaching Ruler, yet not a lick of his presence could be found anywhere in the area.

Lancer of Red brandished his weapon, eyes trained on the Saint while remaining vigilant of the archer. The gap between the Servants and the shooter was a little under a kilometer and a half, a testament to the archer's skills, but it also gave Karna time to detect and avoid any incoming attacks. Even if they somehow actually hit him, the oddly shaped arrows wouldn't be able to penetrate his golden armour, but it was better to stay conscious of all parties involved in a fight lest you get caught by something unexpected.

Seeing him resume his attempts at Ruler's life, I prepare another sword and took a shot, which was followed by another in quick succession. As their duel raged on, Lancer increased his efforts to eliminate the other Servant by exerting more strength into his blows and moved at such speeds that my eyes failed to follow him even with the help of my boosted stats and Reinforcement.

"This isn't working," I grumbled in frustration at my inability to track their movements, then chanted, "Time alter—triple accel." With the spell in effect, they became visible once again, and I rained steel upon the spearman in hopes of giving him pause. But it was all for naught as he made light of my attempts and continued pursuing the Saint.

His agility and dexterity proved too much for my projectiles to realistically hit, and predicting his next move was an even more arduous task. So, I resorted to simply bombarding the general area he was in, making sure to avoid harming Jeanne.

The ground shook and the winds howled as the demigod threw swings that easily tore through the earth as if it were the surface of water at Ruler, who blocked or redirected the attacks with extreme finesse, yet refused to counter with a strike of her own and merely defended herself.

Through a combination of skill and luck on Shirou's part, a steel arrow managed to make contact with Lancer's shoulder, giving him the feeling of being poked. He was about to ignore it when the tap morphed into a light squeeze—not life-threatening nor painful, but alarming in itself.

'It went through my armor?' the demigod questioned, taking a glance at his shoulder. His golden armor should have prevented harm from being inflicted upon him, yet something did? 'No… it did not. The blade was aimed at something else, something from within me—my soul,' his eyes narrowed slightly at the discovery. While the effects were marginal at best, it was never a good idea to dismiss anyone who could harm one's inner self during a battle. He threw a glance in the shooter's direction, paying close attention to the incoming shower of swords, each containing the ability to strike one's soul.

I continued to shoot the Servant of red, my arm slowly turning numb, but I pushed through and loaded more bladed weapons into my bow, firing at the demigod, who seemed to have given me more attention than before.

At the edge of my vision, a dark car could be seen barreling through the empty road. Inside the backseat was a fat man who I could only assume to be the Master, or summoner, of Saber of Black—Gordes Musik Yggdmillenia.

A tinge of confusion crossed my face, where was his Servant? I couldn't detect the famed swordsman anywhere near the vehicle. My internal question was answered in the form of a dark blur that fell from above, landing between Karna and Jeanne in an explosion of dust and dirt, forcing the former to disengage to take stock of the situation.

'Well that answers that.' I lowered my arms, stretching my aching shoulders. It seemed that the man of the hour was only a little late, that's all.

The swirling smokescreen gradually cleared to reveal a man of impressive stature with tanned skin and unruly muted hair, pauldrons strapped on each shoulder, and a greatsword that released an oppressive aura firmly held in his hands. Much like Karna, the front of his clothes was bare, revealing strange intricate symbols that effused a subtle glow etched on his center.

"Release," I breathed out in relief as the Emiya Crest's time manipulation left my body, then dismissed the black bow. With the swordsman's intervention, the chances of Ruler dying had lowered drastically.

Massaging my arm, I observed the battle occurring in the distance with a keen eye. Ruler had taken a step back, retreating from the fight, letting the swordsman and spearman to be interlocked in a clash, a deadly dance between two masters in the art of combat, which wrought nothing but pure destruction throughout the surroundings. One fought to dispose of the war's overseer, Ruler, while the other prevented them from succeeding.

'Holy hell.' Seeing their display of strength that far outstripped mine, I unconsciously bit my lower lip. Once again, I thanked the System for tasking me with simply destroying the Greater Grail instead of directly fighting Servants, because there was no way in Mother Earth's great ass am I going to stand a chance against them.

Gordes Musik Yggdmillenia initiated a conversation with Ruler, pleading for her to join Saber's assault on the spearman but she refused, stating firmly that the past grievances between her and Lancer were wholly different.

"But he tried to kill you!" Gordes reasoned, desperation evident in his voice. Jeanne replied calmly, emphasizing that she will not provide any help to both factions.

Unable to convince her, Gordes faced my general direction and shouted into the open horizon, his voice full of pride and hostility, "A battle between magi it is. I am Gordes Musik Yggdmillenia! Cease with these cowardly acts at once and reveal yourself, Master of Lancer! We shall settle this one-on-one as magi!"

Hearing his challenge, I raised my brows. Did he seriously think I was the Master of Lancer? Had he not seen me attacking the demigod prior to this, or did he think those shots were meant for Ruler? It seems he only saw my projectiles, not its target. Either way, I chose not to respond, ignoring the buffoon's ramblings about magi's pride and stayed low, just out of sight.

In the heat of battle, Karna's actual Master ordered a retreat, forcing the demigod to concede, vanishing into a smoke of mana particles. After the fact, Ruler approached the swordsman of Black. "That was a magnificent battle," she said, acknowledging his prowess. "As expected of Allemagne's greatest hero."

Gordes froze on the spot upon realizing that Ruler knew his Servant's identity. 'So she really does know,' he thought, feeling a bead of sweat rolling down his face. He had hidden Saber's True Name even from his own companions, fearing they might exploit his Servant's greatest weakness. The dragon slayer, Siegfried, his Servant, was famous for not only having slain the evil dragon Fafnir, but also for his one and only frailty that ultimately lead to his demise—the leaf that clung on his back, preventing that spot from being dosed with Fafnir's blood when he bathed in it.

Steeling his nerves and pushing through his worries, Gordes made one last attempt to recruit Ruler to his side, only to be rejected in the same tone as before. Grudgingly accepting her answer, he left the scene with Saber in tow, driving back to his faction's base.

The blonde remained, surveying the aftermath of the battle. "The first clash of the war," she whispered to herself. This was the first of many battles to come and possibly one of the least destructive of them all. As an overseer of the conflict, she was tasked with ensuring that the participating parties adhered to the rules and boundaries of the war, ensuring the safety of those ignorant of the magical.

I observed as Jeanne dematerialized her battle armor, revealing an ordinary set of clothes that wrapped around her curvaceous figure. She wore a collared halter top that exposed the majority of her back, showing the visage of wings in red, shorts that swaddled her well developed bottom, and a pair of thigh highs that concealed her slender legs from the elements.

"Shouldn't she be cold?" was my first thought. After all, having been summoned into the body of a French girl named Laeticia, Jeanne had a form made of flesh and blood and not magical energy like a typical Servant. With the early hour and the cold morning breeze, it seemed likely that the weather would affect her, as she was essentially a human being.

She released a slow breath, creating a veil of white mist that swiftly dissipated into the air, before heading towards the cityscape in the distance, while I trailed shortly behind with a jolly grin on my face.

As to why? Deep within the barren landscape of my Reality Marble, Unlimited Blade Works, a familiar sword with a gem embedded on it could be seen planted into the ground, its hilt reaching into the cloudless sky.

I had successfully obtained my first offensive Noble Phantasm—Balmung, Siegfried's dragon slaying sword.

---

As Jeanne entered the outskirts of Trifas, Romania, she slipped into a secluded aisle, away from prying eyes, and turned back in the direction she had just come from.

"Show yourself," she commanded, her voice echoing across the quiet passageway. "Know that I am the overseer of this war. If you intend of inflicting harm upon me, punishment will swiftly follow," she announced, hoping to dissuade her stalker from attempting anything similar to what Lancer of Red had done.

Shortly after the first confrontation between the two factions, her senses alerted her to an unknown pursuer, but an invisible curtain shrouded them, making it extra difficult to determine their position.

Fortunately, it appeared that her stalker was more reasonable than Jeanne thought, as a young man with a frame and features awfully similar to hers answered the call, coming into view from around the corner with his hands held high to show his intentions.

His hair shimmered like the crimson glow of a setting sun, wore casual clothes and exuded an affectionate atmosphere that surprised her. The uncanny resemblance between them somewhat threw her off, and if not for the difference in hair colour, Jeanne would've thought she was staring at her reflection.

Jeanne's face betrayed a confused look as she scrutinized the man. She had initially thought it was the Servant of assassination, aptly named Assassin, using their skill [Presence Concealment], but the young man was anything but a being of mana; his entire essence was that of a human's. She remained completely oblivious to the fact that he does, indeed, possess the skill.

"You are?" she asked softly, her eyes refusing to leave his figure as she ogled at the familiar warmth swirling around him, reminiscent of the war banner she wielded in the name of the Lord.

"Shirou Emiya, pleasure to meet you. Now, I'm here with peaceful intentions in mind, nothing nefarious, I promise you." The young man lowered his arms and folded himself at the waist, showing his respect. Shirou wasn't all that surprised that his attempt to follow her quietly ended in failure, so he forgone stealth and revealed himself.

"Were you sent by the faction of black, perhaps?" she guessed. "I'm afraid my answer remains the same; my duty demands impartiality. Should that be your purpose here, turn back now." Jeanne contemplated turning around and walking away if that were the case, but the boy's next words cleared that thought.

"Ah, no-no. I am not here because of them, nor am I from the other colour." He shook his head, denying any kind of involvement with the red or black factions. It was best to clear the air now than have her think Shirou had some sort of ulterior motive.

"I'm here on my—" Before he could finish the sentence, however, a burst of radiance, equal in brightness, broke free from within their chests, showering the tranquil street in a holy shine and giving them a spook. For a fleeting moment, a divine spark of connection bridged their inner selves, intertwining them into a dance of understanding and empathy. In other words, it was a comforting walk, hand in hand, into each other's soul.

The light show gradually receded before vanishing altogether, followed by a period of silence. He and Jeanne kept their lips sealed for a while until the former decided to speak.

"That… what was that?" the young man started, voicing out his confusion.

On the other hand, the blonde quickly recovered from her befuddled state, finally realizing what the familiar presence around his form was and why she felt drawn to it. Jeanne lifted her head, her lilac eyes locking into his amber ones.

"You've been blessed by the Lord's light. You're a Saint, are you not?" Her words carried a sense of disbelief mixed with admiration upon finding out his status. She would've never guessed a Saint, one directly graced by God, could even be born during this era, a time when the Church's influence was on a steep decline.

"I am?" Shirou's reply came out more like a question than an answer since he couldn't exactly deny nor confirm the claim. To his knowledge, the Church has never canonized him as a Saint, but the System technically did by giving him the title, which resonated with Jeanne's own moments prior.

The boy's brows furrowed slightly as a bit of suspicion arose in his mind, questioning the System's origins. Was it God, with a capital G, who bestowed the System onto him? It would explain a tiny bit on why it rewarded him on every small acts of kindness he did, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions. Though he could not dismiss the idea, so he filed it to the back of his mind for later.

"Was it the Holy Church that sent you here?" she inquired, her cold demeanor softening into one of curiosity.

The redhead shook his head at her question. "Nope. Pretty sure I've only met a representative of the Church like, twice in my life. I am not affiliated with any organization or group of some kind, I came here on my own." He wanted to add that he was forced to be here, but that would contradict his earlier statement of being an independent party.

"And before you say anything about me being a Saint, I never claimed to be or view myself as one," he clarified, waving his hand dismissively. "And I most definitely did not plan to be one, it kinda just happened one night. I'm only here to offer you my help during this conflict, if you wouldn't mind, of course."

Warmth filled Jeanne's eyes upon hearing his words, her lips curling into a bright smile. It seems God's light had blessed a rather humble and honest one. The Saint of Orleans relaxed her posture, placing one hand over her chest as she spoke in a welcoming tone.

"I see. I'll gladly accept your offer," she said with a small head tilt. "I am Jeanne d'Arc. I look forward to working with you, sir Emiya."

"Just Shirou is fine. No need for pleasantries," he insisted. "And aren't you trusting me pretty quickly? What if I was lying? You shouldn't believe everything a stranger says," the young man advised.

"The light of the Lord does not lie," Jeanne replied, her voice filled with conviction. "Our meeting must be His will in action."

"Well, not too sure about that, but I'll do my best," Shirou said, extending his hand. Jeanne gently shook it, solidifying their alliance. He then moved his sight from her lustrous eyes to her attire with a look that she could only assume to be quizzical.

"Is something wrong?" the Saint asked, noting his gaze. Typically, she might feel a twinge of discomfort under someone's prolonged stare, but in his eyes, she detected no hint of malice. Coupled with the presence of God's light emanating from him, she felt no need to be wary of his attentiveness.

"I've been wanting to ask, what's up with your clothes?" He made a gesture, bringing attention to her wear. "Your top barely covers you and those are basically booty-shorts you have there. I mean, it's nice to look at and all, but are you fine walking around like that? As a Saintess no less?"

"I," she stammered, cheeks turning cherry pink at his sincere comment, "I can't help it, my luggage got l-lost at the airport."

Summoned in France and needing to catch a flight to Romania, where the Holy Grail War commenced, she found herself disembarking with nothing but the stuff on her person after her possessions were lost at the baggage claim section, somehow. To add to her predicament, her stomach suddenly growled loudly in the middle of her words, adding to her embarrassment.

The French girl felt the need to explain as imaginary steam vented off her head. "You see, my vessel requires sustenance to properly function unlike a regular Servant." She went on to expand, saying that she was currently borrowing the body of a young girl named Laeticia to be here, hench her need for food.

"Uh… not sure if this is the right time to tell you this." The redhead uttered, forcing a smile on his face. "I'm gonna be completely honest with you, I don't have money on me right now. I may or may not have forgotten it before coming here," he confessed. Unfortunately for Shirou, he had left his wallet back at home before his abrupt abduction, leaving him with nothing to spend.

"Leaving to travel without taking your wallet? That's quite irresponsible," Jeanne chided the red-haired boy. Unlike him, Jeanne didn't loose hers since she always carried it with her.

"You lost pretty much all of your stuff, yet you call me out for being irresponsible?" he countered with a less than brilliant rebuttal.

"These are two separate matters, that doesn't change anything about your situation!" Jeanne stated firmly. At the very least she couldn't be fully blamed for her problem, but Shirou was entirely at fault for his.

"You know, how about we agree that we were both unlucky?" he tried to deflect her nagging. "I can always get a part-time job somewhere here—I hope." He winced, realizing his current age might be an issue. Would anyone even employ him, a child? He's pretty tall for a twelve-year-old; maybe he could just lie about his age to get a temporary job.

Then again, he could always use Projection to simply spawn money from nothing and pay with those, but he immediately burried that thought as he had a strong feeling the Saintess before him would be heavily against it.

Jeanne relented with a drawn out sigh, swallowing the words that were about to leave her mouth, then offered Shirou to join her for something to eat. And so, the two ill-fated Saints went on their way.

---

Jeanne and I entered a snug restaurant with a dozen or so customers already inside and went to the table by the windows, sitting across one another.

"Hm?" I let out a hum as Jeanne slid the menu towards me. "Do you already have something in mind?"

"I—um. I'll just have what you h-have," she spoke, her words tripping over themselves.

"Okay?" I reached out, taking the menu off the desk and opened it. I skimmed through the list from top to bottom. It was written in Romanian, but thanks to the System's powers, I've learned many different languages over the years with the same ease as someone learning their mother tongue.

To my dismay, not one of the options had rice on it which made the asian blood in me squirm, so I settled with a simple eggs and bacon combo with a side of fries.

"Is eggs, bacon and fries good?" I asked, to which Jeanne responded with a slight nod. "Alright, I'll be back in a sec." I went to the front of the house and ordered a pair of the dish, then payed using the Saintess' money. My eye twitched for a brief moment upon recalling the fact I was essentially broke at the moment and living off the kindness of another person. I'll make sure to change that as soon as possible.

When I returned to Jeanne's side, waiting for our meal to be prepared, I witnessed her holding the menu with one hand while tracing the words on it with the other, reading each item's name line by line in a thick accent that spoke of her unfamiliarity with the language.

"Are you thinking of getting something else?" I asked, understandably confounded by what she was doing.

"Ah, no. I'm just—" she stopped herself and placed the open menu out front like a shield, preventing me from seeing her face.

"No need to be shy. If you're having any trouble, remember that I'm here to help," I reminded, hoping to alleviate whatever problem she was having.

"Promise me you won't laugh," she peeked over the screen between us and spoke. I gave a positive reply and waited for her answer. "Well, um—it's just that," Jeanne paused, her cheeks turning a shade of red, then quickly sputtered out her next words, "I-don't-know-how-to-read."

"Huh?" Of course, I caught what she said and was left baffled. Servants were supposed to receive a wave of information pertaining things about the modern world and whatnot when they're summoned as to not alienate them, which does include foreign tongues.

Her gaze swiftly switched from my eyes to the table. She appeared to be genuinely struggling with the unfamiliar script it seems.

Had something gone wrong during her summoming? or was it due to her legends portraying Jeanne as a peasant girl—hence her inability to read? A Servant's legend can immensely impact their abilities, after all. The Holy Grail shouldn't have made such a simple mistake, so it could be the latter or something else entirely. The corners of my lips curved a bit upward, finding her predicament a little sad, yet amusing.

"You said you wouldn't laugh!" Jeanne lowered her head once again, hiding behind the menu in embarrassment.

"But I didn't," I coolly denied the accusation being made against me. "But, if you couldn't read, how did you even board a plane, let alone arrive here?" Did she really just wander here all by herself without any idea of where she was going?

"I can still speak Romanian, it helped a lot," she revealed, then placed a hand over her heart. "As to how I made it here, God would lead me where I need to go," she spoke with unbending conviction.

A piece of knowledge flashed across my mind. From what I could recall, Jeanne possessed a skill known as [Revelation], which acted as some sort of guiding hand that always pushed her in the right direction. That would explain it, I suppose.

"Oh, putting Jesus at the wheel, I get it," Jeanne raised her head, narrowing her eyes in a vain attempt to look intimidating, which I found adorable more than anything. "Alright, let me rephrase that. You've placed an immense amount of faith in the Lord." Hearing that, her features gradually softened.

"If you want, I can teach you some simple things you might need," I offered.

"It's fine. I wouldn't want to trouble you with my problems," the Saintess refused.

"Oh, cut it. It's not troublesome at all," I insisted, determined to help her.

After a bit of hesitation, Jeanne accepted my proposal with a thankful smile mixed with a hint of guilt. I waved it off, telling her it wasn't that big of a deal.

Versing her with an entire language might not be possible as it might take months, and the Holy Grail war wouldn't last that long, so common sentences and phrases would have to do as her lessons so she could at least read street signs.

Right on cue, our food arrived and we started eating. While putting a piece of bacon in my mouth, I Instinctively used Structural Analysis on my utensils and copied them inside Unlimited Blade Works' empty fields. It looks pretty silly seeing cutlery stabbed next to the legendary Balmung of all things, but it's going to get even more weirder in just a second.

Out of curiosity, I decided to scan the remaining food as well, not really expecting anything to come out of it—and let me tell you how wrong, very wrong, I was. As invisible mana enveloped the bacon's form, a library of information about it unfolded in my mind, making me freeze as if I had just gazed into Medusa's petrifying eyes.

Somehow, the stupid idea had worked. I was able to see into the foodstuff's past and understand how it was processed and cooked. Unfortunately, the details only went far back as when it was already a packaged good, but it was still a pretty significant discovery.

[Skill 'Structural Analysis' has ranked up to B - 1] A System notification appeared, adding fuel to the fire that was my line of thinking.

"Shirou, are you okay?" Jeanne's voice cuts though my train of thought, snapping me out of my reverie. "You've been staring at your plate for a while now."

"Oh, it's nothing. I just thought of something pretty interesting," I calmly replied to dismiss her worry, then went back to eating as a plethora of things bounced around in my head.

Later that morning, after eating breakfast, Jeanne and I went around town and found an apartment to stay in for the next couple of days until the war reached its conclusion. The place only had a single bedroom, so I settled on the couch while my companion took the bed for herself. She was fine sharing the bed for some reason, but I remained adamant in my decision and got her to agree after a bit of talking.

Currently, I was alone inside the living room as Jeanne had decided to take a shower first. I sat down on the couch and stared intently at my open hand. The discovery that my Structural Analysis skill worked on other inanimate objects that's unrelated to blades had opened up a whole lot of possibilities in my mind.

I pulled my conciousness inward, inducing myself in a state of hypnosis to manipulate the mana lying dormant within me. My mental trigger, an image of two clashing swords that caused a spray of sparks to scatter outward, flashed across my mind.

"Trace on," I recited, followed by the familiar sensation of my magic circuits humming to life. What I am about to do was something not even the original Shirou Emiya had done before.

Mana revolved around my hand, its form ever shifting like flames flickering in the wind, before gradually taking a more solid shape. In the blink of an eye, a magical construct materialized in my hand. Instead of a sword or sharp object, what appeared was something else entirely; a regular looking burger you'd find just about anywhere else.

"Oh, God. I have seen your wisdom and my faith is renewed." I prayed to the Almighty in sheer disbelief of the miracle I just performed.

"Shirou?" a feminine voice suddenly called out from behind. I turned around and saw Jeanne wearing her signature halter top and shorts, now paired with a jacket that she had purchased earlier. Droplets of water could be seen sliding down her dewy sun-dyed hair, indicating that she had just finished taking a bath.

"Where did you get that?" Her eyes shone with interest as she looked at the item in my hand. She doesn't remember him buying it when they came here, and it felt strange in a way she could not put her finger on.

"I think I just solved world hunger—maybe," I declared. Seriously, I could Project organic material now? I didn't even think that was possible. If I were to take a shot in the dark, the System probably had something to do with this.

Hearing my less than helpful answer, the Saintess tilted her head to convey her confusion after making herself comfortable beside me. Reaching out, I gave the piece of burger to her and asked if she could sense anything weird about it—to which she did pretty quickly.

"This is… it's made out of mana?" she blinked in surprise and took a better look at it to make sure she wasn't seeing things. "How did you do this?"

"I don't know, to be honest," I confessed. "I thought my Projection only worked on bladed weapons, but apparently not."

"Projection? Is that not some form of magecraft?" she asked. While Jeanne knew of its existence, she wasn't well versed in the art of thaumaturgy, only having an idea about it. Her old comrade, Gilles de Rais, had told her about it in the past, but the complexities of the craft slipped past her head.

Normally, I would be apprehensive about revealing my cards to someone I just met, but I knew Jeanne was someone who could be trusted with such information, so I gave her a rundown on how my Structural Analysis and Projection ability worked while keeping the System hidden, a detail that would forever remain as one of my most guarded secrets, second only to my reincarnation.

"Fascinating," Jeanne uttered. "But you said your Projections, apart from swords, are only supposed to be in form and not substance, mayhaps this lacks things such as taste and whatnot?" she proposed.

"Maybe," I shrugged, "wanna give it a try?" I fully expected it to just shatter into particles the moment its surface gets damaged like a regular Projection would.

"It wouldn't hurt to try, I suppose." Jeanne moved the burger next to her mouth and took a bite of the magical construct. Chewing, her eyes suddenly widen in astonishment as a myriad of flavour floods her mouth.

"Is it bad?" A frown crossed my lips, thinking of the worst. Maybe it only looked good but had a horrid taste?

"Oh no. Rather, the opposite, actually." The Saintess shook her head at my question and took another mouthful, her face full of delight.

"Wait, really?" I shifted in my seat, interest piqued. From the looks of it, the construct would remain even if a chunk of it got taken off.

"Here, have a try." After swallowing, she gave the foodstuff back for me to try.

Upon taking a bite out of it, a burst of flavour coated my tongue, leaving my mouth slightly ajar. 'Holy mother of God,' I invoked the Lord's name for a second time.

Jeanne then took the hamburger off my grasp and proceeded to eat the whole thing by herself as my thoughts began to sway.

It tasted good, like really good. It was probably created using the knowledge I had on making burgers as I've dabbled on it in the past to help broaden my palate. I've even got into brewing tea and other drinks, which fell under the [Cooking] skill for some reason. Shouldn't beverages be a separate skill entirely? The inner workings of the System continues to confound me to this day.

While I was lost in my own world, Jeanne, after wiping her mouth with a tissue, spoke up while placing a hand under her chin, her expression thoughtful. "It appears to dissipate the moment it reaches my stomach, so it doesn't provide any nutrients. And I can't be sure, but I feel like my mana reserves recovered by a small amount."

"Ah," a sound escapes my lips, "eating it actually does give you a little bit of mana back," I confirmed her suspicion. The burger gradually broke down as it traveled down my throat, returning into its natural state, however, the magical energy used to make it simply assimilated with my own instead of disappearing.

With a thought, I summoned another Projection, this time it was a glass of apple juice, and drank the whole thing in one gulp. From within, the same amount of mana I used to create the liquid reappeared. As expected, the construct only restored the same amount used to manifest it. While not immediately helpful, it could still prove useful—life-saving, even, when conjured prior to an altercation.

I had found a way to quickly recover magical energy without the need for waiting or transference, essentially creating Mana Potions you'd find in every fantasy game. This had to be the greatest discovery I've ever made, and it was on complete accident as well. Why haven't I thought of this? What else could I make? Is it possible for me to make vegetables?

"Um, Shirou?" she softly voiced out, gaining my full attention. "If it isn't too bothersome, do you think you can make another burger? If you wouldn't mind, of course," she asked while tapping her thigh with her finger.

"Looks like someone's hungry," I chuckle, causing Jeanne to look away meekly. "Of course I can, here you go." I summomed another burger and presented it to her.

She seems pretty excited at the prospect of being able to eat a limitless number of food, savour its wonderful taste, without getting a full stomach. I'm plenty eager to try it out as well, but I just hid the desire better.

"Th-thank you," she voiced out with a stutter and took the burger off my hands. The sight of her taking small bites made me smile with how adorable she looked.

---

3 whole days went by in a flash. A few skirmishes occured here and there, but nothing too drastic that warrants Shirou's attention. Jeanne went out on occasions to observe said skirmishes to enforce her authority, leaving Shirou to watch over their home like a house husband.

Well, even if something did catch his attention, he couldn't do much apart from spectate from a distance and help his housemate relax with a nice meal. Miraculously, he managed to get a part-time job at a nearby cafe and gained a steady stream of money for him to spend, finally free from the shame of leeching off the Saint of Orleans.

At this moment, Jeanne and Shirou were idly lounging in their shared apartment, the latter rummaging through the kitchen in search of ingredients. To his dismay, the cupboards were nearly bare, prompting a sigh to escape his lips.

"Hey, we're out of supplies," Shirou remarked, untying his apron and draping it over the counter. "I'm going out to buy some things. Wanna come with?"

"Sure, I'll join you," Jeanne replied with a smile, eager to accompany her fellow Saint. She couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and delight remembering the amount of delectable food she had consumed over the past few days, which led to their kitchen needing frequent restocking due to her unending appetite.

'It's not my fault,' she reasoned, 'it's Shirou's fault for cooking such delicious meals everyday for me.' Though she complained in her mind, she would never say it out loud, having already fallen prey to Shirou's divine dishes.

After a bit, the two left their home and trekked across the streets of Trifas. Having been acquaintanced with the area days ago, the pair strolled to the marketplace, their pace relaxed. The early morning stillness enveloped the alleys, with only shopkeepers opening their stores breaking the silence.

"Ah, if it isn't Shirou. How are you doing?" an old lady called out as they passed her shop. Shirou greeted her warmly, and Jeanne barely registered it, thinking nothing of it. But similar encounters happened at each store they passed. People waved to Shirou, engaging him in small talk, stunning Jeanne with how well-known he seemed to be.

As he got pulled into conversations with a circle of housewives, Jeanne turned to one of them and asked, "Excuse me, may I ask how you know Shirou?"

The woman answered with a hint of enthusiasm in her voice. "Oh, Shirou's been a great help around town, my daughter has even started learning how to cook from the kid." She took a better look at Jeanne's face, noticing their similarities hers and the redhead's. "Oh my, are you Shirou's sister, perhaps?"

"No, we're just friends." Jeanne chuckled nervously, still unable to wrap her head around their mirroring features. She even entertained the thought of him being a distant relative of hers. "Can you tell me more about what my friend's been up to? I've been pretty busy lately, so we haven't been able to spend much time together." Due to her duties as an overseer, most of her time had been spent out and about, even in mornings when fighting was strictly prohibited in order to punish anyone breaking the rules.

The woman launched into a spree, telling stories of Shirou's kindness and assistance, earning him endearing names from the townsfolk. Jeanne's admiration for Shirou grew as she listened, realizing how much he'd been doing for Trifas in her absence.

Watching Shirou engage with the locals, Jeanne nodded in approval. "As expected of the Lord's chosen. May your kindness continue to bring joy to others," she praised, clasping her hands in a silent prayer. Truly, the work of a Saint.

Before the morning rush even came, they returned to their apartment laden with goods—gifts from grateful locals who appreciated Shirou's help.

"Well, looks like we didn't need to pay for anything at all, that's good," he stiffled a laugh while plopping down the plastic bags filled with ingredients on the table.

"Do you like helping people, Shirou?" Jeanne softly asked, her amethyst eyes gazing into his own.

"To be completely honest with you, not really," he shook his head. But before Jeanne could get a word in, he continued, "But that doesn't mean I won't do it. I don't need a reason to help someone when I can, right? It takes no time and I feel rewarded for doing it." He meant it in a figurative and a literal sense. Despite the fact that helping people doesn't rake in as much experience points as before, he still did it. Without his notice, he gradually grew to like the act of aiding others.

A smile bloomed on Jeanne's face after hearing his full thoughts on the matter. From everything she's heard and seen of him, he was most definitely deserving of the Lord's grace.

The pair then enjoyed breakfast together, relishing each other's company. After the meal, Shirou headed to the bathroom for a shower, while Jeanne lingered in the common room, her gaze sweeping over the apartment. She noticed the changes Shirou had made since they first arrived, transforming the once ordinary space into a cozy haven.

Impressed by Shirou's skill with household tasks and his popularity in the community, Jeanne couldn't help but think of him as the perfect housewife. As she rose from her seat, she decided to enter in the bathroom, where the sound of running water indicated Shirou's presence. She tossed some extra clothes into the washing machine and neatly folded the dried ones, storing them, before turning her attention to Shirou as he emerged from the shower, towel in hand.

"Jeanne?" Shirou's surprised voice echoed through the bathroom as he stepped out.

"Ah, Shirou, I was just..." Jeanne's voice faltered as she caught sight of his naked form, her cheeks flushing crimson. She quickly averted her gaze, feeling as if steam were rising from her head. "Wha-w-wha—pardon me!" With a hurried excuse, she darted out of the room, leaving Shirou abandoned in utter bewilderment.

Later, after Shirou dressed, they sat across from each another. Jeanne fidgeted nervously while her companion wore an unreadable expression.

"Hang on a minute," Shirou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You thought I was a girl this whole time? But we've spent the last few days together, no?"

Jeanne, unable to meet his gaze, trembled before responding, "Um, y-yes. It's just that you really look like a girl, and the way you do things around the house reminds me of my momma a lot. I just assumed you just preferred to dress as a man… um—I'm sorry," the Saintess lowered her head in shame. She finally understood why he was weirded out when she offered to share the bed with him on their first day together.

Shirou's eyes twitched momentarily, a feeling of something crumbling within him arose before he composed himself. "I mean, guys can cook too," he sighed again. But then, Shirou thought, his appearance and hobbies certainly didn't help him appear masculine; rather, quite the opposite. 'Damn Saber-face title,' he cursed inwardly. 'And why do I feel like this wouldn't be a one time thing?'

"You know what, let's just forget about it. There's no harm done." Like the sane-minded person that he is, Shirou chose to drop this incident and move on. Was he embarrassed of this little incident? A bit, yeah. But no one was at fault for what happened.

"Uhm, okay. Again, I'm really sorry," she repeated. A shade of pink tinted her face as a brief image of Shirou's figure flashed across her head.

"Stop that, no need to apologize. It was an accident—a pretty stupid one, but still an accident." He then stood up from his seat and caressed the top of Jeanne's head, his motions slow and tender. The sudden touch briefly startled the Saintess, but the soothing atmosphere that surrounded him halted her from making a move.

[Skill 'Head pat' has leveled up to E - 2] A familiar screen popped up before me, which I hastily dismissed in slight annoyance.

END.

Author's notes: I'll tell you this right now, this small interlude won't contain much fight scenes.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 9: First Quest (2/3) - House husband Emiya.

As I placed a clean set of plates back in the cupboards, Jeanne idled in the living room watching the television.

"Due to the recent string of murders, officials has warned the people that a possible serial killer might be on the loose. Make sure to lock your doors at night and call the police if you find any suspicious individuals roaming the streets," the news broadcaster warned.

This caught my attention. From what I could remember, the Assassin of Black was the source behind this killing spree as their current Master, a civilian with no ties to the supernatural until now, provided them with little to no magical energy, forcing the Servant to find an alternative to gather enough energy in order to stay afloat—by eating hearts.

"No doubt the work of a Servant," Jeanne quickly concluded.

"What makes you think that?" I asked while exiting the kitchen area.

"Their hearts were thoroughly gouged out and was never found," she pointed out. "Either this killer has a liking to collecting them, or they're using it to recover magical energy. And, might I add, I've yet to actually meet the the Assassin of Black. Everything points towards that conclusion," she waved her hand as if to underline the statement.

"Looks like we have a new Sherlock Holmes in the making," I pat the Saintess' head as I sat down next to her. "So, are you going to do anything about it?" In the corner of my eye, I saw the progress bar for the 'Head pat' skill increase by a large amount with this one action alone.

Briskly recovering from Shirou's show of affection, she speaks, "Y-yes. As the supervisor of this conflict, I must ensure the safety of those unrelated to it and enact punishment to those who discards the agreed upon rules."

"May I join you?" I asked, hoping to stretch my legs for a bit—and maybe gain another Noble Phantasm while I was at it. After the first two Noble Phantasms, I haven't been able to acquire new ones much to my chagrin.

"I appreciate it, but there is no need to put yourself in danger to accompany me, Shirou," she turned down my request out of concern for my wellbeing.

"Don't worry about me, I can handle myself just fine," I spoke with confidence, hoping to ease her concern.

"If you insist. Just promise to get behind me if things goes awry, alright?" she put forth her conditions. Truth be told, Jeanne wouldn't mind his company, but the inherent danger that came with her job prevented her letting him join. She felt a little bad about leaving him alone most of the time, so she'd make an exception this one time.

"Well, not that I plan on entering combat with Servants, so I'm fine with that." Some people might view me as a coward for hiding behind her, but what else am I supposed to do? Jeanne surpasses me in every category—except literacy, that is. Even with my level of physical prowess, my chances of winning against literal figures of legends was slim to none. Best I could do was flee and not hinder the Saintess.

"Alright, we'll head out in just a moment," Jeanne announced.

A little while later, we emerged from our cozy abode and set off for Bucharest, where the Assassin of Black was alleged to be hiding. However, just because we knew the city they were wreaking havoc in didn't mean we knew their exact location. For all we knew, the Master and Servant pair could be taking shelter inside the Embassy in extreme luxury. Of course, I knew that wasn't the case, but it didn't dismiss the fact that I still had no idea where they were.

We searched around the place for some time, circling blocks after blocks, traversing through the bustling streets, and even investigated some homes, only to find crumb trails that lead nowhere as if they had fully expected someone to follow them.

Suddenly, in a flash of inspiration, a lightbulb turned on inside my head as Jeanne and I entered an empty alleyway.

"Jeanne, let me ask you, do you trust me?" I broke the silence between us.

"Yes? Why wouldn't I?" she tilted her head in an adorable manner. Her trust in him had already reached its highest, she had no reason to doubt him now.

"Turn around for a second," I made a spinning motion with my hand. "Don't freak out of what I'm about to do next, alright?"

"Okay?" Though a little confused, she still followed my instructions and showed me her back.

In my hand, a white blindfold outlined with golden patterns appeared in a shimmer of light, it's design reminiscent of Jeanne's banner. Why? I liked it that way. Then, I gracefully wrapped it around her eyes, depriving the Saintess of her ability to see.

"Um, Shirou? What is this?" She wasn't alarmed in the slightest and simply reached out in my direction, as if searching for something. I grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"A blindfold," I delivered in the most bland tone I could muster. "You said God would guide you to where you need to be, right? Then think of finding the Assassin of Black and their Master then follow your instincts."

"I don't think that's how it works," she stated. "B-but why does limiting my perception or range of motion seem to increase its effects?" she said under her breath. Of course, I heard it just fine.

"Should I restrict your arms as well?" I suggested in a teasing voice. "My, I didn't think you'd have that kind of hobby. Should I start calling you the Saint of Bondage? Big G up there sure has some taste in picking his people."

"W-what? How did you even come to that conclusion! And don't call the Lord that!" she eked out, her face doing its best impression of a tomato. "And we're in a public setting, Shirou. Please be mindful of your a-actions," she tried her best to sound stern, but her voice quivered at the end.

"Does that mean you're fine doing this in private?" I returned, prompting Jeanne to strengthen her grip on my hand as if to reprimand me. "Okay-okay, I'll stop. On a serious note, can you feel anything different at all? Maybe a tug or pull?"

"I can feel the 'pull', as you call it, a little bit better. Its coming from that way, but I'm not too sure." She turned, facing a seemingly random direction. "Can you take this off now? Its quite e-embarrassing to be seen like this," she timidly voiced out.

"It's pretty clear that it works, so keep it on for now," I replied. "Don't worry, I'll hold your hand and help you walk, just go in the direction of where you think the Assassin of Black is."

"O-okay." Jeanne shuffled forward while holding my hand for comfort. She almost bumped into some poles, but I made sure that didn't happen and ensured that she didn't trip on herself.

After some time, her hunch lead us to a weathered building at the outskirts of the slums. The structure reeked of old age and seamlessly blended with its surroundings.

"You sure it's here?" I asked while scanning the whole building with Structural Analysis out of curiosity. A proverbial frying pan slammed into my head at full force due to the sheer amount of information being crammed in my head, forcing me to deactivate the skill. 'That was pretty stupid of me,' I scolded myself internally, wincing at the headache.

"Yes," she nodded. "Can you please take this off now?" I adhered to her pleas and made the regal blindfold covering her sight to vanish into motes of mana.

Suddenly, a sense of foreboding ran across my being, causing the ends of my hair to stand in fright. My intuition was proven correct as not a second later, a wall of dense fog rolled in, blocking us from all sides. Looking closer, the phenomenon was undoubtedly of magical origin.

A blurry frame made its appearance from within the fog, its form gradually becoming shaper as it got closer to our position.

"Shirou, get behind me!" Jeanne shouted in alarm. I complied, taking cover behind her as we faced the approaching figure—the Assassin of Black, also known as Jack the Ripper.

She was a little girl with yellow eyes and short hair as white as snow, clad in a provocative outfit consisting of a black vest, matching panties, and a pair of dark stockings. Knives in various forms were strapped to her rear, each emitting a vicious aura. Of course, my Reality Marble made copies of these blades the instant they came into view.

"Hey! Are you here to play with us?" Assassin's youthful voice echoed from all sides, as if multiple children were talking at once. "Come on, let's play!" the choir of voices cheered as Assassin melded into the fog.

A near-silent whistle reached my ears from the back, instantly heightening my senses. Before I could summon a sword for defense, Jeanne, now clad in her battle-dress, sprang into action and deflected the incoming projectile—a butcher knife—with her flag, producing a loud clang that echoed throughout the area.

"Assassin of Black," Jeanne called out, her voice filled with authority. "I am Ruler. Cease your actions this instant, or I will be forced to use a Command Seal to stop you." The pair of wings engraved on her back radiated a subtle glow as she spoke. A Command Seal is a powerful tool a Master holds, allowing them to give absolute orders to their Servants for a total of 3 times. Jeanne, as the Ruler-class Servant, naturally had them to enforce the rules of the war.

As the white-haired assassin prepared to pounce forward with a flurry of knives, her movements came to an abrupt halt.

"Mommy?" The little girl spoke as a single entity, her confusion obvious. If not for the menacing air that surrounded her, I would've found it cute. She was likely communicating with her Master using their mental link. She turned, directing her attention at us, "Okay! Mommy said she'll have a chat with you. But if you hurt her, we will cut open your stomach, okay?" Jack's voice was filled with joy tinged with hidden malice.

With a mental push from Jack, the haze that shrouded the alley slowly dissipated. She hopped on her feet and pushed open the front door before heading inside the building. Left alone, we decided to follow the little albino with caution.

Jeanne kept her armor on, her eyes scanning for any potential threats as we trailed behind the Servant. Passing through the hallway, we entered the dimly lit common room, illuminated only by a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. At the end of the room, we spotted a pair.

The first figure was the Servant of Assassination, Jack the Ripper, while the other was a buxom woman with a head of murky green hair, draped in a fur coat over a lime dress. She sat on a chair next to a table, an air of gentleness mixed with thorns surrounded her form as her piercing eyes scrutinized us from head to toe.

"I am Ruler, the administrator of this war," Jeanne started with an introduction. "Am I right assume that you're the Master of Assassin?" she asked for confirmation.

"Yes, you are correct," the woman confirmed. Thankfully, she appeared to have a sound mind and opted to have a conversation instead of outright attacking us. "I am Rikudou Reika, nice to meet you, Ruler. And who might your companion be?"

"Emiya Shirou," I chimed in. "Don't mind me, I'm just here for moral support," raising a hand, I pointed at the Saintess. Hearing my name, Reika's eyes widened by a tad, probably surprised to find someone of the same origin as her in the middle of Romania.

"Let me ask you, are you aware of the inner workings of the Holy Grail War?" Jeanne inquired.

"Yes. But I'm afraid some details might be lost on me as I am not well versed in magic—magecraft, sorry," she quickly corrected herself. The distinction between the two—Magic and Magecraft—was pretty important. 'Magic' refers to feats unattainable through science, while 'Magecraft' are mystic arts that could be replicated with modern science.

"Are you not a magus?" Jeanne questioned. 'Is she perhaps a civilian who got forced into the role of a Master?' her thoughts stirred.

"I am not," Reika confirmed her inner musings. "I was taken by a man named Sagara Hyouma, who–" she shot a glance at the little albino, "–Jack had disposed of after her summoning, making me her Master. I'm guessing you're here due to the series of murders occurring around town?"

"We came here with that in mind, yes," Jeanne affirmed.

"Are you here to take her away from me?" her lips curved into a frown. "You will not take my child. You'd either have to kill me or leave us alone." Reika gave off a motherly aura as she lovingly embraced her Servant, who returned the gesture in kind while sporting an gleeful smile.

It appears during their short time together, the woman had already grown deeply attached to her Servant and even started calling Jack her child.

Seeing their warm exchange, Jeanne faltered for a moment. "N-no. Unless I am forced to, you are free to conduct however you wish for as long as it doesn't put regular people at risk. Unfortunately, that is exactly what you're doing, which brings us to where we're at now," she mentioned. "From what I could gather, you fail to supply Assassin with sufficient mana, so you resorted to consuming human organs as a replacement."

"Yes, I have, and will continue to do so if it meant Jack gets to lives another day." She glared at the Ruler Servant, her eyes reflecting a menacing red. "And don't even suggest drinking semen as an alternative, she is just a child for goodness sake."

From a technical standpoint, Jack was definitely older than her by a large margin, but Reika doesn't view it that way. She looked at Jack for how she really was—a little girl who needs a parent.

"Actually, there is a way to supply your little Assassin without needing to eat people's hearts, or use the other, unsavoury method," I interjected before the Saintess could respond.

"There is?" Reika tentatively asked. "Tell me, and it better not involve you doing disgusting things to Jack, or I will cut your manhood off the moment you put your hands on her," she spat out venomously.

'Shirou would never do such a thing.' Jeanne narrows her eyes and opens her mouth, about to defend Shirou's character, but the redhead spoke first before any fluttering remarks about him escaped her lips.

"Hey, I'm not that far into the depths of depravity. And you need to calm down, not everyone's out to get you," I waved my hand, dismissing her threat. "Don't worry, the solution I'm telling you doesn't require me to touch little Jackie over here," said individual reacted to the nickname I gave them by tilting her head a little bit.

With a flicker of light, a carton of apple juice manifested in my hand. "Here, try this," I offered to the little Assassin. It seemed my recent, admittedly accidental, discovery about the nature of my Projections was already proving useful.

Jack looked at her Master, as if seeking permission. After a moment of contemplation, Reika gave her the green light. Assassin took the item from my hand, stuck the straw into it, and took a gulp of the beverage.

"This! It taste good!" the little murder machine beamed as a wave of warmth invigorated her body.

"Does it give you any energy at all?" Reika asked, caressing her Servant's head. Jack gave an enthusiastic "Yep!" in response. The green-haired woman sighed in relief and turned to us, saying, "Thank you. I apologize for my earlier attitude, I just didn't want to lose Jack."

"All good, no harm done," I chuckled, not taking offense to her prior behavior.

"No need to apologize, Miss Rikudou. You were only looking out for your—um, daughter," Jeanne joined in, a bit unsure of how to refer to the Assassin-class Servant.

