Shirou, Blade of Emiya

[dxdragon]

Thanks for the chapter!
Hahaha, Saber Face strikes again!

I can see Shirou ending up looking like an Astolfo femboy if nothing is done soon lol.

Will Shirou unlock a Divine Beauty Perk soon? Tales of his beauty will go down in Cu Chulainn's myths
Actually, the skill "Beautiful Appearance" fits him perfectly. The genderless Beauty that confused everyone.

Beautiful Appearance

Beautiful Appearance (麗しの風貌, Uruwashi no Fūbō?) is a Skill that combines natural beauty with clothing, creating an aura (though not the figure) of genderless beauty.[1]

typemoon.fandom.com

Maybe by the time he reached 17-20 he might mature to look like the Male King Arthur from the Prototype?

 

[Flippedhouse546]

At this rate cu will develop a type poor mutt hopefully him meeting shirou raises his luck by one rank for the lols
Oh god that poor world two e rank kickers hanging out for an extended period of time this can only go horridly and I am here for it

 

[Perpetual Tim]

I can only imagine Cu getting summoned in the grail war and seeing Saber, having Saber face as your weakness is pretty bad because there's so many of them.

 

[OverReactionGuy]

Half the opponents will be stunned by the Saber-face alone in the HGW.

Shirou'll need to be careful, otherwise he's one hair dye away from having Gilgamesh, the delusional man, mistake him for his "wife"

Click to shrink...

And one potion away because you know Gil has a generbender potion in his treasure.

 

[Spelloyal]

Thanks for the chapter!!!

No matter, it was something for me to ponder about later.

Click to shrink...

It's nothing too complicated, even a third-rate magus knows that the Aria of a spell can vary from one magus to another, with the most important thing being the meaning. I remember Rin explaining something like that to Shirou in canon.

A Reality Marble's Aria is very personal and this is clear with Shirou using different chants in different routes. It's more obvious in Fate UBW where we have the confrontation between Shirou and Archer's UBW with both being different from each other.

To summarize, you don't need to be a competent magus or have in-depth knowledge of the canon to know that just like the trigger to activate the magical circuits, the Aria of a Reality Marble is something very personal. It surprises me that the MC remembers the whole UBW chant but doesn't remember that Archer and UBW Shirou have Reality Marbles and different chants even though the skill is the same.

If only I could remove the [Saber-face] title

Click to shrink...

Honestly, the problem isn't the face.

Saber spent decades hiding that she is a woman with that same face and we have a male version of Saber in another timeline and some Saber Face like Yamato Takeru who we are not sure of the official gender, but could easily be a man or Aesc who in stage 1 can easily be mistaken for a guy.

The problem is Shirou's effeminate body and the fic itself shows this with others only thinking he is feminine when he takes off his clothes.

 

[CaraMyBeloved]

'No. I will not fall for the temptations, I refuse to become a femboy with every fiber of my being!'

Click to shrink...

Succumb!~

 

[Nai Darkor]

The meeting between those two later on will be absolutely hilarious.

 

[SilverIceRing]

Honestly while some others have no issue imagining it, I actually cannot bring up the image of Shirou as a Saber-faced femboy. It simply doesn't compute. I blame Archer for being too manly.

Got a reference image to add to the extras for unimaginative people like me?

 

[OverReactionGuy]

It's because in addition to being a saber face he's also a saint. So he's a Jeanne face as well.

And god loves Jeanne.

So Shirou with his housewife skills became more feminine since that seems to be what he wants or something god doesn't know. He complains about it then takes care of people by cooking and cleaning.

-edit-

If he ever ends up in fate/zero the caster there would die of a heart attack.

 

[diriatzin]

It's because in addition to being a saber face he's also a saint. So he's a Jeanne face as well.

And god loves Jeanne.

So Shirou with his housewife skills became more feminine since that seems to be what he wants or something god doesn't know. He complains about it then takes care of people by cooking and cleaning.

-edit-

If he ever ends up in fate/zero the caster there would die of a heart attack.

Click to shrink...

Lol imagine Castil Gilles watching Shirou project Luminosité Eternelle; he'd die on the spot from peak fiction

 

[OverReactionGuy]

Lol imagine Castil Gilles watching Shirou project Luminosité Eternelle; he'd die on the spot from peak fiction

Click to shrink...

Nah he would instantly become Saber Gilles and praise the saint.