"I can provide you with a box of these a day, but it'd be troublesome to go back and forth from Trifas to Bucharest to deliver them. So, how about you come with us for now? We have an apartment back in Trifas," I suggested, then turned to Jeanne. "You wouldn't mind taking them in, right?"

"I do not, no worries," Jeanne replied, her expression resembling that of a proud parent as she looked at her fellow Saint.

Reika gave the two a look, her shock at Shirou and Jeanne's friendliness was evident. Internally, she couldn't help but wonder why they were being so generous to her and Jack, especially considering their—rather, Ruler's role in this war. Amidst her disbelief, there was a glimmer of hope that perhaps she and Jack could live through this conflict without battles or any more bloodshed.

She stayed silent for a moment before parting her lips, her austere temperment replaced by nervousness, "Is it really okay for me to intrude upon your home?"

"It's fine, Miss Rikudou. You're welcome to join us," Jeanne reassured with a kind smile. "And you wouldn't have to worry about your meals, Shirou can cook up the best dishes you'll ever taste," she remarked.

"Quite the high praise you have there. Though, I can attest what she said isn't false," I off-handedly commented. If there was one thing I was proud of that doesn't involve swords, or armaments in general, it would be my culinary skills… and maybe house work as well.

"Then, if you wouldn't mind, I'll be under your care," she bowed, displaying her heartfelt thanks. Truth be told, she was a little unnerved by their hospitality, it was a stark contrast to what she was used to seeing—animosity. But she welcomed their compassion nonetheless.

"Alright, you might wanna start packing whatever you need to. We'll meet at the nearby station in an hour, is that fine with you?" I Projected another carton of juice for Jack after she finished the first one. The little albino happily took the juice and proceeded to drink it. "And you might want to give Jackie some better clothes. It's, uh… eye-catching, to say the least," I pointed out.

"Yes, that's enough time. And I have some extra clothes for her to wear," Reika replied. "Again, thank you... very much," she added, her voice almost tearful.

---

"That went better than expected," the redhead muttered as he and Jeanne emerged from the old structure, stepping into the silent aisle.

"Indeed. To be frank, I expected our meeting to turn violent one way or another," Jeanne voiced out her thoughts.

"Let's just be thankful that didn't come to pass," he said in relief.

The two of them then left the area while making small talk, exchanging ideas on how to pass the next hour. However, as if to spite Shirou's prior thoughts, the world went silent as a familiar prickling sensation spread across his body.

'A Bounded Field?' he immediately figured out the strange occurrence. The effects of the barrier wasn't that difficult to determine—it forced everyone who knew nothing about magecraft away from the site, leaving it abandoned.

"Shirou—!" Jeanne exclaimed in a panic, her banner poised and ready for an attack.

Shirou's ears failed to register her shout as a gauntlet-clad fist on a collision course with his face appeared from out of nowhere. Acting out of pure instinct, he hastily raised his arm and reinforced it to protect himself from the incoming blow. The punch broke past Shirou's guard, producing a sickening crack as it made contact with his forearm.

With the grace of a tumbleweed, Shirou was thrown back a few meters and crashed straight into an innocent car parked on the side of the road. He had no idea who the vehicle belonged to, but the young man felt really sorry for this.

Suddenly, Shirou felt an acute sense of pain burst free from underneath his flesh. Glancing at his bloody arm, he watched as a metallic sheen formed a lattice pattern beneath his skin, replacing his flesh with miniature blades, before being dismantled by the healing properties of Avalon, restoring his arm to muscles and tissue.

'Goodness gracious,' Shirou cringed at the tingling feeling left by the strange occurrence. Due to its nature as a "sword", his body had its own way of mending itself—which involved tiny swords stitching his injuries—and it was incredibly painful, to say the least. Thankfully, the Ever Distant Utopia overpowered his body's unique regeneration before it could turn his limb into a hunk of metal.

As his attacker followed up with another strike, Jeanne's flag raced through the air and reached the aggressor in the blink of an eye, forcing them to take a step back in order to avoid it. Jeanne stood in front of the fallen redhead protectively, gazing sharply at the intruder. They were a Servant, no doubt about it.

Jeanne attempted to use her ability as a Ruler to determine their identity, but to her surprise, it failed due to a skill they possessed, blocking her from accessing their information. She briskly snapped out of her puzzlement, regaining her focus.

Shirou rose to his feet while cradling his broken arm to my chest, wincing. Thanks to Avalon, the injury would be of no issue in a minute or so, but the pain still lingered. Once again, he was reminded of the strength a Servant possessed. Even with all his upgrades from the System, all it took was a single punch to snap his bones.

Hiding behind the Saintess, Shirou scanned the one who struck him. They were of short stature, equipped in thick, metallic armor with occasional red accents, a helmet with two protruding horns was firmly on their head that revealed not a hint of their race or gender. In their hand, a large sword of the same colour scheme could be seen releasing a crackle of untamed energy.

Using his knowledge about the Fate franchise, the reincarnator immediately discerned the Servant's identity: the Knight of Treachery—Mordred. In a heartbeat, Unlimited Blade Works made a copy of her sword, Clarent, adding it to his increasing repertoire of Noble Phantasms. With this, he should stand a chance against a Servant if Shirou plays his cards correctly.

"Saber of Red! Stop this at once!" Jeanne ordered. Fortunately, the Servant remained in place and simply stared in silence. Unbeknownst to the twin Saints, the reason for Mordred's inactivity was because her Master was yelling at her through their link.

Saber broke the stillness by raising their hand, pointing at the Ruler Servant. "You, what is your name?" from within the horned helm, a voice of higher pitch echoed, their tone curt.

"I am Ruler, the administrator of this war," she announced for the world to hear. Shirou does wonder how many times she's said this already, probably a lot.

"Saber! That was not part of the goddamn plan!" an exasperated shout came from across the street.

Turning their heads, they spotted a man with striking blonde hair and sunglasses near them, saying, "I'm sorry about this, Ruler. We thought you were the Master and Servant we were looking for," he directed an apology towards Jeanne.

"What about me? No words for the guy that got assaulted?" Shirou voiced out, peeking from behind the Saintess' shoulder. His arm had already recovered at this point, so he had no problem giving a small wave.

"You too, sorry," he added, sounding as if he didn't even want to.

"Rude. I'll have have you know I have feelings too," the redhead returned, feigning a smidgen of sadness.

"Are you a Master from the Red faction?" Jeanne assumed.

"Uh, yeah. Shishigou Kairi, at your service," he introduced himself, then motioned towards Saber. "And this is my Servant. I promise we mean no harm, Ruler. Saber kinda just… uh, did that." He shot a glance at his Servant and asked, "Why'd you even do that?"

"Hey, I asked who you are, not your class. You as well, red-haired knob," Mordred ignored her Master, her sights flickering between the two individuals who had a similar appearance to someome she idolized and loathed at the same time. "Answer me!" the knight demanded.

"Unfortunately, my True Name would have to remain undisclosed, Saber of Red," Jeanne refused to reveal her identity, as expected. Servants don't usually go around telling everyone their name as it reveals a lot, if not everything about them from their strength to weaknesses. So they mostly call themselves by their assigned class in order to prevent that.

"Emiya Shirou, nice to meet you." On the opposite side of the spectrum, the young man had no problem revealing his. Not like his name is famous here or anything, right?

Kairi frowned, recognition flashing in his eyes. The surname reminded him of the renowned Magus Killer, Kiritsugu Emiya. Last he checked, the man had retired and was spending his days in Fuyuki with his wife and two children—one biological, while the other taken in. Coincidentally, the kid before him had the same name as Kiritsugu's adopted son.

Speaking of the son, Kairi heard that he'd made a huge splash in the magi community with his introduction of "Domain Expansions", or whatever it was called, a year ago. It was essentially an inferior version of a Reality Marble that anyone with a profound understanding over their magecraft could manifest, and it sent every practitioner of thaumaturgy around the world into a frenzy.

Due to his discovery, the Mage Association turned the boy into a Sealing Designate - an order to retrieve his body, becoming no more than subject of experimentation - but they were forced to withdraw after Shirou Emiya gave the world a taste of the first ever Domain Expansion, Shrine of Unlimited Blades, during one fiery encounter, mincing everything within a 150-meter radius and killing every personnel the Association had sent to capture him.

A bit of sweat trickled down Kairi's back, but he dismissed it as just a coincidence that someone with the same name was here in Romania. If this kid really was that 'Shirou Emiya,' this place would be swarming with magi by now with the intent to either get under his good graces or hunt him down for his secrets. A person of his status would have their movements under watch twenty-four-seven, so Kairi Shishigou would've heard if the Magus Killer's son had come here.

'Thankfully, that doesn't seem to be the case,' Kairi sighed internally. But, just to be sure, he would give his acquaintances at the Association a call, who would later confirm that 'Shirou Emiya' had not taken a single step out of Fuyuki.

He was fully ignorant of the fact that the redhead in front of him was just a different version of the one he knew. On the flip side, this Shirou Emiya had no idea that another iteration of him existed in this world as well.

"Tch," Saber of Red clicked her tongue, dissatisfied by something, before kicking a rock on the side of the road, sending it flying towards a nearby glass window, shattering it. She took a step back, but kept her sight trained on the pair of Saints.

"What is your purpose here, Master of Saber?" Jeanne probed.

Recovering from his stupor, Kairi formed a response, "The Mage Association has tasked me to investigate whatever is happening here. You've heard of the recent murder spree, right? We're here to stop that, it's most-likely a Servant running around."

"Yes, we have," Jeanne nodded. "And you need not worry about the rogue Servant; my partner and I have already taken care of the problem. Your presence here is unnecessary," she proclaimed, prompting Kairi to raise a brow.

"Did you kill them?" Jeanne answered by shaking her head. "You didn't? Then how can you be sure they won't do anything stupid like this again?" he questioned.

"They were not of magi lineage and has no plans on participating in this war. They'll be placed under our care and would cause no problems for the duration of the Holy Grail War," Jeanne assured. She then glanced at her companion, who gave a nod to support her earlier statement.

"I guess that's one less Servant to worry about," the blonde man let out a chuckle that flowed into a drawn out sigh. "Coming here was a load of nothing, we should probably get going. I'll take down the Bounded Field around the place before we go." He then looked at his Servant. "And you, I knew you were proned to violence, but don't just attack random people, alright? You're starting to look more like a raging Berserker than an elegant Saber at this point."

The Knight of Treachery offered nothing more than a low growl as a response. For some weird reason she could not figure out, Mordred couldn't help but send a curious glance at Shirou Emiya, finding his presence somewhat familiar. Blinking, she caught herself drifting into her own little world and rocked her head, shaking herself awake.

The four bid their farewells to one another and went on their separate ways soon after. The Saber of Red, however, continued to stare at the pair of Saints as they walked away, only stopping when they turned a corner, out of the knight's sight.

A little later, Shirou and Jeanne reunited with Assassin and her Master, who carried a suitcase in her hands, and took a ride back to Trifas.

---

Within the confines of the Yggdmillenia castle, a Servant clad in deep blue and shimmering gold scanned an artificial human - a homunculus who's sole purpose was to serve its creator - strapped atop a table, studying the specimen from behind his burnished mask. The Servant could see its determination to live shining brighter than anything else.

"A homunculus with a will of its own. A curious little thing, you are," the Servant remarked. This specific homunculus had somehow developed a sense of self and even created its own magic circuits to escape its container. And for a short period of time, it had gained freedom, until one of the guards patrolling the area spotted it, cutting its independence short.

The front door suddenly opened, revealing a young boy carrying a box of items. The lad's face beamed upon seeing the man in blue, exclaiming, "Hey teach! I brought the stuff, is this much okay?"

"Yes, that would suffice… Master," the Servant awkwardly said. His relationship with his summoner, the youngling who just entered, was a strange one. The boy did not treat him as a familiar or tool like everyone else in this god-forsaken fortress, but as a senior in golemancy—the art of creating golems. It was the kid's respect towards himself that made the boy's antics tolerable, otherwise, he would've thrown the brat inside one of his contraptions already.

"Okay! I'll put this over here. Good luck on what you're doing, Caster! There's some stuff Darnic wanted to tell us, so I better get going!" the child placed the stuff down then hollered as he darted outside, leaving the masked individual alone. As to where his Master went, the now revealed Caster-class Servant cared little about it for his current task required his undivided attention.

With everything gathered, his masterpiece would grace the world with its presence, and his dream would be fulfilled.

From behind the walls that encased Caster's workshop, another Servant idled with a look of sadness. He possessed a head of long pink hair with two ribbons adorning each side, his face was one that one could not help but find adorable. Clad in a form-fitting black attire that hugged his slender frame, accentuating his feminine charms, with matching stockings raised to his thighs.

The Rider of Black—Astolfo, one of Charlemagne's paladins—let out a sigh. If only he had arrived a second earlier to the homunculus' side, this tragedy could have been prevented, their life saved. He was even prepared to face whatever punishment his psychopath of a Master might mete out if it meant preserving their existence. Alas, there was nothing he could do now but carry the weight of his failure.

Swiftly, Astolfo regained the bubbly atmosphere he always carried and hopped along, roaming the halls of the Yggdmillenia castle. Yet, despite his outward cheer, the memory of his inability to save that ill-fated person still lingered, weighing on his conscience.

Astolfo had always been an advocate for freedom. He was born a prince, but willingly abandoned that position because he found it too troublesome. Even when he got turned into a tree that one time, he had managed to find solace in the tranquility it offered. Nothing could stop Astolfo from embracing whatever life threw at him, whether good or bad. So, he was slightly upset that someone lost an opportunity to be free and explore the world, witness its beauty with their own eyes.

"Rider," a soothing voice called out to him.

Turning, the Servant of the Mount spotted the Servant of the Bow, Chiron the centaur, who, if Astolfo was being honest, looked nothing like one at all. The only inhuman trait about him was the tail on his rear, and nothing else. 'Maybe he can switch forms?' Astolfo has pondered this many times.

He wore a Greek warrior's ensemble and approached with his signature polite smile. His stride exuded confidence, the air around him as tranquil as a forest.

"Chiron!" Astolfo waved, greeting the Archer-class Servant. "Need someone to relax with? I know some cozy places to take a nap in."

"I'm afraid I would have to decline, Rider. Darnic has given an order for everyone to gather at the main hall, except Caster who's on his little project," Chiron relayed what his own Master, Fiore Forvege Yggdmillenia, had told him earlier.

"Okie!" The paladin gave an adorable salute, his eyes bursting with energy as if he wasn't just downtrodden a minute ago, then followed the Servant of the Bow to the meeting location.

---

"How are we out of ingredients again?" I scratched the back of my head in confusion. I was certain we bought enough to last a few days just yesterday. What happened to them? Did they get snatched by the boogeyman or something?

"Shirou! Shirou!" The Servant of Assassination, now dressed in appropriate clothing for someone of her age, yelled while peeking her head above the kitchen counter. "Can we have hamburgers for breakfast?"

"Sure, why not," I accepted without giving it a second thought. Then, I blinked in realization. "I have a strong feeling I know the reason why we're out of stock so quickly."

"Yay!" the little albino celebrated, then sprinted to her Master sitting elegantly on the couch. "Mommy, we're having burgers!"

"Yes, Jackie. Yes we are," Reika lifted the young girl onto her lap and took her into a loving embrace. "And I would like to say that it was you who kept cooking whatever Jack asks for, Shirou, hence the shortage," she mentioned.

"I wasn't complaining. And I'll have you know that I've also been spoiling Jeanne with lots of her favorite food, not just Jack," I returned with a smirk, eyeing the Saint of Orleans seated beside Reika.

Jeanne tried to conceal the redness dyeing her features, but failed miserably, causing Reika to giggle at how cute she was acting.

"Alright. Imma go out and buy some things," I announced, taking my apron off. To be honest, I might just wear one wherever and whenever. I can rock an apron—nay, the apron rocks me. Or maybe both? Maybe we're meant together.

I walked towards the door, about to open it, when Reika spoke up, "Want me to come with you?"

"No need, it'll just be a quick run to the market. I'll be back in a bit," I declined, shaking my head.

Emerging from my home into the busy streets, I swiftly made my way towards a few stalls I've been frequenting for the past several days, talked to some friendly locals, and bought some ingredients that should last us a full week, fully accounting Jeanne and Jack's gluttonous stomachs.

While at it, I noticed a black cat running away from disgruntled girl clad in red. Stopping my walk, I took a better look at the lass. She had spiky blonde hair that's tied into a ponytail, draped in clothing that showcased the majority of her skin, most prominently her perfectly toned midriff, prompting the neurons in my head to activate.

I approached the young lass, saying, "Oh, look what we have here."

"Do I know you?" bluntly she replied. Taking a better look of my face, she made her displeasure known by curling her lips into a frown.

"You literally broke my arm when we first met," I reminded.

The Knight of Treachery stared at me in silence, her hardened look turning into one of shock. "You know?"

"What do you mean?" I questioned, putting on an innocent facade.

"What do you mean—what do I mean? You've never seen my face before. How did you figure me out?" She remained inside her armour, not even retracting her helmet, when they first met in that alley. And there was no way Ruler figured out her identity because her skill, [Secret Pedigree], blocked all sorts of probing methods. So how?

"Oh, you know," I paused, putting on a air of mysticism, then resumed, "I know a thing or two. The winds carries stories, and I like listening to them."

"Bullshit!" she rebutted not a beat later. "Answer the damn question! How did you recognize who I was!?"

"Goodness, you already have a hearing problem at that age? Let me say it again, I know a thing or two," I reiterated. A grin spread across my face, which annoyed the Saber Servant.

"You damn—ugh!" the Servant of the Sword groaned, her face twisting in frustration. "You won't answer my question, would you?"

I contemplated for a brief moment, and spoke in a hushed tone, "Short answer: I know who you are. Mordred Pendragon, Knight of Treachery. Or as I like to call you, Moedred the Lion Cub."

"You…" she hissed, her tone dropping a note. "Speak of my name like that again, I fucking dare you." After saying her piece, her body effused a dangerous swirl of magical energy, its essence bloodthirsty and untamed.

"Now, now. Before you lop my head of in the name of keeping your True Name a secret, just know that I am a neutral party and would not go running my mouth off, don't worry about it," I promised, hoping to placate the angry cub.

Before the air around us became even more frigid and suffocating, I decided to do something completely unexpected—some might say absurd.

"Here, catch." Using Projection, a burger appeared in my hand, then casually tossed it at her.

"W-what? What's this for?" Mordred stammered as she snatched the foodstuff from the air. Utterly caught off guard by my action, the torrent of mana spewing out of her frame faded into nothingness.

"Hamburger. You eat it," I answered with a chuckle. Truly, I am master at de-escalation. Perhaps I was still a little too lax talking to a potential enemy, but worry did not appear in my mind for it was in the middle of the day, a time when fighting was prohibited. Even if there was that slight chance she'd attack me, I was fully prepared to summon Luminosité Eternelle, Jeanne's Noble Phantasm, in order to protect myself.

"I know that, bastard! Why give me this?" She waved the bruger in her hand. "Where'd you even get this from?"

"Magic," I proclaimed. "It's a peace offering, if you will. Eating that will restore your magical energy by a lot, and it doesn't spoil, so keep it with you at all times."

Mordred ran her empty hand down her face, whining as a memory of an old acquaintance of hers, an eccentric wizard with a deep love for flowers, resurfaced in her head. "You remind me of that flowery bastard too much. You're just fucking with me, aren't you?"

"Maybe, who knows?" I shrugged, acting all mysterious. Completely unnecessary, but I just wanted to do it.

"For fucks sake, why do I have to meet someone like that bitch over here too," Mordred cursed her luck.

"Language, Mo-mo. A child shouldn't be speaking like that," I scolded how a parent would their child, even wagging my index finger at her.

"Shut the hell up and don't call me weird names!" she shouted in defiance. Saber spun around and started walking away, the magical hamburger still in her grasp. "Now you're just pissing me off. Go mess around somewhere else, you annoying-ass wizard."

"Well, nice seeing you too, Moe-chan. You should let your hair down sometime, you look cuter that way." She froze for a second before continuing her stride. For some odd reason I could not understand, I felt a strong need to bully Mordred and Jeanne.

I let out a bewildered "huh" while watching her angrily stomp away. I fully expected her to engage in a battle of words, not back off and just straight up leave, I guess the person I reminded her of—Merlin, the "flowery bastard" as she called him—had done a number on her in the past, leading to her avoid people who acted like him. I guess the best decision was to simply not play into their game, smart Moe-chan.

"Welp, that just happened. Time to go home." And to home is where I went soon after, laden with groceries.

---

The sun had sunk into the horizon, bringing darkness to Trifas. Inside an inconspicuous apartment, a certain red-haired boy opened his mouth to speak.

"Hey Jeanne?" Shirou called out to his housemate.

"Yes?" she responded, looking at him.

"I have something to confess, nothing weird—well, I guess it depends on how you look at it." He plopped down on the couch, sitting next to her. The Saintess remained silent, waiting for the redhead to continue. "You see, I actually came here with two things in mind."

"And what would those be?" she inquired.

"First, I'm here to help you as I've already said before… and the second is to stop all of this by destroying the Holy Grail," he revealed, without beating around the bush.

"I see," Jeanne nodded. "I may not be able to aid in your endeavor, but I wish you luck."

"So… you're not gonna tell me off?" A look of surprise crossed his face. "What if I'm doing this to harm people?"

"Oh, Shirou. From everything I've seen of you, you're most definitely not that kind of person, so don't even say otherwise," she said. While he may be blunt, sometimes bordering on rude or nonchalant, he possessed a kind heart and only wished the best for everyone.

"You've got me all figured out, huh?" Shirou chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Though, are you really fine with me going through with this? Isn't it your job and all to adhere to the Grail?"

"My duty is to uphold the rules of this war and make sure no innocent people get tangled up in it," she pointed out. "As for the Grail… it does not react to your words, so I see no reason for me to stop you. And it might even prevent a catastrophe from befalling the people of this town."

"I thought that you, a Saint recognized by the Church, would take offense to me desecrating one of the Church's holy reliquaries," Shirou said. While it might not be the actual Holy Chalice that Jesus Christ used, the Church certainly thought it was close enough, even declaring themselves as the governor of the Heaven's Feel Ritual, which they later dubbed as the 'Holy Grail War.'

"Are you not one as well?" she mentioned, motioning at the redhead. "And much like you, not once have I ever called myself a Saint, I merely did what I thought was right under the guidance of the Lord," Jeanne explained, bringing her hand over her heart.

"Do you hold any grudges against the Church? Or the English for that matter?" he tentatively asked. They not only branded her as a heretic but also burned her at the stake, surely there's some level of animosity there, right? If anything, they do not deserve to even associate themselves with her after what they did.

"The English fought for what they thought was right, while I did much the same. And I hold no grudges against the Church, nor blame them for their actions," she replied, her voice calm as the ocean despite the subject being about her death.

"But they stabbed you in the back. Had it not been for Callixtus the third, you would've went down in history as someone who you weren't. They—!" Shirou abruptly shut his mouth, swallowing his outburst. "I'm sorry for bringing that up. I don't know why I'm getting all heated up by this." He didn't know what came over him to even start this topic, so he promptly burried it right then and there.

"It is fine." The Saintess swayed her hand. "I appreciate your willingness to be angry on my behalf, Shirou. But please do not point that anger towards those affiliated with the Church, or I myself will be mad at you," she warned, puffing her cheeks cutely.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Shirou apologized, taking a deep breath to regain his composure. "I definitely don't want to see you getting mad, Big G up there might just smite me," he joked.

The two conversed some more, enjoying each other's comfort, until Jeanne decided to bring up something relating to his plans about destroying the Greater Grail.

"But what of Assassin? Once the thing that anchors her existence vanishes, so would she shortly after," she mentioned, worry evident in her voice. "Reika would be saddened if that happens, or do you plan on supplying her with magical energy after the fact?" She turned, gazing at the door that led to Reika and Jack's room, formerly a storeroom, where they're currently sleeping together.

"About that, there's no need to worry. I have something in mind, just leave it to me," Shirou said confidently, pointing at himself.

After a day of contemplation, he planned on taking a piece of the Grail itself after its destruction and essentially turn it into a mana source for Jack to use in order to sustain herself when Shirou inevitably returns home. There were probably better ways to do it, but he admits that he is not the smartest when it came to the intricacies of magecraft, so that was the best he could do.

Shirou glanced at the clock on the wall, and spoke, "Well, it's getting late. How about we call it a night?"

Jeanne acknowledged his words with a hum, bid her goodnights and ended their conversation, then retired to her bedroom. While she might possess the spirit of a hero, her body remained that of a human, requiring regular sleep.

END.

Author's notes: Let me point out that every version of Shirou Emiya in this universe is a self-insert of myself. Why? I thought it was funny.

That's just how things are now. Don't worry about it.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 10: First Quest (3/3) - Shattered Grail.

"Is something wrong?" I asked my company as we patrolled the outskirts of town.

"A battle is happening over there." She lifted her hand, pointing eastward. "I must go, I shall return once it's over."

Gazing into the direction she pointed, I could feel multiple explosions of dense magical energy, indicating that a battle was happening there.

"I'm coming with you," I voiced out my thoughts.

"Shirou, you mustn't. It is far too dangerous for you," Jeanne refused. She knew his physical prowess eclipsed that of an ordinary human, but a fight between Servants still posed a significant danger to him.

"Don't worry. I'll stay far away and just watch. You go on first, you're way faster than me after all." Admittedly, there wasn't much I could really do apart from observe from a distance.

She nods, accepting my words. With a flicker of light, she equipped her Servant attire and sprinted away, leaving me abandoned. Without wasting another moment, I reinforced my legs and surged forward, following the Saintess' direction.

A little later, I came to a sudden stop after arriving at the edge of a forest. On one side of the terrain, the Yggdmillenia castle where the Black faction rested could be seen standing firm, overlooking the battlefield.

Then, I cranked my head upward, gazing at the monolithic fortress hovering with the clouds, looming over the land like a watchful eye—it was the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Assassin of Red's Noble Phantasm. Looks like the Red faction decided to launch an all out attack on their enemies after Assassin of Red finished constructing it. It's funny how the Servant of Assassination of all people possessed the most eye-catching ability out of everyone.

Back down on the ground, a few isolated clashes were happening. The trees were cleaved, earth torn, and the winds boomed with every impact that commenced, leaving nothing but destruction upon Mother Earth's fine landscape.

Using Reinforcement on my eyes, I got a better look of what's happening while remaining far away from any of it as possible. I watched as the Rider of Red, Achilles, charged with a head full of steam at the Archer of Black, Chiron, who was posted atop a cliff, bow in hand.

The spear in Rider's grasp was added to Unlimited Blade Works in an instant, same with Archer's bow. Looking away from them, I did much the same to the other Servants I could spot running around the battlefield; copying their Noble Phantasms inside my Reality Marble.

After scouring the whole area, a wide smile etched itself on my face, overjoyed by the new additions to my arsenal. In total, 8 Noble Phantasms including Ruler's was now in my possession. From the Black Faction, I gained Saber, Assassin, Archer, and Lancer's. While from the Red Faction, I got Saber, Archer, and Rider's, the others were simply too far or impossible for me to analyze.

My personal favorite was the Archer of Red's weapon, the chaste huntress—Atalanta, as it finally allowed me to shoot Noble Phantasms out like they're arrows without snapping in half from the strain, unlike my current custom-made bow. Of course, I wouldn't be doing that right now lest I garner everyone's attention.

I scratch my chin, thoughts stirring. From what I could recall, the Greater Grail is currently hidden below the Black faction's base. Using the ongoing fight as a distraction, I could probably sneak my way inside and break the source of this conflict with all the Noble Phantasms I've acquired just now.

"Alrighty-then." I made my decision and swiftly left the scene, heading to the Yggdmillenia castle while utilizing my proficiency with the art of stealth to become one with the surroundings.

Of course, I did not barge through the front gates and instead looped around, infiltrating from the side where there were less people out and about. The Bounded Field was a little tricky to squeeze through, requiring utmost caution, but the Black faction's full attention at the moment was at the frontlines, which made it easier to slip in. Had it not been for that, I doubt my entry would go unnoticed.

I carefully traversed through the unnecessarily wide hallways swiftly like the wind itself. As expected, the homunculi roaming the place failed to notice my approach and went on their usual activities, leaving me free to wander around.

However, as soon as I turned a corner, my eyes widened in surprise as I encountered a pink-haired individual who evoked a sense of unbridled joy. Astolfo, the Rider of Black, stopped his gait, his eyes piercing through the veil of [Presence Concealment] and spotting me immediately.

"Uh… hi?" I waved nervously, unsure of what to do. Try as I might, there was no possible way for me to escape a Servant with my current speed.

"Hello!" he greeted back with vigour. "I haven't seen you before, are you new? No, you don't look like you're from here at all." He tilted his head and repeatedly tapped his chin, then gasped, "Oh! You're here on a super-duper secret spy mission, aren't you?" he guessed.

"Um… yes?" my response came out slowly, lacking in confidence. He wasn't wrong about me being here in secret, so I guess he's technically correct?

I went deep into my mind, recalling Astolfo's character. Apart from him being the poster-boy for male femininity, I distinctly remember him having a personality most would consider the epitome of both whimsy and heroic. So maybe the best choice here was to be honest? I wasn't sure. What I recall about him were from works of fiction, while this was real life, so things might not go how I remember it to.

"I knew it! I am Astolfo, one of Charlemagne's paladins! Also known as Rider of Black!" he revealed his name without me having to ask. It seems his personality remained true to my memories at the very least, so the chances of me dying during this unplanned meeting of ours is fairly low.

"Oh. I am Emiya Shirou, nice to meet you," I returned in kind, my tensing muscles slightly relaxing.

"Hm!" Astolfo nodded, as if satisfied by my answer. "Are you here to steal some secret intelligence, mister spy?"

I blinked, replying, "Should you really be asking that instead of kicking me out?"

"Come on, I won't tell anyone else, I promise!" Raising a hand, the paladin made a zipping motion on his lips.

"Uh… well, I'm here to stop this war by destroying the Greater Grail," I confessed after a bit of hesitation. Hopefully, by telling him this, he'll leave me be. "Can you do me a favour and forget I was here? It'll do me wonders," I pleaded.

After a moment of contemplation, the pink-haired Servant said, "I see! I don't know where it is, I wish you good luck, Shirou!" he encouraged. "Though as much as I want to talk to a fellow man of cuteness, I can't stay here any longer, my presence is required on the battlefield!" he proclaimed before running past me while humming a jolly tune to himself.

Processing Astolfo's parting words, my brows rose slightly. A fellow man of cuteness? "Huh, so he didn't mistake me for a girl, that's good," the corner of my lips curved upward a tiny bit, feeling as if a small crack within myself got fixed. I guess it is only natural for him of all people to know everything about cross-dressing.

Thankful, I left the area and breezed through the halls, evading the ever increasing number of guards in search for a passageway downward. I used [Structural Analysis] on the building itself in small bursts, hoping to find the entrance to the basement where I knew the Greater Grail was being kept, yet remained in the dark on where it was.

Without warning, a thunderous boom sounded from outside as I passed through a silent aisle. The ground quaked and the ceiling got peeled off like wet paper, revealing the starless sky, and throwing me off balance for a brief moment. I turned, looking out to find a gigantic humanoid figure, its hue earthly with several tentacle-like appendages sprouting from its back and shoulders, escaping from one of the castle walls and causing a collection of concrete blocks to rain from above.

"Witness my greatest creation!" Stood on the giant's shoulder was the Caster of black, his cape billowing in the wind. "Go forth, Adam! Let us bring Eden upon this world!" he ordered the colossal golem, his voice coated in utter glee.

Fearing for my safety, I bent my legs and launched forward, away from the towering giant before it squashed me into non-existence.

Meanwhile, atop the floating fortress that was the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Caster of Red - also known as William Shakespeare - clapped his hands while speechifying the sudden appearance of the golem for his companion, who was preparing a mighty spell, to hear, much to their annoyance.

Escaping the area with my life intact, I resumed my search with haste while avoiding much of the chaos happening around the castle caused by Caster's actions. Eventually, after much exploring, I found exactly what I was looking for—a stairwell—and quickly descended down the stairs. The Bounded Fields erected around the place posed a bit of a problem, but with enough patience, I managed to breach through them all and arrived inside the castle's undercroft.

In the middle of the space, settled firmly atop a podium was an enormous weathered sphere with a vaguely star-shaped gap. Through the aperture, an assortment of humanoid figures that seemed to have been carved from stone could be seen gently cradling an orb that released an otherworldly glow.

Oddly enough, there were no homunculi, or any other personnel for that matter, to defend the relic from intruders, but there were at least half-a-dozen masterfully crafted offensive spells encasing the thing, preventing anyone from even nearing it, let alone interact with it. Avoiding Bounded Fields made for detection was easy enough, but ones made to attack anyone who gets close was out of my league at the moment, so I stayed just out of its range unless I wanted to be riddled with holes in seconds.

The Greater Grail, a nigh-omnipotent wishing device and ultimate prize of this war's victor, stood before me in all of its mystical glory, pulsing with enough magical energy to cloud my mind. I shook my head, regaining my senses, and willed my magic circuits to life in order to Project a Noble Phantasm. While my current proficiency with Projection magecraft might not be able to replicate a Noble Phantasm's full might, one or two strikes from a downgraded version of such armaments should be enough to destroy all of the magical barriers and give me access to the relic.

"Trace—!" Before I could finish the chant, a deafening rumble reverberated from all around. Fissures suddenly zipped across the surrounding walls and floor, forcing me to pause. Not a second later, the ceiling collapsed like a house of cards, revealing the Hanging Gardens of Babylon now hovering directly above the Yggdmillennia castle.

Instead of crashing down, however, the debris defied gravity and shot upwards into the sky as if magnetized by the flying fortress. Dust and rubble danced in the air, illuminated by the eerie glow of the Gardens. The castle shuddered, stonework cracking and splitting as it was drawn towards the sky.

Suddenly, I felt an invisible force wrench me off the ground. The sensation of weightlessness hit me as I was lifted into the air. My body rotated out of instinct, limbs swinging about in a vain attempt to find solid ground. Below, the Greater Grail lets out a piercing groan as the Bounded Fields covering it shattered, before being violently ripped from its post, launching into the sky at an alarming speed.

As the wish-granting artefact surged past my floundering figure, I quickly reoriented myself and reached out, digging my fingers into its crevices. The world blurred around me as I clung to the Greater Geail, the sheer force of its ascent threatening to fling me off. Wind whipped at my face, and the roar of displaced air filled my ears.

---

Shirou's ascent gradually slowed as he entered the flying Garden's center piece, giving him a moment to readjust his grip to not fall off. Soon enough, the Grail drifted inside an open space surrounded by sterile walls, even lighting, and thick pillars that held the ceiling, before stopping dead in the middle of it all. Letting go of the wish granting device, Shirou dropped to the ground, panting lightly.

Suddenly, his ears caught the distinct sound of footsteps echoing to his rear. Turning, the boy spotted a man with bleached hair, clad in vestments of a priest, standing a few meters away from him and the Grail, their eyes flashing with intrigue.

A brief staredown ensued as the two refused to speak even a single word, as if content on simply observing the other from a distance.

"My, I certainly did not expect you to be here," the priest began, breaking the silence between them.

The young Saint narrowed his eyes, berating himself internally for forgetting Semiramis' plan to take the magical sphere via gravitation magic. He was too focused on sneaking into the castle that it slipped past his mind.

Quickly sifting through his past life's memories, Shirou immediately determined their identity. "You are Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, correct?" he inquired.

From his faint recollection of Fate/Apocrypha, the white-haired man before him was the Ruler Servant that was forcefully called into existence by the Einzbern family during the previous Holy Grail War and survived till the modern day after having made contact with the Grail. After the conflict, he joined the Holy Church as Kotomine Risei's adopted son, then spent 20 years in the middle-east.

More importantly, he was also the true Master of every Servant, apart from Saber, within the Red Faction as he had stolen their Command Seals with Semiramis—Assassin of Red's help in order to win the Great Holy Grail War.

"That would be my old name, yes. I also go by Kotomine Shirou now," the priest confirmed, his fondess of his new name was evident. Oddly enough, he was not at all surprised at the fact that Shirou knew of his True Name despite not being a Servant himself.

"It is my pleasure to meet you, Emiya Shirou, the one blessed by His light in this day and age," Tokisada said, bowing out of respect of the boy's status as a living Saint. He knew of the redhead's name, of course. It was hard not to notice the only person who accompanied this War's Ruler-class Servant, Jeanne d'Arc, who's movements he'd been tracking since the start of the war.

Much like the priest, Shirou wasn't perturbed when his name left Tokisada's lips. It was only natural for Tokisada to know him as he didn't exactly do much to hide his presence all over Trifas. However there was one thing he was taken off guard by; the fact that the man knew of his 'title'.

"Care to satiate my curiosity of mine?" Tokisada asked. Shirou kept his silence, letting the man continue. "What is your purpose of coming here?"

"To destroy this thing and put an end to this entire event," Shirou answered honestly, motioning to the rocky sphere behind him.

The priest stared at the young man for a moment as if contemplating, before saying, "Why must you do so? Are we not under His tutelage? Under the same banner?"

Truth be told, Tokisada felt a little dumbfounded by the strong favour the boy seemed to have garnered from God. Shirou was unknowingly releasing a shred of it every waking moment, imbuing the air he passed through with a potent amount of holy energy, making him easily identifiable.

"I'm gonna be completely honest with you, I never planned on becoming one, it just happened one night. That's that." Shirou casually shrugged, but internally, his mind was whirling. 'How does he know that? Do I have a sign saying I'm a Saint on my back or something?' Apart from Jeanne, he's never mentioned his 'title' to anyone, not even to Reika as he deemed it unnecessary. Was it because the man was a Servant? Or can just about every member of the Church recognize if he was a Saint or not? He needed to do something about that later.

"Would it not be beneficial for us to work together as fellow worshippers of the Lord? Perhaps if you knew what I am after, you would understand." Amakusa Shirou Tokisada took a breath, then went on to speak about his wish, his motivation to win this War, hoping to convince the boy to turn to his side and join his cause.

He dreamed of providing humanity salvation, a paradise where no man, woman, or child would have to suffer through any form of hardship and live in total bliss for all eternity. Tokisada asked Shirou to take his side in a compassionate tone, but the latter shook his head in refusal.

"I was never a devout follower of God. I only go to church on occasions." Shirou felt the need to point that out. "And while your goal is certainly commendable," he pointed at the Greater Grail behind him with his thumb, "this rock won't—no, cannot fulfill such a thing," he declared, his voice filled with conviction, which confused Tokisada more than anything.

"And how would you know that?" How could the boy be so sure that the Grail wouldn't fulfill his ambition? He knew the steps to realize it; he would use Heaven's Feel to bring out the goodness within people, create a world where no one would shed a single tear out of sadness.

"I know a few things." The young Saint provided no real answer. While it might appear almighty, the Holy Grail had its limits on what it can do; creating a world of utter peace, devoid of any and all evil, was undoubtedly out of its reach. 'Not that I don't want such a world to exist, but it was an impossible task no matter how you look at it.'

Hearing his words, Tokisada's lips thinned into a line. He was confused more than anything at the boy's statement, the priest could tell Shirou knew more than he let on, yet refuses to disclose it. Was the boy mocking him, perhaps?

As if reading his mind, Shirou spoke, "Whether you believe me or not, I'll still have to destroy this thing at the end of the day. That I can't negotiate on."

"I see." Tokisada nodded, accepting Shirou's words with surprising calmness. "Then there is no point in continuing this conversation." He felt a pang of sadness at the thought of opposing a literal Saint, but the feeling faded away just as quickly as it appeared. Tokisada was prepared to do anything to achieve his goal, even if it meant getting rid of Shirou, a man blessed by God.

With a glimmer of light, his appearance made a drastic change. His hair now tied into a pony tail, donned a traditional samurai outfit with hints of European influence, and a katana appeared in his hand. Holding his weapon aloft, he declared, "I am Amakusa Shirou Tokisada."

The red-haired boy paused for a brief moment before responding in kind, "I am Shirou, Blade of Emiya." He did not know why introduced himself like that, but it felt just about right.

His magic circuits stirred awake, producing a blue haze around his form that transformed into Malenia's garbs, a burnished curved sword in hand. Next, he applied Reinforcement on every part of his body, bolstering his strength by many times.

Instead of directly confronting his adversary, however, Shirou pivoted on his foot and swiftly spun around, ready to cleave the Greater Grail in half with his weapon. But in the same instant, the former Ruler-class Servant appeared behind him with a burst of speed, forcing Shirou to halt his attack.

'Time Alter—Square Accel!' With a hurried spell, Shirou moved out of the way, barely evading the sharp edge of Tokisada's katana that nearly separated his head from his shoulders. Bearing witness to the Servant's agility, Shirou's heart pounded in his chest.

Sliding some distance away from the wishing device, the young Saint recovered his stance and saw a soft flicker at the edge of his vision. He threw his head to the side, dodging another attempt at his neck by the skin of his teeth.

Without wasting another moment, Ruler quickly withdrew and followed up with an upward strike to the chest, to which the redhead reacted by twisting his torso, but he wasn't fast enough and was grazed by the attack. His reinforced robe was effortlessly ripped open, doing next to nothing in terms of protection.

As Tokisada transitioned into a downward slash, Shirou adjusted his grip on his sword lashed out. The two blades clashed at the mid-point, sending sparks flying in the dim light of the chamber. Shirou managed to divert the katana's trajectory, missing him by a mere finger's length, however, this move left his center wide open.

Seizing the opportunity, Tokisada raised his leg and delivered a powerful kick to the young Saint's stomach, sending him flying across the enourmous room.

"Ugh!" Shirou cried out. He halted his roll and briskly rose to his feet just in time to find the tip of Tokisada's blade pointed right between his helm's visor. In a desperate attempt to escape the situation he found himself in, he overloaded his helmet with a large amount magical energy, bolstering its durability by several folds for a split second.

A resounding clang echoed throughout the space as Tokisada failed to penetrate the winged helm, much to his surprise. However, as a consequence for pumping more mana than it can realistically handle, Shirou's helmet shattered in spectacular fashion, revealing his face swathed in sweat.

Shirou took a step back and held his curved blade defensively, his eyes swirling with determination. The Servant spun and lunged with elegance, attempting to outmaneuver the Saint, who barely stood their ground by deflecting the attacks coming his way.

The glint of steel filled the air as the two swordsmen executed a dance of masterful swordplay. To an outsider's perspective, the two fighters appeared evenly matched, but that couldn't have been more far from the truth. The young Saint was losing—badly. He never once made an initiative or countered for he was utterly outclassed in pure physical might. Given enough time, he would tire out and lose focus, which would lead to his demise.

In the midst of their clash, Shirou's persistence paid off as he finally broke through the Servant's guard for once, landing a kick to their abdomen that amounted to practically nothing apart from pushing his enemy back.

Halting his slide, Tokisada stabbed his weapon on the ground and chanted, "Set!" Behind him, a dozen katanas emerged out of multiple magic circles, primed and ready to skewer the living Saint. With a burst of speed, the swords threw themselves in Shirou's direction, cutting the wind as it passed.

"Trace on!" Using Projection, Shirou created his own line of armaments in response. With a thought, his creations launched forward to intercept the projectiles. A collection of sparks exploded in the air like fireworks in the night sky as the two opposing forces met in the middle.

Unfortunately for Shirou, however, his ability to create and manipulate blades in mid-air wasn't on the level where he could hurl them with the force of a bullet, so he had to conjure two or more swords in order to stop a single surging katana that flew towards him at incredible speeds.

The former Ruler moved, appearing in front of the Saint in the blink of an eye. The redhead executed a wide, sweeping swing in front of him, forcing Tokisada to momentarily stop his stride. Next, he threw a myriad of feints from all sorts of angles, yet the Servant saw through his ploy and parried the real slashes, then threw a steadfast cut that left a deep gnash on Shirou waist.

Ignoring the pain, he launched a barrage of strikes, hacking with a whirlwind of fury, driving his opponent back as they skillfully blocked and evaded each attack.

As the battle raged on, Tokisada exploited a momentary lapse in the boy's concentration, delivering a precise strike that slipped through their guard. Belatedly, Shirou moved his arm in front of him to block the attack.

The katana's keen edge easily sliced through the Saint's flesh before stopping halfway as the sound of metal brushing against metal reached Tokisada's ear. Looking closely, he could see tiny blades sticking out of the boy's flesh, preventing his katana from going any further.

With a forceful tug, he retrieved his weapon from the Saint's limb and raised it high, about to swing. But in the corner of his eyes, Tokisada saw a metallic gleam and leapt backward, avoiding the rain of steel that riddled the spot he was previously standing on.

Shirou took this opportunity to gain some distance between them and shot at the Servant with his bow, but to no avail. Tokisada deftly handled his weapon, deflecting the incoming shower of swords, steadily advancing towards his adversary's retreating form while hurtling an assortment of curved blades of his own from magic circles at the young Saint.

The boy wracked his head, attempting to think of a way to win this battle. With time, he slowly formed a rather ludicrous plan. A cloud of magical energy manifested around his left hand that quickly rook the form of the Hunter Pistol.

'I am the bone of my sword,' he recited internally. Deep within, his soulscape reacted to the prayer. Evading another deadly projectile aimed for his head, he resumed, 'Steel is my body, and fire is my blood.'

Usually, when Shirou recited the aria for Unlimited Blade Works, he would simply bring out the countless armaments resting inside it, but this time, he wasn't doing that; it was indeed a call of arms like always, but instead of weapons, he was reaching for the Reality Marble itself by condensing it's entire essence into a small point in space—inside the Hunter Pistol's singular chamber.

Nearing the redhead, Tokisada's unwavering assault led to a critical moment where he successfully exploited a gap in Shirou's defenses, delivering a devastating blow to the boy's chest. Like hot knife through butter, the katana effortlessly impaled itself into Shirou's chest, had he not jerked his body to the side at the last second, it would've struck his heart.

Shirou winced, wracked with pain, yet a manic smile slowly formed on his lips, prompting a foreboding feeling to travel across the Servant's back. The former Ruler tried to withdraw his weapon from the boy's torso, but failed as Shirou's hand snapped forward, taking firm hold of his wrist and keeping him in place.

Lifting his arm, the redhead pointed the tip of the gun at the Servant and pulled the trigger, resulting in a loud bang to reverberate across the area.

In a hurry, Tokisada moved his empty hand out front to swat away the odd, blackened bullet that came barreling out of the pistol. He did not know why, but he felt a strand of connection to the object, but he threw that feeling at the back of his mind and proceeded to smack it. Unfortunately for him, that was the biggest mistake he could ever make at this moment.

To his shock, the bullet pierced his skin and dug into his flesh instead of bouncing off it. Caught by surprise, he flicked his captured hand, forcing the boy to let go, and abandoned his sword to leap a couple meters away from the young man.

He drew a sharp breath as a collection of steel violently emerged from under his muscles, causing a copious amount of blood to spurt out. The mysterious phenomena started from his hand, then quickly climbed up to his wrist and forearm. Panicked, he briskly took a new katana out of a magic circle and separated the affected arm off his shoulder without an ounce of hesitation. As the disconnected limb dropped to the ground, he watched in horror as it was swallowed whole by many layers of metallic protrusions.

Meanwhile, Shirou unsheathed the blade out of his chest with gritted teeth, tossing it to the floor. Now given a much needed respite, he turned to his true target in the distance. With a clear line of sight, he summoned a different bow and a large sword, both pulsing with power. He set the sword's pommel onto the string and pulled back, straining his arm in the process due to the bow's immense draw-weight.

"—O sword, let thee be filled." The former Ruler heard the boy speak. He lifted his head and couldn't help but widen his eyes. In the Saint's hand was a familiar pair of objects, the Archer of Red's bow and the Saber of Black's greatsword, which was notched onto said bow how an ordinary arrow would.

Tokisada stared, his shock evident. They were undoubtedly Noble Phantasms, he could tell that much. As for how the boy came to possess such armaments in the first place, he did not know. Not once did he witness Shirou do something like this throughout the entire time he'd observed him.

A pattern of bright cracks spread across the fabled sword's surface like spiderwebs as Shirou injected far more mana than it could hold. "Balmung!" he yelled, releasing the cord in his hand. The projectile whizzed through the air at the unbelievable speed towards the magical sphere in the center of the room.

"No!" Seeing the projectile's intended recipient, Tokisada shouted in fright. He dismissed the questions forming in his mind and crouched low, knees bent, and jumped with all his strength, landing in front of the flying sword's path to stop it.

Upon making contact with Servant, the Noble Phantasm produced a blinding shine before exploding with an earsplitting boom right after. Tokisada was unceremoniously propelled into the air, spinning and crashing through multiple pillars before stopping a great distance away, blanketed with stone and concrete. His clothing were torn and blackened, skin singed by the heat of the explosion. Combined with his missing arm, he looked absolutely worse for wear.

Back to Shirou, he summoned another Noble Phantasm and spoke, "O sword, let thee be filled—!" After finishing his words, a mouthful of blood escaped his lips, dripping down his chin. His body was under intense pain, as if a rod of pure fire had inserted itself into his spine. Despite its attempts to counteract the extensive damage being done throughout his body, Avalon ultimately failed to prevent a lock of hair near his temple from whitening.

Projecting Noble Phantasms, even weakened ones, wasn't an easy task to accomplish even with his vast amounts of mana reserves. His mind threatened to break, going in and out of conciousness as he prepared to shoot another 'arrow' at the wishing device.

"What!?" Tokisada gasped, unable to believe what he was seeing. He just bore witness to a human creating a Noble Phantasm of all things out of nothing, how was that even possible? He tried to lift himself off the ground, but his legs buckled underneath him, causing him to collapse.

Powerless to do anything, he yelled at the Saint, a hint of desperation in his voice, "Stop it!" He was so close to achieving his dream. He couldn't let the chance to slip away from his hands.

However, the young Saint did not listen to his words and evoked the greatsword's name, "Balmung!" Whistling through the air like a call of death, the dragon slaying sword reached the Greater Grail in the blink of an eye, tearing through the relic's defenses with ease.

Tokisada's face betrayed a blank look, he could do nothing but watch as the ticket to realizing his ambition erupted into a fiery blast that easily liquified the surrounding area into molten silt. His back slumped onto the pillar to his rear as the Grail produced a grating creek, then broke into pieces.

[You have completed the Quest. You may return anytime within the given time frame, otherwise you'll be forcefully pulled back]

[59 minutes remaining until the Quest ends]

An ever familiar screen appeared before him. After reading it, he mentally made the screen disappear.

"Release." Shirou fell to his knees, blacking out for a brief moment as the spell's effects fizzled out. With a groan, he forced himself to stand and made his way towards the detonation's epicenter. He stepped into the chasm, almost falling over, and pocketed whatever fragment he could find that remained of the Grail in a hurry.

Amidst the sea of flames and destruction, he found a small marble that emitted a yellow glow. Curious, he picked the item up, only to let it go right after upon realizing that it was steaming hot. He took a small vial out of his lower pant pocket and drank it in one gulp, recovering a slight amount of mana back, then summoned multiple layers of fire-resistant fabric and wrapped it around the odd marble, taking it with him. Despite not knowing what it was, a small part of his fading mind felt it was important.

Emerging from the crater, Shirou found the former Ruler, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, with his back resting against a broken pillar, unmoving. He ignored the man and turned heels, leaving the scene in haste, lest he encounters the other occupants of the fortress. Thankfully, the Servants of Red were preoccupied by the battle occurring below, otherwise he would've been swarmed by them earlier.

He weaved through the winding halls and eventually arrived at a balcony overlooking the ruined Yggdmillennia castle below. Seeing the drop, he legs quivered slightly as the high winds whipped his messy hair around.

"You know what, screw it," he uttered, pushing through his fears, and vaulted over the railings in one swift motion. It was reckless, he knew, but it was either this or risk fighting more Servants. He could barely match one with everything he had, so his decision was obvious.

As gravity took hold over him, a wave of vigour encompassed his entire being, strengthening himself to mitigate the damage he was about to take. He collided into the Black Faction's base, prompting a grunt to escape his mouth as pieces of the structure joined his descent. Twisting mid-fall, he careened down its sheer walls, descending at a dizzying speed.

Thinking swiftly, Shirou summoned a blade and stabbed it into the building, putting an end to his free fall just as he was about to become one with the ground. Dropping, he dismissed the sword and pushed through the agony his body was being subjected to and sprinted away the best he could.

Meanwhile, within the throne room in the heart of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, two indivuals rested, spectating the events unfold behind a myriad of screens.

"Hah," the Caster of Red lets out a sigh, expressing his feelings at the current turn of events. Beneath the floating structure, his Caster-class counterpart cried out in distraught as Adam, the enourmous golem, slowly dissolved into nothingness. Caster shook his head, saying, "I suppose not all stories end with a flourish. Sometimes, it ends with a pitiful whimper."

For a war that involved a colourful cast of characters from across human history, it was a rather disappointing ending, if he were being honest.

"Why didn't you stop him! Couldn't you be useful for once!?" Semiramis, the Assassin of Red, snaps at the Caster clad in green as she inched closer to the edge of her throne. She herself could not leave where she sat and chase after the interloper, for her true powers depended on said throne of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

"Perhaps your belief that I, a playwright, could stop someone who can seemingly create Noble Phantasms out of nowhere is a tad bit inflated and unfair?" Caster, or William Shakespeare, gave a calm rebuttal. A Servant he might be, but a fighter he wasn't. He wrote stories during his life, not engage in pugilistic combat like everyone else here.

The Assassin of Red clenched her fist and slammed the armrest of her chair in anger. They were so close, only for some random magus to take it all away.

Down on the ground, Darnic Prestone Yggdmillenia, leader of the Black Faction, stood in his lonesome inside the ruined castle that was once the Black Faction's base. His expression remained neutral even as everything he'd been working towards for the past several decades fell apart right in front of him.

Out of the blue, he felt a warm sensation spread across his chest. Looking down, he spotted a familiar spear that could only belong to his Servant—Lancer—going through his center.

"Darnic," a gruff, yet noble voice echoed from behind him. "You dare use a Command Seal to turn me into something disgraceful. As punishment for your transgression," the Lancer of Black, Vlad the third, withdrew his spear, taking Darnic's still beating heart along with it, "—die," Vlad III declared, his voice filled with authority, before dematerializing from the material plane in a shower of light.

Earlier, before the Greater Grail was destroyed, Darnic had used a Command Seal to forcefully empower his Servant, but it would also turn Lancer into a monster that he so vehemently loathed with every fiber of his being, hence Lancer's anger towards his Master.

Losing strength over his body, Darnic Prestone Yggdmillenia dropped to the ground with nothing more than a stiffled grunt, left alone to die from his wounds.

---

"My goodness, what happened to you!?" Reika's panicked voice reached my ears as I entered the apartment with a bit of difficulty.

"I'm... not doing too good. But I'll get better, I promise." My words did nothing to calm the green-haired lady. She rushed to my side and dragged me inside, setting me on the couch. "It's fine-it's fine, don't worry. I heal pretty fast."

I lifted my shirt, revealing my slim, yet toned waist that had more or less recovered from the prior intense altercation thanks to Avalon. Reika sighed and plopped down beside me, worry still on her face. She knew I was more resilient than most, but a dark cloud still swirled above her head. From behind, Jack the Ripper, clad in an adorable peach dress, made her appearance and went to her Master—or mother's side.

"Hello Jackie. You doing okay?" I greeted the Assassin-class Servant.

A frown marred the little albino's cute face. "Um, I feel weird?" she said while scanning herself from top to bottom, as if searching for the source of the odd sensation.

"Is something wrong Jackie? Did you eat something weird?" Reika asked worriedly, a motherly aura surrounding her figure.

Before little Jack could open her mouth, I answered for her, "Don't worry about it. Here, drink this, it'll go away for a bit." I created a juice carton with Projection and handed it to Jack, who happily took it. "I'll need to do something real quick so the weird feeling doesn't happen again," I reassured the pair.

A little later, after regaining my breath, I stood up and spilled the contents in pocket onto the table. Using my admittedly limited, but useful knowledge in the art of thaumaturgy, I swiftly put together a necklace with a small decorative piece made with a fragment of the Greater Grail hanging in the middle.

I could feel that the shard still generated and circulated magical energy, more than enough to keep Jack from vanishing altogether for years to come. There were better ways to do this, maybe something that involved the Command Seals Reika had, but I did not want to mess with things I do not understand. Maybe I'll end up doing something stupid and accidentally cause Jack to permanently disappear, and I did not want that.

Crouching down, I faced the white-haired Servant and wrapped the magical accessory around her neck. "A gift, from me. With this, you'll stay with mommy for a long time. Don't lose it, alright?" Assassin looked at it in wonder, feeling her mana reserves recover at a rapid pace.

In the corner of my eye, a few System notifications pop up, telling me that I have completed a rather chunky side-quest and had leveled up multiple times. 10 consecutive times, to be exact. I was now level 30, much to my shock.

Right on cue, the front door opened to reveal Jeanne's figure clad in a jacket and shorts. We greeted the Saintess warmly as she joined us in the living room.

"The Servants begun disappearing one by one. I'm guessing you did it, Shirou?" she looked at me and asked, to which I responded with a nod. "I see. Soon enough, I will also disappear."

"Jeanne, if you want, I can make another one of these." I pointed at the necklace that provided the Jack mana, giving her a way to stay if she wanted.

"No, Shirou," she shook her head. "I mustn't overstay my welcome. Besides, I wouldn't want to take more of Laeticia's time more than I already have," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Okay…" I decided not to tell her otherwise and went to the kitchen area, saying, "While we're still here, how about a meal? A last supper, you might say."

Jeanne and Reika gave a positive response. Jack on the other hand, gave a spirit answer, "Can we have burgers?"

"Of course, Jackie. We can," I smiled and started preparing food for the four of us.

Sizzling onions filled the kitchen with a mouthwatering aroma. I flipped juicy patties on the grill, the rich scent of beef wafting through the air. On the side, I tossed a fresh salad with vibrant greens and cherry tomatoes. Golden fries crisped in the oven, ready to accompany the burgers. Melting cheddar over the patties, I then stacked them high with lettuce, tomato, and pickles. With a final flourish, I plated the meal, the colorful array of food a feast for the eyes and a promise of deliciousness.

"Here, enjoy." I let out a smile while setting the dishes on the table. The four of us then ate in comfortable silence, except for Jack who kept exclaiming in delight each time she took a bite, making Jeanne and Reika giggle.

After the fact, we sat in the living room, watching as embers of magical energy left Jeanne's form, indicating her departure.

"I guess this is goodbye," the Saintess solemnly said.

"Bye-bye, auntie." Jack gave the Saintess a tight hug. All of us gave her a tearful send off as the Saint of Orleans left for the immaterial. Laeticia, now without the soul of Jeanne, lied comfortably on the couch in a blissful slumber.

Reika turned to me and asked, "Are you leaving as well, Shirou?"

I glanced at the System's timer. [3 minutes remaining until the Quest is over]

"Yes. I can't stay here for long, and I'm really sorry for leaving Laeticia in your hands," I replied, my voice tinged with a hint of guilt mixed with sadness.

"Don't be, you and Jeanne had given me more than enough. And I'll make sure Laeticia returns home safely, Jackie is pretty strong, I'll tell you," she reassured.

"Okay. The paperwork for this place and some extra cash are inside there," I pointed at a drawer. "Don't go causing trouble now, alright?" I gave the pair a heartfelt hug, said my farewells, and manually chose to return to my world with a mental command.

Right before their eyes, Shirou's form was covered in a bright column of light, as if an Angel had been recalled into God's domain.

The light gradually died down, returning my vision. I looked around and found myself gazing at the unchanged state of my smithy. I searched my person and found the now cooled amber ball, which emitted vast amounts of mana, inside my pocket, alongside a few pieces of the Greater Grail that I had taken. They seem to have remained with me, that's good. I don't know what I'm going to do with them, but they'll surely have their uses in the future.

"I'm back." Turning, I immediately bolted out of the shed and entered my not-so-humble abode and found Sakura inside the kitchen area wearing an apron, stirring a pot, and a certain Tiger lounging in the living room dressed in a school uniform, lazily watching the television.

Despite spending a couple of days in Trifas, it appears as if I have never left in the first place. 'Huh, I guess my time in that world didn't affect this one?' I sighed in relief at the discovery. Thank goodness for that.

"Senpai?" Sakura noticed Shirou's entry. She realized that a small part of the boy's hair had turned white, but didn't say anything for now, focusing on the task at hand.

"Yes?" I faced her, asking, "Do you need some help?"

"Ah, no. It's almost finished, there's no need." She waved her hand, a warm smile on her lips.

Nodding, I made my way to the common room and sat down. Taiga took her eyes off the TV, finally noticing me. "Ah, Shirou! You're finally out of that messy workshop of yours. You should spend some more time outside," she said, almost complaining.

"Hello, Fuji-nee," I greeted back. "And I'll have you know that my smithy isn't even that messy, I clean it everyday." I'm fairly certain my penchant for cleanliness had turned into an obsession by now.

"Hm? What happened to your hair?" she asked. I twirled the bleached tresses with my finger, claiming it was from stress, to which she let out a laugh, looking all smug. "See? I told you to go outside, you're already starting to look like an old man from hammering metal all the time!"

We went back and forth, exchanging words before she inevitable went back to watching the television. She didn't appear all to worried that a child was starting to lose colour in their hair, instead choosing to make fun of it.

While waiting for Sakura to finish cooking, I opened the System in order to check on the notifications that had been blaring at the edge of my vision for a hot minute now, demanding my attention.

[You have completed the Quest. Please initiate a spin to receive a random Noble Phantasm as your reward]

'A gacha element? Are you kidding me?' I stared incuriously at the screen, then activated the so called "spin" with a mental push on my part.

I frowned as the ticking noise of a spinning wheel entered my ears. There wasn't even an animation to accompany it, there was literally nothing for me to even look at. All I could do was stare at the interface and wait for it to finish doing its thing.

[Noble Phantasm 'Gate of Babylon (E)' has been acquired]

'What!?' My eyes widened, utterly dumbfounded. I opened the newly added "Noble Phantasm" section at the bottom of the System display to take a look at my newly acquired ability in excitement.

As I read it's contents, however, the smile on my lips gradually curved into an straight line.

—

[Gate of Babylon (E)]
- The King of Uruk's treasury. It is the storehouse that Gilgamesh had built to store all the treasures he claimed in life. Now it lays barren, devoid of any treasure, waiting for it's new owner to restore it to it's former glory.

—

'Oh…' I breathed out in disappointment. 'I guess you can't have everything you want.' Still, it was pretty useful in its own right even if it had nothing inside. I finally have an inventory space to store all my things without having to carry them in a bag.

More importantly, it was one hundred percent mine and not a replica like the ones within Unlimited Blade Works—it was a genuine Noble Phantasm. Satisfied with what I got, I pushed the interface away. What did this mean, though? Does Gilgamesh know I have an empty form of his treasury? Guess I will never know unless he shows up.

Shortly after, Sakura joined us on the table with a handful of dishes to feed at least 4 to 5 people, even though there was only 3 of us. Of course, most of it would probably end up inside Taiga's seemingly bottomless stomach. While I might have just eaten earlier, Sakura's cooking still made my stomach growl as if it were empty.

---

Here I stood, in front of a large mansion's front door that belonged the one and only Rin Tohsaka, the Second Owner of Fuyuki.

"Knock-knock!" I vocalized while knocking on the door at the same time. "I know you're in there, Rin!" I called out to the manor's sole occupant. Some seconds later, the door opened a bit to reveal a tired looking Rin sporting her signature twin-tails. She held the door, glaring at me from beyond the crack.

"Are you gonna let me in or no?" I asked.

With a sigh, the Magus of Thighs, as I liked to refer to her in my head, opened the door, letting me inside her home. Closing the entrance, she spoke, "So, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to give you your breakfast. You need to take better care of yourself instead of drowning yourself in books, Rin." I dangled the container in my hand for her to see.

"I'm doing just fine, thank you." She flicked her hair back and crossed her arm across her chest. "And how many times have I told you to not come here?"

"Always, pretty much," I shrugged.

She tapped her arm with her finger. "So why are you here?"

"Because you let me in? And still continue to allow me entry when I ask?" I countered dryly. Despite telling me not to return, she still let me inside without a problem, and I know the exact reason why. "Face it, you can't even live without my or Sakura's home-cooked meals at this point, don't even deny it"

She ignored the heat flushing through her cheeks and responded with a small stutter, "I-I told you, I can handle myself—" before Rin could finish her sentence, I spoke over her.

"Nuh-uh." I wagged my finger. "Here, your favorite." Before she even knew it, the table was already neatly ladened with food I knew she liked.

"Y-you insufferable man! Why can't you just listen!" she exclaimed, but her body remained true to her desires. She was already settled comfortably on the chair, mouth watering as she stared at the assortment of food in front of her.

"Heh," I chuckled, causing the young woman to let out a stern "Shut". If her mouth weren't stuffed to the brim, I would've found the glare she was sending my way mildly threatening.

I stayed until she finished, messing with her all the while, then cleaned the dishes and left shortly after. By the doorway, I raise my hand and ruffled her head, before Rin pushed it away with a huff.

[Skill 'Head pat' has leveled up to E - 3] A translucent screen appeared, and was swiped away just as quickly as it appeared.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow, Rin," I waved her goodbye with a smile.

"Just get out of here," she replied, a faint shade of red tinting her cheeks.

Upon reaching my home, my jolly attitude got replaced by a cold exterior as I spotted a group of people dressed in priestly garbs standing in the front gate of the Emiya residence. Hearing my approach, they turned to look at me, reverence flashing through their eyes.

One of them stepped forward and said, "Greetings, Emiya Shirou. I am Garcia Cane, a representative of the Church."

"What do you want?" I asked with narrowed eyes, making my feelings about their sudden visit known. As if reacting to my emotions, the calm winds slowly kicked up a notch.

"At ease, there's no need for hostilities," he raised his hand reassuringly. "We are under direct order of his Holiness. And we ask only for a bit of your time to discuss some things."

A frown took over my lips. It seems my title had brought me more trouble than I thought. I hope to God they didn't come here for any nefarious reasons, I just got out of a war and want to relax for a bit.

END.

Author's notes: Brain fog sucks absolute balls. It feels like my mind just regressed by a decade.

I've forgotten so many things; words, simple phrases and such, so this chapter might not read that well. I'm sorry.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 11: Sword Saint.

A few kilometers to the north, a snow-covered small settlement comprised of over a hundred people lay in peace. Nothing unusual could be seen happening inside, the people went on with their day like normal; some could be seen clearing the heap of snow off their property, while others idled with their companions.

In the distance, a group of people clad in a priest's ensemble huddled together amidst the hail of flakes, their neat robes fluttering in the wind. They were Executors—heretic inquisitors of the Holy Church. Appearing nonplussed by the low temperatures, they looked on, eyes piercing through the curtain of snow and peeked at the town not too far from them.

"A hundred and eight souls has been confirmed to have been ensnared by the monster hiding within. Do not falter, my brothers. Tonight, we shall give them mercy," the man at the very front said in a gentle, yet commanding tone. He turned around, glancing at the person directly behind him who looked no older than 14, and gave out an order, "Hortensia, take your team to the most eastward building and flush out that monster into the woods."

Caren Hortensia, a young priestess with amber-coloured eyes and long, muted hair that appeared nearly invisible thanks to the surroundings, gave a simple response that carried not a shred of passion, "Yes."

With that, the man gathered the majority of the people there and took off in the direction of the small village, leaving Caren and four others, who were in the same age-range as her, behind. Without wasting another moment, the remaining group made their way east-bound.

Upon entering the settlement's borders, cries of murder erupted from all directions, followed by the distinct noise of steel cleaving through flesh. Despite it, she along with the ones following her showed no concern for the events happening around them and continued walking towards their destination.

Soon enough, they arrive at a rather inconspicuous structure situated near the edge of the town, appearing no different from the one beside it. Stepping in front of the entrance, Caren felt a prickling sensation spread across her skin. It felt revolting—evil, even. She was deeply familiar with it, for she had come across it a bunch of times in the past during many other excursions that she's participated in.

"A daemon is somewhere in here," she relayed to her associates. Daemons were beings who take control of humans to fulfill their desires, whether through ordinary or distorted means. Caren Hortensia was born with a unique constitution that allowed her to detect those who has been possessed by said creatures when nearby. Due to this, the Church had her be part of any mission that even suggested of demonic activity in order to confirm it.

One by one, the young deacons gave a nod and brought out a broadsword that was expertly hidden under their garbs. It appeared to be of ordinary craftsmanship, but they all knew these blades were anything but; they were tools given by the Church's idol—the Saint—for them, and only them, to use in order to exterminate the creature who had taken full control of this town and everyone unfortunate enough to live in it.

The five of them went inside the abode and was immediately assaulted by a drove of humans carrying an assortment of weapons that let off an ominous feel, as if they'd been expecting their arrival. Having been under the tutelage of the Saint himself for a short while, the four holy swordsmen reacted swiftly and defended themselves, deflecting their blows with finesse, before delivering a retaliatory strike at the attackers.

The weapons these people carried were plagued by some form of curse, but not a hint of worry could be seen on the priests' faces even after this discovery; their vestments were blessed by the Saint, preventing such accursed powers from affecting them.

One after another, lifeless bodies dropped onto the wooden floor with a sickening thud. The crowd stood no chance against the priests; they were stronger, more skilled, and carried superior weaponry that struck their very essence. Caren's face betrayed not a hint of emotion as she witnessed her comrades slaughter the people inside the building without hesitation.

Soon enough, they cleared the area and continued onward. Opening a door, they went inside a space illuminated by a singular lit chandelier hanging from the ceiling, bloodied tools could be seen scattered all over the ground, creating an uncanny atmosphere. At the very end of the corridor, a man—nay, a daemon who's taken control over a poor man's body, stood by his lonesome. His whole being emanated a wicked feel, causing a chill colder than the biting gales blowing outside to crawl up their backs.

Caren took a sharp breath, feeling a sudden jolt spread across her body as she looked at the monster before her. While certainly useful, her body's special ability had its own set of drawbacks, mainly being unable to stand in close proximity of a daemon for too long, but that didn't deter her from her objective.

She calmly pulled out a deep-red cloth - the Shroud of Magdalene, an item capable of restraining men with ease - and equipped a pair of silver gauntlets personally created for her by the Lord's chosen, along with her current form-fitting apparels, then assumed a martial arts stance. With a thought, the shroud moved as if it had a mind of its own and hovered over her shoulders, prepared to pounce when needed. Her company did much the same and brandished their weapons while glaring at the monster with unwavering determination.

Not a single word were exchanged as they studied one another. After their brief staredown, each side threw themselves at the other with a burst of speed, kicking up a flurry of dust. Caren and the holy swordsmen's moves were fast and natural, flowing into one another with grace and coordination, brought forth by their familiarity with the act. Meanwhile, the daemon fought with nothing but his clawed hands, swiping ferociously with a crazed smile. He possessed enough strength to match the Executors' combined might, keeping them at bay despite the sheer difference in numbers.

Sparks came and went as the Executors pressed forward with relentless strikes, but was expertly deflected and countered by the daemon, never yielding an inch. In one decisive moment, the man slipped past their defensive circle and landed a blow on a deacon's chest, which sent them crashing through a line of furniture, before slamming back-first into a wall.

Turning his head, the monster dodged a clenched fist aimed for his face, then engaged with his adversaries in another deadly dance. Without wasting another second, the injured young man briskly recovered with gritted teeth and joined the fray once again, seamlessly integrating back into rhythm with his allies, a testament to their competence as a team.

In the midst of their clash, Caren threw a well-timed feint, which led to a successful breach of her opponent's guard. Mentality commanding the Shroud of Magdalene, it lashed out and wrapped itself around the man's outstretched limb. The daemon immediately reacted by attempting to drag the cloth's wielder to him, but to his absolute shock, he found himself unable to move no matter how much strength he exerted onto his muscles.

Taking the opportunity, the deacons circled him and raised their blades up high, then swung them down at once as if planned beforehand. The attack sliced the man's flesh with ease, causing a mixture of blood and tissue to splatter all over the floor. They had not managed to sever a limb, however, they did not need to do so in order to inflict pain upon the creature; a simple graze would be enough.

"Kuh!" the daemon's grin twisted into one of agony as he let out a scream. He felt as if a swarm of hounds had sunk their sharp teeth that bore the heat of the sun into his flesh, tearing him apart from all angles. His resilience should've numbed the pain, yet it did not, which threw his mind on a swivel.

Taking advantage of his stunned state, Caren's figure flickered out of sight and reappeared right before the monster. Clenching her right hand tightly, she pulled her arm in preparation for a powerful punch. A resounding crack echoed throughout the space as her fist connected to the daemon's chest, catapulting him backward at breakneck speed. The walls of the home could not stop his flight and broke past it in a blast of stone and concrete. The destruction compromised the building's frame, causing it to slowly collapse in on itself. The holy squad immediately vacated the area before it fell on top of them, sparing their clothing from being caked in grime.

They paid no mind to the fallen abode and trained their sights on the daemon who rose back to his feet while grabbing his chest, wincing in pain. The group of five carefully created a semi-circle around the bloodied creature, forcing his back to face a forest blanketed in snow.

"What kind of sorcery is this?" the daemon shakily uttered, his eyes warily scanning the the sword in the Executors' hands. For the first time since the demonic entity's incarnation, fear swept through his mind. He'd long since anticipated the Executors' arrival and had thought up of various ways to eliminate them. But the plans he'd constructed was built around their ability to harness holy energy, not whatever this was.

Caren launched the red shroud forward, causing a leathery snap to echo across the open field. Sensing the danger, the creature bent his legs, crouching, and narrowly evaded the dangerous red fabric from capturing his head. Thinking, the man pivoted on his foot and spun around, bolting into the frozen woods behind him, hoping to use the terrain to his advantage. However, instead of entering a pursuit, Caren and the holy swordsmen chose to remain in place, watching the daemon flee without a lick of concern.

The white-haired girl faced the deacons and spoke in a monotone voice, "The daemon is en route with the Saint's position, join the others. I'll go pick up the Saint after he's finished." The four gave her a bow and went on their way to aid their fellow members of the Church around the town.

---

The demonic entity ran through the forest while shooting a glance behind him to see his pursuers, yet found nothing. He stopped, thinking he might have lost them along the way to give himself time to figure things out. Out of the blue, a voice pierced through the harsh winds and reached the man's ears. "Ah, I was wondering when you'll arrive."

Alarmed, he quickly turned around, glaring at the source of the noise. There, he found a man nearly fused with the surrounding environment. He adorned a white robe, enriched with gold accents in the shape of a cross, and was covered by an aura that made the monster's skin feel as if it were being bitten by ants. The stranger was poised atop a rock, his figure leaning forward with a smile that's both calming, yet forbidding on their face.

The daemon did not know how this person escaped his senses, but it did not matter. If the Church thought a single one of their people is enough to take him down, then they'll be mistaken. The one making a mistake in this situation, however, was himself, as he'd later find out.

"Another Church dog," the daemon said with a scoff. He looked around just in-case he was walking into an ambush, but failed to detect anyone else apart from the two of them, then shuffled towards the supposed Executor, his gait filled with confidence.

"Well, not really. I like to view my relationship with the Church as purely professional," the stranger responded, not at all worried by the daemon's approach. Next, the person lifted himself up and nonchalantly removed the robe he was wearing before draping it over the rock, letting his full figure be seen by the daemon. The human was of impressive stature and a had slim, yet muscular build. He possessed a head of silky red hair in complete contrast the world around him, and a face blessed with features that that showed a perfect blend of beauty and maturity only few can match.

"How about we get this over with? I have some stuff to deal with back home," he spoke while extending his right arm to the side. With a swirl of magical energy, a brass-hued curved sword longer than he was tall appeared in his grasp, releasing an air of menace.

The daemon's eyes narrowed as a frown formed on his lips, feeling a bit insulted by his words. From the sound of it, this human was dismissing his entire existence as a mere annoyance that needed to be dealt with.

"You will regret walking amongst those fanatics, human," the daemon stated right before launching at the red-haired man, his claws primed and ready to rip the holy man's throat.

"A bit rude, don't you think?" the redhead voice out in complaint. He raised one foot off the ground and took a step back, dodging the strike with ease. The daemon followed with a kick to the man's shins in an attempt to mess up his balance, but was unsuccessful in his endeavor. The human moved faster and deftly weaved around his swings, making light of the daemon's attempts at his life.

The two sides then entered a deadly clash that displaced the dirt and snow around them like confetti. The monster raised his arm to intercept a swing directed at his head, but his opponent smoothly withdrew at the last second, carrying the momentum to spin around and landed a powerful kick to his chest, blasting him off his feet. The blow sent the daemon hurtling through the air like a ragdoll, smashing through a dozen trees, splintering them into pieces, before slamming into a sturdy trunk with a deafening crash.

Rising off the ground, he drew a sharp breath and leaped forward without delay, crossing the distance between them and entered another fierce duel with the holy man. The daemon twirled, striking in multiple in angles like a maddened beast, while the defender swayed like a reed in the wind, skillfully deflecting each blow.

The swordsman appeared unbothered, his features calm as the ocean itself, which angered the daemon more than anything. The monster increased his efforts by many folds, straining his mortal shell to its limits in order to land even a scratch on his adversary. Yet, despite all that, the demonic entity could not vault over the redhead's defenses and was instead being pushed back with each passing moment.

With an extraordinary display of skill, the human broke the daemon's flow and went on the offensive, taking full control of the battle. He brought his weapon to bear, striking with precision, while the daemon did all he could to mitigate the injuries he was amassing.

In one fluid motion, the holy man brought down his sword in a sweeping swing. Reacting swiftly, the demonic entity avoided the telegraphed attack by moving to the side, but was caught wholly off-guard by what came next; another blade, a mirror image of the first one, came from another angle and lacerated his stomach, staining the pristine snow with blood that gushed out of the wound.

Much like before, the cut was excruciating, but he clenched his teeth, pushing the pain away. On the corner of the creature's vision, he noticed the glint of steel heading his way. Bending at the waist, the human's burnished sword missed, swiping harmlessly at the air above him.

As if expecting this, the redhead's knee was already raised, on a collision course with the daemon's face, much to their surprise. A loud crack reverberated across the icy woods as face met knee, resulting in the monster's broken nose and dislocated jaw. In the next instant, the holy man grabbed the daemon by the collar before they could recover and tossed him into the sky with a mighty heave. With a flourish, he stabbed his sword upward as gravity took hold of the daemon's body once more.

The creature collected his scattering mind then twisted mid-fall, properly orienting himself, and was greeted by the red-haired man's sword. The blade's point plunged itself through his stomach and came out the other side, causing a fountain of blood to exit his wound and slide down the blade's length. Unable to keep his lips shut, an agonizing screech bellowed from his mouth that rang throughout the indifferent forest.

Twisting his wrist, the swordsman flung the daemon's body off his weapon, letting them roll across the snow-laden ground. To his credit, the daemon didn't let the searing sensation stop him and immediately went back to his feet with laboured breaths, determined as ever to take the human down.

With a burst of speed that kicked up the snow beneath him, the swordsman appeared before the creature, executing a seemingly straightforward slash that even the untrained could easily deflect. As the daemon raised its arm to do just that, the space around them mysteriously rippled. With a flicker of light, the air cracked open to reveal two more sets of burnished swords, all slashing from different directions.

"What—!?" Startled and unable to react in time, the demonic entity failed to block any of the incoming strikes. Simultaneously, each attack landed; one blade sliced through his left thigh, another carved a deep line across his chest, and the last cleaved his arm clean off, sending it flying through the air.

"Hm," the holy man hummed, sounding displeased about something. "Not the greatest, there's still some tweaking need to be done." The move he had employed was something the swordsman had been working on for years. Devoid of any magical phenomena and using nothing but his supreme mastery over the blade, he had pierced through the very fabric of space itself, sending his strikes to separate points at once, an achievement only few in mankind's history had attained. At the moment, the limit on how many slashes he could shoot through the boundaries of reality was two, though a bit unstable. But with enough time and effort, he'll get better.

"Oh well, at least it did the job," he shrugged. Why was he treating such an insane feat of swordsmanship like it was nothing? Well, he had already celebrated enough when he first successfully did it 2 years ago. He couldn't function properly for a week, gushing over it to the point of worrying his acquaintances.

The daemon dropped to his knees with a pained grunt, clasping the stump that was once his arm. Coughing, he pushed himself to speak, "You… I was supposed to use this on that village, but you give me no choice."

Digging under his ruined clothes, he took a gem that gave off an arcane feel. Injecting mana into the bright object, it suddenly glowed a red hue. Lifting his head, he glared at the man who pushed him this far, then uttered with a menacing smile, "With this, your life-force is mine."

The gem was an expendable item he's made for the sole purpose of stealing the vitality, or life-force, of everyone in the village, including the Executors' after he's taken them out, and use the reservoir for himself. But that plan keeled over when he realized that those priests were using something he had not taken into account.

"My life-force? Well, goodluck on that," he casually replied, not at all alarmed by the threat, almost daring the daemon to do so.

Upon the gem's activation, the holy man felt a tinge of his energy leave him, yet he remained unperturbed and observed the daemon, who began using the stolen life-force for himself in order to recover. His wounds, from most grave to the slightest scratches, quickly closed. Even his missing arm regenerated with a grotesque squelch.

A laugh escaped the daemon's lips, before he suddenly fell forward as if paralyzed, slumping onto the snowy ground. He gasped as the amount of energy flowing from the swordsman to himself did not stop as he'd thought—nay, it was even accelerating as it went on. The energy was he was pulling upon felt unending, causing his flesh to be overloaded by vitality and spasm uncontrollably.

"What… what is this? This is too much!" he exclaimed, panic seeping into his voice. Before he could turn the jewel off, it was swiftly taken away from his hands by the redhead, keeping the flow of life-force from being closed. Seeing this, he pleaded, "No—no! Stop this!"

"Nope, you asked for it. Who am I to refuse a man clearly in need?" The man swiftly pocketed the gem. Powerless to stop the transference, the daemon continued to receive an unparallel amount of energy that his body cannot possibly support and thrashed around as he lied on the ground.

As time went on, the daemon's cries drifted off into soft whimpers that one couldn't help but feel bad for. His mortal vessel was unable to hold the sheer volume of vitality, leading to various lumps to form all over their skin, adding to the sufferring they're going through.

"You need Jesus, my friend. Don't worry, you need not to do anything; I shall personally send you to him," the holy man spoke in a playful tone. The curved blade in this hand vanished in a puff of magical smoke, before being replaced by a dark greatsword with a jewel embedded on its hilt, emanating untold amounts of power.

"O' sword, let thee be filled." the man raised the weapon over his head, its sharpened edge glimmering under the fading sunlight. Responding to his call, the blade discharged an explosion of mana into the sky, parting the clouds above, before coalescing into a single column of pure energy, brightening the forest in an ethereal glow.

"Balmung!" The red-haired swordsman announced its name for the world to hear, his voice resolute, before flexing his arms, prompting the pillar to fall forward—right on top of the wriggling daemon, who could only watch as he was engulfed by its brilliance.

Balmung, the legendary dragon slaying sword's majesty came down with a fury that can only be matched by the very dragon it had slain—the Evil Dragon, Fafnir. With a deafening roar, the ensuing collision with the earth unleashed a cataclysmic burst, rendering the earth asunder and tore through the landscape with a cacophony of destruction. The earth crumbled and the winds howled in protest against the chaotic upheaval, as if nature itself recoiled from the unleashed energy.

It took a while, but the forest eventually regained its silence, eerily so, as if even nature itself paused to acknowledge the prowess of the holy swordsman. Snow swirled around him as he stood over the vanquished daemon, the fabled sword in his hand dissipating with a faint shimmer.

"Are you done, Shirou?" Caren Hortensia, whom arrived just as the duel reached its climax, broke the stillness by asking the victor—Shirou Emiya. Looking outward, she could see that an entire hill not too far had been cleaved in two, still smoldering, but paid it little to no attention for such occurrences were all too common when the Lord's chosen was involved. She did not know what caused it, but she knew better than to ask questions relating to the Saint's power.

"Yep." Shirou turned, facing the yellow-eyed albino with a warm smile, then asked worriedly as he neared her, "Did you find any trouble in the village?"

"No." Caren shook her head and pushed her hand forward, giving Shirou a neatly folded robe. She then spat out in distaste, "Those priests were still annoying, though."

"Ever thought about simply avoiding them?" he suggested while taking the cloth he set aside earlier from her and waved it around, ridding it of snow.

"But I live with them," she rebutted, the corner of her lips curving slightly downward.

"Oh, yeah." Shirou raised his palm, smacking his forehead, then donned the priestly garb once again with familiarity. "Thank you," he said to the young girl, then gently caressed the top of her head, a small habit he'd picked up over the years.

"But I didn't do anything, though," Caren replied, doing nothing to remove Shirou's hand off her person, a small part of her even welcomed the physical intimacy. It was strange, his touch felt oddly comforting, as if her entire soul had found solace under the Saint's presence.

"Well, let's go meet the others." He stopped his action and walked past her, not before being ambushed by a familiar screen, invisible to anyone but himself, appearing in front of him.

[Skill 'Head pat' has leveled up to C - 2]

Using his mind, the partition vanished from view and he continued walking back to the settlement along side the white-haired girl, Caren Hortensia.

---

"Has the town been cleared?" I asked the Church member before me, who looked all too clean despite having committed a massacre moments earlier. I'm glad that my lessons about cleanliness had some effect on them, it took me a while to beat the importance of hygiene into them.

The priest felt a shiver run down his spine for reasons he could not understand. Shaking the odd feeling off, he responded with a bow, "That is correct, holy one. All the unfortunate souls in this village has been put to rest."

After some more words, he took out a phone and contacted the team put together in order mop this place up. Ending the call, him and I recouped with the other Executors of the Church who were stationed beside the nearest highway, most having already entered their designated vehicle while a few chose to stay out for some fresh air.

With my arrival, the group stood up, paid their respect to me, then entered their cars. A sigh left my lips, having grown tired of their antics. I, along with the man beside me, hopped inside a van and found Caren Hortensia comfortably sitting on one of the plush seats near the back.

"Hey Caren, you doing alright?" sitting down beside her, I asked while scanning her form for any anomalies like an over-protective brother. She responded with a low hum and a nod. Smiling, I took out a basket from the back and gave it to her. Receiving the container as if it were some sacred treasure, her eyes sparkled with anticipation. She opened it, revealing an assortment of sandwiches made by yours truly, before getting lost in her own world as she took a bite out of the heavenly delicacy.

A little later, the car finally turned on and started moving on the road. Turning my head, I glanced at the shifting landscape outside the window as my thoughts began drifting into the past. After my first meeting with Garcia Cane, another 5 years had elapsed in a flash. On that fateful encounter, the Holy Church had extended their hand to me, offering their aid to whatever endeavor I pursue.

After a bit of thinking, I chose to refuse their help and instead chose to sign a contract with them, keeping myself from being under one specific group. To my absolute surprise, they actually agreed without causing a scene, as if they've been warned before hand. The contract signed between us was a rather simple one; I get to join any and all expeditions they have that involves killing things, netting me a ton of Experience Points, and to use my God given abilities to help those in need—something they found no trouble accepting. Obviously, there was more to it than just that, such as keeping my identity a close-guarded secret, but that was the gist of it.

Of course, despite our association being strictly professional, that did not stop those affiliated with the Church from treating me like some sort of object of worship that needed to be praised every waking moment of the day. Combined with my 'willingness' to aid others, my image as a Saint had more or less solidified in the eyes of the masses, which lead to an existing Title of mine to evolve: [Sword Saint], spawned from my prowess with the blade and my ability to utilize God's light.

'System,' I mentally commanded. Not a second later, the System's interface appeared before me.

—

-Shirou Emiya-

Title(s):
Wanderer of worlds, Sword Incarnation, Bearer of Avalon, Saber-face, Fuyuki's Helping Hand, Sword Saint, Homurahara's older brother.
-Collapse-

Level: 50

STR: 30
VIT: 152
AGI: 35
MAG: 40
Stat points: 90

Skill(s):
-Expand-

Reality Marble:
Unlimited Blade Works.

Noble Phantasm(s):
Gate of Babylon (E)

Quest:
[29 days remaining until the next Quest]

—

By killing a myriad of monsters that the Church had delegated onto me, I had reached level fifty. Not much progress was made after that, though, since the amount of EXP I needed became steeper with each level up. To nobody's shock, the supernatural world had caught wind of the existence known as the 'Saint', but the Church halted their probing, keeping my name and appearance out of the public eye, thankfully.

On another note, my sole Noble Phantasm, Gate of Babylon, has been filled with all sorts of random trinkets and armaments I've either made in my workshop or collected over the years. But unlike the original treasury, not a single item worth calling an actual treasure could be found within it. With Projection, I could store multiple copies of various Noble Phantasms inside, but they were nothing but replicas and would eventually break down, returning into a state of pure mana.

Then, there's my parameters. I am unable to increase them through normal means anymore; intense physical labour just wasn't doing it. I could run around the entirety of Fuyuki city for multiple days without rest and not even break a sweat thanks to Avalon adding an additional 3 points into VIT per level up. That only left me with one option, to manually place my unallocated stat points, which I have no plans to do yet.

"Holy one," the man at the front spoke up, breaking my train of thought. Giving him my attention, he continued, "I've received notice that the Matou manor's refurbishment has been completed, cleansed of the filth that once occupied it. The ownership of the abode has also been transferred to you, but the paperwork will need a few more days to arrive."

"That's fine." I waved my hand reassuringly, then inquired, "What of the boy, Shinji?"

"As requested, the memories of his time there has been wiped. However, he was rather adamant in joining the group who rescued him, becoming a deacon of the Church." I almost choked on my own breath hearing his words. Shinji Matou of all people as a priest? That had to be some bad joke, right? But I didn't say anything and left the boy to his own devices, there was no need to antagonize a clueless teen who had just recently 'lost' his family.