 

[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.

 

[Enthessi]

So did he take Scáthach's spear with him when he left?

 

[Rmajere]

Thank you for the chapter. I really enjoyed the last quest. Also the new good looks are hilarious.

 

[Mr.Nobody]

Fortunately she couldn't become a Glock Saint as well.

 

[OverReactionGuy]

Cu really spread rumors of a dutiful housewife he trained with.

So did he take Scáthach's spear with him when he left?

Click to shrink...

I hope so it was his right.

 

[dxdragon]

Ha!
Looks like my recommendation of the "Beautiful Appearance" Skill for Shirou worked!
Thanks for the chapter
Any chance we can get some photos of what Shirou looks like now?
Also, a Stat Sheet?

Btw,
'I am the bone of my sword,'
'Steel is my body, and fire is my blood.'
'Blades scatter endlessly before me'
'A nameless soul etched-in history'

Sounds like Shirou is well on his way to creating a brand new Reality Marble!

 

[MorbiIIionaire]

"Fūga (Open)," the red-haired swordsman pronounced, causing a Bounded Field to form,

Click to shrink...

Bro's cooking with his version of Sukuna's Domain Expansion, Malevolent Kitchen lmao.

 

[Monsterboy]

Hm, I'm feeling very negative on the last two chapters, it felt a bit like jumping the shark for the fic as a whole. The power scaling started good, it wasn't a shitty Gamer fic with a godmode MC and he didn't have an easy pass to Servant levels, but he's been power crept so fucking hard by getting tossed into the AoH, getting randomly trained by Scathach without earning it, he randomly creates a A-tier NP out of whole cloth like the Gary Stu he is, and his GoB is increasingly broken and unmoderated by any sort of limitation, he beat fucking centuries-old Scathach at her peak with a mere year of training, when she survived the end of the fucking world in FGO and is partly a fucking divine spirit. All on top of the random sainthood out of nowhere with him having an 'I win' button against any Dead Apostles, and the Armor of Fafnir basically turning him to a Servant in and of itself. Literally everyone wants to suck Shirou's cock, and he has no antagonists left to fight, or real opposition that could actually threaten him, whatsoever, and he's so broken that even if it existed, it'd be boring, because the rest of the cast would just exist to hype him. Like what can Rin, or Archer, or Caster, Kotomine or anyone even do at this point? All of this has made me entirely apathetic to what comes next, since it's gone back to those same shitty elements that the story avoided in the earlier and middle chapters and turned into yet another low-quality power fantasy, bereft of obstacles or problems, or foes of any real import. With quests working this way, you may as well just have gone whole hog on bad system tropes and gone with ID;Create, tbh, because that's what it is.

I mean, much of what makes Shirou interesting is limitation, struggle, and needing to punch up, but that element has been tossed out entirely so he's not a strong mage that can viably fight Servants like Bazett or post-UBW Shirou, or even a low-tier Servant level with a bit more battery to them, but more of an ever-growing hilariously broken Servant that could stomp Berserker Herakles, because Scathach btfos him, and has equally broken NPs without the slightest limitation that he can spam endlessly. Basically, everything compelling here is gone. I was already feeling negative about the sainthood and all the ensuing cock sucking from everyone, but it was still somewhat moderated in reality and it was amusing, but this is now straight-up a crack fic territory at this point, but doesn't present itself as like one.

Shirou forging an A-tier NP is a shitty joke too, AoH and AoM are entirely different scales using entirely different techniques and resources, in an era removed from them, months or even years simply aren't enough, especially without an INT stat existing, and he's likely a fraction of a fraction as skilled and intelligent as even a run-of-the-mill blacksmith of the era. Hell, Cu should be able to stomp him from the beginning, being a modern human is downright crippling all-around, and it's not like he has anywhere near as much fighting experience, while Scathach shouldn't have lost, on any level.

It would have also been far better if he just got tossed into earlier AoH Ireland and went from there, no Land of Shadows Scathach whatsoever, instead of spawning at the end goal, actually having an adventure in and of itself maybe involving Aife, earlier Scathach, etc. and would have even justified beating her. Would have been 50x as interesting. Also, there's an increasing tendency of summarizing dialogue and actions, rather than actually having characters communicate with each other and build relationships, so it feels less and less like an actual story and more of a plot summary.