Side note, Zouken's demise was kept firmly under wraps by the Holy Church, though some individuals in the Mage Association's higher circles managed to obtain the information. Even so, they brushed it off as unimportant. To the wider world, the Matou family was nothing more than a dying line of mages. They remained completely unaware of the kind of monster Zouken had become, a testament to the old worm's ability to stay undetected, if nothing else.

"I have no problems with that, but do keep an eye out; he still possess the blood of a once prominent magi lineage. You never know what a magus would do in order to get a sample of him," I warned, to which he acknowledged with a tilt of his head. With that, our conversation ended right then and there.

To the side, I heard Caren let out a delighted squeal, showing the most amount of emotion I've seen her muster for the whole day, as she took another bite of a sandwich, making me giggle.

With my contractual obligation completed, it's time to go home—back to Fuyuki.

END.​

A/N: Ello.

 

[Dunno.]

Non-Canon extra 1: Shikuna.

"Archer, take point." Rin Tohsaka ordered me, her Archer-class Servant, to prepare. Instead of gaining distance, however, I shuffled over towards the Berserker-class Servant standing at the end of the road, surrounded by an air of untamed power. Seeing my action, Rin barked at me, "Archer, what are you doing? Move!"

"Don't worry, Master. I can take care of him, easy-peasy," I reassured. Taking my hands out of my pant pockets, I lowered myself, nonchalantly stretching my legs.

"That's Heracles, you dolt! You don't stand a chance, you'd lose!" the Magus of Thighs yelled in incredulity, unable to see where her Servant's confidence was coming from. She knew her Servant was odd since she had summoned him, but she didn't think he'd be crazy enough to challenge the famed Greek hero alone.

"Nah, I'd win," my words came out as if it were a fact, not an extremely imperious comment. Finishing my warm ups, I shot to my feet and glared at the towering giant before me, my figure brimming with utmost confidence.

"Your Servant doesn't seem to know who he's up against," Illyasviel Von Einzbern, Master of Berserker, commented. She leaned forward, arms folded behind her back, then ordered in a soft tone that did not fit her next words, "Berserker, kill him."

With a burst of speed that belied his size, Heracles' figure flickered out of sight and reappeared right before me in the blink of an eye, arm extended skyward. Reacting swiftly, I raised my reinforced arm and deflected the stone-axe he brandished with ease. The force of the impact shattered the ground beneath me, sending shards of stone flying in all directions.

Moving, I went out of the Greek demi-god's sight with a flurry of dust and materialized to their flank, arm pulled back in preparation for a powerful punch. Before he could respond, my clenched fist embedded itself on the Servant's face, launching him backward with incredible force. The Greek hero crashed through the brick wall of a nearby building, debris rained down around him as he tumbled across the floor, before finally skidding to a halt.

With a crazed smile, I leaped forward and landed near the Servant's rising form. Taking a closer look, he appeared to be unharmed despite taking a direct hit to the face. I wasn't discouraged by this, a simple punch like that wouldn't be enough to hurt a demi-god such as himself.

"Cleave," I whispered while throwing my open hand in a diagonal sweep. Following my act, a deep slash suddenly ran across Heracles' chest, causing their blood to splatter in the wind like confetti.

Due to my body's unique properties as a "sword", I was able to develop the ability to cut and slice through anything within a certain range with either a thought of a simple gesture. Even the System acknowledged my efforts and created a Skill known as [Dismantle and Cleave], much to my surprise and delight.

The Servant ignored the wound as if it never existed and swung his weapon at me. Anticipating it, I quickly crouched, letting the axe pass harmlessly, then delivered a retaliatory strike that knocked the demi-god off his feet.

Undeterred, Heracles swiftly recovered and released an ear piercing roar that made the surroundings quiver like a terrified child. He twisted his wrist, directing the jagged edge of his stone-axe in my direction. Lifting a hand, I intercepted the weapon and threw an attack of my own that he effortlessly blocked.

Our scuffle quickly turned into a clash of sparks, limbs blurring due to the inhuman speed in which we delivered our blows. With a flurry, the demi-god aimed to breach my defenses with his superior strength, but my impeccable timing and reflexes allowed me to weave through every attack. Despite the madness that plagued his mind, removing his ability to make rational decisions, he still retained the majority of his martial prowess.

Even with my dexterity, however, the son of Zeus proved to be my better in single combat, capitalizing on a mistake I unknowingly made and managed to break through my guard to land a decisive hit. The power behind it flung me across the room like a missle, smashing through the structure, before slamming into a parked car with a deafening crash, denting the metal and shattering the windows.

A cacophony of screams erupted from all directions accompanied panicked shuffling of footsteps. I payed the civilians no mind, letting their voices blend into the background in favour of pushing myself off the vehicle.

Out of the blue, my instincts sent warning signals in my mind, prompting me to jump to the side and narrowly evaded a weighty chop aimed for my head, splintering the car into pieces.

"Cleave," I said, aiming to deprive the giant of his sight by gouging his eyes. In response, the Servant let out nothing more than a growl. Bending his knees slighty, Heracles lunged forward while sending a torrent of wide cuts and slashes at my figure. Using nothing but his sense of hearing to pin point my location, he charge at me with determination.

I deftly maneuvered around his axe using the surrounding buildings as cover, taking advantage of every opening I could find to deliver swift cuts and slashes. Our duel tore through countless structures, resulting in our preceded path to be bestrewed with death and destruction. In the midst of our clash, I made a simple slashing motion at his neck, which in turn caused his head to fly off his shoulders, killing him instantaneously. His body slumped forward as it lost strength, dropping to the ground with a thud.

Instead of relaxing, however, the air around me only grew more tense. I watched as a burst of smoke engulfed the demi-god's corpse, sealing his wounds shut and regenerating his lost head in the blink of an eye, before rising to his feet the next second without issue. Heracles' Noble Phantasm, God Hand, was a tricky one; not only did it give him 11 additional lives to spare, but also gain an exceptional amount of resistance to whatever killed him upon resurrection. Taking a breath, I spoke, "That's one. Eleven more to go."

Kicking off the ground, the two of us launched ourselves at each other without hesitation, engaging in another fierce battle that sent shockwaves across the busy streets of Fuyuki. The Servant raised his arm to intercept a swing directed at his head, but I pulled back at the last second and used the the momentum to spin around, landing a powerful kick to his face.

Without pausing, he snatched me off the air and sent me hurtling like a leaf in the wind. I flew through several walls before crashing into a storefront. Shards of glass rained around me as I rolled across the tiled floor, finally coming to rest amid the wreckage of shattered displays.

To the side, the partition crumbled to reveal the sprinting form of Heracles. He tackled me off the ground and drove through the wall behind me, which shattered under the impact. Raising his hand, the demi-god took hold of my clothes and brutally hammered me into the asphalt road, scraping my head as he ran along. With a twist, I slithered out of the giant's hold and delivered a cut through his neck, followed up by another, then another, until his head got lopped off once again, killing him.

"Two," I announced. Before he could fully regenerate, I grabbed him by the arm and threw him over my shoulders, sending him to the sky. Sifting through my Reality Marble, I summoned a dozen swords of immense power and launched them at the airborne Servant, hitting them with precision, resulting in another extra life being lost. Before he could touch the ground, I crouched low, knees flexed, and then propelled myself into the air, shouting, "That makes three. Is that all you got, Heracles!?"

Regaining conciousness, Berserker bellowed loudly and brought his weapon to bear, swinging in a deadly arc as I neared his position. Dodging it, I then delivered a horizontal cut to the Servant's neck, but failed to inflict any lasting damage for he had gained some level of immunity to my technique.

"Tch," I clicked my tongue as I dodged his ensuing attack. Using Projection, I created a sturdy line of chains and lashed out, enfolding the towering giant with it. Using his weight to accelerate my spin, I tossed him to the ground at the apex of my rotation. The following collision cratered the earth and produced a loud boom that shattered all nearby windows.

I fell down as gravity took hold over me and made a graceful touchdown. From under the dirt and rubble, Heracles emerged with a vengeance and rushed towards me, axe in hand. However, he was denied from moving any further by the chains wrapped around his chest.

Taking the opportunity, I empowered my next slash with more magical energy and pierced the demi-god's heightened defenses with a bit of struggle, killing him for the fourth time. Heracles came back to life shortly after, brimming with renewed vigour. Roaring in defiance, the shackles that bound him creaked as he exerted more strength into his muscles. Through sheer physical might, he broke the chains and ran, executing a storm ofr destructive blows at my figure.

I ducked and rolled, avoiding the majority of his strikes, but not all. However, I was not at all worried; even if I did get injured, Avalon—the Ever Distant Utopia, immediately went into action and let out a subtle glow, mending my wounds.

Spinning, I threw a downward chop at my opponent. Seeing this, Berserker raised a hand to block it, but the attack never came. My figure faded, revealing itself as nothing more than an after image, while the real attack came from the opposite direction. My left hand delivered a cut the giant's center, flinging him back with force and tearing the ground like paper.

As he tumbled across the road, a tsunami of swords showered the Servant from above, pinning him onto the ground like a pincushion. Using another drove of blades, I riddled his head with holes, taking his fifth life. As he lied down on the ground, regenerating, I stood before him, hand grasping at a beautiful sword that invoked a sense of elegance and dignity.

I waited for his cranium to reform, then acted. "O Sword of Selection, give me strength," I held the brilliant sword high above my head, then brought it down while calling out the weapon's name, "Merodach!" The Original Sin, Sword of Choosing, decapitated the Servant in one clean slice, removing his sixth life.

"Another six to go," I said, dismissing the blade. Taking advantage of my momentary lapse in attention, the newly revived Heracles gripped my ankles and hurled me to the other side of the street. The Servant released a roar laced with rage and gave chase, obliterating everything that obstructed its path towards me.

Halting my roll, I spun and made a cutting gesture, successfully removing my opponent's right arm off their shoulder. Unperturbed, Berserker caught the stone-axe with his other hand and threw it at me with a mighty heave, taking me by surprise. I hastily raised my arm to redirect the weapon's trajectory, which in turn shattered my forearm from the sheer force behind it. The axe flew past me, smashing into a random abode and destroying it.

After some more exchanges, he retrieved his weapon and our battle went on uninterrupted like a natural disaster, terrorizing the citizens of the city. We passed through many roads and structures, causing an incalculable amount of damage and the deaths of hundreds of people unfortunate enough to be in our way. He broke a pillar from an elevated highway and casted it in my direction, letting the road collapse. Flicking my wrist, I chopped the column into small slabs, preventing myself from being struck.

Using everything in my arsenal without reserve, I managed to kill the demi-god for the seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth time, but was unable to continue the streak due to an unexpected move my opponent did.

"Kuh!" I pained grunt escaped my lips as Berserker's fist dug into my stomach, followed by an overhead strike that buried me to the earthen ground. Lifting his legs, Heracles kicked me off the floor, launching me across the dirt at high-speeds. With gritted teeth, I Projected countless armaments in the air and fired them, but the demi-god skillfully deflected and evaded them, making light of my projectiles, only keeping him in place for a few seconds.

However, that small window was all I need to employ my next move. While raising my hands, the world seemed to gradually still, all noise fading into obscurity as if bracing for what's to come. I folded my pinky and ring fingers, leaving the others open, and pressed them together. With a smirk, I pronounced with resolution, "Domain Expansion: Shrine of Unlimited Blades."

Without warning, everything within a 200 meter radius with me as the center disintegrated into non-existence, minced by an invisible force that repeatedly cut and sliced through anything that there was, including the famed Greek hero, Heracles, leading him to lose another life, the eleventh one.

Shrine of Unlimited Blades was something I've developed over the years by using Unlimited Blade Works as a reference. Instead of creating a whole separate dimension like a usual Reality Marble would, a 'Domain Expansion' takes what already exist in the world and transforms it to manifest the caster's inner-self for a limited amount of time.

"One more," I said while keeping my hands together. The grin on my face quickly morphed into one of surprise; in the distance, I watched as the demi-god defied all odds and restored his form amongst the discord of slashes, slowly trudging towards me with an unstoppable gait. After dying over half a dozen times from my [Dismantle and Cleave] Skill, the Berserker-class Servant had become effectively immune to the technique no matter how much I increased its output.

A smile reappeared on my face as I pulled my hands apart, steadily weakening the effects of my Domain Expansion. If cutting him wasn't enough, then I'll just use something else. The ground beneath me suddenly glowed an iridescent orange and turned into molten slag as a large sword etched with intricate symbols that shone like a second sun manifested in my grasp, accompanied by a bow that released a wave of divine essence.

Using Alteration, the sun-like blade stretched itself into a more aerodynamic form before being notched into the divine bow with familiarity. The bow of Artemis, goddess of the hunt, one of the few genuine Noble Phantasms in my possession, groaned as I pulled the string back. My arm quivered under the strain, but I pushed through and aimed at the demi-god in front, who just happened to have finished his resurrection.

"Laevateinn!" I called out while letting the blade surge forward. The sword of Surtr, bringer of Ragnarok, tore through the air, soaring across the sky like a beacon. With this, I can confidently say that my qualifications for the Archer-class has been proven.

The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air, stirring the winds into a frenzy. It was as if the sun itself had appeared on Earth, melting the ground and filling the air with nothing ash and cinder. The buildings, whatever remained of them, crumbled into fine dust as pillars of flame that ate anything it touched exploded outward. It was safe to say that Heracles did not survive the cataclysmic explosion, eliminating him for the last time.

"Ah, I shouldn't have done that." My mind was going in and out of conciousness from the rebound of using a Divine Construct—Laevateinn. Why did I immediately resort to using such powerful armament when there were other things I could have used? Was I just that desperate to use it because I never did so back when I was alive? Oh well, no point worrying about it now.

I turned around, gazing at the apocalyptic landscape with a blank stare. Raising my hands, I clapped, prompting a stream of magical energy encapsulated the entire city in an instant. Opening my mouth, I commanded the world, "This never happened."

With that, the threads of fate stirred as history shifted to fulfill my wishes.

---

"I'm dreaming… that's the only logical answer; I am inside a dream." Rin Tohsaka paced back and forth inside her abode, the events that occurred earlier still fresh in her mind. Not only did her Servant kill Berserker 12 times in a row, but he also utter obliterated most of Fuyuki with his Noble Phantasm.

'Who the hell is he?' the magus wondered. Had she unknowingly summoned the Devil, perhaps? She didn't think it was even possible to do that! And that wasn't even where it ends. Just when she thought the whole city was doomed, her Servant spoke some gibberish words she could not understand and restored everything to how it was in the blink of an eye. Scratching her head, she shouted in frustration, "How!?"

"What's going through your mind, Master?" Speak of the... Devil, her Servant appeared from the kitchen with a tray of delicious meals. He gently placed the dishes on the table and spoke, "Here, sit-sit."

Not wanting to defy the being before her, she immediately sat down, shaking as if an earthquake had accosted her body. On the other side of the table, a little girl with snow-white hair stared at the foodstuff, then nervously asked, "Uhm, sir… what is this?"

"This, Illya, is a gift before I leave this place." Archer neared the albino and caressed her head, causing her to let out an adorable squeal. Rin, unable to resist the delicious aroma, was already stuffing her face with a face full of joyful tears. After a bit of hesitation, Illya joined the feast.

A while later, after cleaning the dishes, the three sat down in the living room in silence.

"So, anything you guys want to ask?" Archer asked, breaking the stillness between them.

"Uhm," Illya spoke up, raising her pallid hand. "Who… who are you?"

"Oh, you know me," the Servant returned, smirking.

"I do? I-I don't think I k-know anyone like you…" the young girl responded, her words tripping over themselves.

"I am Emiya Shirou, your brother," he revealed, deciding to not beat around the bush anymore. He stood up and placed the young Einzbern onto his lap, pulling her in a tender embrace and scaring the living daylights out of her. "Well, not exactly. I'm from the future, after all," he clarified to his astounded companions.

Much, much later, after they had calmed down from the revelation, the group once again sat in silence. Illya was still sitting on Shirou's lap, now in a state of utter confusion and disbelief.

"So let me get this straight." Rin pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're a different version of that idiot?" The Servant responded with a simple "Yep" while continuing to rub the albino's hair.

Illya interjected, her voice shaking, "But-but…uhm, how did big brother get so strong?"

"Training," the redhead cooly replied, before playfully pinching Illya's cheeks.

"Unbelievable," Rin voiced out her thoughts, directing her eyes at the man. "That worry-wart of an idiot became a Heroic Spirit, a pretty strong one at that. Just how did that idiot do it!"

"I love you too, Rin," said the so-called idiot. Rin faltered after processing his words, her cheeks flushing bright crimson. She quickly averted her gaze, feeling herself melt from the myriad of emotions sweeping through her mind. The young woman couldn't help but feel more self-conscious even more so than before, how can she look at Shirou's face after this? Her heart just wouldn't stop beating loudly inside her chest.

On the other hand, Illya could only slump in Shirou's arms, still shocked by the information he's told her prior; her father, Kiritsugu Emiya, never left her and was actively searching for her since the end of the Holy Grail War, but failed in the end due to her grandfather's interference. Her eyes were misting over, swimming with unshed droplets. But then, she felt the comforting presence of her brother wrap around her form. She soon found herself drifting off into a deep slumber, encased by the warmth of her family, a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time.

END.​

A/N: I was bored and wrote this in one sitting without much planning.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 12: School life.

Straight ahead, past the sprawling landscape, lie the sun in all its brilliance, illuminating Fuyuki's skyline. After disembarking from the plane, I mixed in with the environment to prevent people from seeing me and sprinted home. The run took no more than a few minutes at best, not even tiring me in the slightest.

Passing the walls of the Emiya residence, I felt a Bounded Field, one of my own creation, wash over my whole being. After a decade of incessant studying, I finally became skilled enough to erect my own barriers on the same level as Kiritsugu's. It sure took a while since the intricacies of the craft kept turning opaque in my mind due to the effects of [Sword Incarnation].

Pulling the front door open, I was greeted by a small Shiba Inu - a type of dog breed - happily swaying its curled tail from side to side. In its excitement, the dog stood on her hind legs and pawed at me, prompting me to crouch and catch the animal, welcoming it with the same amount of enthusiasm.

"Hello there, Rou," I said to the dog, my tone waggish. After playing some more, she turned around and bolted deeper into the house in order notify her creator of my arrival. That's right, her "creator." Rou wasn't an ordinary animal—nay, it was no animal to begin with, but a construct made from clay and needed no more than magical energy to function.

Standing, I trailed behind it and entered the living room where a purple-haired girl, dressed in a resplendent dress, awaited alongside Rou, who calmly sat on the floor. The young woman—Sakura Matou—sported a smile, equal in radiance with the sun itself, as she approached me. We pulled each other into a loving embrace, separating shortly after. The two of us exchanged some words; I asked if she was doing fine, shooting a swift glance at the magical construct lounging on the wooden ground, to which she positively replied, stating that nothing was wrong.

'That's good,' I internally sighed. Though admittedly, worry still plagued my mind. After a long time recovering, Sakura mustered the courage to utilize the Matou family's Magic Crest - the ability to bind oneself to another - that was quite literally engraved into her body by Zouken all those years ago. I tried dissuading her, but she remained adamant on using it to help however she can.

To my surprise, her application of the magecraft was entirely different from her predecessor. Instead of binding an existing familiar to herself, she plucked a strand of her soul and fused it with the earth itself. From there, Sakura molded its shape how she saw fit and created a myriad of artificial life-forms, all the while avoiding insects for obvious reasons. Rou, the adorable Shiba Inu, was one of such creatures made from her ability.

Then comes the cause for concern; unlike Zouken's methods, hers was extremely dangerous because Sakura's familiars are in-part an extension of herself, for a piece of her soul dwells within them. If they were to suddenly perish, she would feel their sufferring as if it happened to her. Due to this, she made sure to limit the amount of constructs she made to stop me from worrying too much. At the moment, she had 10 beings at her command; five being birds that flew across the vast skies of Fuyuki like a watchful eye, while the remaining ones were small mammals that could roam the streets without garnering much attention. In case something awry did arise, I was fully prepared to give her a copy of Avalon.

"Hey, Sakura," Shirou called out, catching her attention. He then spoke of his recent acquisition of the former Matou estate and offered to pass it to her. But Sakura refused with a head shake, allowing Shirou to do whatever he wishes with it. She'd long since considered the Emiya manor to be her one true home, as it contained everything she needed in life. The young girl peeked at the red-haired boy, her eyes filled of yearning. Throughout the years, Shirou had become dear to her, irreplaceable by anyone or anything.

Sakura already knew of the deal he had struck with the Church, but that doesn't mean she liked it very much; these religious folks were stealing her precious time with Shirou. The desire to keep him surfaced in her mind, ignited by the entity hiding within. Blinking repeatedly, her cheeks flushed pink upon catching herself forming such embarrassing thoughts. She placed a hand over her chest, quelling her pounding heart. There's no need to be possessive, Sakura knew that Shirou would always be there for her—like always.

Nodding, I went deep in thought, thinking on how to turn the vacant abode into my ideal workshop. The shed at the back had served me well enough, but some upgrades would be welcome. Smithing wasn't the only art I was pursuing, after all. After our brief reunion, we went on with our day like usual and started cooking food together.

Right on cue, the door flung wide open to reveal a familiar short-haired brunette wearing casual clothing—Taiga Fujimura. Sending us a quick hello, she captured Rou in her arms then dropped to the floor. Cuddling the furry animal, Taiga felt all the piled up stress in her body melt away. Watching her antics, Sakura and I let out a heartfelt giggle. If there was one thing that didn't change throughout the years, it was definitely Taiga's energetic personality.

"Look at you two, acting all lovey-dovey. Why can't you just get married already!" Taiga comments while gazing at the boy and girl pair working in the kitchen. Shirou and Sakura's inseparable bond was well known around town, but rarely does anybody mention it, instead choosing to watch from the sidelines with knowing looks. Though when someone did, the two would wholly deny it. Hearing her words, Sakura faltered for a brief moment, while the boy simple ignored it in favour of plating the finished cuisine.

I set the dishes down on the table and poured Rou her share of food inside a bowl. Taiga begrudgingly released Rou from her grasp and felt as if a big part of her had vanished. While she might not be a real animal, Rou still possessed the ability to consume food by turning what she eats into usable energy. Sitting down, the three of us spoke a short prayer before eating.

Gulping down a mouthful of rice, Taiga spoke of a gossip she learned before coming here, "Hey, did you guys hear about the amount of priests suddenly popping up around the city? Not the Shinto ones, but from the Church."

"Did something happen?" despite knowing the reason herself, Sakura still asked with mild interest.

"I dunno. Some say a demon had been spotted hiding amongst the people," Taiga replied, her voice uncertain. She was never the type to start such talks, but the presence of foreign clerics around the city did make her head turn.

"That doesn't sound good, be sure to keep youself safe, Fujimura-san," Sakura expressed her concern, like the ever gentle girl that she was. While not as much as Shirou's, the young girl still cherished Taiga's addition to her new life.

"Now that just sounds ridiculous," I chimed in, shaking my head at the idea. The congregation of priests over Fuyuki was due to my request, in preparation for what's to come. "Are you sure it wasn't your cursed bamboo sword that they caught wind of?" I mentioned with a chuckle, pulling the conversation elsewhere.

"Why you—my shinai is not cursed, why does everyone keep saying that!" she voiced out in complaint. Pointing her chopsticks at me, she spoke, "Why can't you be as worried for me like Sakura, Shirou. It's like you don't care for me at all!"

"Hey, don't get all heated up, I'm speaking nothing but the truth. If it really wasn't, you wouldn't have been disqualified for the Kendo championship for, and I quote, "being in possession of a wicked tool" yeah?" I pointed out, jogging her memory about the incident. Some time ago, several people were hospitalized after competing against Taiga, resulting in her ban from Kendo tournaments.

"Those kids were just weak, that's all. And I did not get banned because of that, stop making stuff up! Help me out here, Sakura. Your Shirou isn't showing respect to his guardian one bit!" Taiga turned to the purple-haired girl, pleading. She had been my legal-guardian for a while now, which I had no problems with.

Processing Taiga's words, Sakura stumbled a bit, "S-Senpai, p-please don't bully Fujimura-sensei." At that, I quickly shut my mouth. On the other side of the table, Taiga raised her chin high, appearing victorious, causing the corners of my lips to twitch.

We bantered some more, enjoying in each other's company, until we emptied the table. And due to her responsibilities as a teacher, Taiga had to leave first. She waved at us by the entrance before riding away on her scooter. With the dishes cleaned, Sakura and I switched to our school uniforms then vacated the house, and together we walked to Homurahara highschool. Upon arriving at the school campus, however, we had to split off to different buildings; she was still in her first year, while I was in my second.

---

The hours went by in a flash, and the bell rung to indicate the start of lunch break. I exited my classroom, passing by many students flushing into the halls, and made my way down to the Archery Club.

I stepped into the archery range and found a brown-haired girl, dressed in a kyudo uniform made up of a white tsutsusode top paired with blue hakama pants, standing by the foyer. Ayako Mitsuzuri—Captain of the Archery Club—spoke up upon seeing me, "And who do we have here? Did you change your mind, maybe?"

I greeted her with a polite smile, then stated, "No, Mitsuzuri. I already told you this many times; I am not joining the club." In response to my firm refusal, I heard her audibly click her tongue. "Did you just click you tongue at me?" I alleged.

"You must be hearing things. Have you ever thought of getting your ears checked?" she denied without breaking character. From under her breath, I caught her saying something that made my mouth tremble in agitation, "So much wasted potential. Should I ask Sakura to convince him?"

Since the start of my highschool years, I went through many clubs out of boredom and, to my regret, tried out the Archery Club. Familiar with their choice of armament, I struck every target's center, no matter the distance, without fail, much to the shock of its club members. Ever since then, Ayako had been pestering me to join everytime I pass their clubroom, but I've refused everytime.

"Whatever," she grudgingly accepted my answer. Then, as if her disappointment never occurred, her attitude made a full 180-degree turn and asked in a teasing tone, "So, what brings you here, Emiya?"

"I'm here for Sakura. May I please go now?" I conveyed the purpose of my visit without playing into her little game. As if recalling something, I added, "Is Rin inside by any chance?"

"Yep," she delivered a one word reply while popping the end of it. "A flower in each hand, eh? I didn't think you hand it in you," she remarked with a smirk.

"Stop. It's not like that," I sighed, waving my hand in dismissal. As I was about to brush past the young archer, her next words gave me a small pause.

"Whatever you say, Nii-san." She laughed at my reaction before patting my shoulder. Due to my tendency to act like an older sibling towards everyone else, stemmed from my adult frame of mind, I had built up quite an endearing reputation around the school. In fact, a certain nickname of mine had gotten so prevalent that the System even gave me a title for it, aptly named [Homurahara's older brother]. It boosted my parameters by a single point whenever I'm inside campus. It wasn't a lot, but better than nothing.

Sighing once more, I went further into the space and neared two indivuals speaking to one another at the end of the corridor—Rin Tohsaka and Sakura Matou. As for why they're here, the former often comes to visit the latter, who's taken interest with the art and was even one of the club's best archers. Sensing my approach, the pair turned around and warmly welcomed me.

The situation between the two siblings, to my surprise, had not changed. Well, it'd be a lie to say that no progress had been made; Rin actually interacts with her younger sister more so than her television show counterpart, however, this level of intimacy betwixt them never went outside of the school grounds. Additionally, Sakura's opinion of the twin-tailed lass wasn't terrible as it was. I gave the two sisters their lunchboxes, as I've always done, and invited Rin to hang out, but she declined and walked away after talking some more.

As the twin-tailed magus crossed the halls, she shot a troubled glance at her younger sibling, before moving on. She wanted to get closer, bridge the gap between her and Sakura, alas, she could not because of an agreement made by the Tohsaka and Matou family. At the very least, the knowledge that Shirou would be there for Sakura eased Rin's mind.

Lunch time eventually came to an end, making Sakura and I go back to our respective classrooms. Even more time passed, and the bell went off much like earlier. But this time, its rings signified the end of school hours. Standing, I crossed the busy aisles and arrived at the teacher's lounge in search for one person in particular. I quickly found the man on his desk, placing a bunch of papers inside a folder.

He had black hair and a robust build covered by a fine suit. Finishing his task, the man rose from his chair and faced me, his expression detached with eyes pitiless as the sun. We acknowledged each other with a simple nod and headed out.

END.​

A/N: I was making some food and messed up, almost burning the kitchen down. I am not good at cooking.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 13: Reforged.

The finely dressed man and I reached the top of a small hill and entered the Ryuudou temple, where he lived. The blank-faced man was none other than Souichirou Kuzuki, an assassin trained from a young age but eventually settled down in Fuyuki two years prior to live a relatively normal life as a school teacher, wholly unaware of the existence of the supernatural.

We stand in silence inside an open space, the floor was made out of hardwood and the surroundings was lit up appropriately. Before me stood Kuzuki wearing different clothes; gone were the professional's ensemble he previous wore, replaced by a form-fitting attire that allowed a dynamic range of motion, the same applied to me.

A dangerous aura covered the man's form, and for a brief moment, I saw an image of a large snake coil around him, bearing its fangs at me with a hiss. Blinking, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves before lunging at the man, arms raised. Bracing himself, Kuzuki did much the same, but more poised. Swift kicks and powerful punches flew through the air, each blow aiming to incapacitate the other without mercy.

I was, of course, limiting my physical capabilities to that of a normal human's level to properly contend with him in close combat. After much contemplation, I decided to speak to Souichirou Kuzuki a year ago and politely asked him to teach me unarmed combat to increase my repertoire of skills, all the while keeping my identity as a magus hidden. This served two things, not only do I grow more skilled at fighting, but also form a cordial relationship with the man. As from what I could remember, he became the Master of the Caster-class Servant during the Holy Grail War. I don't know if he still will be, but it was better to be friends with him now than enemies later, just in case.

My memories of the original source material started to blur as time went on, making me forget some details. Thankfully, I had the foresight to write down all the knowledge I had about the Fate franchise as a whole on a notebook that's safely secured inside my Gate of Babylon. It wasn't much, as I wasn't an avid watcher of the shows. It even took me a few hours to figure out who exactly Kiritsugu Emiya was when we first met. Nevertheless, what little information I possess was enough to give me an idea on how dangerous this world I now inhabited.

Back on topic; to nobody's surprise, the talk did not go well at first; he was extremely suspicious of my sudden approach, so I had to reveal my late father's line of work in order to gain even a modicum amount of his trust. What I didn't expect, however, was for Kuzuki to know of Kiritsugu's name. As it turns out, Kiritsugu Emiya was a well known figure around the higher circles of the underworld.

This piece of knowledge made me outright scratch my head, how did my father's full legal name even get disclosed? His profession centered around anonymity, for goodness sake. I knew Kiritsugu had some acquaintances scattered across the globe, but I thought they were few and far between. It was at this moment I realized that he was more infamous than I previously thought. Eventually, after much chatting, Kuzuki agreed to take me under his tutelage.

Returning to the spar; I launched a barrage of strikes, driving the assassin back as he skillfully blocked and evaded each attack. As the fight went on, the momentum I was building up was immediately broken by the older gentlemen with a simple push to my shins. Undiscouraged, I resumed my pursuit and attempted to throw him to the ground which went unsuccessful as Kuzuki saw through it and responded accordingly.

With a sudden, unexpected maneuver, Kuzuki exploited a brief opening in my defense and scored a hit to my stomach, immediately followed up by a jab to the face. Quickly reacting, I tilt my head to dodge the attack, then jumped to side just in time to see Kuzuki's outstretched limb dart back like a whip. Had I not moved out of the way, the back of my head would've been struck. Without wasting another moment, the assassin stepped foward and executed a storm of blows at my retreating frame, taking full control of the flow of battle.

Desperate to escape my perilous position, I turned slightly, intentionally leaving the left side of my torso open. Faster than his thoughts could formulate, Kuzuki's hand moved to take advantage of the supposed gap in my guard, only for my body to twist at the last instant and arrest his arm, pulling him into a bind. What I didn't take into account, however, was the sheer flexibility of the man's joints. Tugging his captured limb, it slithered out of my hold with ease, much to my surprise. Kuzuki clenched his fist and landed a ferocious blow to my temple while simultaneously sweeping at my legs with his own in an extraordinary display of skill, knocking me off my feet.

The world spun as I fell to the ground in a clatter, forcing a groan to leave my lips. Though not hurt, the abruptness of it all still disoriented me to some degree. Regaining my composure, I tried to stand but found the tip of Kuzuki's nails hovering just inches away from my eye, preventing me from moving further.

"That'll be it for today," the assassin announced in a monotone voice as he pulled his hand back, ending our sparring session for the day. Rising to my feet, I breathed out and reviewed what happened in my mind.

The disparity in skill and experience between us was pretty obvious. It seems that without using my superior physique, I could not hope to defeat Souichirou Kuzuki's martial prowess as I am now. But my spirits weren't down, I'll catch up soon enough. After the fact, the two of us took a break and changed to a more comfortable set of apparels.

"Emiya, a word," Kuzuki called out. I turned and gave him my full attention. He remarked on my actions during the final moments of our duel, complimenting the technique I had used. It was an unusual but effective strategy against stronger and more experienced opponents, as it leveraged the enemy's instincts to exploit any opening for a swift counterattack. However, he cautioned me against relying on such an unorthodox method, warning that unless I was exceptionally skilled, it would expose me to more danger than it was worth.

I agreed with his assessment. While the technique had its merits, there was no sense in giving an opponent an opportunity to attack if I couldn't react in time. A delayed response, even by a millisecond, would spell disaster for the defender.

Ending our meeting promptly, I bowed and made my way behind the temple, where rows of meticulously crafted headstones lay in tranquil silence. The winds were calm, and birds chirped their merry songs as I traversed the familiar path, finally stopping at a particular grave that seemed no different from those beside it. The sun peeked through muted clouds, casting bright rays through the gaps in the tree's foliage and illuminating the monument, revealing the name etched on its surface—Kiritsugu Emiya.

"Hey, Dad. It's been a while. The Holy Grail War is right around the corner, a continuation of the one you fought in. I'll be sure to finish what you started," I vowed with a grim smile, my voice barely above a whisper. Rarely do I visit his grave since a myriad of other things required my attention, but I make sure to come here at least once a year.

I had once considered using his remains to craft the ideal anti-magus weapon, but I chose not to out of respect. Kiritsugu Emiya had done enough, he deserved to rest in peace, not be forced into service even beyond the grave.

Then there was the situation with his daughter, my stepsister—Illyasviel von Einzbern. I had scoured the laptop Kiritsugu left behind, searching for any information that might lead me to Illya, but to no avail. He had searched far and wide, yet failed to find her, marking Jubstacheit Von Einzbern's - the person who took Illyasviel - capabilities to stay invisible, more than anything.

If Kiritsugu couldn't do it, what chance did I have? Amid the files, however, I found a short message written specifically for Illya before his passing. To my surprise, it even included some comments about me. This begged the question: why didn't he tell me about her? Did he simply not want to drag me into his problems?

I shook my head. Although these matters were of great personal importance, they were problems for a later date. Illya, if fate remained true, would naturally end up in Fuyuki as a participant of the upcoming Holy Grail War, leading to our inevitable meeting. Right now, there was something else that required my focus.

"There's something else I need to tackle first." Mentally commanding the System, a screen manifested in front of me.

[27 days remaining until the next Quest].

There were still a little under a month until the System issued the second Quest. I wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or anxious that it would happen right before the Holy Grail War. Truthfully, I was nervous; the task ahead could be anything. The risk might be too great, and I could perish. On the other hand, success would make me more powerful. All I could really do was prepare and hope for the best.

I said my goodbyes to my adoptive father's resting place and turned away, leaving the hilltop temple. Striding through the streets with newfound confidence, I eventually arrived back home. Passing the gates, I spotted 2 birds—magical familiars—posted atop the antennae, watching over the place. Once inside, Sakura, anticipating my return, greeted me with a brief hug, which I warmly reciprocated.

The days went by without a hitch, Taiga still visited us every so often, and her grandfather—Raiga Fujimura—even popped in to ask for my help in tuning their vehicles. My relationship with the Yakuza head was amiable, to the point where I'd do occasional odd jobs for the group here and there, mainly fixing whatever broken equipment they have.

He's even asked me to watch over Taiga, who's supposed to be my guardian, with an amused chuckle. When I confronted the man about his tendency to spoil his granddaughter, he gave me an incredulous stare, sent a blank glance at Sakura, then burst into a laughing fit while saying in between breaths, "Look who's talking. Young man, you can't even go ten meters off your own house without worrying for Sakura!" This, in turn, caused the aforementioned girl's cheeks turn beet red.

We laughed while Taiga smothered Rou to the side, these were times I wished to stretch on forever. Alas, danger always loomed over the horizon.

---

I stood in my dimly lit workshop at the back of the Emiya mansion. The former Matou estate, while cleaned of Zouken's influence, has yet to be properly furnished, so to the shed it was. The air was thick with the scent of burning coal and hot metal as the forge before me roared with fierce intensity, casting an orange glow that danced across my sweat beaded face as I plunged a length of metal into the heart of the fire, watching it heat until it was a vivid, cherry red.

It was no ordinary ingot, but one made from Kiritsugu's remaining Origin Bullets. After thinking about it for months, I ultimately chose to take the bullets out of their cartridges and melt them into a single bar. Not all of it had been recycled; I left one behind as a momento, latching it into a necklace that now wrapped around my neck.

The Origin bullets by themselves were powerful against magi kind, no doubt, but my main form of engagement was unlike Kiritsugu's, who preferred to ambush his prey from a distance. Though it is possible for me to Project Origin bullets at a much steeper cost than a sword, I'd rather have them in the shape of a blade that I could easily replicate using my magecraft.

With practiced precision, I pulled the glowing metal from the forge and placed it on the anvil. Each strike of the hammer rang out with a rhythmic clanging, shaping the steel into the rough outline of a small dagger. Sparks flew with every impact, briefly illuminating the entire space.

Sadly, due to the small number of bullets, a dagger was the best I could craft it into without weakening its effects. But that would pose no problems as I could just copy the weapon later and perform Alteration on it to extend its length how I see fit.

I paused to examine the blade, then reheated it, repeating the cycle of heating and hammering. Gradually, the rough edges smoothed, and the dagger took on a more refined from. The sound of the hammer striking the anvil was steady, almost meditative, punctuated only by the occasional hiss of steam as the blade was cooled in a nearby barrel of water.

Satisfied with the shape, I then moved to the grinding wheel and pressed the blade against the spinning stone, sending a shower of sparks cascading to the floor. The grinding wheel whirred loudly, drowning out all other sounds as it honed the blade to a razor-sharp edge. My hands moved with skill and certainty, guiding the blade with precision against the stone.

Next came the hilt. Selecting a piece of dark wood, I carefully carved and sand it until it fit perfectly with the tang of the blade, then attached the hilt with sturdy pins and wrapped it tightly with leather, ensuring a comfortable and secure grip.

I stepped back, holding the finished product up to the light. Happy with the results, I set it down as a sense of quiet satisfaction washed over me. Focusing inward and gazing into the immense landscape of Unlimited Blade Works, I spotted a perfect copy of the newly-made dagger sheathed into the ground with its handle pointed at the sky.

A smile swept across my face as I opened my eyes once again. With this, I've done pretty much everything I wanted to do. Gazing forward, I stare at the timer near the bottom of the System's interface.

[1 day remaining until the next Quest]

END.​

A/N: A bit of a heads up, the new Quest will only be two chapters long.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 14: Second Quest (1/2) - Dun Scáith.

The sun began to rise over Fuyuki, casting its light upon the waking city. I sat atop a wooden chair inside my smithy, holding a clock in my hand. As to why, I was setting it up to determine if time passed here while I was in the middle of a Quest. Right after completing the last one, it felt as if not a second had gone by, but I needed to be sure. I had tried asking the System many times, but it remained silent, never answering my questions as always.

Closing my eyes and gazing into the Gate of Babylon, I saw a menagerie of items lying around. The Noble Phantasm was a wonderful thing that alleviated a lot of my problems; it was essentially a warehouse of enourmous proportions that followed me everywhere, allowing me to store or take out objects at will using a golden portal. Unlike its original owner, Gilgamesh, who only stored valuable treasures inside, I was less discerning and deposited items that wouldn't usually come to mind, such as stacks of steel ingots and an entire freezer filled with frozen meat because why not.

I took a deep breath to calm my rising excitement, my eyes snapping to the translucent screen that appeared before me, signaling the start of a new mission.

[A new Quest has become available]

Much like before, an invisible hand plucked me from the mortal plane, ridding my sense of sight. This time, however, I kept my composure and remained still. There was nothing to perceive in this void, so I simply waited to be thrown back into the physical world. As expected, light pierced the blackness of the abyss, and my vision returned.

The distinct noise of displaced air and the sensation of wind whipping around me alerted me to my predicament. I looked down and saw that I was free-falling from approximately a hundred meters above the ground. Frowning, a question not meant to be answered popped into my head, 'Why am I in the sky again?'

Anticipating the unusual descent, I bent my knees just before impact to soften the landing, making a graceful touchdown. The collision with the earth produced a loud, sharp thud that cracked the ground beneath me before falling into silence. Dusting off my clothes, I mused, 'Why do I feel like this will become a regular thing?'

My gaze turned to my surroundings, scanning for any signs of danger. I had landed in the middle of a sprawling meadow, the landscape blanketed with grass and vibrant patches of colorful flowers. In the distance, a wall of mist encircled the space, obstructing my view of what lay beyond.

As I focused on the center of the meadow, I spotted a horde of quadruped beasts, appearing mostly canine with unruly fur smudged in dirt. They were shrouded in an eerie aura, sending a slight chill up my spine. They didn't feel overtly threatening, but their presence exuded a wicked feel that I couldn't quite identify. Though confident in my current strength, I knew it wouldn't hurt to be better prepared.

"I guess it's finally time," I muttered, opening the System's interface. I quickly invested my remaining stat points, leaving VIT untouched while allocating the majority to MAG, enhancing my prowess with my limited but powerful combination of spells.

—

Level: 50

STR: 55 (+25)
VIT: 152
AGI: 60 (+25)
MAG: 80 (+40)
Stat points: 0 (-90)

—

I felt a surge of warmth course through my veins like a torrent of electricity. Shaking off the otherworldly sensation, I acclimated to the change and refocused on the pack of monsters slowly trudging toward me. With a thought, a simple broadsword appeared in my grasp. Holding the blade in reverse, I lifted it up, pointing its tip to the grassy floor.

"I am the bone of my sword. Steel is my body, and fire is my blood," the first and second line of Unlimited Blade Works' chant rolled off my tongue, resulting in a wave of energy to shoot across my body. I attempted to resume the incantation but my lips sealed itself shut. It was a curious thing; for reasons I've yet to decipher, I am unable to continue the aria despite knowing what comes next. No matter, it was something for me to ponder about later.

Instead of choosing a sword stuck within, I pulled upon the Reality Marble's essence and inserted it into the blade in my hand. The sword trembled, brimming with enough power that it cracked on some areas despite its bolstered durability. As the beasts surround me in groups, I plunged the weapon halfway through the ground. A low rumble ensued, followed by a burst of metallic stakes blooming from underneath each canine like common grass. Caught by surprise, the pack was unable to react in time and were skewered one by one, killing them instantaneously.

The mass of bloodied spikes, along with the broken sword, shattered into motes of blue particles after a while, letting the beasts' lifeless carcasses drop with a soft tumble. They provided a large amount of experience points, but not enough to level up.

The ability I deployed was an improvement of the technique I had once used against Amakusa Shirou Tokisada in desperation years ago. Instead of shooting it like a bullet, I had refined it into a deadly move that could discharge sharp thorns on any nearby surface. While I could still use it as a projectile, this new application was far more effective as it was in accord with my body's unique trait. Satisfied with the result, I left the scene to avoid the scent of death and casually propped myself against a boulder, opening the System to figure out what my new Quest was.

[Fulfill Scáthach's wish]

"Hm?" a hum escaped my lips, brows furrowed. I withdrew a white notebook from a golden portal and flipped through its pages to find any information about the legendary Scottish warrior woman—Scáthach. More specifically, Fate's rendition of the character.

Tossing the textbook back into the Gate of Babylon, my lips pursed. There wasn't much to begin with, the most I've written on her was that she was a powerful being who trains a myriad of warriors - including the renowned Irish hero—Cú Chulainn - in hopes that some day, one of them would slay her. Was that her wish; to be killed? She was an immortal being from my understanding, so that might pose a problem. Perhaps she had another wish that I am unaware of? Probably, I barely knew her after all.

Closing the screen, I pushed myself up and heard a slight commotion happening behind a crowd of trees some distance away. Letting curiosity get the better of me, I sauntered across the grassy plain and arrived at the other side of the foliage to find a young man, no older than 16, with his top bare some reason, showing his toned figure. His vibrant blue hair swayed in the wind as he ran from a tide of monsters similar to the ones I felled prior.

'No,' I shook my head. He wasn't fleeing, the bluenette was circling the area, herding as much of them as he could. Each step he took was filled with confidence, unperturbed by the growing mob behind him.

'Is that who I think it is?' Out of reflex, I used Structural Analysis on the straight sword he was carrying. Gleaning through the item's memories, I drew a sharp breath upon ascertaining his identity: Ireland's Child of Light, Cú Chulainn—then named Setanta—the Hound of Culann. 'So it is him.'

With a glimmer of magical energy, a bucket of popcorn came into existence. Taking it, I threw a handful of kernels into my mouth and watched as the son of Lugh—Celtic God of Light—pivoted on his foot and spun around to execute a horizontal slash at his pursuers. An invisible force swept through the canines' ranks, slicing dozens in half with ease. Cú quickly delivered strike after strike, ending the lives of many beasts until every single one of them lied dead on the ground, reduced to nothing but chunks of meat. Witnessing his feat of strength, I praised the demi-god internally.

Turning his head, Cú spotted me and waved excitedly. I returned the gesture, seeing no harm in doing so. Sheathing the blade on his waist, the blue-haired teen sprinted toward me, closing the distance within minutes.

"Hey there, I am Cú Chulainn!" he greeted with a smile, speaking in an exotic language. He seemed friendly and excitable, but not annoying. His entire presence felt like an impressionable younger brother. "Are you here to seek the Witch of Dún Scáith as well?" he inquired.

Blinking, I found myself mildly taken aback by the fact that I somehow understood what he was saying, it was jarring knowing words you've definitely never heard of until now. The System probably had something to do with it, was it able to translate other languages this whole time? Were my efforts to learn foreign scripts redundant? No, this was most likely a special occasion, so I pushed my surprise aside.

Going back to his words, I immediately realized where we were: the Isle of Skye, where Scáthach resided. It made sense, the System wouldn't just drop me off in the middle of nowhere. Well, technically, I was in the middle of nowhere, but all in the right ways.

Letting the popcorn bucket vanish, much to Cú's amazement, I introduced myself using the familiar, yet utterly foreign tongue that had somehow entered my brain, "I am Shirou. And you're correct, I'm here to find her as well." While my goal greatly differed from his, I wouldn't turn down the opportunity to learn from the legendary Scottish warrior herself and emerge as a better combatant by the end of this Quest.

The demi-god tilted his head, making a short comment about my name, before beaming up, proposing that we join forces in finding the famed woman, to which I agreed with a shrug. With our short introductions over, I asked a question that had been brewing in my mind, "Why are you shirtless?"

He responded that his clothes had been ripped apart earlier during an encounter, but he found no problem continuing his journey without them. He tapped the pommel of his weapon and said with a laugh, "At least I didn't lose my sword."

I took a clean tunic, sewn by yours truly, out of my storage and offered it to him as a replacement. Cú grabbed it and thanked me sincerely before putting it on, then asked about the golden portal. When I answered with "Magic", he simply accepted it like it was the most normal thing in the world. Before we ventured off across the landscape, however, the bluenette challenged me to a friendly spar. Oddly enough, the request sounded natural to him, as if he's asked the same thing to everyone he'd met. Seeing this as a good way to find out how I stand against a literal child of a god, I welcomed it with open arms.

"Gotta warn you though, I'm pretty strong," the young man boasted.

"We'll see about that," I returned with a smirk. There was no doubt in my mind that he was strong even as he is now, for he had divine blood running through his veins.

We stood on opposite ends of the open field, stretching our limbs. Finishing his warmups, Cú pulled his sword from its scabbard and entered a stance, both hands firmly gripping the handle of his weapon. Arms extended, I summoned a golden curved sword, its razor-sharp edge gleaming softly. Seeing this, his eyes sparkled with interest and vocalized his thoughts, "Woah, you've gotta teach me how to do that!"

"Unfortunately, this sort of magic is kinda unique to me alone," I replied in a matter-of-fact tone. I heard a disappointed "Oh" leave his lips at my answer. If he had a tail, it would've drooped down in sadness.

Without warning, I dashed out of sight, kicking up a swirl of dust. Cú's despondent expression quickly turned pensive, his eyes bouncing to and fro to catch even a glimpse of my figure. Appearing behind the young man, I pulled my hand back and executed a swift diagonal slash to his back. Letting his instincts take over, the demi-god lowered himself, evading the attack with ease. In the same action, he twisted around and counterattacks by swinging his sword in a deadly arc.

Turning my body, the blade completely missed its target, leaving me unharmed. I could not say the same for the poor trees behind me, however. Not being able to move and all, a small portion of the woods groaned before collapsing to the ground, sliced in half by the sheer force behind Cú's swing. Looking back, a sharp whistle left my rounded lips in admiration. Without a doubt, Cú Chulainn surpasses me in pure physical might. Suddenly, a near silent whizz came from the side, accompanied by Cú's youthful voice, "Where are you looking!"

Tilting my head, the distorted image of a sword brushed past my face. Even with all his strength, however, I proved too agile for him to hit, a testament to my dexterity. With a graceful flourish, I brandished my blade and lashed out. Our little scuffle quickly turned into a shower of sparks, limbs blurring due to the inhuman speed in which we delivered our swings, The demi-god aimed to overwhelm me using his superior strength, but my nimble footwork allowed me to weave through every attack.

With each blow that flew out, the smile on the bluenette's face grew more prominent, indicating his enjoyment. In an unexpected maneuver, I flicked his weapon offline and raised my foot, delivering a kick to his stomach that launched him backward with incredible force. The demi-god crashed through several tree trunks, breaking them into chunks, before finally skidding to a halt.

I winced as pain throbbed in my ankle. It seemed he not only exceeded me in physical prowess but in toughness as well. Good to know. Undeterred by his impromptu flying lessons, Cú Chulainn hastily recovered, shaking off the chips of wood, and lunged forward again. Interlocked in a deadly clash once more, he pressed forward with relentless cuts while I parried each blow with finesse, our swords singing as steel brushed against steel in a dance of swordsmanship.

My blade gained momentum with each passing second, swerving around his weapon like a snake. Eventually, my swings became so fast that he barely kept up with each successive block, forcing Cú on the defensive.

Unable to track Shirou's movements, Cú narrowed his gaze, pulling his consciousness inward and tapping into his godly heritage. Six dots of pure blackness manifested in each of his eyes, orbiting his pupils like miniature moons. The demi-god raised an arm, intercepting the curved sword's path and halting the redhead's whirlwind of slashes, much to the his surprise. Cú then stepped forward, charging with a thrust.

'Time Alter—triple accel,' I mentally activated the Emiya Crest, causing my perception of reality to speed up manyfold. Reacting swiftly, I caught his sword in betwixt my knee and elbow, shocking its wielder. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse in attention, I swiftly swept his legs, knocking him off his feet with enough force to rattle him.

As he began to stand up, he found the tip of my sword leveled at his throat, signaling the end of our duel. With a thought, the time spell's effects was dismissed. Letting the golden sword disappear from my grip, I offered the young man a hand, which he took, and helped him stand up.

"Woah! You're fast, faster than anyone I've seen," the young man exclaimed as the points in his sclera receded to nothingnes. Despite resulting in his loss, the smile on his lips couldn't be more brighter. What even was that at the end? Did he activate his Sharingan or something?

After the match, as we idled in place to catch our breath, my thoughts began to drift. Though I had won our spar, the demi-god could certainly defeat me if he tried hard enough. Yet, I felt confident I could best him; I had yet to utilize everything in my arsenal after all. Having a video game System was truly the greatest boon to have for somelike like myself. I shook my head, cringing at the realization that I was taking pride in defeating a child. One born with divine blood, sure, but a child nonetheless.

Sighing, I turned to my companion and commented on the black dots that had appeared in his eyes at the climax of our fight, asking what they were. Cú nonchalantly revealed that it was part of his powers as a child of Lugh, which boosted his reaction speed and sense of apprehension significantly when triggered. Retracing my memories, I recalled reading something about Setanta, or Cú Chulainn, being born with seven pupils in each eye. That was probably it. There were also mentions of him having additional toes and fingers, but looking at his hands and feet right now, they looked pretty normal.

"Should you really be telling me this?" I asked. Sharing your abilities with someone you just met wasn't something one usually does.

"Meh," he shrugged. "It's not really that big of a secret." I supposed it wasn't, considering he was well-known even before his tutelage under Scáthach. With his personality, hiding his godly traits from the masses would be quite a challenge.

"Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you a bit about my craft." Hearing this, Cú listened with rapt attention. Though not adept in thaumaturgy, the demi-god still concentrated on what I'm saying and was fascinated by the wonders of magic.

At the end of my short explanation, he spoke with stars in his eyes, "So you have an unlimited supply of armaments as long as your mana reserves allow it?"

"Pretty much, yeah," I confirmed. The only thing I told him was that it was possible for me to create swords with mana, leaving Noble Phantasms out of the conversation as that detail would be a surprise for later.

He slumped, slightly jealous of my ability to conjure bladed tools at will. He complained about the number of weapons he'd broken in the past, saying that if he had my ability, he wouldn't have to visit a blacksmith so often. I heard him mutter, "Why can't I do cool magic like that? Aren't I half god?" as he scrutinized his current sword.

Feeling bad, I projected a sword nearly identical to his and reinforced it, bolstering its sturdiness to withstand his godly strength. I offered the blade to him, and he eagerly accepted. He did a couple test swings with it before strapping it below his existing sword with a satisfied expression.

[You have completed a side-quest] A System notification appeared, which was immediately interrupted by another that said, [You have leveled up]

I swiped them away and rose to my feet. Having rested well enough, the two of us talked some more before starting our journey. Together, we set off across the Isle of Skye, our shared quest leading us toward the famed Witch of Dun Scaith—Scáthach.

---

Turns out, our adventure mostly consisted of traversing the environment and killing the occasional monster that blocked in our path, not that exciting to be honest. I've already started to miss the conveniences of modern transportation, it was truly a gift being able to travel immense distances without doing work yourself. Nevertheless, I still found ways to entertain myself; sightseeing being one of them. Without traces of human activity, Mother nature was truly a breathtaking sight to behold. A shame most of it had been harvested for resources.

Cú Chulainn and I got along well enough, he was rather straight forward and often let his unfiltered thoughts run through his mouth. When the sun started drooping into the horizon, I prepared us a simple meal over a campfire. On the first bite, he was ensnared by its taste and consumed his food like a starved beast, leaving nothing behind.

Much later, the sun retreated to the other side of the world, letting the pale moon rise to guide those lost in the dark. We were separated at the moment; the bluenette had gone off to hunt tonight's dinner, eager to taste more of my cooking, while I trekked to the nearby lake. I removed my shirt, keeping my form-fitting pants on, and sank halfway into the large body of water. I lathered myself in soap and began scrubbing, cleansing my body of dirt.

Taking a bucket full of water, I poured it over myself one last time. Finishing my bath, I slowly emerged from the lake while brushing my lengthy auburn hair back. To the side, the bushes parted with a soft rustle, revealing Cú Chulainn carrying a boar twice his size over his shoulder. Gazing at my topless self, he spun around in a panic, cheeks flushing rosy pink, and dropping the fat animal in the process.

"Is something wrong?" I asked the flustered demi-god, confused by his reaction.

"S-Shirou, you d-didn't tell me you were—I can't possibly o-ogle at a fair maiden's body!" the blue-haired teen stammered, his voice trembling. Hearing this, my eyes twitched in slight agitation. Something primal within me threatened to burst out, but I barely managed to push it back to where it came from.

"I'll have you know that I am a full-grown man, not a girl," I clarified to ease his concerns. "I'm not going to make a fuss about it, so it's okay for you to turn around," I stated, my voice as dispassionate as a rock. Okay… maybe a small part of me did get hurt by his comment.

Cú slowly twirled his head, peeking over his shoulder. Catching a brief glimpse of my frame, he snapped his eyes shut and faced away again, feeling a rush of warmth to his face.

"I-I can't—!" Cú stuttered as his entire body started heating up. His mind began to numb, legs weakening, before he crashed to the ground, unconscious.

"What," a single word left my lips in utter bewilderment. Squinting, I swear the grass beneath him got singed by his body heat. Were my feminine traits that great to elicit such a response?

Looking down, I saw my full figure reflecting on the lake's calm surface. I stood taller than the average person, with a lithe yet athletic build and a slender waist. My mannerisms and the way I conducted myself spoke of masculinity, yet, instead of hinting at my true gender, these traits only solidified my image as an idealized tomboy. Honestly, I couldn't fault the young demi-god for fainting at the sight of my bare self.

I clutched my chest, the very thought of being mistaken as the opposite gender caused my soul to crack. I've tried many ways to appear manly, but my attempts only made my feminine features more appealing. If only I could remove the [Saber-face] title, the source of this curse. 'No. I will not fall for the temptations, I refuse to become a femboy with every fiber of my being!' I made a silent oath to myself.

Sighing, I quickly got over my short mental breakdown and dried myself with a towel. Though uncaring of how other people perceived my appearance, I still very much preferred to look male. Gently setting the unconscious Cú atop some patches of soft grass, I summoned a silky blanket and draped it over the demi-god, leaving him to wander in his dreams. I then approached the fallen boar and deftly dismantled its carcass. Seeing as how Cú was out of commission for the night, it'd be tomorrow's breakfast.

When morning arrived, Cú jumped to his feet, cheeks flushed, and apologized for his behavior last night. I waved it off with a snicker, more amused by his innocence than anything.

As we ate breakfast, the sound of footsteps reached my ears. From the corner of my vision, I saw a brown-haired young man with a sword on his hip emerge from behind the trees, hands raised to show his peaceful intentions. Cú, being the outgoing lad that he was, welcomed him warmly. The man revealed that he had followed the delicious scent of our food that made his stomach growl, which led him to our campsite. Seeing no harm in it, I took a bowl and offered him a share of our meal. Thanking me, the young man devoured it in seconds, unaware of his own speed, causing Cú to bark out a hearty laugh.

The two of us introduced ourselves, and he did much the same, naming himself as Ferdiad, son of Dáman, and a warrior of Connacht. My ears perked up, eyes flashing with recognition; he was none other than Cú Chulainn's soon-to-be best friend and brother-in-arms. I wasn't sure if this was how they originally met, but what mattered was that they did. True to my memories, he had come here with the same goal as Cú and I, which made bonding with him easier.

After exchanging a few more words, he agreed to join us. Almost immediately, the blue-haired demi-god requested a friendly bout with him. Surprisingly, Ferdiad accepted the challenge, and the two men went off to fight while I sat on the sidelines to spectate, grilled meat in hand.

Each blow they scored on one another echoed like distant thunder claps, the earth gained some dents and countless trees were forcefully removed from their positions during their battle. Ferdiad matched the demi-god in speed and strength despite being human without a shred of divine heritage, which spoke volumes about his talent and dedication. The duel ended in a draw, and the two lay on their backs in exhaustion, sharing the same smile. It seemed Cú wasn't the only one here with the odd obsession for fighting, the two of them fit together like peas in a pod.

Resting briefly, our small party of three then resumed forging across the sprawling landscape. We eventually reached the edge of the bottomless gorge that spanned as far as the eye can see. Gazing down, my eyes failed to pierce the darkness that rest below, causing me to take a step back out of fright.

"This is it. From what I've heard, Dun Scáith is just behind this," Cú claimed, which Ferdiad reinforced with a nod. My brows shot up out of shock; I do not remember there being any mentions of a gigantic chasm separating Dun Scáith from the mainland. Did this gap still exist in the modern world? Cause' if so, I might just pay a visit to Scotland after this.

Half an hour of carefully strutting along the edge later, we spotted an aged bridge connecting one side of the chasm to the other. Nearing the entrance, the winds howled as if responding to our arrival. The bridge made not a single noise nor did it sway, unbothered by the harsh gales.

Stepping onto the viaduct, the wood that made up its frame did not creak contrary to its weathered appearance, fully supporting our combined weight. Narrowing my gaze, I could spot a myriad of intricate symbols that emitted a hint of magical energy carved into the bridge, presumably the source of its unnatural solidity. Having not seen such strange scripts before, I unfortunately couldn't figure out their meaning.

Continuing on, we crossed the ravine in a few minutes and made it back onto land once more. Without warning, the beaten structure subtly glowed before its support beams snapped in half, prompting the entire thing to dive into the endless pit below. While my companions adopted looks of confusion at the odd occurrence, my ears picked up on a near silent whistle coming from the thicket of trees ahead of us.

"Something's coming!" My shout instantly catapulted them into a heightened state of alertness, blades drawn. Whipping my head to the side, a white blur zipped past me and buried itself into the ground—a makeshift javelin made from animal bone. The attack didn't stop there; more projectiles surged from the woods with the ferocity of cannonballs.

I leapt to the front and attempted to block the incoming hail by creating a wide shield, but the sheer power behind the projectiles shattered the magical construct in an instant. Forced to rely on our agility, we deftly evaded and deflected the storm of sharpened bones. The spears seemed endless; as soon as one flew out, another quickly followed. Was there a group lying in wait to ambush those who crossed the bridge? If so, why hadn't they simply collapsed the structure while we were on it? Questions for later.

Through managing to stay unharmed, we were slowly being pushed back, teetering closer to the edge of the abyss. I combed through my Reality Marble and grasped Jeanne d'Arc's Noble Phantasm, about to Project it, until the bombardment abruptly ceased, giving us a moment of respite. Cú exhaled, sporting a nervous smile, while Ferdiad wiped the drop of sweat sliding down the side of his face. Their eyes darted around, bodies jittery, prepared for another downpour of projectiles.

"A satisfactory performance," a commanding voice boomed from farther away. I trained my sight to the noise's source, and the air suddenly grew heavier as a single shadowy figure emerged from the canopy of trees. It was woman of immaculate proportions, clad in dark close-fitting clothes that highlighted her curves. Her long, lavender hair swayed along with her gait, and her piercing red eyes scrutinized us from head to toe. I don't know if I was seeing things, but her eyes seemed lingered longer on me longer than the others. A predatory grin captured her lips, sending a terrible chill down my spine.

"Before you stands the one who conquered over the haunted grounds known as the Land of Shadows, ruling it as its queen—I am Scáthach!" her voice bellowed with authority, reverberating across the quiet vista.

Scáthach was a fearsome warrior who grew to be one of the strongest people in the world. Using her immense strength and supreme mastery over Runic spells, she had slain gods and was crowned a God Slayer, a feat only few throughout humanity's history had attained. With this power, she obtained control over the Land of Shadows, a place overflowing with spirits, then went on to become the mentor of countless people courageous enough to wander into her territory.

She stood confidently, her back straight, her aura imposing. Casually twirling the crimson spear that released a torrent of bloodlust in her hands, she demanded, "Name yourselves, brave warriors."

Pushing the invisible weights off my shoulders, I answered, "I am Shirou." Looking at my starstruck companions, I pulled them out of their stupor with a nudge. The duo regained their calm, sheathed their weapons, and introduced themselves with a joyful expression, excited to be in the presence of the legendary Scottish woman.

"Hm," she let out an approving hum before turning around without saying another word, fully expecting us to follow. Our objective for coming here was clearer than glass, so there was no need think about it. Without asking questions, we picked up our pace and trailed behind her like ducklings. The pair beside me gave off a sense of enthusiasm, while I on the other hand contemplated on taking out a camera to take pictures of the God Slayer's bewitching beauty, but chose not to and followed quietly. Perhaps that can happen later.

As we crested over a hill, we saw it; there, looming in the horizon was a castle, its tall spires and walls stood in stark contrast against the fading light, a silent sentinel looking over the surroundings grounds. We drew closer and arrived at a narrow, winding path that led up to the massive iron gates that hung like an open maw.

Entering the building known as Dun Scáith (Fortress of Shadows), we walked into an open garden filled with various steel armaments atop racks leaning against the ramparts.

"No time to dally, your training starts now," Scáthach announced. Picking three spears off a rack, she hurled them in our direction with a flick of her hand. Without flinching, I caught the weapon and immediately noticed something odd about it. Unlike a usual spear, which was heavy on one end, this one was equally balanced on each side, more akin to a staff. Both Cú and Ferdiad were inspecting their spears with raised brows, clearly noticing the same anomaly.

Raising a hand, Cú asked, "Um… What are we supposed to do?" The grin on Scáthach's face grew wider in response, her eyes gleaming a dangerous red. A sense of trepidation washed over my very soul, making me step back as if instinctively fearing what was to come.

Scáthach introduced us to her form of training—by relentlessly beating us without holding any punches back, both figuratively and literally. Cú Chulainn and Ferdiad, familiar with such savage methods, adapted quickly. I, however, was wholly unprepared for the brutal lessons and struggled to keep up, often falling behind. But that wasn't even where my personal hell ended; it was here where I realized that having draconian levels of stamina might not be so great after all.

"Oh? You're more resilient than you look, Shirou," the sadistic woman remarked with a smirk. Realizing that my endurance and natural healing capabilities eclipsed those of my companions, she became even harsher towards me, mercilessly breaking many of my bones like they were brittle twigs.

The training ground echoed with the sounds of clashing weapons and grunts of pain. Each strike from Scáthach was precise and devastating, leaving no room for complacency. Her movements were a blur, a testament to her unmatched skill. Every time I thought I had found a rhythm, she would switch tactics, keeping me on the edge and pushing me to my limits. I was tempted to use Reinforcement in order to gain some form of advantage, but found no point in doing so; she'll just beat me to the floor regardless.

Some steps away, Cú and Ferdiad could be seen lying on the ground, unmoving. Had it not been for the slow rise and fall of their chest, I would've thought they've moved on to the afterlife with how battered they looked. Before me was the cause of their current condition—the Witch of Dun Scáith. She rushed at me with a crazed smile, spear in hand.

"God, hear my cries—I'd appreciate it if you provide this lost lamb of yours some help," I prayed to the Almighty out of desperation as the butt of her spear smashed into my face, the impact of which robbed my conciousness.

---

"God, you did not help at all. It seems I've been forsaken by the Lord," I voiced out in complaint tinged with a hint of mirth. Not like I expected the Abrahamic God himself to heed my call and come down from the Heavens. Suddenly, a rather ludicrous idea flew across my head; perhaps if I wish for it hard enough, the System might bring one of His angels here. The mystical interface hasn't failed me yet, so maybe it's possible? Food for thought.

Anyways, I was currently taking refuge inside the Fortress' large library, massaging my aching muscles while sitting comfortably on a plush couch. Many days had passed since first stepping foot through Dun Scáith's gates, and I've more or less grown used to Scáthach's daily delivery of senseless beatdowns.

Her methods was rough but not ineffective. Despite the cruel lessons Scáthach imposed, I learned a great deal. If you compared my reflexes and muscle memory then to now, the difference would be staggering. Not to mention my mastery over the spear. Thanks to the System, I absorbed most of what she taught like a sponge, even earning a rare compliment from the sadistic woman.

Fortunately, Scáthach understood the importance of rest and allowed us to do our own things after training sessions. Exploring my temporary abode, I was fascinated by it. The castle was huge and surprisingly well-maintained, without a smidgen of tarnish in sight. When I asked how she kept the place clean and proper, Scáthach revealed that it was the work of some runes she had inscribed all over the place, which piqued my interest. This brings us to why I'm sitting in the library.

Clasped in my hand was a book about runes—the art of evoking magical phenomena by writing special symbols infused with magical energy. Cú and Ferdiad, being the natural geniuses that they are, had become quite proficient with it… unlike me. Due to my body's unique properties, some finer details faded from my consciousness, making it harder for me to learn the craft. But I persisted, determined to learn whatever I could from this place, whether it was immediately useful or not.

Speaking of the two, I craned my neck to peek outside the window and saw the aforementioned duo throwing rocks at each other at high speeds in the garden. Looking closer, I noticed a rune carved into the stone's surface, emitting a faint shimmer—Ansuz, a rune that makes things spontaneously combust. As expected, the pebbles glowed before bursting into flames upon impact, exploding with enough force to knock Ferdiad off his feet but not seriously injure him.

"Haha! I won!" The Child of Light cheered, pumping his fist in the air. Ferdiad sighed, picked himself up, and dusted off his ruffled clothes, not at all disheartened by his loss. The two young men then went on to find other ways to pass the time, something I wasn't particularly interested in finding out. My eyes went back to the scripts in hand, studying them with rapt attention. As soon as I flipped to another page, a clear screen appeared before me, accompanied by a small pocket of knowledge about Runes entering my mind.

[Skill 'Runecraft' has leveled up to E - 2]

'Goodness me, this is taking way too long,' I grumbled internally. As much as I wanted to whine about the slowness of it, however, there was no changing it. Standing, I snapped the book shut and placed it back on the shelf, content with today's progress in Runecraft.

Emerging from the information den, I trotted across the unnecessarily wide aisles of Dun Scáith and entered the kitchen to prepare tonight's dinner. Ever since the first day, I had taken on the responsibility of cooking as Scáthach couldn't care less. Cú and Ferdiad seemed happy with this arrangement, so I had no problem doing it. Some time later, a tantalizing smell filled the air as I carried the freshly made cuisine into the dining hall, where a pair of hungry teens waited patiently for me to finish setting the dishes down. They're not jumping immediately to take a bite, good. I had to beat it into their heads not to disrupt me during this process.

Smiling, I gave them permission to eat. They practically threw themselves at the table the next instant, shoving food into their mouths until their cheeks were full, lost in their own world. Used to their antics, I joined them shortly. As we ate, an unexpected addition entered the scene—Scáthach. She passed through the doorway dressed in her recognizable bodysuit, her sharp gaze sweeping across the room.

"Ooh! Teach, you gotta try Shirou's food! Not even Ma makes stuff this good!" Cú exclaimed while chowing down on a chunky chicken leg, earning him a light smack from me for talking with his mouth full. Ferdiad, sitting next to him, wisely kept his mouth shut to avoid my ire.

"Fancy seeing you here. Want a bite?" I asked the Scottish woman, ignoring the growling demi-god. This was the first time I had seen her enter the dining hall; usually, she would wander off and only return when our next lesson was about to start. So it surprised me a little to see her here.

"Hm," she hummed, eyeing the array of food on the table. To amuse her student, she picked up a piece of chicken. Scrutinizing the item, she thought, 'Not like it matters.' Scáthach no longer needed to eat; her body had long transcended such mortal needs. This was why she rarely visited this part of the castle. However, there was another reason she almost never came here—her sense of taste had long been lost, one of the many consequences of her immortal body. It did not matter if she ate the most delicious cuisine or the most vile, she wouldn't be able to tell the difference either way.

She brought the meat to her mouth and bit into it, expecting nothing. But as she swallowed, she found herself stunned. There was no flavour, but she felt a wave of warmth surge through her entire being. She quickly realized what it was—emotions, something she hadn't felt in a long time. For reasons she could not fathom, images of her childhood swiftly passed through her mind. And for a brief moment, a spark of vigour filled her empty eyes before disappearing just as quickly. In her mind, that fleeting moment was nothing more than an illusion, so she buried it away like everything else.

"You okay?" I inquired, noticing her odd behavior, wholly unaware of her internal turmoil. Shaking her head, Scáthach turned and exited the hall without uttering another word. Looking at my companions, I asked worriedly, "Did I do something wrong?" Cú Chulainn and Ferdiad shrugged and went back to feasting. Pushing it aside, I emptied my plate as well.

The next morning, we were called to a specific location in the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Upon arrival, we found no trace of Scáthach. With nothing to do but wait, we idled around until we heard a thunderous noise—a hill's worth of boar-like beasts the size of a house were stomping toward our position, flattening everything in their path. Thinking quickly, I crouched low and leaped into the air, landing atop a high branch and seamlessly blending in with the surroundings, avoiding the stampede. The others, however, weren't as fast and were swept up by the incoming horde.

"Hey! That's not fair, Shirou. Help us or something!" Cú shouted as he tried to escape from the tide of beasts, with Ferdiad following closely behind, both of them dodging and weaving through the chaos.

"Get good," I responded smugly. But the grin on my face quickly vanished, replaced by one of utter terror as a distinctly feminine voice sounded from behind me.

"What's this I see? A pupil of mine slacking?" Turning my head, I saw Scáthach perched on a nearby branch, her eerie smile caused a strong jolt crawl up my spine. I can make a guess on why those beasts came running here.

"Now hang on a minute, I promise you I'm not slacking off—!" I began to protest, but the God Slayer didn't give me a chance to offer any excuses.

"Get in there," she commanded. She raised her slender leg and kicked me off the branch, sending me hurtling down into the middle of the chaos below. I landed with a loud thud, my graceless dive catching the attention of everything within a ten-meter radius.

The Scottish woman's sight remained on the redhead for a bit longer, her eyes studying something otherworldly hovering over the young man like a protective layer, before choosing to retreat into the shadows, observing the mess unfold. She'll get her answer in due time.

Swiftly rising to my feet, I sprinted away, deftly weaving through the woods. The sounds of the stampede roared behind me, the earth shaking with the weight of the beasts. Branches snapped, and leaves were torn from the trees as the boar-like creatures relentlessly pursued me.

Unbeknownst to me, Scáthach had planted a small object—a lure—into my clothes that garnered the majority of the beasts' attention. The boars, their eyes wild with fury and confusion, followed the scent trail. I could hear Cú and Ferdiad somewhere behind me, their own struggles evident in their frantic shouts and heavy footsteps. Only after the beasts began to tire did I realize what she had done to me.

Much, much later after our forest escapades, we returned home. The three of us stumbled into the Fortress' bathhouse, our bodies—well, it's actually mostly them who were covered in dirt and scratches. I stripped off my clothes and wrapped a towel to my lower half with Cú and Ferdiad did much the same, groaning. We sank into the bath, letting the heat soothe our weary muscles.

"Curse that woman and her sadistic tendencies," I hissed, my exasperated voice bouncing around the bathhouse. Leaning against the pool's walls, I asked the pair of battle maniacs in front of me, "What? Why're you looking at me like that?"

"Don't mind me, just appreciating the view," Ferdiad cooed, letting out his honest thoughts. Shirou had a beauty second only to their teacher, so Ferdiad didn't mind looking at it for a prolonged period.

On the other hand, Cú sank deeper into the pool with a flustered look, his cheeks tinted deep red as an image of Shirou's bare figure popped into his head. Without warning, the water around him started to gain enough heat to steam. Before we could even react, the pool erupted into a blast, spraying water all over the place.

Gasping, I pulled the unconscious demi-god out of the bath, water dripping from both of us. Ferdiad and I stood there in stunned silence, steam rising around us like swirling clouds.

"What just happened?" Ferdiad asked, his shock evident as he looked at the hot body of water and then at Cú's unconscious form.

"Don't ask me, man. I don't know." I just shook my head, unable to provide an answer. If I had a penny every time Cú Chulainn passed out just by looking at me, I'd have two pennies. It isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

END.​

A/N: The quality of this just took a dive. Whoops.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 15: Second Quest (2/2) - Adrift.

Stepping into the sunlight, I saw two indivuals of similar frames standing at an open field facing one another, spear in hand—Cú Chulainn and Ferdiad. The former was dressed in blue, while the latter an earthly brown. The air around them was tense, ready to explode at any moment.

From underneath their tight-fitting clothes, an arrangement of Runes, made to bolster one's physical capabilities, flared into life with a faint glimmer. Without warning, the pair of battle maniacs lunged forward with a burst of speed, breaking the ground beneath them. Brandishing their polearms, their limbs blurred as they engaged in a fierce clash, dancing through the battlefield like a whirlwind of death.

'They've come a long way,' I internally commend their display from the sidelines. Their mastery over the spear and runecraft were exceptional, as expected, for an entire year had gone by since our first day inside Dun Scáith. It was honestly unbelievable that so much time had elapsed, it felt like yesterday when I first got here.

I glanced to the left, spotting our teacher—Scáthach, the fabled God Slayer, standing with her arms crossed under her breasts, looking over the pair's match with an analytical gaze. Why were they fighting? It wasn't because of bad blood between them, rather, they were settling who would be the one to receive Gae Bolg, the cursed crimson spear, from Scáthach. I, too could've joined the battle for the spear, but renounced my chance in obtaining it early on, much to their confusion. The reason being, I already have a copy Gae Bolg inside Unlimited Blade Works, hence making my participation redundant. Of course, there was no need to tell them that.

Turning back to the two, Cú and Ferdiad fought unlike a typical spearman usually would; instead of using the weapon's superior reach to keep their opponent at bay, they fought ferociously like wild animals and never gave their adversary a moment of reprieve by keeping them at arm's length. The duo pliantly twirled their spears around their hands and executed a storm of precise strikes. Combined with their nimble footwork, they moved through the arena like a natural disaster, leaving a trail of destruction.

It went on for a while, until Cú managed to outmaneuver his opponent, landing a devastating blow on Ferdiad that propelled him across the field, causing him a moment's delay. Sure enough, the latter found himself at the end of Cú's spear, signaling the end of their duel. As Fate dictated it, the Child of Light emerged victorious. Ferdiad took his defeat with surprising calmness, congratulating Cú as he rose to his feet. The two shared a heartfelt hug, patting each other's backs, before making their way towards us.

Scáthach praised the pair for their outstanding performance and gave the winner a red spear that emitted a swirl of bloodlust—Gae Bolg—as promised. Cú almost let go of the weapon out of instinct, but kept a firm hold on it and even spun it around playfully, then thanked the God Slayer with a bow.

We went back inside the Fortress and celebrated Cú's victory with a feast. When the sun was at its highest, the four of us exited the abode and arrived at the edge of the abyss that circled Dun Scáith. As to why, today was the day they graduate from Scáthach's tutelage, so they decided to leave and return to home as they had nothing left to learn here.

"How are they supposed to leave this place?" I questioned while looking around, unable to find a path back to the mainland. Instead of replying, however, Scáthach smirked and snapped her fingers. Not a second later, the sound of wood brushing against each other echoed from the gorge. A cluster of materials appeared from the depths and started assembling itself into a bridge that connected one side of the ravine to the other. Watching the structure build itself, I spoke, "That answers that, I guess. Well, you guys go. I'll stay here for a bit longer."

"Huh? You're not coming with us, Shirou?" the blue-haired teen inquired. Beside him, Ferdiad expressed his thoughts by raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah, there's still some stuff I need to do here," I responded, gesturing at the castle behind me with my thumb. Grudgingly accepting my answer, the human and demi-god pair said their farewells with promises to meet each other, then crossed the newly constructed bridge. Waving at them, my thoughts stirred, 'Sorry Cú. This might be the last time we see each other in many, many years.'

As their forms disappeared over the horizon, hidden behind a wall of haze, I turned around and felt my heart jump. Scáthach stood right in front of me, having appeared without making a sound. Her rubellite eyes honed in on me, as if inspecting something I could not perceive.

"So, my student. Are you ready to spill the truth?" she asked, her voice charged with power, almost threatening.

"Hm? What are you talking about?" I asked, blinking in puzzlement. She wasted no time claiming that I was from a different era in a voice fillwd with conviction, stating that my body's "time" wasn't correctly aligned with this world's, whatever she meant by that. Though I could not comprehend the full meaning of her words, it was pretty easy to understand that she had figured out I am not of this time—most probably the future. I did not know how she figured that out. Apart from my clothes, there wasn't really anything glaringly weird about me.

Thinking deeply, I tried to deflect her accusations by saying, "That's quite the leap in logic, wouldn't you agree? How'd you even come to that conclusion?"

"Do not play coy with me, boy. I can see the power that shrouds you. Had it not been for that, the World would've rejected your existence and sent you back to wherever you came from," she stated. Scáthach had noticed Shirou's peculiarity since the first day they met, but didn't say anything about it until now.

Her words made me pause, my face twisting in confusion. Before I could reply, I felt a sharp ache in my mind, and my eyes gained a profound sense of clarity. The space around me contorted, revealing a translucent membrane blanketing my form before vanishing just as quickly, followed by a burst of information from the System explaining what I just saw. It was as she said, something was indeed blocking the World from seeing me. I gasped, shocked by the abrupt revelation, and fell to my knees, placing a hand on my chest as I steadily regained my composure.

"It seems you do not even realize it yourself. Something brought you here, correct?" she remarked upon seeing my reaction. After contemplating for a bit, I confirmed her assumptions with a slow nod. She continued, "If not for the protection of whatever threw you here, you would've been banished long ago by the Will of the World. Moving through time is not something anyone can just do without suffering the consequences."

Earth, the planet, is a sentient being, I knew that much, and it was not fond of those who tamper with the laws of reality and swiftly enact punishment to them. Was this invisible membrane the System's way of protecting me from the Will of the World, also known as Gaia, during a Quest? What would've happened if I didn't have it, would I just straight up die? What a scary thought to have. More importantly, why hadn't the System inform me this? I shook my head, even more questions that may not ever be answered.

"Oh. But how did you know about this… shroud? Even I didn't know," I uttered, disbelief evident in my voice. Honestly, I did not know how to react to someone finding out onw of my most close guarded secrets. I was more or less overwhelmed by everything, causing my astonishment to freeze, perhaps it was better that way than freaking out.

"I've fought and killed gods who possessed abilities beyond Man's capacity. You think I wouldn't notice something like this? An anomaly like yourself cannot escape my eyes, especially when you're right before me," she declared, her sharp eyes meeting mine as if to prove a point.

"You're surprisingly… upfront about this, aren't you?" I lifted myself off the ground, my countenance recovered. Dusting off my knees, I asked with a hint of worry, "Are you mad at me for not telling you?"

She let out an amused "Hmph" before voicing her thoughts. "I understand why you kept your mouth shut about this. However, had you tried deflecting more or started spouting lies, I assure you that I have other ways of getting answers."

A flash of electricity washed over my body, paralyzing me for an instant before fizzling away, giving me over my body control again. Still, the sensation lingered for a bit longer, making me fidgety.

Planting a hand on her waist, she questioned, "So tell me, traveler from a different age, what is your purpose here?"

"Maybe I'm just here to be trained by you?" I tried to cover my nervousness with some humour. Hearing my lackadaisical response, the God Slayer leveled a deadpan stare at me that almost made me take a step back. Why does everything this woman do seem to frighten me? "Please stop looking at me like that, you're scaring me," I gave my inner fears a voice for the woman to hear.

Pushing my restiveness aside, my mind stirred to find the correct words to say, yet could not. Failing to come up with a reply, I ultimately just told her that I was here on a mission to carry out her wish, whatever it might be.

"My wish? It's quite simple. I wish to die a warrior's death," Scáthach confessed without an ounce of hesitation, finding no benefit in keeping it. "It is a foolish endeavor, however. There is nothing out there that can cause harm to me, not anymore," she scoffed, hoping to dissuade the redhead. She had long realized that nothing in the mortal world had the capability of harming her, so she accepted her fate to live on as an immortal.

Killing gods, while a grand achievement only few humans had accomplished, wasn't as great as it sounds; deities were not beings to be felled without severe consequences. Upon bathing in the blood of the gods, Scáthach surpassed humanity and gained an undying body that can suffer no wounds. Some might view it as a blessing, but she sees it as a curse; not only did it strip her of her mortality, but it also took away many other things. Her body no longer radiated heat, her tongue bereft of taste, and her flesh was incapable of feeling anything. It was a terrible and monotonous existence, and she wanted nothing more than to end it.

"If I can't find it, then I'll simply make something that can. I'm a pretty good blacksmith, and I am not leaving unless your wish is fulfilled," I declared, committed on finish my Quest. Seeing my firm stance on the matter, she barked out a laugh and turned to the bottomless gorge, making a gesture with her hand.

From below the depths of the ravine, the abyss cried and burst skyward, stretching into the heavens. Beyond the clouds, the stars faded into obscurity, their luster quenched into utter blackness. The night closed in on all sides as the Land of Shadows was disconnected from the greater world, becoming its own dimension and slowly drifting into nothingness until the end of time.

"Why are you doing this? Are you sure this is fine?" I inquired, a bit uneasy about her decision to lock away the space. The System remained quiet, fully functional, so it shouldn't have any problems plucking me out of here when I finish this Quest, right? I sure hope so.

"It is better this way. The longer the Land of Shadows remains open, the farther its tainted claws will reach," she stated. Nodding, I accepted her reasoning. Throughout my stay here, I realized what the 'wicked feel' those monsters roaming the Isle of Skye carried came from this place, slightly corrupting them, so this was probably for the best.

Nearing me, her next actions caught me by surprise; raising a hand, Scáthach grabbed me by the collar and roughly pulled me closer to her face, her expression one of assertiveness, then said, "Why am I doing this, you ask? Because I'll take you up on your words, boy. There's no turning back now. You will realize my wish, no matter what it takes. You got that?"

Her grip was firm, her eyes bore into the Shirou's with an intensity that left no room for doubt. He could feel her breath on his face, a tangible reminder of her overwhelming presence.

Chuckling, I returned with a lighthearted reply, "That's what I'm here for, no?" Letting me go, she adopted a wolfish smile and muttered "Good" in an approving tone, before turning around, marching back to the Fortress of Shadows with me shortly trailing behind her.

We didn't stop there, however. When I tried splitting off to go to my makeshift forge at the back, Scáthach told me to continue following her. The two of us went deeper into the structure, our footsteps echoing across the halls that progressively became emptier as we went on, and arrived in front of a vault door that had a bunch of runes scribbled on it, which prevents anyone apart from Scáthach from prying it open. There were also some other texts I could not understand, the only thing I managed to get out of them was that they appeared old—ancient, even.

Placing her palm on the door, it let out a sharp hiss and released a wave of magical energy that slammed into my body, before creaking wide open, giving us access within. Scáthach pulled her hand back and stepped forward. Once inside the brightly illuminated storeroom, I spotted a collection of items and trinkets scattered throughout the space, most of which containing traces of Divinity—the essence of a god—making it harder for me to read their history with Structural Analysis.

There were gems that let off an ethereal glow neatly arranged in cabinets, weapons that gave off an impression of unrelenting power atop racks, among a myriad of things. Maybe these were objects she plundered from the deities she'd killed in the past?

As if reading my mind, she starts, "Are you wondering if these belonged to the gods that fell under my spear?"

"Yeah, I can't imagine these being tributes from them. Pretty sure gods don't like giving mortals their stuff for no reason," I answered, my eyes continuing to roam the place like a child in a theme park—full of wonder.

"A fair assumption, but still a wrong one," she chuckled. "They are not trophies of my victory, but gifts from the All-Father, Odin."

"Isn't Odin Norse? From a completely different Pantheon?" I asked, a bit taken aback at the mention of the King of Asgard's name. What was he doing here of all places?

"Indeed. However, just because they're from different lands doesn't mean they do not make contact with one other, quite the common misconception most mortals have," she stated.

"Hm," a single syllable left my mouth. Makes sense, I suppose. Gods definitely won't miss other beings like themselves around the world, yet kept to themselves for the most part. "But why did he give these to you?" I asked, expressing my curiosity. There had to be some kind of catch to this, right?

She then went on to narrate how he obtained Odin's treasures. Apparently, the old god had somehow heard of Scáthach's desire to die and came in touch with her a long time ago, offering her an alternative. Instead of dying, the god offered to seal her conciousness away and allow another soul—Skadi, a Jötunn and a goddess of winter—to take over her body permanently. Her body would also return to that of a mortal's, and if Skadi ever perished, so will Scáthach's mind.

Surprisingly, the God Slayer had agreed to this, perhaps out of desperation to escape her immortality. As to why Odin wanted this, Scáthach did not bother to ask. Satisfied with the agreement, the All-Father gave her some items in preparation of Skadi's arrival. On the night of the possession, however, Odin suddenly disappeared without a word, letting the deal fall through and leaving the hill of treasures behind for Scáthach to manage.

"Where did he go, did he die?" I questioned, brows furrowed. She scoffed, laughing at the mere idea of a powerful being like Odin having been slained. If such an event happened, the gods all around the globe wouldn't stand still and take advantage of the situation.

"Highly unlikely, the All-Father is a force to be reckoned with even amongst the ranks of gods. I wouldn't be surprised if this is all according to his plan to mingle with the future—nay, mayhaps the reason he left is because he's already done something," she said confidently. Gods were eccentric creatures, some even going so far as to curse a person's entire bloodline out of pettiness.

Scratching my head, I then spoke, "As interesting as that is, why even bring me here in the first place?"

She motioned to the countless items around us with her hand, and declared, her voice reverberating around the room, "Since neither I nor Odin have any use for these, go use them to your heart's content and make good on your promise, boy."

"Oh," astonished, my mouth was left ajar. She's really giving me free reign to use anything here? My eyes instinctively turned to the corner, where piles of iron bars rested. There were no ordinary ingots, but ones coated in divine energy, making them harder and tougher than reinforced steel. With this in hand, it might be possible for me to create something incredible.

---

The days went by, eventually stretching into weeks and then months. Divorced from the greater world, life in the Land of Shadows became rather dull, but Scáthach was already used to such lifestyle and was unbothered by it. Well, it wasn't exactly as repetitive as before with the addition of a certain red-haired student of hers. She was currently inside Dun Scáith's common room, sitting leisurely atop a couch with a book in hand.

Shirou Emiya was an odd child. He rarely rested and spent most of his time engaged in some sort of activity, whether training his magecraft or beating metal in his small forge. He often appeared distressed while he worked, but hid it behind a caring attitude. The closest comparison she could make was to soldiers preparing for an inevitable conflict. He didn't appear to even realize that himself.

Even when he did take time to relax, his hands were usually occupied with something. She had more than once seen him sewing clothes by the gardens. In fact, what she was wearing right now was made by him. Looking down at her current attire, she admired the dark coat over a violet dress that complemented her hair. It was simple, but she liked it, and how could she refuse a gift from her student? As odd as Shirou might be, he was certainly not a sluggard, Scáthach concluded.