Eugh, such a disappointment. Went to the same well-worn bottom of the barrel tropes and the MC has godmode, is loved by everyone without exception, and has no enemies or real challenges whatsoever.

 

[*Username*]

Bro's cooking with his version of Sukuna's Domain Expansion, Malevolent Kitchen lmao.

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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.

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totally original (trust me) don't steal, anyways what sounds cooler?:

Dominion deployment: Rancorous Reliquary
Dominion deployment: Infernal Arca

 

[Spearow]

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.

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Shirou is a living sword in the shape of a human, projecting other shirous is the natural progression of his magecraft, its just a sword.

 

[Orchamus]

Lol, to be Shirou is to suffer constant crushes

 

[Spelloyal]

Ha!
Looks like my recommendation of the "Beautiful Appearance" Skill for Shirou worked!
Thanks for the chapter
Any chance we can get some photos of what Shirou looks like now?
Also, a Stat Sheet?

Btw,
'I am the bone of my sword,'
'Steel is my body, and fire is my blood.'
'Blades scatter endlessly before me'
'A nameless soul etched-in history'

Sounds like Shirou is well on his way to creating a brand new Reality Marble!

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Not really, he's always had UBW since it's a prerequisite for using his absurd projections, what he's doing is learning how to use it without cheating with Archer's help or arm.

Of course, because he is not Archer nor Shirou from one of the routes, it is expected that his UBW appearance will be different, but the skills are the same no matter the version of Shirou, although the fact that he learned magecraft and is a saint can enable new ways of using UBW.

 

[Nicohals J Westerberg]

I personally, like where this story is heading. Thanks for the chapter!

 

[trashtaker]

There's no friendship of the thighs here?

 

[UndeadLord22]

Bro is now fated to be a femboy, just as intended

 

[Dunno.]

his GoB is increasingly broken and unmoderated by any sort of limitation

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Huh?

it's gone back to those same shitty elements that the story avoided in the earlier and middle chapters and turned into yet another low-quality power fantasy, bereft of obstacles or problems, or foes of any real import.

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What did I even try to avoid? I gave the MC absurd powers from the beginning.

what makes Shirou interesting is limitation, struggle, and needing to punch up

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First off, this is not the original Shirou Emiya but a self-insert. I do not know why you're even comparing the two. Second, there's this tiny detail you may have missed: the MC can level up.

Scathach shouldn't have lost, on any level.

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Fairly certain I mentioned that Scáthach pulled her punches, utilized barely any runecraft, and only used one spear for their entire fight. Yet even with all those limitations in place, she still pushed Shirou back—hard, forcing him to use everything in his arsenal. He won by employing a combination of unexpected tricks in quick succession.

He did not spam NPs endlessly; he threw one bombardment (which took a lot out of him), used both Atalanta's & Siegfried's weapons after recovering for a bit and that's about it.

 

[xbox432]

Connla

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Yeah, what exactly is going to be happening with Aiffe and Connla? But, eh, I'm guessing this is a whole "different timeline" thing?

Not like my opponents would connect my impenetrable skin to Siegfried, now would they?

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Shirou, you just need to cosplay as Achilles and everything will be fine! Though considering your new skill and hair color, maybe Pyrrha Nikos would be more fitting?

[You have gained the skill 'Beautiful Appearance']

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Cu really spread rumors of a dutiful housewife he trained with.

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Well, other than being hilarious, here's something else I was wondering about. Is... is Shirou that world's version of Uathach?!

Heh, and like others have said, I'm so hoping there is some memory bleedover into Cu's Saint Graph once he's summoned. The reaction he'll have to seeing Shirou again...

 

[trashtaker]

Yeah, what exactly is going to be happening with Aiffe and Connla? But, eh, I'm guessing this is a whole "different timeline" thing?


Shirou, you just need to cosplay as Achilles and everything will be fine! Though considering your new skill and hair color, maybe Pyrrha Nikos would be more fitting?



Well, other than being hilarious, here's something else I was wondering about. Is... is Shirou that world's version of Uathach?!

Heh, and like others have said, I'm so hoping there is some memory bleedover into Cu's Saint Graph once he's summoned. The reaction he'll have to seeing Shirou again...

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From reading this shit. I can't wait when God eventually sends him to a chaldea timeline.

 

[Amber]

From reading this shit. I can't wait when God eventually sends him to a chaldea timeline.

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Finally, SSR. Gacha addict can roll good only with direct help of God, it seems.