She leaned forward from her seat, taking a piece of sandwich on the table. Opening her mouth, she took a bite of the bread and chewed, swallowing soon after. As expected, there was no taste, but something else happened; the God Slayer felt a tinge of emotion float into the forefront of her mind, and a shred of warmth flashed across her eyes. She denied the possibility at first, but after eating some more of Shirou's food, she realized that, somehow, it was capable of evoking a reaction from within her.

Scáthach had cooked and eaten a multitude of foodstuff before this, yet none was able to cause such an effect on her like this. It was a sensation she hasn't felt in a long, long time and was immediately hooked by it. Because of this, she frequently asked her student to conjure up a meal when he was available. Shirou was surprised by Scáthach's requests at first, but gladly cooked for her when asked as it netted him quite a lot of Experience Points.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. From the entryway, Shirou walked into the room with calm steps, calling out to her, "Hey Teach, I just got done making something you'd want to see."

She nods, lifting herself up her seat and was about to tidy the table, until Shirou offered to do it himself. Narrowing her eyes, Scáthach raised a hand and flicked the redhead's forehead with her finger, making him recoil from the pain.

"Ow," the victim verbalized. Rubbing his head, he asks, "What was that for?"

"I am not a child for you to watch over, boy. I can take care of myself just fine." She snatched the plates before he could and walked out of the room, delivering the utensils in the kitchen area to be cleaned later.

"I just wanted to help," Shirou voiced out from behind the God Slayer.

"How many times do I have to say this to you; I do not require your overbearing protection," Scáthach averred, staring directly at Shirou's eyes. "Your help, while appreciated, isn't necessary."

If there was one thing she did not appreciate about the red-haired teen, it was his tendency to mother those around him. She went down memory lane, recalling how Shirou had treated both Cú Chulainn and Ferdiad—and by extension, her—outside of their designated training hours. Shirou acted like an over-protective parent, sheltering them and providing all their needs without prompt. She initially found this trait of his quite endearing, but it started to grate her as time went on.

"But—" he tried to argue, but his companion spoke in the middle of it.

"Shut," she interrupted. She placed her hands on her hips, giving off the impression of an instructor. "You need to cull your habits and stop coddling those around you. Learn to trust people, I can guarantee you it'll free up some of your troubles," she lessoned.

Shirou stilled, eyes widening for a moment as a look of understanding appeared on his face. Without noticing it, his inclination to help others had nearly morphed into a fixation, fueled by the System's unending supply of side-quests. Perhaps she was right, there was no need to treat people like they'd get hurt by a gust of wind. Old habits die hard, though, so it might take him a while to change.

Funny; the boy who made a silent oath to prioritize and protect those he cares for, even if it meant abandoning the lives of many strangers, adhered to practically anyone's every whim when politely asked. He supposes it's time to correct this disposition of his before his kindness gets taken advantage of in the future, and it's not like everyday side-quests gave him much EXP anymore.

After Scáthach chastised the redhead for his behavior, they quietly made their way to Shirou's smithy outside the castle and went inside. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and metal, but they remained unbothered. Shirou neared a shelf, grabbing an object covered with a pristine cloth and turned around, presenting it to Scáthach.

She took it from his hands and unfurled it, revealing a curved sword tinted in blood red - approximately 165 cm in length - of eastern origin known as an Odachi. The crimson blade, though seemingly ordinary, exuded a subtle yet malevolent aura. Its simple black hilt was wrapped in unassuming cord, but the air around it seemed to hum with a quiet, deadly energy that emanated an almost predatory presence, as if it were a coiled serpent ready to strike.

"What might this be?" she questioned, gazing at the finished product in awe.

"I call it the Mortal Blade, or Fushigiri, which translates to 'Undying Slayer'. It's capable of killing basically anything by rendering the soul," the blade's creator declared, his voice coated with confidence and pride.

After many months slaving away at the forge, producing failure after failure, he finally created a weapon that could utterly obliterate a being's inner-self, unlike his previous attempts that could only do it partially, with the aid of the divine ingots found in the vault. It was made in the image of a weapon of the same name from a video game called "Sekiro: Shadows die twice". Once again, he drew inspiration from his old world, and would probably do so again in the future.

Taking the hilt, she twirled it around, letting the blade's edge gleam dully in the light. Positioning her index finger over the tool's business end, she lightly swiped her finger on it, making a small cut. Almost instinctively, Scáthach pulled her limb back as she felt a sharp jolt of pain run through her hand.

Her breath suddenly became haggard, her figure shaking from excitement, as she glared at the self-inflicted injury. She waited for the wound to close as always, yet it did not, even after a minute passed. The God Slayer couldn't believe it; not only did it hurt her, but caused permanent injury on her body. The corner of her lips curved upward, forming a sinister smile, and her eyes let off a dangerous glint that sent shivers down Shirou's spine.

---

We stood in the middle of a meadow surrounded by an evergreen forest, the rustling leaves and blowing wind being the only discernable noise present. Both of us no longer wore casual clothes, but our battle gear. I was dressed in Melenia's garbs, while she was covered in a tight-fitting bodysuit with two metallic shoulder pads on both shoulders, grasping a red spear in one hand.

Gazing into his amber eyes, she could see the young man's unyielding determination shining brighter than anything else. Scáthach's mind stirred, 'If only he were born a little earlier... ah, so young.'

"You know I can hear you, right?" my voice echoed throughout the vast space. From the looks of it, she didn't even realize she was speaking out her thoughts.

"Then you may take pride at the fact that I think highly of you," she returned without missing a beat, smirking. She then announced, "Prepare yourself, student, for you are about to receive your final lesson."

Suddenly, I felt the overwhelming weight of her presence explode outward, as if the very air around her cracked with raw, untamed power. Runes manifested all over her shapely form, strengthening her physical capabilities.

"Worry not, Primordial Runes shall be out of the equation for this match," she stated.

Unlike modern runecraft constructed by Man, Primordial Runes were bygone magic that the Norse chief god Odin had spread throughout the world many eons ago. She wanted to pass down her knowledge of Primordial Runes to him, but Odin's presence was required for the endowment. Alas, said god had vanished all of the sudden, so it wasn't possible. The full might of Primordial Runes weren't something one could just learn through a book, as it needed the All-Father's blessing to even activate.

"Gee, thanks. Not like you can't beat my ass even without it," I replied in a low, almost sighing tone.

My hand glided over the Mortal Blade's hilt, and the sword slid smoothly from its sheath, its steel singing as it left. Its razor-sharp edge gleamed beautifully in the sunlight. Willing my magic circuits to life, I applied Reinforcement over my body and overlayed Ehwaz—rune of hardening—on top of it, making my skin and muscles tougher than steel. Next, the Emiya Magic Crest on my shoulder switched on, speeding up my perception by many folds.

With our preparations complete, the legendary Scottish warrior made the initiative by crouching low, then launched herself across the field with a burst of immense speed, instantly closing the distance between us. Her bloody spear was pointed forward, primed and eager to impale my heart.

With a side step, I voided the attack and swung the Mortal Blade in retaliation, to which she smacked to the side with ease. Scáthach demonstrated a fearsome ability to wield her respective weapon with deadly expertise, transitioning from one point to the next without breaking stride.

Thinking swiftly, I intentionally missed my ensuing strike to establish a bind on the other side of her weapon, pushing it down, then quickly followed it up by spinning my sword into a slash. She calmly raised her foot and took one step back, evading it by hair's breadth.

Recovering, the God Slayer lashed out with a crazed smile, indicating her enjoyment. Every facet of her movements evoked a sense of danger one simply cannot ignore, like a predator on the hunt. I met her ferocious blows with cool and collected parries, deftly maneuvering around Scáthach's serpentine-like spear and capitalizing on every opening I could find to deliver swift cuts and slashes.

'Trace on,' internally ordering, a line of swords appeared behind me with a flash of magical energy. They shot out, producing a sharp whistle as they travelled through the air towards their intended target.

My opponent reacted by stomping the ground, causing a curtain of dirt to erupt in front of her like a shield. She made a motion with her hand, prompting a string of runes to manifest and combine themselves with the lump of dirt, freezing it mid-air. The solidified body of earth blocked the hail of blades from reaching her, making them fall to the ground in a clatter.

Grinning, I summon another fleet and a single bronze-coloured dagger, then hurled them. The smallest of the bunch struck the wall first, yet somehow did the most damage out of all of them. The runic spell sequence Scáthach had set up quivered, fading in and out of existence, before shattering into beautiful motes of mana, causing the suspended pile of earth to crumble.

Unperturbed by the loss of her cover, the Witch of Dun Scáith sliced through the storm of projectiles with a precision and speed, not allowing any of them touch her. The blades scattered, discarded all around her yet remained tangible instead of vanishing away.

Leaping forward, I executed an array of slashes at her form. Raising her spear, she batted my blade out of the way and stabbed my oblique, forcing a groan to escape my lips. Thankfully, Avalon overpowered the spear's cursed effect - which made natural recovery impossible - and mended my injury in a blink of an eye.

I felt the force behind each incoming strike increase by a degree with each second. As her relentless assault continued, I grew visibly uncomfortable. Despite the increased physical strength her year-long training sessions had provided me, it still pales in comparison to her, which is pretty much expected. What's more is that she was probably pulling her punches so I could even contest with her on even ground.

Scáthach slashed and thrust, spinning her spear as if it weighed a feather, while I skillfully redirected each assault, maintaining a solid defensive stance. Her onslaught eventually culminated into a maneuver that cleverly circumvented my defences and landed a kick to my center, flinging me back with incredible force. After skipping between points of contact with the ground like a rock being tossed across a body of water, my tumble eventually came to a stop.

'Goddamn!' my mind raced. I picked myself up, only to discover the tip of her demonic spear quickly closing in on my face. Pushing my legs, I rolled to the side and held the Mortal Blade defensively in the expectation of a follow up strike, which was exactly what happened; with a flourish, she brought her polearm to bear, seamlessly combining swift cuts and thrusts together while pressing forward.

Making rapid evaluations in the thick of combat, I transitioned from one position into another in quick succession. Sparks flew with every impact, causing the sounds of peeling metallic rings to travel throughout the meadow. Most of our exchange consisted of me making attempts to vault over her flurry and score a hit, and it wasn't a pleasant experience at all; I felt like a child going against an adult with a stick.

Pulling upon my Reality Marble, I used Projection to replicate one Noble Phantasm after another multiple times and felt an immense drain on my mana reserves, yet not a single weapon appeared anywhere near us. Rather, they were all being created inside the Gate of Babylon, kept out of sight for later.

'I am the bone of my sword,' I started the aria for Unlimited Blade Works. Dodging another stab aimed for my head, I resumed the chant, 'Steel is my body, and fire is my blood.'

The entire essence of my Reality Marble was condensed into the Mortal Blade. The odachi let off a subtle shimmer, trembling as if about to crack but otherwise remained intact thanks to the materials it was made with. I broke distance and held the crimson blade in reverse, raising it high, before thrusting it down, turning the Earth itself into its sheath.

Out of the blue, a continuous stream of blades bursts free from underneath the God Slayer's position. Forced to halt her charge, she nimbly weaved through the rising stakes in an impressive display of acrobatics. In the midst of it all, her eyes abruptly snapped skyward and found over a dozen golden portals staring down directly at her. Catapulted into a heightened state of alertness, the Witch of Dun Scáith swiped her hand, summoning multiple protective runes all over herself.

Right on cue, the Gate of Babylon unleashed a torrential storm of supercharged Noble Phantasms at the legendary warrior. In the next instant, a choir of explosions rang out, sending shockwaves rippling through the air and stirring the winds into a frenzy. I held my ground, foot firmly planted in place, and waited for the intense winds to regain its calm. Following the detonations, a prolonged silence decended upon the battlefield, as if nature itself had taken a breather to process what had occurred.

Standing, I took this moment to catch my breath. The hail of Noble Phantasms had ruinous effects on the environment, reshaping the once calm scenery into an apocalyptic vista. Truth be told, it felt liberating finally being able to utilize Noble Phantasms without worry. I don't get a lot of chances to do so in the modern world as there isn't a lot of threats that warrants such firepower. Even so, I try to find any reason to bring them out during excursions.

My shoulders slumped as mana exhaustion took its toll, making me mildly dizzy. Projecting and overloading dozens of Noble Phantasms required a ton of magical energy, so this wasn't a surprise. I retrieved a bottle of Projected apple juice and downed it in one go, relieving the headache. Patting my chest, I felt a fragment of the Greater Grail hidden under my robe and began siphoning the magical energy it was circulating. Before the Quest, I had decided to make a necklace from the Fragments as a way to recover mana, similarly to the one I gave to Jack the Ripper before parting.

The smoke steadily clears, revealing a large, scorching crater farther away. In the middle of it all was a lone figure, calmly rising to their feet. Scáthach appeared unharmed despite taking a direct hit, casually twirling her spear to rid it of tarnish.

I stared at her figure in complete affixation; Scáthach had the beauty of the finest of sculptures, but with the sharp undertones of a rose. The God Slayer paused, curling her rosy lips into a smirk as if knowing what was going through my head. She probably does, to be honest. Hey, can you really blame me for being attracted to a woman like her?

"That was quite the surprise, student. Were those Noble Phantasms?" she assumed. She knew of my ability to create swords of all shapes and sizes, but she never could've guessed that I 'possessed' a number of weapons of grand fame.

"Sorry, but no such luck. They're nothing more than fakes," I confessed, shrugging.

"Hm," she hummed. Climbing out of the earthen basin, she continued, "Either way, they were quite impressive for a replica."

"They better be, I worked hard for those," I replied, my voice confident. Projection was one of, if not the strongest skill in my arsenal after all. With our small talk done, the God Slayer readied her spear, a deadly glint in her eyes, then lunged forward with enough strength to crack the ground beneath her.

She initiates with a big flurry, wheeling her spear with both hands. None of her swings in particular were meant to hit anything, only serving to push me on the back foot and take ground from me. The cuts continued, until one of them managed to beat my sword aside, forcing me to make a larger corrective action, which was exactly what she was looking for; the moment I committed to the action, she pulled back and aimed her spear horizontally, taking the shortest route right to my head.

Arms raised, I arrest her weapon with my own, then reached with my empty hand, grabbing the shaft of her spear and pulled it aside, providing myself an opportunity to strike the God Slayer. She backed off to avoid it, tugging her weapon free from my hold. A rain of steel suddenly met her retreat. Though a bit of my mana had returned, it wasn't enough to create another bombardment of Noble Phantasms, so I had to settle with ordinary projectiles.

Reacting swiftly, she intercepted them from the air with finesse while closing off her flanks with a screen of runes. Narrowing her gaze, the Witch of Dun Scáith noticed an assortment of patterns etched on the flat side of the blades. She recognized the symbols, they belonged to a branch of magecraft known as Formalcraft—the art of harnessing the natural mana in the atmosphere, as supposed to one's own reserves. The intricate scripts on the swords glowed, absorbing magical energy from nature, before suddenly exploding with a blinding shine.

The explosive blades weren't powerful enough to leave any lasting damage on Scáthach, but it did push her back, giving me enough time to enact my next action; I dropped the Mortal Blade, stabbing it into the floor, and lifted both arms up. Then, a swirl of blue particles manifested in my hand, taking the shape of a dark greatsword adorned with a beautiful gem.

"O' sword, let thee be filled," my voice travelled across the area.

The air crackled with energy as the legendary sword unleashed a column of energy upward, clearing the sky. Scáthach's eyes narrowed into slits as she observed the magical mass. She recognized the beam's essence—True Ether, the substance in which forms a god's vessel. Having slain many deities in the past, she is greatly familiar with it. Scáthach regarded the dark blade; albeit heavily degraded, the True Ether it was spewing was undoubtedly real. Though, this detail doesn't really matter much in this scenario.

"Balmung!" I called out the weapon's name. Folding my arms, the glowing pillar streaked through the air and slammed directly on top of the God Slayer with a thunderous impact. With a resounding bang, the thick curtain of dust cleared, revealing the Witch of Dun Scáith, unscathed, standing in the epicenter with the butt if her weapon planted on the ground.

"You've shown me quite the arsenal, boy. Allow me to return the favour," Scáthach stated while switching the spear to her dominant hand. A sense of oppression radiated off from her weapon, making the ends of my hair stand. Like a song of death, the polearm emitted weak pings as it released torrent of bloodlust. She reeled her arm, back arched, in preparation for a powerful throw, before rocketing it forward.

"Luminosité Eternelle!" I hastily conjured and activated Jeanne d'Arc's Noble Phantasm, creating a brilliant dome around me.

The demonic spear tore through the air at lightning speed, before slamming head first into Luminosité Eternelle's divine barrier with an ear splitting boom. The earth shattered like the surface of water, causing chunks of dirt and rock to erupt like water splashes, sending debris flying in all directions. The ground quivered and waves of dust rolled in all directions, the sheer force transforming the solid earth into a fluid-like expanse, marking the devastating power of the god slaying spear. To nobody's surprise, the attack sent fissures across the golden shield upon impact.

'Please don't break on me!' I prayed, my hands grasping the banner's shaft tightly. By some miracle, my 'Sword Saint' title answered my call. A benevolent aura radiated from my chest and connected with the barrier, aiding its attempts to block the attack. Despite it, however, cracks still crawled on the surface.

Fortunately, it did manage to hold itself together in the end, as the crimson spear made made of malice lost its power not too long after. As it fell, the polearm turned into a red blur, returning its owner's hand in the blink of an eye. The golden dome soon faded into beautiful fragments along with Jeanne's Noble Phantasm.

Dropping to the ground, I found myself groaning in pain amidst the dust stirred up by the explosion. Despite Luminosité Eternelle taking the full brunt of the attack, I was still somehow affected by it. My eyes widened in shock as I studied my surroundings; the blast of magical energy annihilated an entire segment of the landscape on a biblical scale, a testament to her chosen weapon's—a genuine Noble Phantasm—power. Such armaments are stuff of legends, I suppose it makes sense for a spear that have claimed the lives of gods to possess such destructive capability. Had it not been for the combination of my title and Jeanne's war banner, I'm afraid that would've been the end of me.

Through gritted teeth, I pulled the odachi out of its spot and gazed intensely at Scáthach. Letting Avalon do its magic, I made the daunting run across the open field, engaging in another deadly dance with the God Slayer. She tried entrapping me with runic spells multiple times, but the bronze dagger—made with Kiritsugu's Origin Bullets—kept destroying it before she could complete them.

Gripping her spear, Scáthach performs a thrust to the cracks of my winged helmet. I quickly raised the Mortal Blade with strength, overparrying the attack in my panic. Allowing the momentum to carry her spear around, the God Slayer swung at my exposed side. This forces the me into halfswording, blocking the incoming blow by reinforcing the blade's structure with his off-hand.

During this, Scáthach snatches my dominant hand by the wrist, while I mimic her action, driving us into deadlock. A grin formed on the Witch's lips as she drew her head back, before springing into a brutal headbutt, dazing me for a second. Though short, that small window was all she needed to free herself from the bind, then threw a wide, sweeping swing at me.

I recollect myself and bent low, evading the spear's keen edge from cleaving my head clean off. Getting back onto my feet, I flourished the Mortal Blade in all sorts of ways, spinning and waving, hoping to mislead her into creating a gap in her defenses.

Brandishing her spear, Scáthach immediately shattered my theatrical display and delivered a slash to my chest. Anticipating this, my sword was already in position to intercept it. She flicked her wrist in response, transforming the thrust into a tight a cut in one smooth motion. Lifting my sword aloft, I narrowly caught her spear and locked it out from being able to carry out any sort of afterblow. I twist my hand, pushing the polearm offline.

Instead of following it up, however, I made the baffling decision of tossing the Mortal Blade at her, taking the God Slayer by surprise. She snapped her head to the side, her attention solely captured by the crimson odachi as it passed, enabling me to sweep at her feet. Raising a leg, I kicked her with all my might as she fell, sending the woman hurtling across the floor.

---

She briskly stopped her roll, eyeing the Mortal Blade to the side then her student. 'Well played,' she commended the boy's decision to discard the blade just to land a hit on her. While to most it might seem ridiculous to discard their weapon in the heat of battle, but Shirou could afford such luxury for he had an inexhaustible supply of armaments. Well, he wasn't the only one who had tricks up their sleeves.

"Àrdaich an talamh," Scáthach intoned, causing the ground beneath Shirou to surge upward, catapulting the redhead into the sky where a collection of storm clouds awaited his arrival. She hadn't been casting random runes earlier; she had been preparing a larger spell just out of the boy's sight.

The pillar of earth shot through the air with such speed that Shirou had no chance to escape. He was swallowed by the clouds, which let out a menacing growl. A second later, the sky lit up spectacularly as bolts of lightning struck the dirt pillar where Shirou lay, obliterating the structure into smithereens.

A short peaceful lull prevailed, only to be broken by Shirou's voice echoing from beyond the canopy of clouds like distant thunder, "Phoebus Catastrophe!"

The overcast sky began to shine, cleansed of its voltic malice and turning pure white. Moments later, the sky filled with a faint, ethereal light, and the sound of falling rain resonated through the air. But instead of water, a rain of celestial arrows pierced through the clouds, cascading down upon the God Slayer like a divine downpour.

The arrows had little effect on her, apart from blocking her sight with the dust kicked up by the blast. Spinning her spear, she slammed its end into the ground, scattering the smokescreen with the shockwave. Her eyes darted through the landscape, searching for the red-haired swordsman.

From above, she found him slashing wide as he descended upon her. The Witch kicked off the ground, evading the surprise attack. But Shirou was relentless; he pursued her, executing a seemingly simple diagonal cut. As she moved to deflect it, her eyes widened—space itself trembled, and another pair of burnished blades materialized, slashing at her from different angles as if the very air had turned against her.

In a swift decision, she disengaged, narrowly dodging the flurry. But Shirou was undeterred, tracing her steps with a leap. He moved with unparalleled grace; each swing of his blade cut through the air with a whisper, followed by multiple near-invisible slashes, like background dancers accentuating the main performance.

Witnessing his mastery, Scáthach was more than impressed. Her student had achieved something extraordinary, manipulating his sword to strike from different points in space without the aid of magic—a feat even she had not accomplished with her spear.

Shirou twirled and pivoted, enacting each strike with an effortless fluidity like water, masking the deadly intent behind every motion. In that moment, his swordsmanship transcended mere skill; it became an art form, a dance of lethal beauty. With a final flourish, Shirou dipped low, then sprung up, swinging high, succeeded by half a dozen more cuts that appeared like wraiths, slicing through the air with spectral precision.

The God Slayer made a short jump, twisting mid-air to avoid every strike the young man threw by the skin of her teeth. The combatants then gained some distance, their eyes never leaving one another.

Without warning, he threw his weapon at her once again, a complete contrast to his prior sophisticated actions. Instead of attacking, however, he jumped about ten meters backward for some reason. Her head turned, noticing a pile of discarded swords scattered all around her like common grass. She realized that they were the same ones Shirou had thrown at her at the start of the duel.

"Fūga (Open)," the red-haired swordsman pronounced, causing a Bounded Field to form, entrapping her. Suddenly, invisible blades materialized, slashing and cutting through the air with relentless speed. Trees, rocks, and debris inside the barrier were shredded into tiny fragments, the sound of tearing and slicing echoing within the confines. The barrier seemed alive, its energy indiscriminately mincing everything within its boundaries. Leaves were reduced to confetti, and chunks of earth were pulverized into dust.

The onslaught continued without pause, a whirlwind of destruction that left nothing untouched. In mere moments, the area within the barrier was transformed into a scene of utter devastation, every surface marred by the ceaseless, invisible blades.

It was his first ever original Bounded Field, a spell only unique to Shirou Emiya. He didn't even have a proper name for the spell yet. This was the reason why he incessantly studied the craft—to be able to make something he could call his own. By using a specially Projected sword clad in magic circles as a catalyst, he was able to summon a Bounded Field that produced a hurricane of cuts, with its power in accordance to how many swords are inside its confines.

As the dome began to dissipate, the barrier flickered and then vanished, leaving behind a desolate, minced landscape shrouded by flowing dust. Despite all that, however, Scáthach's form remained fully intact, unaffected by the cacophony of slashes in the slightest, aa result expected by the Immortal Witch.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Shirou burst through the camouflage with a golden curved sword in hand, charging with a thrust. Scáthach raised her polearm, averting the blow. Blinking, she noticed something odd about his movements—it felt rigid, telegraphed to the extreme. Her thoughts stirred, 'Is this another one of his tricks, perhaps?'

She responded by meeting the young man head on, stabbing her spear forward with the force of a cannon ball. Surprisingly, Shirou did not even try to move out of the way, instead he allowed the spearhead to dig into his clavicle. As her spear impaled her opponent, she heard the distinct noise of metal brushing against each other. Looking closer, she noticed that Shirou's wound did not leak blood, but sprouted a series of miniature blades that wrapped around her weapon like metallic tendrils, preventing it from being taken out.

'What—' Before she could finish the thought, a sharp jolt radiated from her chest. She knew that sensation; it was pain—something she hadn't felt in a long time. Her insides writhed and twisted as if bursting from the seams, and her entire essence seemed drenched in molten lava. Her very soul had been attacked, not just her flesh.

Gazing down, Scáthach bore witness to the tip of a crimson blade skewering her heart, drenched in her own blood. The blade was pulled back, leaving a gaping wound in her chest. The pain intensified, each minute movement sending waves of agony through her body. She could feel her strength ebbing away, her limbs growing heavy. Her hand quivered, letting go of the spear embedded in "Shirou's" body. As she released it, so did the strength leave her body, causing her to drop unceremoniously.

Before she hit the floor, a pair of arms halted her descent and laid her down gently. Looking up, she studied the person who had impaled her chest—Shirou. But how could there be two Shirous? She turned to the one she had stabbed, only to find a crumbling mass of steel disintegrate into particles of mana. A click sounded in her mind, 'Ah, I see…'

She couldn't help but admire the cunning and precision of her student. By using a combination of Projection and Alteration, Shirou had essentially created a puppet made of blades in his image and controlled its movements with just enough authenticity to deceive her. It was a distraction deployed in the heat of battle, diverting her attention while the real Shirou looped around, retrieved the Mortal Blade, and struck her when she was preoccupied with the clone.

"This is my win, Teach," Shirou, the real one, declared as he lowered himself beside her, his body wracked with exhaustion.

"Well done… Shirou," she eked out, praising her last student in warm tone. The two stayed there for a moment, letting a comfortable silence overtake the atmosphere. With her strength waning, Scáthach summoned what little remained to beckon him closer. Though confused, he obediently scooted over, unable to refuse his teacher's final request.

"Come closer," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. With a final surge of energy, she pulled Shirou closer as he leaned in, their faces inches apart. Before he could react, she pressed her lips gently against his, nothing more than a fleeting, tender peck. As their lips parted, she uttered, "Your reward… for fulfilling my wish."

The world around her dimmed, the sounds of nature fading into a distant hum. Yet, even in her final moments, a faint smile touched her lips. This was the warrior's death she had long sought. Even in defeat, there was a sense of fulfillment, knowing she had fallen to a worthy adversary. With that, her eyes fluttered shut, her hand slipping from Shirou's collar.

[You have completed the Quest. You may return anytime within the given time frame, otherwise you'll be forcefully pulled back]

[59 minutes remaining until the Quest ends]

Out of the blue, a familiar screen appeared before the redhead, but he ignored it.

"You… can't just do that and leave, Teach. What in the hell was that for?" he complained, yet his voice was coated in sorrow. You don't spend over a year of isolation with someone else and not form some type of bond with them. Throughout his stay here, Shirou had grown fond of her. Why? Frankly, he could not explain the reason, it was a complicated mess of emotions

'Stockholm Syndrome, maybe?' he entertained at the idea, laughing at it. He wouldn't be surprised if that was the case from all the beating he received from her. His chuckles immediately died off as another wave of sadness hit him. Sighing, he recovered enough thanks to Avalon and rose to his feet.

B̵̋̇l̵̏́a̷͌͛ḓ̴̀e̸̮͋s̸̥̀ ̷̂scatter endles̷̗̊s̵̍͝l̷̜̐ẙ̷́ ̵before m̸͛͊e̸̍͆

A̶̾̀ ̷͍̃n̷̈́̔ā̶̏m̸̢̐e̷̗̅ľ̸ess soul etche̊́d̴̾̈́ ̵̈́̄i̸̓͛n̵͘ histoȑy̷̺͌

Hearing soft whispers, Shirou slowly looked around to find the source of the noise. Finding nothing amiss, he shook his head. It was most likely just his tired mind playing with him.

---

I stood before my teacher's grave inside the Fortress' lush garden, saying my farewells one last time. Checking the timer, there was a little less than half and hour until I get pulled back into my world. I could just return right now, but there was still some stuff I needed to do.

Entering the vault where Odin's abandoned treasures rested, I waved my hand, moving every item in the vicinity inside the Gate of Babylon, even the mountain of gold rings in the corner that was just there for some reason. Narrowing my eyes, I swear it had increased in volume since I first entered this place, but that was probably just my imagination.

'Who will train Connla now?' my thoughts wandered. From what I could remember, Scáthach was supposed to train Cú Chulainn's son in the future, but with her dead, what would happen? Then, I smacked my hand over the other as if having a epiphany, 'Meh, that's not my problem. Not like I can do anything anyways, I have less than twenty minutes left here.'

Emerging from the building into the open world, I was about to manually return when a thought bubbled in my head. "System, can I get my reward now?"

[You have completed the Quest. Please initiate a spin to receive a random Noble Phantasm as your reward]

Nodding, I initiated the 'spin' as told. Like before, nothing happened except the sound of a wheel clicking as it spun around. After waiting for a brief moment, a malevolent sensation suddenly washed over me, accosting my entire body.

It invaded my very essence, branding me with a mark I could never remove. Clutching my chest, where the wicked feeling had formed, I immediately determined what it was—a curse of some manner. I was familiar with it, having hunted down countless individuals who utilized such accursed methods in the past at the Church's request. But the sheer weight behind this one eclipsed all of others I've seen so far.

Clasping my hands in prayer, I quickly employed my [Purify] skill to rid myself of the curse. Yet, the malevolent force only grew more violent, clawing and thrashing from within. I hunched forward as a wave of agonizing heat spread across my back, forcing a groan from my lips.

'What the hell is happening?' The pain was excruciating. The malevolent mark didn't just attack my flesh; it assaulted my very existence. Through clenched teeth, I increased the output of my skill, causing a pillar of true benevolent light to shoot up into the clouds as holy energy suffused from my body.

Even with all my effort, however, I was only able to divert a small portion of the curse before it took hold of me. I regained my countenance and stood up, sweat running down my face. As the brilliant column of holy energy dispersed, a System notification appeared.

[Skill 'Magic Resistance' has been lost]

"What? Why!?" I exclaim in shock. As if to answer my turmoil, another screen flashed in front of me.

—

[Armour of Fafnir (B)]

Coated in the blood of Fafnir, your skin has become as tough as dragon scales, impervious to both weapons and magic except by the most powerful of attacks. However, a flaw in the process has left your back as your only true vulnerability.

—

"Are you kidding me!?" another conniption erupted from my mouth. I knew what it was and what it did. I pulled out a large mirror, disrobed my top, and scanned my back to find a leaf tattoo that subtly glowed a lime hue etched on it. Did my favouritism over Siegfried's dragon slaying sword cause me to get his Noble Phantasm or something? What even are the chances?

I began to feel around my back, trying to determine the exact borders of my new weakness. Eventually, I discovered that my entire trapezius remained that of human flesh, unlike the rest of my body.

From what I could recall, the Armour of Fafnir not only granted Siegfried a near-indestructible body but also cursed him to never be able to shield his back with any sort of armour or magic. Thankfully, my frantic application of [Purify] managed to remove part of the curse that prevented me from covering my back, so wearing clothes was still possible.

I tried Reinforcing the vulnerable area, only to be met with resistance and eventual retaliation as I pushed further. The curse fought back with relentless fury, it felt like a rod of fire had suddenly been inserted into my spinal chord, forcing me to stop out of fright.

"Okay—never do that again, Shirou," I berated myself with a head shake. While my Magic Resistance skill vanished as a penalty, it might be worth it. Then again, what's stopping me from re-learning the skill on a later date? Maybe my newly acquired Noble Phantasm would stop me from doing so? Questions to be answered later.

Wanting to test something out, I sauntered into an open field and summoned a pair of Jack the Ripper's knives, one of my weaker Noble Phantasms. I overloaded them with mana, causing bright cracks to form all over the blades. Opening my arms, I hurled the weapon directly at my chest without hesitation.

As expected, the resulting blast failed to even scratch my skin, only destroying my clothes in the process. Despite wanting to test my back's vulnerability, I couldn't risk accidentally killing myself. I just have to face my enemies head-on and never show my back or reveal my ability. That's all I had to do, and everything should be fine… I hope. Not like my opponents would connect my impenetrable skin to Siegfried, now would they?

Turning, I gave the Fortress of Shadows one last look before returning to my own world with a flash of light. And just like that, I was back in my old smithy in the Emiya residence like I never even left. My eyes immediately darted to the clock beside me, notcing that only a single second had passed since my disappearance. It would seem that my time in Quests doesn't really affect this place, good to have some confirmation.

I then gazed at the calendar on the wall, showing today's date—the first week of February. With the second Quest out of the way, I can finally put my full attention on the incoming Holy Grail War. With my current strength and skill-set, I was more than ready to put an end on this blood sport.

As I was about to walk outiside, the serious air surrounding my form vanished as a System notification came into existence, the contents of which made me miss my next step, causing me to fall flat on the ground.

[You have gained the skill 'Beautiful Appearance']

"What!?" I shouted, my voice covered in horror mixed with utter bewilderment. I sat upright and opened the System's interface, checking the Skills tab.

—

[Beautiful Appearance]

The image of your natural beauty and stylish appearance has spread far and wide through word of mouth, creating an aura of genderless beauty.

Your true gender will remain ambiguous to the minds of many until you reveal it.

—

My eyes twitched, the primal urge to destroy everything simmered in the back of my mind. Fortunately, the primordial emotion did not make it far into my head and was pushed back into the depts where it came from. I was so close to losing it and letting my rage take over. I swear to God, this had to be some cosmic joke.

Taking a deep breath, I regained my composure and stood up, leaving the small forge. Now wasn't the time to dwell on this… even though a large part of me wanted to rip this magical screen apart.

END.​

A/N: This one took me quite a while. Welp.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 16: Moving pieces.

Amidst the endless expanse of a snow-covered terrain, the ever-present gale unleashed a resounding roar. Snowflakes decended from the heavens, transforming the entire landscape into a pristime canvas.

In the middle of it all was a single castle, standing tall and remaining unaffected by the hail. Within its sturdy walls, a group of white-haired homunculi created a half-circle around a young girl by the name of Illyasviel Von Einzbern. To her side, Jubstacheit Von Einzbern stood with an item at hand. The creases on his face indicative of his age and his expression was static as the other artificial humans in the room.

Beneath their feet, intricately carved on the marble floor, was a summoning circle that glowed with power, ready to be activated and call forth a Servant from the Throne of Heroes - a space outside of the material world, where legendary figures are recorded upon death till the end of time - in order to participate in the coming Holy Grail War.

Jubstacheit gazed at the bundle of cloth on his hand which contained the catalyst they were going to use to summon a specific hero in mind. Carefully unwrapping the fabric, a slab of stone could be seen nestled within. It was no ordinary rock, of course, but a fragment of a temple built for the demi-god Heracles, son of Zeus.

"This was supposed to be delivered two months ago. Why did it take you so long to gather it?" Jubstacheit asked, his hoarse voice echoing around the hall.

"My apologies Family Head, there were some complications. The Holy Church were crawling around the temple we were supposed to retrieve the stone from, heavily restricting our movements," the homunculi who gave the object reasoned, bowing their head.

"Hm," the old man hummed, not bothering to chastised the speaker. His face contorted in annoyance; the Holy Church had been quite active recently for some reason and it had impacted a lot of his plans going forward. So, he couldn't exactly blame anyone apart from those pesky fanatics.

Even the Mage Association were alarmed by their abrupt proactivity and prepared for the worst. It was later found out that the Church were only moving because they were eliminating some Dead Apostles they've discovered, erasing their worries of a conflict occurring between the two groups. There were even some rumours that a Saint of all things had appeared, but Jubstacheit set aside such nonsensical talks for deities had long since vanished from the world.

"No matter. It had arrived in the end," he said, waving his other hand to dismiss the homunculi. Handing the catalyst to the young girl next to him, he declared, "Illyasviel, proceed."

"Yes, grandfather," she replied, her voice cold as the winds howling outside the enourmous compound.

She took the item and walked to the edge of the ritual circle, then crouched down to place the stone fragment in the center. Standing, she raised a hand over the object and felt her magic circuits churn to life.

Opening her mouth, she recited the incantation she had memorized prior, "Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let my great master Schweinorg be the ancestor. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Close the four cardinal gates. Come out from the crown and rotate the three-branched road reaching the Kingdom. Let it be filled, again, again, again, again. Repeat fivefold for every turn, breaking asunder with every filling."

As if responding to her call, the symbols at her feet increased in brightness as it drained her magical energy. Unbeknownst to everyone, however, the summoning circle wholly ignored the rock that lay on top of it and reached out to the young girl, using herself as the catalyst to summon a hero most suited to her.

"I shall declare here: Your body shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword. Heed to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. If you will submit to this will and this reason… then answer!" the girl exclaimed, feeling another wave of mana being taken from her. Taking a breath, she resumed, "You shall serve with your eyes clouded by chaos, for you would be one caged in madness and I shall wield your chains. From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance!"

As the chant reached its conclusion, a pillar of light erupted from the circle, connecting up into the ceiling and enveloping the entire room in an ethereal glow. Forced to cover their eyes, they waited until it ended. Shortly after, they creaked their eyes open as the light died down and immediately spotted an addition to their numbers. What emerged from the column was a towering figure, approximately 274 centimeters (9 feet) in height, who's appearance was both majestic as it was haunting.

The entity wore a set of armour reminiscent of the medieval age—a patchwork of plates and chainmail fused together. It appeared worn and battered with pieces scorched and blackened, partially covered in ash and soot as if it had just escaped a battlefield. A fiery aura emanates from the being, flickering and dancing all across its form. Clasped in its charred gauntlet was an odd weapon, it you could even call it that—it was a spiraling sword the length of its entire leg with no discernible edge, releasing a torrent of magical energy, its essence primal and ancient. Despite its fearsome and intimidating presence, however, the entity radiated a sense of somberness.

"That is not Heracles," Jubstacheit muttered upon seeing the Servant, eyes shaking in incredulity. 'Did the summoning fail? What happened?' the Einzbern family head thought, attempting to make sense of the situation. This shouldn't have happened, there was nothing in this place that could've disrupted the ritual. Had the Holy Church done something to the temple, perhaps?

His eyes roamed along the Servant's figure, he was certain this being wasn't Heracles. The armour pretty much gave it away. So who could it be? From appearance alone, he appeared to be a knight of sort, but since when did giants gain knighthood? He shook his head, there was a better way to figure this out.

"Illyasviel, check your Servant's name and parameters," he commanded the girl beside him who was rubbing the back of her hand, staring at the Command Seals that etched itself onto her skin, solidifying her position as a Master.

"Ah—yes!" she stopped fiddling with her hand and honed in on the towering knight. Transferring a bit of magical energy to her eyes, a translucent sheet that detailed everything about one's Servant plastered itself on Illyasviel's retina. Masters had the convenient ability to determine not only their Servant's strength and abilities but also their identity using a simple lettering format.

—

Class: Berserker.

True name: (None)

Strength: A
Endurance: EX
Agility: A+
Mana: EX
Luck: E

Class skill(s):
???

Personal skill(s):
???, ???, ???, Divinity (EX)

Noble Phantasm(s):
???, ???

—

"Their class is Berserker," she begun. Hearing this, the Einzbern head nodded. That was his plan; to summon the physically strongest of the seven Servants - Saber, Lancer, Archer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, and Berserker - to overwhelm the competition. Her next words, however, came out more like a question, "And it says that he has no name?"

"Nothing?" Jubstacheit's brows furrowed. How can that be? The Throne of Heroes is a place only the most regaled figures in history could enter. How can a seemingly random individual who possess no name or title do so?

Though he wanted to ask, he kept his mouth shut and allowed Illyasviel to talk. Much of his plans is already ruined, so its better to gain a deeper understanding of what he's dealing with and create new ones using the information. She then relayed the outstanding parameters of her Servant, which made Jubstacheit's eyes widen.

"That's… better than expected, go on," he ushered. It wasn't what he was expecting, but it was welcome surprise nonetheless. Even if the knight was nameless, their strength more than made up for it.

"Eh?" a bewildered voice left her lips as she looked further. "I—um… I can't," she eked out, unable to properly put her dilemma into words.

"What do you mean you can't?" he inquired, lips curling into a frown. Had something gone wrong again?

"Everything else is blocked for some reason, except one thing," she stated, gazing at the one skill available to her. Jubstacheit stayed silent, letting the young girl finish. "One of the Servant's personal skills is Divinity… and it's ranked EX," the albino revealed in a soft voice.

"What?" His mouth dropped in disbelief. EX wasn't a rank that dictated strength or power but a designation for things that not even the Heaven's Feel ritual could measure. Even the strongest of demi-gods would have, at best, A+ rank Divinity, so what did this mean? Slowly but surely, the pieces fell into place in his mind.

"A… Divine Spirit," he whispered, his voice trembling. Divine Spirits were, to put it simply, gods who had deteriorated as the Age of Gods came to a close. Though diminished, Divine Spirits were still beings of unparalleled power no modern magus could ever hope to contest against.

He took a step back, cowering away from the towering knight. He was about to order Illyasviel to use a Command Seal to reign in the Servant, but quickly erased that train of thought. What could measly Command Seals do in this situation? They were products of modern magecraft, while before them stood a literal deity boasting an unimaginable amount of magical power to the point that their status couldn't be properly read. How did such being even get summoned? Jubstacheit didn't even think this was possible.

Gods weren't beings to be forced around; it was better to cater to their whims and gain their cooperation for the duration of the War. And from the looks of it, this Servant, despite being a Berserker, possess enough sense of self to make their own decisions.

As the truth of the entity's nature was revealed, Illyasviel slowly retreated too. To their surprise, the knight cloaked in cinder suddenly whirled its head to look at her, startling the young girl. It then steadily moved towards her, causing the metal plates on its armor to clack loudly with each minute movement.

Illyasviel closed her eyes, arms folded to her chest, as the Divine Spirit neared, bracing for what was to come. Instead of her worst fear coming to life, however, what happened next stunned her and everyone else around—the knight placed a hand on top of her head, gently caressing it like a mother would their child. The Servant's touch felt oddly comforting, as if her entire soul was being soothed.

The others couldn't help but stare, unable to break the stillness spawned by the knight's baffling actions. The Divine Spirit then turned its head again, gazing outside the windows. Within the being's helmet, a pair of eyes tempered by steel and blazing with resolve watched as the biting gale swept through the landscape.

---

Looking up into the cloudy skies, I saw the sun reach its highest, shining brightly upon—I immediately snapped my eyes shut and craned my neck down. Okay, maybe looking directly into the sun was a bad idea… how stupid of me. I was feeling melancholic, so I needed to brood for a bit.

As for why, my fight with Scáthach still occupied a part of my mind. It had only been a day since then, after all. It was less of a fight than it was a volitional act of suicide for the God Slayer. Had she actually tried fighting me at her best, I wouldn't even be able to get near the woman, let alone lay a finger on her. Nonetheless, a win is a win.

Head tilted down, a sigh left my lips. There's no need to be caught up on the past when there's more important stuff that's about to happen. Mentally commanding the System to appear, I decided to make some last minute preparations by dropping all of my remaining stat points into the Magic attribute.

—

-Shirou Emiya-

Title(s):
Wanderer of worlds, Sword Incarnation, Bearer of Avalon, Saber-face, Fuyuki's Helping Hand, Sword Saint, Homurahara's older brother.
-Collapse-

Level: 55

STR: 65
VIT: 170
AGI: 70
MAG: 100 (+15)
Stat points: 0 (-15)

Skill(s):
-Expand-

Reality Marble:
Unlimited Blade Works.

Noble Phantasm(s):
Gate of Babylon (E), Armour of Fafnir (B)

Quest:
[1,824 days remaining until the next Quest]

—

Upon confirmation, I felt a rush of warmth wash over my body before cooling down, acclimated with the change. For some reason, I could not help but feel a tad disappointed; nothing strange or special seem to happen after crossing the three-digit mark. I thought there'd be at least some sort of reward or congratulations for reaching such level. Then again, I didn't really get anything when Vitality went past a hundred. Oh well.

I lift my head, eyes trained on a peculiar skyscraper in the distance. Narrowing my gaze, I spotted a bunch of figures dressed in a researcher's ensemble moving behind the thick pane of glass, mouthing words to one another. Due to the Bounded Field covering the whole floor, not a wisp of noise left the area they were in, preventing me from hearing what they're saying.

My attention was solely captured by two indivuals—a man wearing a flamboyant suit and a woman covered in a voluminous dark-purple cloak, who I immediately identified as the Caster-class Servant summoned for this War. The male was a magus who went by the name of Atrum Galliasta, the summoner and Master of Caster… though that won't be for long.

Out of the blue, the entire storey erupted in flames that relentless swallowed everything it touched, killing every human inside. Scanning the entire building and its immediate surroundings, I found no traces of the Servant, whom vanished along with the explosion. Good, everything's going how it should be. From what I could remember, this happened because of a fallout Atrum had with his Servant, prompting Caster to betray him and escape.

Nodding, I drop from my post, landing softly on the ground, and started moving forward, later meeting up with a group of priests from the Holy Church huddled inside an inconspicuous building. They have come here on my request to ensure the civilians' safety and keep the supernatural hidden for the during the War. They weren't the only ones, of course, more of them are spread around the city disguised as ordinary people to not garner any attention.

One of the clergymen stepped up, saying, "Holy one, Souichirou Kuzuki is en route with the path you've layed out. We have made sure he would not deviate from it."

"Good," I responded. With this, Caster and Souichirou's meeting is bound to happen, leading the latter becoming the former's new Master. I then asked, "Anyone suspicious trying to enter Fuyuki?"

While the ritual wasn't well known to the wider world, in courtesy to magi's tendency to keep their craft a close guarded secret, there were still some people aware and interested in it. And considering the fifth Holy Grail War was about to commence, they might try entering the city to take advantage of the situation. Because of this, I had asked the Holy Church to block entry from all foreign figures apart from a single Irish woman who worked with the Mage Association.

"There had been a few. An American, French, and English magi group attempted to enter the country but was quickly denied access by our agents. They threw a tantrum at first but eventually backed off," he reported, flipping through a clipboard.

As expected, they were easily repelled by the Church due to the West, or any other large supernatural body really, not having as much power over the East. They weren't exactly racist towards Asians, they simply did not look favourably upon those they view to have come from a back water country like Japan, leading to this situation. Serves them right, I suppose.

"What about Marisbury Animusphere?" I inquired. The man known as Marisbury Animusphere was my biggest concern before this conflict even starts; he was a potential Master who summoned one of the most powerful Caster Servant, spawning a completely different timeline of events that eventually lead to him winning and taking the Holy Grail for himself.

"Though he's shown some interest to the Heaven's Feel, so far there has been no activity from him. Marisbury remains in the Clock Tower in London, performing his duties as the head of the Department of Astronomy," he avowed. Hearing this, my mind eased by a tad bit. At least I don't have to worry about him for now.

"I see. Do keep tabs on him and report to me if he ever does something out of character," I said, ending the conversation. He bowed, heeding my words, and gave orders to the other members behind him.

Turning to look outside the window, a plane gently landing on the spacious runway entered my field of vision. Time to move.

---

"Haah," a woman with short hair, its shade a dark violet, dressed in a form-fitting business suit that accentuated her feminine figure, released a drawn out sigh as she ventured out of the busy airport. Taking a breather, she voiced out in complaint, "Those old coots at the Association would not shut the hell up, man."

Her name is Bazett Fraga McRemitz, an Enforcer of the Mage Association—they are basically the Association's version of the Church's Executors. Being one of the best personnel they had, she was sent here to participate in the upcoming Holy Grail War. Elated by the news, she agreed as this event gave her a chance to fulfill one of her childhood dreams.

Farther away, she spotted an organized group of people who've just disembarked as well. They gathered around an older gentleman, who possessed graying hair and dull eyes. The man waved his hand, saying some words to them, before splitting off to different directions after giving the man a reverent bow.

With a head shake, Bazett ignored them and begun trekking towards the bustling streets of Fuyuki. Before she could go deeper into the forest of glass and concrete, however, a near silent whistle reached her ears. Turning to the origin of the noise, her keen eyesight found a steel-tipped arrow surging in her direction at high speeds. Almost instinctively, she bent her legs and jumped into a secluded alleyway, taking cover.

'Lancer!' Having already summoned her Servant—Lancer using her own catalyst before landing in Fuyuki, she mentally called out using their connection.

After waiting for a few moments, a masculine voice belonging to her Servant echoed in her head, 'Calm down, it ain't a threat.'

'What do you mean 'Ain't a threat'? I almost got shot,' she pointed out, keeping herself hidden from view. She just got here and she's already being targeted by someone, that's certainly a threat in her books.

'It wasn't aimed at you but the ground near you,' Lancer remarked. The woman then asked if he saw who did it, hoping to determine their identity. 'Nope,' her Servant responded, popping the end. 'They're too far. Whoever shot it must've been pretty skilled. Maybe the Archer Servant?' he put out a guess.

'Hm,' she considered it. 'Are you sure it wasn't directed at me specifically?' Bazett then inquired, a little doubtful.

"Yep. Very sure," a voice sounded from behind the Enforcer, causing her to jump in fright.

With a flicker of mana, a figure manifested before her. He was a man of impressive stature with blood-red eyes, garbed in blue full body tights adorned with white accents that traced his muscles, paired with metallic pauldrons on each shoulder. His hair, the same hue as his attire, was neatly slicked back into a rattail.

"Don't do that!" Bazett shouted in defiance, giving her Servant the meanest look she could muster.

"Do what?" he adopted a playful expression, clad in an air of confidence.

"Appear without telling me!" the woman clarified, jabbing a finger at him in annoyance.

"Maybe if you calm down a little you wouldn't have been caught by surprise," the bluenette laughed. "Anyways, look what I have here. It was tied to the arrow," he said, waving a piece of folded paper in his grasp.

"What is it?" she reached out, taking it off his hand.

"I dunno, you check it," Lancer shrugged, letting his Master inspect it herself.

She flipped it a bunch of times, scanning the item for any magical properties. Finding nothing, she carefully opened it and found a short string of words written on it, which stated, [Do not trust the overseer, Kirei Kotomine.]

The corners of her lips curled downward. Why would she look out for the supervisor of the War? He's supposed to be impartial, a judge. More importantly, Bazett already knew of and trusted Kirei, having met each other a lot of times before this. Maybe it was a ploy by another Master to mess with her mind? That sounds about right, she was in a war between magi after all.

"You got anything to say about this?" she turned to her Servant, hoping to know his thoughts on the matter.

"I got nothing. But it's better to remain vigilant than not, you never know what might happen," he advised. After their brief discussion, Bazett told him to keep his eyes out for any threat and emerged from the aisle, seamlessly blending into crowd. Even for magi standards, attacking a crowd in broad daylight wasn't something they liked doing.

"Aye," Lancer affirmed, dematerializing in a shower of light. Now formless and out of sight, he followed right behind his Master, eyes bouncing to and fro for any signs of danger. As his gaze roamed along the sidewalk, he saw a stall selling a variety of foodstuff, prompting the spearman to go on a trip down memory lane.

'Damn, I haven't eaten any good food since then, huh,' he reminisced, licking his lips as he recalled the heavenly delight he regularly ate when he was a kid. A smile formed on his lips, recalling the face of an old friend. Every since he left, he's never been able to look at food the same way again after being spoiled by him. He hoped modern chefs could even match a fraction of what his friend could serve up.

END.​

A/N: I'm extremely lightheaded.

Edit: I've come to realize how massive 365 centimeters truly is, so I changed it to 274cm.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapte 17: Servant.

Entering a school yard different from my own, my eyes scanned the area in search of someone. My sights immediately trained itself on a figure with a head of black hair and sky-blue eyes sitting on a bench under the shades of a large tree. Finding my target, I made my way towards them, my steps light.

"Hey there, Ritsuka," I greeted the boy in front of me, prompting them to turn around.

"Ah, Nii-san," Ritsuka Fujimaru, now a boisterous young man, returned with a smile.

"You know, ever thought of calling me something else? Basically everyone around here calls me that." Nearing him, I lifted the lunchbox in my hand, presenting it.

"Ah… well, I don't really know what to call you," he replied. Hands raised, the young man accepted the gift and placed it on his lap, unfurling the fabric around it.

"You can call me Shirou, or Emiya if you want," I suggested. Plopping down beside him, I watched as he picked out a sandwich from the container and took a small bite out of it.

After swallowing, he spoke, "But that just sounds wrong to me, you know? You've been like an older brother to me my whole life."

I've been quite active in his life for the past decade or so, solidifying my image as a brother-figure in his mind. So it didn't come as a surprise to see him treat me like this. That said, having been in his life for so long, I could easily spot some of his odd quirks and habits.

"Hm," I hummed, staring at his face. Suddenly, a lightbulb lit up in my head. "Alright, spill it out, what's the problem?"

"W-what do you mean?" Ritsuka stammered, briefly loosening his grip on the foodstuff.

"How can I not notice when my 'younger brother' is obviously not feeling well in some way?" I commented. Leaning back, I slung my arms behind the bench's backrest in a comfortable position, waiting for his response.

"Was it that obvious?" he asked, scratching his cheek. After I replied with a lazy "Yep", he continued, "Well, it's just that… my parents decided to move to Shibuya next week,"

Next week, huh. I'm guessing he'll be transferred to another school there instead of staying here. That's good. At least he won't get involved with any of the crazy stuff that'll happen here in just a few days.

"Okay," I calmly answered. He looked at me, a tinge of confusion swirling behind his eyes. He almost seemed… betrayed? He looked like I just kicked his pet in front of him. Was he scarred that I might be pushing him away? "What? It's just in Shibuya, we can still see each other from time to time. It's not like you're leaving the country, are you?" I said, pulling out my phone and showing it to him. He already has my phone number, so we can still talk even in far distances.

"Oh… now that you say it out loud, its kinda stupid of me for worrying. Haha," he let out a stifled laugh, his cheeks going a shade of pink. He buried another mouthful of bread into his mouth, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"When you get there, how about you put some muscle on yourself," I off-handedly mentioned.

"You mean work out? Why?" Ritsuka looked down, scanning himself from top to bottom. For a literal twelve-year-old, he was rather well-built due to all the physically taxing activities he usually partake in.

My advice may or may not come in useful in the coming years but it's better than nothing. Recalling the future events of another timeline where Marisbury Animusphere got involved, I spoke, "Keep yourself healthy, of course. You never know when a bit of strength might make the difference between being able to save someone or not from being crushed by a heavy beam."

"That's an oddly specific scenario. Is there something I should be looking out for in Shibuya?" he asked, brows raised. Shibuya wasn't that dangerous, now was it?

"You never know," I repeated, shrugging my shoulders.

"That doesn't sound ominous at all. You're not helping," he gave a scowl, which I found adorable more than anything.

Ignoring his pitiful attempts at appearing annoyed, I resumed, "Old man Tanaka might get mad at you if you don't take care of yourself."

"Probably not. He never really chastised me for my eating habits," Ritsuka returned without missing a beat. Head dipped low, he took another munch of the homemade sandwich as if to prove a point.

Speaking of the veteran, he'd unfortunately passed away a few months ago due to old age, leaving the young Ritsuka downtrodden for a few weeks. Though not much as his parents, I was there for him for the most part, doing my best to cheer him back up. Thankfully, the boy managed to recover without issue and let the past remain as such. Quite the smart cookie, isn't he?

"Are you disrespecting the dead already?" I threw a bombastic side-eye at him. "Where did the idiotic Ritsuka that I know go? Who are you!" I exclaimed, enveloping myself in a theatrical aura.

We bantered a little more, talking about various things and generally enjoying each other's company, until he was called by one of the Volley ball club members—which Ritsuka is part of. Getting off the bench, the young man waved goodbye and left to practice the sport with his friends. Left alone, I stood up and walked back home.

Upon returning to the Emiya abode, I looked over the various Bounded Fields I've erected around the house for protection, double checking if they were functioning properly. Finding nothing amiss with the wards, I went ahead and spent the rest of the day with Sakura.

"Senpai?" she called out, gaining my attention. She then reached out, taking hold of my right hand, her expression one of deep worry. My eyes narrowed, gazing the back on my hand where a red smear had suddenly came into existence.

'So I still got picked in the end, huh.' Sakura released my hand, allowing me to inspect it closer. Even after all the changes I've done, I still got chosen as a Master. Was it Shirou Emiya's fate, perhaps? A short laugh resounded in my head.

"This is a Command Seal, right? Is the Holy Grail War starting now?" she asked, to which I affirmed with a nod. She already knew of the upcoming blood sport and my subsequent participation long ago since I decided to come clean, unable to keep it a secret from her.

Worried for my safety, she offered whatever help she could give. This is one of, if not the biggest reason why she even started utilizing the Matou Magic Crest. At first, I rejected the idea of dragging Sakura into this but later accepted her aid, all I need to do is not make her regret helping me. She was her own person who could make their own decisions, there was no need to coddle her like I usually did.

"No, not now. Maybe tomorrow or the day after that. The other Masters are probably still getting their bearings," I answered. "We'll summon our Servants tonight. We'll most likely get a Saber and a Rider if nothing goes wrong," I said with a bit of optimism, which was immediately broken by Sakura's following statement.

"Our? But… I didn't get one," she claimed, lifting her hands for me to see.

"What?" I uttered in disbelief, eyes widening. It was as she said, there was nothing on both of her hands to indicate her status as a Master.

No, no… how could this be? This shouldn't be possible. From what I could remember, a set of Command Seals should've been reserved for the founding families' descendants so they could join the next Heaven's Feel ritual, so why didn't she get one? My lips suddenly twisted into a frown as a conjecture slowly formed in my head—had another Matou fill in the spot?

"Senpai… d-did I do something wrong?" seeing my change in expression, Sakura spoke. Her posture deflated, feet curling in discomfort.

Hands waving in the air, I instantly denied it in hopes to erase her worries, "Oh no, no. You didn't do anything wrong. Please don't worry. I just need to check on something."

I reached out, giving her head a light pat. I've been doing this quite a lot lately, no thanks to the System. Well, not like it's a bad thing to do. She gave a nod, her body relaxing as she adopted a bright smile. Goodness me, she had a bad habit of pinning the blame onto herself whenever I found myself in a tight spot, something I've been trying my hardest to fix.

After reassuring my housemate, I quickly stood up and grabbed the landline phone, punching in a special set of numbers belonging to the people who looked after Shinji. After a couple rings, the other side took the call.

"Holy one, is there anything you require of us?" Shinji's current guardian, a priest of the Holy Church, answered, his voice filled with respect. Only one person knew of this number, so he already knew it was me who called.

"Is Shinji with you right now?" I inquired. Hearing a confirmation from the other side, I intoned, "I want you to check up on him, see if a Command Seal appeared on his hand or any part of his body."

Placing the phone down, he called Shinji over. After waiting for a minute or two, hearing the sounds of shuffling cloth behind the device, the other person came back, reporting his findings, "There is none, your Holiness. There are no signs of such mark appearing anywhere on him."

"I see… give me a call if it ever does, alright?" The priest responded with a firm "Understood". Trusting his words, I ended our conversation and let out a sigh, head cranked low in contemplation.

It seems I've already encountered my first problem, and it's a pretty big one. I just hope whoever took Sakura's place in the War isn't some deranged psychopath who'd endanger everyone in Fuyuki for no reason. Well, no matter. That's what the congregation is for; to stop civilians from being affected. I should focus more on summoning my own Servant.

---

A bit later, the pair went into the shed out back. The inside was empty, no longer a place of work, having already moved everything to the former Matou mansion earlier with the help of the Gate of Babylon.

Shirou crouched down and grasped the edge of the carpet, before carefully removing it off the ground, revealing an intricately drawn magic circle hidden underneath. Sakura remained some steps away, watching the redhead stand back up and place a hand on his chest.

He closed his eyes, calling upon Avalon's presence within him. As a golden glow broke free from his chest, he intoned the incantation for summoning a Servant, prompting the circle below to hum with mana. The summoning circle intertwined with his existence, using the Ever Distant Utopia as a catalyst to call forth a suitable hero from the Throne of Heroes. The rite continued, processing without issue.

With a final flourish, the pillar coated the entire space with light before fading into shards of magical energy. In the brilliant column's place stood a lone figure—a woman with a slim build and fair skin, her crown braided hair shining as if sprinkled with gold dust. Her attire consisted of a blue battle-dress, with the occasional lines of yellow at the edges, that is covered in beautifully crafted metallic plates, a perfect blend of practicality and baroque.

Saber's eyes fluttered open, her emerald-like eyes glinting under the fluorescent lighting, and was instantly greeted by a face nearly identical to hers. Had it not been for their differing hair colours, she would've mistaken him for a reflection. From behind the young man, Sakura covered her open mouth with her hand, a bit taken aback for the same reason. Looking closer, Saber noticed a few details that separated them other than the obvious; the redhead was taller by a few centimeters and possessed a more mature appearance compared to hers. And more importantly, his face showed a myriad of emotions unlike hers, which was shielded by a mask of impassiveness.

"I ask of you. Are you my Master?" the summoned Servant started, breaking the stillness. She kept her gaze trained on the red-haired teen's face, waiting for an answer.

"Indeed I am," Shirou affirmed with an idiotically wide smile, recognition flashing through his eyes. Raising a hand, he showed the now completed Command Seals that's fashioned like a sword, in correspondence of the class he'd summoned.

"Understood. From here on, my blade shall rest in your hands, and your fate shall rest in mine. Thus, our contract is formed," she announced. With that, their partnership has become official.

"You must be Arthur Pendragon, correct?" Shirou asked out of the blue, taking Saber by surprise. She was about to deny the claim but ultimately decided not to, choosing to respond with a silent nod. She was hoping to hide it at first but realized that Shirou could just check her identity using his ability as a Master, there was no point denying it.

Arthur Pendragon, or in this case—Artoria Pendragon, is a character that needs no introduction. She is the wielder of the one and only Excalibur, the once and future King of Britain. Though history can be a little fickle at times; as queens possessed not as much power as their counterpart, she hid her true gender to rule as a king, leading to the future generations to refer to her as a man.

Unbothered by her nonverbal reply, he continued, "I'm Shirou Emiya," he then gestured to the plum-haired girl, "and she's Sakura Matou. Nice to meet you, Saber."

'Emiya…?' the name bounced around her mind for a bit, leaving a bad taste in her mouth. She grit her teeth, recalling her past experience with a man who carried the same name, Kiritsugu Emiya—her former Master during the fourth Holy Grail War. She should've won that conflict but lost because of his betrayal near the end, her chance of gaining the Holy Grail ruined. What even drove him to do that? Despite all the despicable acts he committed during the War, Kiritsugu didn't strike her as the type of person who'd do something without reason. Was this person related to that man? Will he betray her too?

"You may call me Shirou, by the way. There's no need to call me Master or any of that, my name is fine," her Master insisted, as if able to read her inner turmoil.

After a moment, she replied positively, "Then I shall call you Shirou. Yes… I think I prefer how that sounds."

With a welcoming smile, Shirou extended his hand for a shake, which she returned, finding no reason to refuse. As she gripped his hand, a sensation she was all too familiar with coursed through her entire body, for she carried the same aspect within her—the essence of a dragon. If his name wasn't confusing enough, the draconic presence he exuded made her raise her guard several folds. Letting go, she scrutinized the young man's face, a frown threatening to break her stony facade.

Her mind raced through the possibilities, but she kept her composure. Was this another one of Morgan Le Fay's sick jokes, perhaps? His draconic aura was undeniable, that's for certain. Mordred alone was bad enough; had Morgan created another homunculus using her blood? No, that couldn't be. It had been many centuries since Artoria's time; Morgan couldn't possibly still be around in the modern world.

So who was it? Merlin, perhaps? This seemed like something that jester would do for a laugh. However, she also knew that flower-obsessed wizard always had an agenda behind his actions, no matter how minuscule. Why would he interfere so far into the future? She briskly culled that train of thought. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Perhaps they had nothing to do with this, and it was the result of nothing more than a string of coincidences... or at least she hoped it was.

"Well, we can talk back inside the house," Shirou declared, not noticing the weird look Saber was giving him as he walked away with Sakura, who's eyes went back and forth between her face and his. Was this Servant somehow related to her senpai? Shirou was adopted after all, so the possibility is certainly there. Either way, what mattered was that he'd succeeded in calling forth Saber, arguably the most balanced class, as his Servant.

As much as she wanted to ask about his origins, Saber kept her mouth sealed for now, keeping to her solitude, and followed the two into the Emiya mansion. The pair gave her a tour of the place so she could navigate it later on her own, even telling her where some wards are located.

"Shirou, there's something I need to discuss with you," the Servant spoke up after the short tour. Gathering her wits, she began to divulge a story she quickly brewed up, "My connection with you seems to be… muddled for some reason, and I am unable to enter spirit form because of it. Though I assure you it has no negative impact on my capabilities as a Servant whatsoever."

He'll learn of this peculiarity of hers sooner or later, better to reveal it now before it becomes a problem and have their relationship be soured. A multitude of excuses floated at the back of her mind, ready to deny or reflect any sort of question Shirou would throw at her… but such scenario never occurred, much to her surprise.

As if he'd known beforehand, Shirou did not ask further and took her to a room with Sakura, giving her a set of apparels for her to wear as her Servant gear would draw too much attention if he decided to go outside. Thankful that he didn't push the issue, she graciously accepted. With but a mental command, her battle gear scattered into motes of blue light, letting her bare figure be seen by the world. Shirou quickly turned around, eyes shut closed, while Sakura sprung up and covered her with a blanket in a panic.

"S-Saber-san, what are you doing!" Sakura exclaimed, her face slightly tinted red.

"My armour is woven with magical energy, allowing me to call upon it anytime," she explained, shifting her arms under the fabric.

"But-but you shouldn't do that. It's not good to s-strip all of the sudden!" the young woman countered, shuffling the cloth around Saber to cover more of her skin.

"Why? Is it not a more efficient way of disrobing? Or has the people of today thought of something better?" the blonde retorted.

"That's not the point, Saber. Don't just go buck naked when there's a guy right in front of you," Shirou casually said, his back still turned towards the pair of women.

"Why does that matter? I am but a mere tool for this War, your worries are unfounded," she expressed her confusion by titlting her head, unable to find the problem. She never viewed herself as an individual, putting her duties first before anything else.

"Yeah—no. Don't think of yourself like that," Shirou interjected, sounding a bit agitated for some reason. As for why, Artoria could not figure out the reason. "Sakura, can you please help dress her up? I'll be at the kitchen to prepare dinner," he said before leaving the room.

"Yes!" the aforementioned girl responded, grabbing the spare clothing, one personally made by Shirou quite some time ago, on the desk for Saber to use.

After the whole debacle, Saber and Sakura went out of the room and gathered in the living room connected to the kitchen, where Shirou could be seen plating some food. Hearing their arrival, he turned to look at his Servant. The blonde now sported a muted blouse that wrapped around her petite figure, paired with a teal skirt that fell just below her knees and black tights that enveloped her legs.

Truth be told, wearing such feminine clothing was an odd feeling for Saber. Throughout her life, she went the effort to disguise herself as a man to serve her kingdom as its king, so she never truly got to experience what it felt like to dress up like this.

"Well, dinner's up," Shirou said as he emergered from the kitchen, an assortment of foodstuff in hand. Sakura went ahead and helped him set down the items onto the table, finishing the preparations.

"Saber? What's the matter? Come here, sit down and join us," the Master called her over, motioning to the seat across from him.

"I am fine, Shirou. Servants only need a steady flow of magical energy to maintain our existence," she voiced out, refusing the tantalizing aroma that wafted across the room with everything she had.

"But you can still eat, right?" he said. Saber confirmed his assumption, prompting the young man to try even harder to convince her to join them. "Then you should eat. There's plenty enough food for everyone and a half."

"There's really no need," she shook her head once again.

"Oh come on... please?" he pleaded, putting on his best puppy-eyes. At this, Saber gave up convincing him and sat down, her figure shrouded with dignity, which steadily broke as she started wolfing down on her share.

It started with a single bite, then another, and another, until there was nothing left on her plate, leading her to ask for more with an stone-cold yet flushing face. Shirou adopted a grin, appearing victorious.

Sakura on the other hand let out a soft giggle as she watched an entire steak disappear into Saber's stomach, leaving not a parcel of meat behind. Shirou's food had that kind of effect on people, one bitefull is all it takes to hook them in.

Meanwhile, as the trio indulged themselves in a feast, a girl with snow-white hair and amber eyes sat on a bench on the other side of the city, swaying her legs out of boredom. She turned her head, looking inside an arcade place where a dozen or so people were huddled over one machine. Two people sat before the device, their hands whipping across the controls in quick succession. On the screen were two characters locked in a duel, which quickly ended in a one-sided slaughter.

"Another win for me! Who's next, huh!?" The victor, a well endowed woman with long violet hair and unimaginable beauty, shouted challenge. This was her twentieth win streak in less than half an hour, leading to a sizable crowd to form around her, impressed by her skill.

"Haah," the little albino sighed. The woman she was inspecting was encased with divine energy, something she was greatly intimate with, having lived her whole life surrounded by it. She pulled her gaze down, checking the back of her hand to find a Command Seal vaguely shaped like a chariot. Rubbing the symbol, she spoke, her tone one of fatigue, "The Lord seems to like picking weirdos to bless."

First a man with a weird obsession with swords and helping people, now a woman who's first instincts is to enact unfiltered violence on everything. She just hoped it didn't get worse than that.

Suddenly, her tiredness dissipated as soon as she spotted a small shiba inu playing with a black cat by the public park. As she continued to watch, a sense of foreboding arose. From above, she noticed a few birds silently posted on the powerlines. She didn't know why, but it felt like they were keenly aware of everyone around, scanning the people as they went about their day. Meh, it was probably her imagination.

END.​

A/N: I'm currently going through some things, so I might not write for a while.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 18: Reconnaissance.

It was crisp weekday night, and quite an important one for Rin Tohsaka. After school, she went straight home and entered the basement, where everything had been set, then begun the final preparations to summon her Servant. The Tohsaka family's legacy rested on her shoulders alone, and she would need to secure the Holy Grail War to make her father, whom participated in the previous War, proud.

The moon was at its highest tonight and the magical symbols inscribed on the floor was complete. Without a specific catalyst, the Servant she would summon would highly differ from what she wanted. It did not matter, however, all she needed to do was pour a surplus of mana into the circle to summon the Saber-class through sheer force, completely unaware that said Servant had already been plucked by someone else.

She started the incantation, one she'd been studying for the past weeks, all for this moment. Unknown to her, the summoning circle used the red necklace on her person as a catalyst, choosing someone from the Throne of Heroes closely related to it.

With a blinding shine, the ritual concluded, performing its function without a hitch—or at least Rin thought. Opening her eyes, she found… nothing. She turned her head, searching around the room but found not a single trace of her Servant anywhere. Suddenly, a loud boom reverberated from above, shaking the entire building, as if something had crashed into her abode.

"What now!" she exclaimed, her voice one of annoyance. First her summoning supposedly ended in a failure, now her house was getting attacked? What's next? Is she gonna find Shirou cooking dinner for her? Her ascent to the ground floor paused, cheeks flushed. She shook her head, ridding it of any thoughts of the red-haired boy.

Rushing upstairs, she booted the door which lead to the living room open to find the inside of it utterly thrashed, as if a miniature tornado had swept across it. Her eyes narrowed, locked onto the lone figure that stood in the middle of it all. It was a woman of short stature with reddish—almost pink hair that reached their shoulders, garbed in a dress underneath an earthen cloak that masked the majority of her body, along with a pair of long-boots of the same hue. There was a scar on her left cheek which overlapped with her left eye, forcing it shut, leaving only one eye open. Looking closer, Rin realized it wasn't a scar but a symbol—a Magic Crest if she guessed it correctly.

"You!" Rin shouted, sending a mean glare at the person.

"Ah?" the mysterious heroine quickly turned at the magus' call. "I am terribly sorry for the mess, I did not mean to cause such ruckus upon my summoning. It's just that I awakened in the sky for some reason," she explained, her voice a soothing melody. She bowed apologetically, sincerity palpable to the naked eye.

"Well, let's just forget that for a moment. Are you my Servant?" Deciding to ignore the mess for now, Rin looked at the girl. Judging from the amount of magical energy she carried, she was undoubtedly a Servant. Which one, however, she didn't know.

"Indeed," the cloaked woman confirmed with a nod. She then stated, "Responding to your call—I, the Archer Servant, has been summoned."

Feeling a surge of heat spread through her hand, she lifted it up to see a Command Seal shaped like an arrow being etched, glowing red. Then, her mind finally processed Archer's words. "I see. Wait… Archer?"

Rin whipped her head to the side, looking at clock on the wall, then to the cloudless night outside. Everything was perfect, down to the minute details; the clocks weren't an hour in advance today, nor were the equipment she used faulty, yet she summoned a completely different class. That could only mean one thing—someone else already has Saber.

"Haah," instead of getting frustrated by it, she chose to let out a sigh. It was her fault; she was too slow, there's nothing she can do about it now. She turned to her Servant and felt her magic circuits open, pumping magical energy into her eyes, using her ability as a Master to determine their status.

—

Class: Archer.

True name: ???

Strength: C+
Endurance: D
Agility: C
Mana: A+
Luck: E+

Class skills:
Independent action (C)
Magic resistance (B)

Personal skills:
Clairvoyance (C+)
True Mind's Eye (B)
Magecraft (B+)
Veil of light (A)
Miracle (E-)

Noble Phantasm(s):
(None)

—

If she were to be honest, their parameters appeared more like a Caster's than an Archer's. And how does she know Magecraft while also having a Miracle skill? Was she similar Kirei Kotomine, whom utilized the mystic arts despite being part of the Holy Church—a group known to vehemently despise it? Either way, having multiple set of skills was a good sign.

"Uh… why can't I see your name?" the magus asked, eyes squinted.

"It is the effect of my skill 'Veil of light', it prevents others from finding out my True Name. It also blocks all kinds of scurrying methods," she calmly answered. She continued before Rin could mutter a word, "Before you ask, my name would need to remain undisclosed as revealing it would disable the skill. When the time comes, it would be revealed. You may call me Archer for now."

"Okay…" Though a bit bummed out, she grudgingly accepted it. At least other Masters wouldn't be able to snuff it out and figure out her weakness. From appearance alone, Archer seemed to have been from the fifteenth century, but looks can sometimes be deceiving. Then, the magus put attention to something else, her voice one of confusion, "What about your Noble Phantasm? Why does it say that you have none?"

"If it wasn't obvious enough, it is because I do not have one, Master," Archer replied in a dry tone, prompting Rin's eyes to slightly twitch. The Servant raised her hand, pointing at her closed eye, "You need not to worry; I do possess an ability which could be considered my Noble Phantasm. It is my family's Crest, and it is quite a powerful one."

"Oh? And what does it do?" Rin asked, intrigued. So her guess was correct, it was a Magic Crest. As to why it didn't get registered as a Noble Phantasm, it was probably because it was a craft made to be passed down to many people. It would fall under the Magecraft skill more than anything.

"Secret," the cloaked woman replied with a smirk, which irked Rin more than she'd admit.

"What—Why?" Rin sputtered out.

"Secret," she repeated, keeping the same tone as before. This Servant of hers was being quite unruly, should she use a Command Seal? She was increasingly tempted to do so, but ultimately decided not to; it'd be pretty dumb of her to use a limited vital resource for such inane reason.

"Fine, if that's how you want to play it," Rin went to the supply closet, grabbed a broom and dustpan, then threw it at the uncooperative Servant, whom caught it without a problem. "I'm going to sleep. While you clean this mess up," she commanded before walking away, retiring for the night, leaving an amused Archer behind. The pink-haired Servant gave a nonchalant shrug and did as her Master instructed.

And so, the night proceeded without further incidents and morning swiftly came. Sunlight peeked through the windows, landing straight into Rin's face as she slept. She rolled, covering her face with a pillow to block out the brilliant beams. However, her relaxation soon ended; the alarm clock by the desk went off, forcing her to stir from her slumber. Stretching, she groggily went downstairs to discover a neat and clean living room, as if last night's wreckage never happened.

Amazed, she entered the kitchen which was occupied by a tantalizing scent, making her mouth water. Inside was Archer wearing the same brown robe, her hands moving over the counter top with familiarity, preparing today's breakfast.

"Ah, Master. Sit down, I have made something to eat," Archer spoke, noticing Rin's approach. She wiped her hands with a towel and turned around, plate in hand.

"Hm…" Rin hummed, eyes fully captured by the dish. She sat down, utensils gripped, ready to consume. "You know how to cook?" She honestly did not expect a Servant to have culinary knowledge.

"Yes. My aunt had taught me the ways. Mostly because another auntie of mine is quite the glutton. Leave her unfed for a day and she'll drag my father behind the kitchen, never to emerge from it until she's satisfied," she affirmed, reminiscing of her past. The Servant of the Bow then placed the foodstuff down on the table, allowing its delicious aroma to spread across the room.

Without further ado, Rin brandished her tools and slaughtered the divine offerings in front of her. For reasons she could not comprehend, the food reminded her of one Shirou Emiya, who cooked just as good—if not better dishes. Catching herself form such thoughts, Rin's ears turned red. To set her mind straight, she stuffed her mouth with more food.

On the side, Archer watched with an affectionate smile as Rin quickly emptied the table in minutes.

---

[Skill 'Cooking' has leveled up to A - 3]

'Oh, that hasn't leveled up in quite a while,' I thought. Dismissing the screen, I sat down and clapped my hands together before taking a bite of my share of food. Sakura followed suit, her movements graceful and practiced. Saber, though initially a bit confounded by the custom, mimicked us after a moment's hesitation and began eating as well.

Just as the meal settled into a peaceful rhythm, Taiga Fujimura's distraught voice suddenly resounded from the foyer. "Where is Rou? What have you done to her, Shirou!" The sound of shuffling furniture and thumping wood echoed as she searched for the fluffy animal. Unfortunately for her, Rou was currently out in the city, scouting under Sakura's orders.

"I didn't do anything. She's probably out playing somewhere!" I shouted back, letting my voice bounce throughout the room.

"You shouldn't let a little dog like her wander the streets! What if she gets taken by someone—" Her wails abruptly stopped as she entered the dining room. Her gaze landed on Saber, a hint of suspicion flashing in her eyes. "Who's this?"

"This is Selene, a friend of mine. She's going to be staying here for about a week or two," I answered nonchalantly, taking another bite of my food. Taiga exploded with a loud "What!?" which made me wince from the sheer volume. "Calm down, Fuji-nee. What are you screaming about?"

"No-no. This isn't allowed!" she exclaimed. Her eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, her gaze darting between Saber and me.

"Says who? This is literally my house," I retorted.

Taiga straightened her back and crossed her arms, clearly preparing for battle. "Says me! You are not allowed to do anything indecent in this house until you're old enough, Shirou. You know that."

"I am not doing anything what you are thinking of, so stop looking at me like that," I shot back, waving my chopsticks around as if swatting an imaginary fly. Her accusatory look was seriously starting to get on my nerves.

Before we could spiral into another pointless argument, Sakura quietly intervened. With a gentle smile, she placed a whole steak in front of Taiga—a peace offering that effectively placated the rowdy Tiger. Taiga's eyes lit up at the sight, and she accepted the tribute without hesitation, promptly digging in and joining us at the table.

As Taiga gulped down a mouthful of steak, she eyed us with renewed curiosity. "So, there's really nothing going on with you three?" she asked, her tone slightly skeptical.

I shook my head. "Nope, nothing at all."

"Uh-huh. So you're just visiting, Selene?" Taiga asked, her heavy accent butchering the pronunciation of Saber's fake name. She turned her attention to the aforementioned individual, who nodded politely.

"Yes, Miss Fujimura. I was passing through town, and Shirou graciously offered me a spare room to stay in for the coming week," Saber replied, her voice calm and composed.

Her head snapped towards me. "I better not start seeing more girls randomly appearing in this house, Shirou, or I will get mad at you on Sakura's behalf," Taiga warned, her tone half-joking, half-serious.

"There's no need for that, Fujimura-sensei," Sakura interjected with a flustered face, trying to soothe Taiga's concerns.

Though still unconvinced, Taiga begrudgingly accepted the situation, allowing 'Selene' to stay until she was done with whatever business she had in Fuyuki. The conversation drifted into lighter topics after that, with Taiga peppering Saber with questions about her supposed travels and interests, while I quietly finished my meal.

When we finally finished our dishes, we began preparing to head to school. The mopey Tiger went out first, riding away on her scooter, still grumbling under her breath about Rou, demanding me to bring her back safely as she sped off.

"No, Saber. You'll stay here for now." I raised my hand, keeping Saber by the entrance. "No buts. You'd attract way too much attention if you followed us to school. And don't worry, I can protect myself just fine."

Due to her inability to dematerialize, she would have to wait at home. I already knew why she couldn't do so, but I wasn't going to breach the topic unless she was comfortable discussing it. As I stared into her green eyes, I recalled what I knew about her circumstances.

In her dying state, Artoria had made contact with a higher power; in exchange for becoming this entity's agent, she was given a chance to realize her wish by participating in the Holy Grail War. Her inability to shift into spirit form was because she was still part of the living, unlike a typical Servant.

Though clearly unhappy about leaving me unguarded, she reluctantly accepted my decision and stayed behind, waiting patiently for our return—but not before reminding me to use a Command Seal to call her in case of an emergency, as it could be utilized to teleport one's Servant to a Master's position.

"Will do. See you in a bit," I said with a reassuring smile before bidding my farewells and leaving to school with Sakura, then split off from there to our respective classrooms. I was a bit anxious that a Bounded Field would be encasing the school like the original show, but my worries were quickly proven false.

---

It wasn't long until school ended, freeing Shirou from his responsibilities as a teenager. Meeting up and spending time with his compatriots back home, the sun deepened into the horizon.

When night came, Shirou and Saber broke off into two and begun patrolling the city for any disturbances, while Sakura's avian familiars flew high, keeping eye of everything below. While on a stroll that felt no different from any other, Shirou felt the winds stir as a bird dropped down from the heavens and gently land on his head.

"Hey," the redhead greeted the familiar. "Found anything?"

The bird cooed in confirmation before flapping its wings, lifting itself off his head, then flew in a direction with Shirou trailing shortly behind it. The pair navigated through the streets side by side for a minute until they arrived at a peculiar park. Finding himself in an unfamiliar location, Shirou scanned his surroundings, feeling a sense of dread crawl on his skin. As if hundreds of unfortunate souls had cursed this land, an abhorrent scent lingered in the air, making him wince in disgust.

"This is…" the young man briefly paused as if reminiscing, "Fuyuki park, where the last Holy Grail War ended." Indeed it was. This park had a special place in his mind; not only did the previous War conclude here, but also where "Shirou" first woke up for reasons he'd yet to decipher, encased by a whirlwind of flames and death.

Shaking his head clear of any distractions, the redhead resumed his stride and felt a blast of mana come from within. The familiar that guided him squawked and swiftly darted into the night sky to avoid the wave of intangible energy. Unaffected by the initial burst, Shirou turned heels and rushed to the source of the occurrence without hesitation, eventually coming across a pair of Servants casually exchanging blows at speeds that surpassed the limits of the human body. The most eye-catching of the two was a robust male in deep aquamarine, holding a red spear. While the other fighter was a young maiden wearing a brown robe, her clenched fists swirling with magical energy.

Shirou's eyes widened, finding not one, but two familiar figures in the distance. The spearman, if it wasn't obvious enough, is none other than Cú Chulainn. He then turned his gaze, scrutinizing the robed individual. Much to his surprise, her looks was nearly identical to a character from Elden Ring—Melina. The redhead's lips curled into a frown, a mixture of worry and intrigue flashing through his eyes. Was it a coincidence or was something else at play here? Did other characters from other franchises get pulled into this world as well?

The young man tried to use Structural Analysis on her clothes, but found himself stumped. His attempts was blocked by something, an invisible wall that prevented him from pushing any further than he's supposed to. Shirou almost clicked his tongue, but held the urge in lest he accidentally expose himself. As he lamented in his failure to identify the foreign Servant, Lancer placed some distance between them and started a conversation.

"What kind of Archer uses their fists to fight? At least use a weapon. It'll reflect badly on me to fight an unarmed lady," he said in complaint.

"I'm adept with the ways of the blade as well if you're fine with that," Archer offered. Hearing the way she talked, Shirou relaxed ever so slightly. The Melina in his memories did not have a speech pattern as casual as this, but was rather more verbose, like any FromSoftware character.

"Aren't you supposed to use a bow and fight from a distance? You know… like an actual archer?" the spearman commented, reminding the woman of her role in the War.

"I'm a versatile Servant," she returned. Her lips twisted into a half-smile, clearly enjoying what she's doing.

"Why does every woman I meet want to beat me up," Lancer sighed. "I know we're supposed to fight and all, but it's nice to have a proper talk every once an a while."

"Mayhaps if you reined in your womanizing tendencies and remain a loyal partner, your presence would not evoke such visceral reaction from the opposite sex," Archer suggested with a shrug.

"Oh?" the spearman's posture eased, resting the spear on his shoulder. "You speak as of you know me. Do you?"

"Of course, your identity is pretty easy to determine if you know where to look. There can only be one who fits your description," she said confidently.

"Mind telling me? Cause' I think I got amnesia for some reason and forgot my own name." He placed a hand on his chin, adopting a thoughtful expression. "Pretty sure I'm of Italian descent… Mario-Mario or something along those lines."

"Setanta—Ireland's Child of Light. Also known as Cú Chulainn, Hound of Culann," Archer proclaimed without missing a beat, taking her opponent's full attention. "The weapon in your hands is none other than the cursed spear Gae Bolg, gifted to you by the Witch of Dún Scáith."

"Hoh…" Lancer hummed. His rubellite eyes sharpened, reflecting a dangerous glint. "You got me all figured out in that small amount of time, huh? Well, I guess there's no point hiding, I guess."

"Will you not even try to deny it?" Archer asked, curious.

"Nah. Hiding names didn't go too well for me last time," he mentioned, laughing to himself. Then, Lancer tapped into his link with his summoner, communicating via thoughts, 'Master, permission to use my Noble Phantasm.'

'Why? What happened?' Bazett Fraga McRemitz—who was nowhere near the site of conflict—inquired, her voice sounding a bit weak.

'A Servant found out my True Name a bit too quickly,' he revealed. 'I should get rid of her now before she escapes.'

After a moment of thinking, his Master gave him the green light, 'Alright… come back right after.'

'Will do. Can't leave a bedridden lass like you unattended, now can we?' Cú sent back through their connection before closing it. He twirled his spear, brandishing it with both hands. Gae Bolg suddenly released a torrent of bloodlust, sending a cold shiver down the spines of those present. Staring at the Archer-class Servant, he declared, "Nice talk. Unfortunately, you'll have to die here."

Without saying another word, the cloaked Servant raised her arm defensively as a wave of magical energy coarsed throughout her body, bolstering her physical strength by many times.

Meanwhile, Shirou, who was watching the entire scene unfold in silence, trained his sights on the glowing spear in Cú's grasp. He employed Structural Analysis on the polearm, expecting no resistance to come from it—but was proven wrong a moment later. As if he'd sprung a defensive mechanism, his mind turned static, ears ringing, as a vision of a woman with long purple hair adopting a menacing smile crossed his mind, cancelling his magecraft. The sheer abruptness of it all caught Shirou by surprise, causing him to stumble to the ground.

"Who's there!?" hearing the disturbance, the power Gae Bolg was spewing fizzled out. Lancer turned to the direction of the noise, only to discover nothing, as if his vision was blocked by a blurry veil. "Presence Concealment? There's another Servant nearby?" he deducted.

Presence Concealment was the signature Skill of the Assassin-class Servant, so it could only be the aforementioned Servant, completely unaware of the truth of the matter. Archer, more or less coming to the same conclusion, hastily retreated into the shadows on her Master's orders, unwilling to engage in a fight with two other Servants. Abandoned, Lancer was left with no choice but to confront the new enemy.

"There goes my plan to hide my identity. Come on, man. Why'd you have to ruin it?" Bending his legs, Lancer lunged towards the intruder's position with a burst of speed, sending the dirt beneath him flying with each step.

Recovering, Shirou swiftly summoned his bow and loosed arrow after arrow at the Hound, hoping to halt his charge. As the speeding missiles neared their target, they were deflected by an invisible force, missing Cú's frame by mere inches and striking something else entirely.

'Protection from arrows?' Shirou clicked his tongue as he sprinted away. Climbing to a better vantage point, he turned and took a firing stance. This time, however, instead of using Traced ammunition, he retrieved a pair of blades from the Gate of Babylon, each etched with a series of magical symbols, and swiftly fired them at his pursuer.

Expecting the oddly shaped projectiles to be harmless, Cú paid them little mind. But before the arrows could veer off course, they erupted in a blinding explosion that violently shook the surroundings. Lancer's eyes widened as he was engulfed in a net of flames, the shockwave propelling him several meters back. Rolling to a stop, Cú quickly dove for cover, breaking the line of sight with the archer.

Cú Chulainn's skill, "Protection from Arrows" prevented projectiles from making direct contact his body, but it didn't stop the effects of those projectiles—such as explosions or poison-tipped arrows. Different skills were needed to block those.

"Oh, great. First a pugilistic Archer, now a bow-wielding Assassin? Can this day get any weirder?" he muttered, disgruntled. His instincts abruptly screamed, making him leap to the side, just in time to evade another hail of explosives arrows.

Finding another spot to hide in, Lancer bit his lips. He was at a disadvantage here; not only was the distance between them too great, but he couldn't even pinpoint the 'Assassin's' exact location, forcing him to track them by the physical traces they left behind. Using his Noble Phantasm was out of the question; the collateral damage would be too severe. 'This is why I don't like dealing with sneaky opponents,' he complained in his head.

"Uh-oh," he uttered. Farther away, Cú's senses picked up on another Servant rapidly closing in. It couldn't be Archer, who had just retreated, nor could it be Caster, who had no reason to engage in close-quarter combat. That left Berserker, Rider, or Saber, who had been drawn to the commotion.

'Lancer, come back. Don't bother with them,' Bazett's voice echoed in his mind. Though displeased by the current turn of events, he agreed with his Master's decision. Staying here for any longer would only worsen his situation. Lancer dispelled all thoughts of fighting and vanished with a shower of particles, leaving the scene in spirit form.

Meanwhile, the 'Assassin' breathed out in relief as Lancer's mana signature went off into the distance. "He's gone, that's good."

Lowering his arms, the bow returned into a state of nothingness. Saber, clad in her Servant attire, suddenly emerged from the thicket of trees and neared him, shouting in worry, "Shirou! Are you alright?"

"Yeah." The redhead waved in reassurance, putting on a bright smile. "He chased me for a while, but went away as soon as you came."

Lancer had undoubtedly mistaken Shirou for a Servant, leading to what happened. Though confident in his abilities to face a Servant head-on, it'd be better if he didn't at all.

"That was reckless of you, Shirou. From now on, I shall accompany you every step of the way to avoid this kind of situation from happening again," she intoned.

"There's no need to, Saber. I promise it won't happen again," the redhead replied.

"We can allocate the duties of scouting to Sakura's familiars for now. Your protection takes priority," Saber insisted firmly. The plum-haired girl's familiars were remarkably effective. Had Saber not been informed beforehand, she would have dismissed them as insignificant. They were far better suited for reconnaissance than risking an ambush by going on foot.

"I can take care of—you know what, maybe we should just head back for now. We've encountered two Servants tonight, Archer and Lancer. We know the latter's identity, I'd count that as a success," Shirou suggested, not wanting to start an argument with the King of Knights.

Saber agreed with a nod. The two then made their way back to the Emiya residence, where they were greeted by an anxious Sakura. After some conversation, the young girl's worries were eased, and she welcomed them home with a warm smile, creating a peaceful atmosphere.

Seating herself at the table, legs folded underneath her, Saber's mind began to drift. Her thoughts on Shirou—the adopted son of Kiritsugu Emiya—was a complicated one. On one hand, he didn't seem to possess the same cruel mindset as his father; his actions were wholly sincere. On the other hand, he exhibited a subtle adeptness at scheming in the shadows, which made her wary.

Shirou appeared to be an accomplished magus, so him not questioning her inability to dematerialize confounded her. But she had a feeling he already knew… somehow. Having lived as a king, Artoria prided herself on her ability to read people, and her instincts were telling her to give Shirou the benefit of the doubt.

The clicking of ceramic plates broke her train of thought, pulling her back to reality. In front of her was a large feast, prepared with Shirou's and Sakura's combined efforts. Saber shook her head, clearing it of any useless babble, and focused on the meal before her. Everything else could wait for now—hunger was the enemy.

END.​

A/N: I am in absolute shambles; I haven't written in a while and had forgotten how to. This took me an entire week to write.

 

[Dunno.]

Non-Canon extra 2: Parallel mayhem.

It was a peaceful, wintry sunday in Chaldea—well, as peaceful as it can get when it involves countless legends of a bygone era. Let's ignore all of that for now and focus on the important stuff; today was a rather special day for Ritsuka Fujimaru, as he had finally summoned another Servant after wasting a mountain's worth of Saint Quarts (May God rest his soul).

The Servant was a man of tall stature wearing a gray cloak over their lithe yet muscular frame, while a pure-white helmet with two horns protruding from each side encased his head. Through the helmet's eye-holes reveals a hollow visage devoid of eyes, as if staring into the abyss itself.

Currently, him and Mash are giving the new Lancer-class Servant a tour of the place, visiting various areas such as the training room where Cú Chulainn and his parallel selves occupied most of the time, medical bay where Nightingale basically lived, and the dormitories where employees and Heroic Spirits alike retire for the night after a hard day's work.

"Well, there's only really one place that we haven't gone to yet," Ritsuka mentioned.

"And what would that be?" the newly summoned Lancer asked.

"The kitchen, which is nearby—about two more turns," the Last Master of Humanity answered, pointing forward. With a nod, the trio sauntered through Chaldea's muted halls in comfortable silence, until the adorable eggplant kohai decided to ask a question.

"Um, Lancer-san?" the aforementioned Servant turned, waiting for her to continue. "It'd be confusing to call you Lancer since there's already a lot of them around. What should we call you?"

"Yeah. We can't just call you 'Lancer'. Everyone here usually goes by their name, except a select few," Ritsuka chimed in.

"Hm…" Lancer hummed, thinking. "Then I'm afraid you'll have to increase the nunber of Servants who refuse to disclose their name, as I would like my True Name to remain hidden. Though, you may call me "Hollow Knight" for now."

Ritsuka didn't bother asking the reason, there's already a lot of Servants here who kept their identity to themselves. One more won't make a difference.

"Oh… I see," Mash nodded. She then looked at the brilliant spear in his hand and asked, "I've been wondering, why does your weapon look like Rhongomyniad?"

"Because it is the very same one, little girl. It's merely been modified to be more slim," the Hollow Knight revealed without a second thought. The two were shocked at the revelation that someone else apart from Artoria wielded the divine spear, but quickly dispelled their surprise and continued walking. They've been hit with more surprising things before. A minute passed, and they finally arrived at the cafeteria.

"Well, here we are," Ritsuka announced. Nearing the entrance, the door slid open to reveal a rather spacious eatery filled to the brim with hungry Heroic Spirits chowing down on their meals.

As they entered, a voice exploded near the front of the kitchen, "Hey, Copycat! isn't it my turn in the kitchen today?"

"Piss off, Fraud. Can't you read?" the other individual, the 'Copycat', shot back while pointing at a calendar stuck on the wall.

"Says the bitch who can't think of anything original. How about we meet up in the training grounds? I'll show you a technique I haven't used since the Heian era," the 'Fraud' countered, causing the Copycat's brows to twitch in agitation.

"Oh? What's that technique supposed to be? Kneeling down on your knees and using your lips to get rid of my stress?" the Copycat scoffed. "I'm flattered, but I'm into women."

"Would it even matter? You and I, we literally look like cute girls despite being men. We can even invite Chevalier and Paris if you want, I wouldn't mind," Fraud returned with a less than brilliant rebuttal, the corners of his mouth sliding upward.

"Still a 'no' for me—wait, you didn't even deny it." Copycat's face twisted in horror. "Get away from me, you sexual deviant!"

"Stay the hell away from the Malevolent Kitchen, then I'll get out of your hair!" the 'deviant' started pushing the other person away from the cooking station rather forcefully, which was met with resistance. They dropped to the ground, grappling with one another in ways that's unsafe for children to witness.

Meanwhile, a small group emerged from kitchen area, watching the pair's squabble unfold. Minamoto-no-Raikou placed a hand on her lips, giggling, "Uh-oh, they're at it again, it seems."

"Haah…" Boudica sighed. "I don't really know if they're supposed to be enemies or lovers at this point. Are they fighting or cuddling? Also, since when did this place get renamed to Malevolent Kitchen?"

"I think it's wonderful!" Tamamo-no-Mae remarked, watching the two wrestle on the floor. "Aah… if only Husband treated me the same way," she then went off to her own little world.

Ritsuka, Mash, the Hollow Knight, and practically everyone else nearby, watched the drama as well with an amused expression. This happened quite often, so nobody made a fuss about it. They merely treated it as entertainment. The new Lancer Servant stilled, recognition flashing through his nonexistent eyes.

"Ah, sorry about that, Hollow Knight. Those two… well, I don't know why but they keep fighting, but I assure you they're good people. They just can't stand each other for some reason," Ritsuka explained the pair's dynamic.

"For my sanity's sake, who are those two?" Lancer inquired. His sight never left the duo, feeling a spark of connection between them.

"Ah? Oh, the 'Copycat' is an Archer who goes by 'Nameless'. While 'Fraud' is also another Archer who goes by 'Sukuna'," his Master responded. "No one really knows who they are since they kept their names a secret, but some Japanese Servants thinks Sukuna is from the Heian era by the way he dresses and how he keeps mentioning an ability he hasn't used since that time. Nameless on the other hand, we have nothing apart from that he may have been from a time either before or right after Gilgamesh due to how much Noble Phantasms he has."

"They're also the best chefs we have," Mash added with a smile.

"Huh… I see," Lancer drifted off. Nameless and Sukuna continued bantering, arguing who gets to use the kitchen and other pointless nonsense, until another figure came into the equation, breaking them up by pulling the other away.

"There's no need for strife, but rather, show kindness to one another," the newly added person attempted to stop the chaos, wearing a hypnotizing smile on their adorable face as they gazed down on the two.

"And that's Miquella, a Ruler-class Servant… and also another person who doesn't want to reveal their identity," Ritsuka introduced. For some reason, he felt a surge of bloodlust escape the Hollow Knight's form as he took stock of Miquella's effeminate appearance, before fizzling away.

Lancer nodded, glaring at the trio. Nameless and Sukuna, as if their prior rivalry never existed, gave a coordinated nod to one another before tackling Miquella down and pinching his cherub cheeks while tickling his sides at the same time.

"Halt—oww! Cease your actions—unhand me at once!" the pale-haired crossdresser pleaded, eyes watering from their combined might.

To the side, various men and women, both humans and Heroic Spirits alike, grit their teeth in frustration. These people were none other than faithful followers (fanatics) of Miquella the Kind. So seeing their idol, the one who stole their hearts, being treated like that made them angry. But they knew they couldn't do anything, as both Sukuna and Nameless were some of the strongest Servants out here, even besting the King of Heroes. One day… one day those blasphemous evil-doers will feel their wrath for bullying the one and only Miquella.

"Silence, traitor. You gave in to the temptation unlike us," Nameless said, his voice lowering into a dangerous octave. No one really understood what he was saying, but they didn't put much thought into it, chalking it up to his usual unhinged behavior. "Time for some punishment, O' ever wonderful Miquella. Astolfo, go get the rope in my room," he commanded.

"Oh? We're doing that today? Yes sir!" Astolfo gave a cute salute before running off, presumably to collect the item Nameless had mentioned.

"I beseech thee, anything but the rope! I cannot endure such torment again! I shall embrace thee as we rest beside each other. I know thou dost love them!" Miquella shouted rather suggestively, fear evident in his voice.

Hearing this offer, Miquella's followers felt their hearts crack, mind gradually fading into dust, only to reawaken with fire in their eyes. 'That's not fair! That should've been me, not him!' they all collective thought, jealous.

"Can I get a waffle?" another voice interjected amidst the chaos. "Can I please get a waffle?"

"Go get it yourself, you disabled gremlin," Sukuna halted his actions to reply, then went back to bullying and teasing the Ruler Servant who was wiggling on the floor, at his and Nameless' mercy.

"The one that asked for a waffle is the Good Hunter, a Foreigner class Servant. We do not know why but he likes to stroll around in a wheelchair even though he can walk perfectly fine," Ritsuka said, feeling second hand embarrassment from their antics.

"Quite the lively cast of characters Chaldea has. Not a second of boredom, I see," the Hollow Knight voiced out, almost like a whisper. What a wonderful place, Chaldea is.

END.

A/N: Pure randomness.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 19: Ally.

Jumping onto the balcony of a high-rise hotel, Lancer materialized into existence. He relaxed, only to be met with a sharp, feminine voice from the bed.

"You damn idiot!" Bazett shouted, berating him.

"A patient like you should be resting," Cú reminded his Master, shrugging off the harsh comment with a wry smile.

He leaned on the railings, gazing out at the sprawling forest of concrete and glass. For someone like him, such towering buildings were a sight to behold—a testament to how far humanity had come since his time, despite the decline of all that was magical. It also served as a reminder not to get too careless in battle. The humans of today were incredibly fragile due to the lack of mana, a single swipe from Gae Bolg could level an entire building and kill hundreds if he wasn't careful. It was honestly annoying having to hold back, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Inside the room, lying atop a plush bed, was an injured Bazett Fraga McRemitz. One of her arms was wrapped in bandages, the result of a vicious encounter that left her with numerous slashes. She had just narrowly escaped death. After meeting with Kirei Kotomine, the overseer of the War, the priest had betrayed her. However, Lancer, ever vigilant due to the ominous note they had received earlier, easily repelled the man's attempt on her life and made a swift escape.

"Couldn't you have at least tried to hide your True Name? Now two Servants know who you are!" Bazett pointed out, her frustration evident.

"Meh, not my style. And it's not like I told her who I was, she just figured it out on her own," Cú replied nonchalantly.

"Wonderful," she muttered, dropping onto her back and staring blankly at the ceiling. She knew of the dangers this War presented, but it was already proving to be more difficult than she initially thought.

"I know I am, woman," Lancer smirked. He gripped the cursed spear, casually twirling it around his hand. "If I wasn't so awesome, that Archer wouldn't have recognized me."

He suddenly whipped his head to the side, narrowly avoiding a bottle-turned-projectile. The object whizzed past his face and tumbled to the ground below. Lancer glanced down at the bustling street, briefly worrying for anyone unlucky enough to get caught by his Master's ire.

"Shut—up," Bazett commanded, her voice a mix of exhaustion and wrath. She's already been through a lot in such a small period of time, she doesn't need to hear her Servant's prattlings about how awesome he is.

Lancer sighed and turned his gaze back to the cityscape. Truly, Cú Chulainn's life was filled with nothing but violent women.

---

As the sun rose past the horizon, I roused from my slumber and made my way to the entrance, quietly as to not awaken Saber who slept in the room next to my own. On my way there, however, I encountered a groggy Sakura who had just woken up as well.

"Morning," I greeted with a smile.

"Good morning, Senpai," she returned, pushing back a yawn. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yeah. I'm heading to the Temple to talk with Caster," I announced.

"Oh," she blinked, before nodding. She already knew what I had in stock for today, so my words didn't come out as a surprise. Today was the day I meet up with Caster—also known as Medea of Colchis—and hopefully turn her into an ally, or at least not an immediate enemy.

"Don't worry, I'll be back before breakfast," I reassured.

"Ah, wait," she called out, stopping me in my tracks. "Before you leave, my familiars recently found a white-haired girl that looked exactly like Illyasviel roaming around the place. Like you said, she has a Command Seal on her hand—Berserker, if I'm not mistaken."

"I see," I noted. So, she's finally here, huh? That took a while. I just hope our meeting won't be as brutal as the original. "Did you see her Servant by any chance?"

"No." Sakura shook her head. "She either came outside alone or Berserker remained invisible."

"Well, nothing we can do about that. Thanks for the info." I gave her gentle pat on the head.

She accepted my show of affection, then spoke, "No problem, Senpai. Make sure to come back quickly, Saber might wake up soon and get mad about you leaving without her."

Slipping my footwear on, I opened the door and went outside to complete my goal for today. After much traversing, I arrived at the foot of Ryuudou Temple without complications.

With one step after another, I ascended the stairs leading to temple, calm and purposeful. As I neared the gates, I found nothing amiss, worrying me slightly. From what I recalled, a Servant—one summoned by Caster through dubious means—should have been standing guard, protecting the entryway from intruders. Yet, no such guardian was present.

No… something was there. I just couldn't see it. My head swiveled left and right, trying to pinpoint the source of the intense glare I felt bearing down on me, but I couldn't determine its exact position. A short laugh echoed in my mind; so this was what it felt like to be on the receiving end of Presence Concealment? I could see how infuriating it must be for my opponents.

I continued my march, fully expecting some form of resistance from the Assassin. Yet, I passed through the gates without encountering anything. I was certain someone was there, but they chose not to reveal themselves. A creeping sense of unease began to gnaw at me. Had something happened here?

Fortunately, my worries were proven false as a finely dressed Souichiro Kuzuki stepped into my field of view.

"What brings you here, Emiya?" Kuzuki started.

"Ah, sensei. I'm here to talk, actually. It's about certain… developments that's been going on around town," I answered, peeking left and right to get my message across.

"We may want to do this inside, away from prying eyes," he said, ushering me inside the Ryuudou Temple.

The moment I passed through the foyer, a cold sensation crawled across my back. The world fell into a state of maddening quietness, as if every living being on it had vanished all at once; I had entered a Bounded Field, one crafted so masterfully that I didn't even notice it beforehand. Instead of panicking, however, I kept my countenance and resumed my stride.

Right on cue, a familiar woman wearing a casual getup emerged from one of the adjacent rooms, greeting us. Seeing her, a hint of relief flashed through my eyes. Good, she made it here without issues, like the priests had promised.

"A visitor this early in the morning?" the woman said as the three of us gathered around a low table. Her penetrating gaze roamed along my figure, a smile sprouting on her lips. "Oh my, aren't you a cute one?"

"This is Emiya, the student I was talking about with you the other day," the former assassin introduced, motioning towards me.

"Oh? So you're that kid those monks keep mentioning every now and then. The pretty boy," she comments, her interest suddenly waning. "I couldn't help but notice that you seem a little glad upon seeing me. Have we met before, by any chance?"

"We've never met, but I have seen you before this," I revealed. "I'm here to discuss something with you and Kuzuki-sensei specifically."

"Don't keep a lady waiting, boy. Speak what's on your mind," she signaled.

Gathering my wits, I began, "I'm sure you realize by now that I'm a Master, correct?"

"I'd be blind not to notice the Command Seals engraved on your hand," Caster scoffed. "Quite reckless of you to enter another magus' territory, don't you think? What if I do something to you right now?"

"Caster, let us hear what he has to say first before doing anything hasty," Kuzuki interjected.

"Haah," she sighed. "Since you came here with no ill-intentions and an old acquaintance of my Master, I'll give you a single chance. So, what are you here for? to propose a ceasefire, perhaps? Or do you seek to become my apprentice?"

Being a mage that hailed from the Age of Gods, her knowledge of the mystic arts were extremely valuable to the modern world. So it didn't come as a surprise she thought that I was after her expertise. Unfortunately, that wasn't what I was here for.

"None of that." I shook my head. "I'm not here to sign an alliance, but to forge a new friendship that'll extend way after the Holy Grail War ends," I said, keeping my words brief.

"And why should I agree? We are supposed to kill each other, are we not? You're all alone in my domain, I can get rid of you with a snap of my fingers and easily take the Commands Seals from your rotting corpse," she responded, finding no value in my offer. "I fail to see how being your friend could be as useful as having an extra batch of those."

"Trust me, my presence would help you in more ways that you'd think," I argued. "I could even aid you in settling down here, keep unsavoury people away from bothering you. Isn't that what you wanted? To live a life of peace with your beloved?"

Medea's story was one of tragedy, a helpless victim of powers beyond her control. She was forced to love a man she's never seen before—Jason—which lead to her eventually betraying her own family, even slicing her brother into pieces… all due the whims of a certain goddess. The years came and went and her story was passed down from one to another, becoming known as the Witch of Betrayal, ostracized by acts that was no part her fault. But I knew the truth, having seen it unravel before my very eyes in a past life. Her wish was fairly simple—to live a life with her loved one.

"And how do you know that?" she growled, her voice lowering into a dangerous octave. With a crackle of refined magical energy, her Servant gear manifested over her current attire. "If you're here to harm my Master, you will regret it,"

"Caster, calm yourself. There is no need to be aggressive when he has yet to do anything that demands such a response." Kuzuki placed a hand on Medea's shoulder, stopping her from doing anything rash.

Pacified by her Master's pleas, she regained her composure and pronounced, "Speak, boy. Pick your next words wisely as they will determine whether or not you reach the afterlife."

Well, I don't know about that; I'm confident my agility alone could overwhelm her, if not, then the dozen or so Noble Phantasms stored within my Gate of Babylon should be enough to blow this mountain into smithereens. But there's no need to mention that. I was here to make friends, not enemies.

"I promise you that my intentions for coming here is without malice. If anything, I'm wishing you the best." I avowed, unperturbed by her display. Next, I expressed my sincerity by lowering my head. "You've been through a lot, you deserve this much peace and quiet. If I could help it, I don't want us to be enemies."

"So you know who I am, then? You sound pretty convinced," she observed, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Caster did not know how I came to discover her wish, making her slightly distrustful of me. "Yet, despite knowing what became of my legend, you're still willing to befriend someone like me? The likelihood of me stabbing you in the back is pretty high," the Witch of Colchis professed, hoping to plant some doubt into my psyche.

"Trusting you is my decision, proving me wrong is yours." My words left the Witch speechless, even the ever stoic Kuzuki gave a reaction by raising his brows a bit.

After a moment of silence, Medea broke free from her stupor, barkung out a genuine laugh. "The absolute gall of this boy, hah! Had Jason been more like you, maybe he had even the smallest of chances. He knows nothing but talk big words of no essence."

"I suggest we take the offer, Caster. Having another Master, especially someone like Emiya, on our side would do us great," Souichiro whispered to her ear.

"Fine. If Dearest insists," the Servant complied.

In truth, she had been frustrated by the Church priests' constant presence all over the city, which prevented her plan to cover Shinto and Miyama with a barrier that would siphon mana off the townsfolk from happening. Perhaps collaborating with another Master would be a better alternative. Though she would keep her guard up just in case.

"Unless you throw the first blow, I won't incinerate you into ashes. You got it?" Caster warned, before adding, "But don't expect me to act all chummy anytime soon just because of that."

"Better than being met with hostility, I suppose. Thank you," I bowed once more.

"Keep those words to yourself," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Now, do you need anything else or is that it?"

"Ah… well, I was a bit curious about something, if you wouldn't mind answering." Caster kept her silence, waiting for me to continue. "What's up with the Servant by the front gate?" I remarked.

"You noticed that? Quite the eye you have, you're better than you look," she praised. She was impressed by my ability to detect the Assassin Servant despite their Presence Concealment skill making it nearly impossible to do. "I suppose you're entitled to know. I have them on standby in the event of an attack. So don't try anything, boy."

From my recollection, Caster was supposed to summon the Assassin-class Servant—Sasaki Kojirou. But it appears that didn't happen. At the very least, whoever she called forth as replacement to shield her base wasn't some blood thirsty maniac who killed on sight, as proven by them allowing me entry to the temple.

"No worries, I won't." With a nod, I steadily lifted myself off the ground.

"Hmm?" she hummed, seemingly out of surprise. "Not even slightly curious as to why another Servant is guarding my territory?"

"There's no need to stick my nose deeper than it already is," I stated, shrugging lightly. "That's about everything, I shouldn't take any more of your time than I already have."

"Have a safe trip home, Emiya. Make sure to keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary," Kuzuki gave his farewells, advising caution.

"The same could be said to you, Kuzuki-sensei. You know where to find me if you require help. Goodbye." Stepping out of the Bounded Field's invisible borders, the frozen world retained its lost vigour.

---

Artoria Pendragon opened her eyes and found herself stumped. She woke up surrounded by an ethereal membrane, making everything beyond it blurry and nearly unidentifiable. As she looked around the parts where she could actually see, she realized that she was standing in front of the Emiya manor, just outside the gates, but she couldn't remember how she had gotten there.

Her suspicions grew as a quiet clack echoed across the field, and a young boy with red hair, no older than twelve, emerged from the house, determination burning in his eyes.

"Shirou?" she thought, her mind stirring. The child before her was undoubtedly a younger Shirou Emiya. "Ah, I see. This is a Dream Cycle, is it not?" Saber quickly concluded, clearing up her confusion.

Dream Cycles were an odd thing. It was the manifestation of the connection between a Servant and their Master—their bond—allowing one to witness the other's life in the form of dreams. Rare as they were, since Servants typically did not need sleep, the chance still existed. And it seemed she was experiencing one now.

Silently, she followed the young Shirou, finding no reason to look elsewhere. It felt strange; her feet never actually touched the ground, and her steps were lighter than a feather. It was more like she was gliding rather than walking as she trailed the boy.

She watched as he skillfully broke into the Matou mansion and confronted the head of the Matou family in the basement. She found it foolish of him to willingly deprive himself of the element of surprise just to talk, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

"Odd." For reasons unknown to her, some of Shirou's thoughts were blurred, drifting into a cacophony of noise like a broken stereo. Perhaps it was a byproduct of her unique peculiarity as a living being-turned Servant? She wasn't certain.

The atmosphere between them was tense, the boy's intent to kill practically overflowing. So why had he broken in here? Her question was soon answered. It was in that basement that Sakura's fate as the Holy Grail's vessel was revealed, along with the horrific lengths Zouken had gone to in order to torment her. Saber was disgusted to the core, wanting nothing more than to erase the old monster's existence with her blade. Alas, she could do nothing but observe.

To her surprise, Shirou managed to best the old magus in his own domain after a struggle. Impressed, Saber began to see her Master in a new light. If he was this powerful all those years ago, what might he be capable of now?

Soon enough, Shirou left the now ownerless abode and encountered a flock of priests. He quickly brushed them aside and rushed home, where he found a writhing Sakura in her room. In a moment of panic, he rushed to her side and held her with both arms.

As a blinding glow enveloped them, Saber abruptly snapped her eyes open, ending the dream before she could witness the conclusion. She rose from her sleeping position, rubbing her eyes as her thoughts lingered on the expression young Shirou had worn—a mix of victory and great relief, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. His happiness seemed so... genuine.

For a child to carry such a weighted expression… she was intimately familiar with that feeling. Saber looked down at her open hands, lost in thought. Unlike Shirou, however, she had yet to shake the burdens that still weighed heavily on her back.

END.​

A/N: It's a bit rough around the edges, but good enough for me.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 20: Close call.

Rin Tohsaka trudged along an empty pathway, a sigh escaping her lips. She and Archer had been at this for the past hour, scouring a large part of the surrounding area for any trace of an enemy Servant or Master, yet their efforts had yielded nothing. Frustrated, she approached a bench and sank onto it, allowing herself a moment of respite.

Why did Archer feel the need to wake her so early in the morning? She should've been asleep right now, wrapped in a warm blanket with her head resting comfortably on a fluffy pillow—not out here wandering aimlessly. Suffice to say, Rin was never a morning person. At the very least, her breakfast—cooked by her Servant—had been one of the best she'd ever had. Small mercies, she supposed.

"Hey, Archer," she called out, gaining her Servant's attention. "If we started carpet-bombing the city, do you think other Servants would come to us?"

So far, they had only come across one Servant, and the lack of progress was fueling her irritation. Maybe, just maybe, the solution wasn't to seek them out, but to force them to come to her.

"I don't recommend that, Master. There's no need to be impatient, it's only been an hour, after all," Archer replied calmly, materializing beside her in a shower of light.

"I know… it's just—ugh," she muttered, frustration evident as she lowered her head, staring blankly at the ground.

As if the universe had heard her complaints, a cheery voice suddenly erupted from behind. "Hello there!"

Smacked out of her trance, Rin turned around, scanning the other end of the street. There, she saw a little girl with blood-red eyes and hair as white as snow, dressed in a vibrant purple coat with a white scarf wrapped around her neck. But what truly caught her attention was the towering knight behind the girl, standing so still it could have been mistaken for a statue. There was no doubt—the knight was a Servant, and this girl was their Master.

"Archer!" Rin jumped to her feet, her gaze locking onto the pair. Archer quickly stepped in front of her, placing herself between Rin and the potential threat.

The Servant of the Bow scrutinized the knight's imposing frame, feeling the immense power radiating from it. A frown crept onto her lips. Archer instinctively knew she stood little chance against this opponent in direct combat; she would have to rely on her skills and attack from a distance. But she couldn't leave her Master unguarded, so the best option was to disengage.

"You must be Rin Tohsaka, yes?" the other Master began. Rin offered no response, continuing to stare warily at the duo. The albino girl grasped the hem of her coat and gave an elegant bow, introducing herself, "I am Illyasviel von Einzbern, pleased to meet you."

"Einzbern?" Rin repeated, recognizing the name as one of the three founding families of the Holy Grail War. She did not questioning why she was here, as their participation was to be expected. "The sun is out right now, so any kind of conflict isn't allowed."

"Correct," Illyasviel confirmed. Rules stated that combat was forbidden during the day. "However, due to some unforeseen complications, I'm a little late to the event, so I'll have to make up for it right now. Don't worry, this welcome party would only last for today, so try your best to survive." She then placed her hands behind her back and, with a sweet tone that sharply contrasted the gravity of her words, commanded, "Berserker, kill them. Be quick, we don't want to wake up the entire neighbourhood."

Discarding the rules, the towering knight stepped forward, the air around it crackling with power. With each step it took, a deep sense of unease crept over Rin, her body instinctively recoiling from the impending danger. Sensing the threat, Archer's magical energy surged as she prepared to confront the colossal knight despite the slim odds of victory.

Before either side could explode into motion, however, a figure dropped from above, landing with enough force to crack the pavement. The newcomer was clad in a long, earth-toned robe, draped with a red cloak lined with fur at the collar. A distinctive golden helmet adorned their head, crowned with a pair of upward-curving wings.

Both Rin and Illyasviel were momentarily stunned by the sudden appearance, mistaking the figure for another Servant. Berserker remained silent, its massive form unflinching. Archer, however, reacted differently—a wide smile bloomed across her face that went unnoticed.

Illyasviel tilted her head curiously, her red eyes gleaming with interest. "Another Servant? Today must be my lucky day," the tiny murder machine mused aloud.

Rin took a step back, ready to adapt to whatever came next. Meanwhile, the robed figure's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting this encounter.

---

The first thought that came to mind upon seeing the knight was, 'Holy shit… is that the bloody Soul of Cinder? It's even holding the Firelink Greatsword.'

I habitually used Structural Analysis on the twisting blade in its grasp, only for my head to go blank. The sword was undoubtedly a Divine Construct, and judging from how much divinity its wielder was exuding, my guess is that they're a Divine Spirit. But how did the Soul of Cinder get here?

There was something odd about this being, but my mind failed—nay, outright refused to piece the puzzle together. A shock swept through my nerves and my flesh lost its heat as I resumed to scan the knight's metallic frame, forcing me to look away.

Originally, I walking home after talking with Caster, cementing my plan to reveal my role as a Master to Rin this afternoon. But then a massive spike in magical energy suddenly went off nearby, so I had to check what was going on. I was expecting a multitude of things to happen, but this certainly wasn't one of them.

Behind the towering figure was familiar face, one that I've been looking forward to meeting for the past decade—Illyasviel von Einzbern, my adoptive sister. Everything else went away as my attention was solely captured by her. Illya was about to open her mouth, presumably to give an order to her Servant, but I spoke first.

"Wait—wait!" I raised my arms, making a gesture of surrender. "We can talk about this. I don't want to fight you."

"Of course you don't. Berserker is the strongest, after all," she chuckled, before throwing out a guess, "So, why are you interrupting us? Does your Master want to have a chat?"

"Master? No, I am not Servant," I shook my head, clearing the air between us, much to everyone's confusion. With but a thought, my helmet vanished into motes of magical energy, showing my features underneath. "You know me, right? I'm Shirou Emiya. I've been wanting to talk to you for quite some time now, Illya."

A gasp could be heard from behind me, most likely coming from Rin. I turned around, shooting an apologetic smile at her, saying, "I'll explain later, I promise. Just… let me have this for a second, okay?"

The twin-tailed magus wore a complicated expression while staring directly at me, her shock preventing her from speaking out. Archer had to shake her back to reality by tugging on her clothes. Pulled out of her stupor, Rin gave a subtle nod that most would certainly miss, allowing me to do what I needed to do.

"Onii-chan… is it? So I was right, today is my lucky day!" her gaze sharpened. "You've been looking for me, yes? What a coincidence, I've been looking for you as well!" she replied, her voice still soft, though an edge of menace lay beneath it.

"So… uh," I eked out. "Can we talk this over some warm tea and snacks?"

"Berserker, kill him now!" she bellowed, ignoring what I had to say and going straight for the kill. The giant switched targets and resumed its track, trekking ever closer to me rather menacingly. Seriously, Who doesn't find a gigantic hunk of metal slowly approaching terrifying?

"Wait, wait!" I pulled out a small USB from inside the Gate of Babylon, waving it in the air for the little girl to see. I sputtered out in a hurry, "Kiritsugu never left you; it was Jubstacheit who prevented him from coming back! He even left a message for you inside this."

"Liar! He promised he'd come back—it was because of you he didn't!" she rebutted. She refused to believe anything the redhead says, the lies fed to her over the years having already taken root in her mind. She was told her father didn't return because he found another child—Shirou Emiya—leading to her abandonment. Her sole purpose for coming here was to punish him, to make Shirou realize the happiness he'd stolen from her and how much better his life had been compared to hers.

"No he didn't," I denied. "he's been looking for you all this time, but he became too weak to do anything before he could find you!" Unfortunately for me, my passionate yells went unheard.

As the Servant of madness drew closer, I trained my sights onto it and hastily summoned my entire equipment, golden sword ready for what's to come. To my surprise, the knight of cinder's march stopped a meter and a half away from me instead of leaping to attack. The fiery aura around it dispersed, cleansed of malice, and settling calmly like a gentle breeze.

"What are you doing, Berserker? Hurry up and kill him already!" the vengeful albino howled, her patience running thin. The knight defied its Masters orders by extending its empty hand forward, palm facing upward as if asking for something.

"What do you want?" I inquired. The giant answered by pointing at my clenched hand which held the storage device, then pushed its open hand closer as if demanding it. I raised my arm, showing the USB. I reached out, saying, "You want this?"

Berserker accepts the object and spun around, causing its heavy armour to click loudly with each movement. The knight returned to their Master's side before dropping to their knees, presenting the item to Illya how a servant would to a king.

"You… what are you doing? Are you telling me to take it?" she asked, staring at the small object with a look of confusion. To this, her Servant gave a slight nod. Illya reluctantly took the USB off the knight's large hand, inspecting it closely, then turned back to us. "Fine. You're lucky, Onii-chan. But you won't be as lucky next time."

She trusted Berserker, perhaps more so than anyone else; they were Illyasviel's eternal Servant, after all, and would never betray her. If her ever powerful knight thought it was worth while, then perhaps she should give it a chance. Maybe it's nothing at all—a lie conjured up by the redhead to give him more time to prepare. But if that were the case, then her brother would have a taste her unbridled wrath.

Without further incidents, she turned heels and started walking away, shortly followed by her colossal Servant. The echoes of their footsteps resonated before fading into silence, vanishing into the distance. And with that, one Master was out of the way, leaving me one left to deal with.

Spinning around, I dismissed my freshly constructed equipment and greeted Rin with a warm smile, "Uh… hi? How are you doing, Rin? Not too bad, I hope?"

---

"I'm… fine. Not the worst I've felt." It took a moment for her to find the correct words to say. "You're a magus, Shirou? Since when?" Rin asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"I prefer 'spell-caster', actually," the redhead corrected.

Spell-casters were those who practiced the art of thaumaturgy but didn't adhere to the traditional rules of magi. They operated on their own terms, much like Kiritsugu, rejecting the idea of dedicating their entire lives to researching obscure and often unscrupulous branches of magecraft, as most magi did.

"I've been one since… forever, I guess? I started learning magecraft from my father when I was seven," Shirou explained. Though he had learned far more than magecraft from Kiritsugu; the man had even taught him how to demolish a fifty-story building using the least amount of explosives. Quite the lesson to teach a child, isn't it?

"I see..." Rin muttered, her expression slowly morphing into one of betrayal. Never in her life did she suspect him to be one.

Shirou Emiya was one of the few people, if not the only one, she had truly opened up to, having grown fond of him over the years. Shirou seemed to understand her on a fundamental level, seeing through the flawless facade she had put up and encouraging her to be honest with herself. Again and again, from her childhood to the present, he had been there for her. He could be a little odd at times, but his actions always came from a place of genuine care.

"Since you're also a Master in this War, are you here to fight me as well? It's daytime, you know?" she asked, noticing the red Command Seals on his hand. Had it all been a lie? Was his kindness nothing more than a ploy to gain her trust? Rin honestly hoped it wasn't, she didn't know how to react if that were the case.

"What? No—no. You're one of the few people I care about, I do not want to toss away the times we've spent together, okay?" Shirou was quick to deny it. "Listen, I'm sorry for hiding this from you all this time, but please, give me a chance to explain," he pleaded.

"Wha—!" Rin couldn't help but make a noise of surprise at his words.

What followed was a scene akin to a lover's spat, with Shirou profusely apologizing to Rin. His words became a jumble of incoherent ramblings as he drifted off on his speech as Rin's mind was too clouded by her racing thoughts to fully register what he was saying. His casual admittance of what he thought of her caused her cheeks to flush a deep red, and she found herself unable to meet his eyes. Nearby, Archer watched the drama unfold, silently enjoying the spectacle with a gleeful smile.

"There's no need for us to become enemies, right? You know I—" Shirou's following words were abruptly cut off by the twin-tailed magus.

"Just shut up already!" Rin finally exclaimed, and Shirou immediately clamped his mouth shut. Did he not realize how his words were affecting her? She shot a quick glance at him. From the looks of it, he clearly didn't. Calming her pounding heart, Rin asked, "Does Sakura know?"

"Yeah… I'm really sorry," Shirou admitted, raising a hand to scratch the back of his head awkwardly.

"I can't believe it… you've been hiding under my nose this entire time," the young woman muttered. Her next thoughts went towards the well-being of her sister. "Did anything happen to Sakura? She's been acting tired for some days now."

"She's doing fine, and she's not a Master, if that's what you're asking. I wanted to keep her away from the War, but she insisted on helping. Don't worry, I'll be sure to keep her safe," the young man reassured.

"You better. Lying to my face is one thing, getting ordinary people involved in this is another," she vocalized, trying to downplay her worries. Shirou opened his mouth to speak, but Rin cut him off sharply. "Shut it. I don't want to hear another apology out of you, or I'll get angry."

Shirou wisely kept silent, not wanting to provoke her further. An awkward silence settled between them as Rin tried to gather her thoughts. Finally, after a long pause, she sighed deeply and spoke again.

"Anyway, where's your Servant?" Rin asked, her voice softer now. She assumed his Servant might be hiding nearby, ready to intervene if necessary; it would be odd for a Master to venture out without their trusted protector.

"They're back at home," Shirou admitted. "I came here to talk things out. I didn't want to escalate the situation by bringing another Servant into the mix."

"What? What are you doing out here without your Servant, you dolt!" she exploded at his baffling statement. "You landed dead center of everything without protection! You could've been hurt—or worse, killed!"

"I'm confident in my abilities, and if that doesn't work out, I'm confident in my ability to run away," he boasted calmly, causing Rin's face to twitch in frustration.

"Then run away! Don't just stand there like an idiot!" she barked, gritting her teeth. How could he be so reckless? Did he have no survival instincts? It seemed Rin's fears were for nothing—the redhead was still the same idiot she had always known him to be.

"Because if I ran away, you could've been hurt, and I don't want to see you getting hurt," he countered, his voice containing genuine concern, more for her than himself. Berserker was a foe he could not find himself triumphing against without utilizing everything in his arsenal, so the better option would be to run away, but he would never do that if it meant putting someone he cares about in harm's way.

"You insufferable—gah!" Rin cried, running a hand down her face in exasperation. "Why can't you just listen? You're always looking out for everyone else—just once, look after yourself!" Her small outburst, one covered in heartfelt concern, silenced the red-haired teen.

For reasons she could not fathom, Shirou had always been like this—constantly going out of his way to help others, even when no one asked him to. Though it's noticeably less likely to happen now, it still does occasionally. He seriously needed to find a hobby or something. A brief silence fell between them as they both regained their composure.

Breaking the silence, Shirou spoke. "So, um… what does this make us?" he asked sheepishly, like a child seeking approval from an adult. "Are we still friends? After the War, I'll do anything you want for a week, maybe two, okay?"

"Anything, huh?" Rin's her ears reddened as a variety of ideas popped up in her head. 'Time and place, Rin,' she coughed, clearing that line of thought. "I'll put that offer on hold for now, but I won't forgive you for squatting in my territory without telling me, alright?" Rin replied, crossing her arms and sending a mean glare his way. "And whether or not we remain friends… that's up to you. You said you'd explain, yes? Then explain it later, I still have classes to attend."

In truth, she didn't want their relationship to end, hoping for it to continue. He had done so much for her, from their very first meeting to now, and Rin Tohsaka was seriously losing her mind with how much she owed him yet found not a single way to give back to him. She hated feeling indebted to anyone, so the least she could do was give him a chance to explain why he had hidden his identity as a magus. Maybe there was a good reason for him doing so, who knows?

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that. I can pick you up after school. We can talk at my house, if you don't mind," he suggested.

"I'm fine with that. Not like a day would make a difference," she nodded. Seeing his expression shift to one of guilt, Rin quickly interjected before he could say anything further. "I already told you to shut it. I better not hear another 'sorry' from you. I want answers, good answers, later. Do you understand, mister?"

"Yes, ma'am," Shirou acknowledged with a deep nod, prompting a sigh from Rin.

She was tempted to ask about his relationship with the Einzberns, their interactions prior indicated something deeper going on between them, but she would find out in due time. She would take this short reprieve to set her mind straight, having been scrambled after the Einzbern Master's attempt at her life and the sudden revelation that Shirou had been a magus all this time. Besides, this would also be a good opportunity to see Sakura, who she knew hovered around Shirou quite a lot.

With that, the pair of childhood friends exchanged farewells and parted on a good note, their friendship still intact.

Pleased with the outcome, Shirou made his way home. As he crossed the entrance of his house, he was immediately met by a grumpy-looking Saber, who stood silently beside the doorway with her arms crossed beneath her chest, an air of menace surrounding her form.

"Shirou," Saber pronounced, her voice carrying a stern edge that sent a light tingle across his skin.

"Good morning…?" he greeted, a hint of trepidation in his tone.

"To you as well," she replied, her tone polite but firm. She continued, "I do not appreciate you going out on your own. Have we not spoken about this already?"

"I wasn't gone for that long, though. Thirty minutes at worst," he muttered defensively.

"Yes, and in that short period of time, you somehow managed to encounter not one, but three different Servants. You're lucky to have come out of that situation unharmed," she said, her eyes boring into him.

"How do you know that?" Shirou asked, surprised.

"One of Sakura's familiars kept a close eye on you, and she informed me of what happened—including your little stunt to convert Caster to your side," she revealed. "I would have appreciated it if you had asked for my input on the matter."

"She wouldn't have been so welcoming towards me if you came along. Also, Caster had an ability that lets her dispell all kinds of magecraft, including a Servant contract. If she saw you, she might've wanted to take you for herself," he explained, causing Saber's eyes to narrow. Rule Breaker—Medea's Noble Phantasm—was a tricky thing. "And the meeting with the other Masters was purely coincidental. Besides, I even became allies with Caster and secured a meeting with Rin later this afternoon. And if things go well, Berserker's Master might join us too. Isn't that good?"

"While I won't deny that, it does not change the fact that you went out without me—your Servant," she asserted, her tone reminiscent of a parent chastising an unruly child. "From now on, I will join you in your endeavors. You never know what might happen out there."

"Um… I'm sorry for leaving you behind and going off alone…?" the young man voiced out.

"Your apologies, genuine or not, will not stave you off the hook," she shot him down.

"Why do I feel like I won't be able to argue with you on this?" Shirou remarked.

"Because you have no say in the matter, Shirou," Saber declared, leaving no room for him to weasel his way out of.

"Fine," Shirou sighed, accepting his fate.

"Good, you're learning," she nodded, a look of approval on her face.

"Hey, I'm not a dog," Shirou shot back in defiance. After their little chat, the two headed inside to eat breakfast, with Saber more enthusiastic about the meal than Shirou.

---

Beneath a church, a man with golden hair sat comfortably on a resplendent chair that resembled a throne, casually swirling a cup of wine in his hand. He brought the glass closer, taking a slow sip, before staring straight ahead. His gaze, however, was not fixed on the wall before him, but on something far beyond it.

His blood-red eyes shimmered subtly as an image flashed through his mind. It was of a being clad in darkness, exuding nothing but pure hatred for the world. The creature let out a beastly roar, so powerful that it reverberated across the city like the shockwave of an explosion.

Yet, it wasn't the monster that captured the man's attention. No, it was the soft veil of light that obscured his vision, right in the midst of it all. A rarity, indeed—he had only encountered such an obstruction a few times in the past. His skill, Sha Naqba Imuru, allowed him to see possible branches of time, granting him visions of what was to come. And yet, this mysterious shield defied his sight, blocking him from gaining any information about what lay within.

"Interesting," the man mused, his voice echoing through the empty chamber. "This war is shaping up to be far more interesting than I initially thought." It was an unexpected twist, though not quite enough to compel him to take action just yet. Still, perhaps it might provide him with some worthwhile entertainment.

END.​

A/N: 100 thousand words—yay! Welp. Time to go into hibernation.