All sorts of insults were thrown to him as he was, putting it lightly, being escorted to the flight of wooden stairs in front of him. He was pushed roughly to the wooden stage of planks as he heaved his limp figure and stood up straight. From above, in addition of his towering height of approximately six feet, he could see the look of fury and frustration of the audience.

"Killer!"

"Heartless!"

"Criminal!"

Ironic, seeing as he had been striving for a world where nobody would cry, with now him being accused of something he had never done. They had no way of knowing the truth as they were blinded with prejudice. No, he had never instigated the war that had happened. However, no word would do him any better, so he just scanned his steel grey eyes over the audience with unreadable calmness. A few people were taken aback of this, but the one from the back could not confirm anything as they shouted and shouted.

"Just kill him already—"

"Silence!"

The sea of chaos stopped at the roar of the general. He stepped in the midst of the previously-unruly crowd and they parted to make way. When he reached about one feet from the stage, he locked his eyes to the steel grey, and a moment of silence reigned over the execution spot. However, it immediately stopped as the general threw his head on laughter. It was the only sound in the sea of crowd. He tamed his laughter with a smirk, still setting his eyes at the cuffed man on the stage.

"How's the accomodation faring here?"

Certainly, nobody had expected the question poised to the criminal by the general in charge of his hanging. And what hapened next was unprecedented as well.

"Why," the cuffed man humoured the general, with a smile uncharacteristic of someone who knew that he was going to die at the hands of the man he was talking to. "It has been a while since I could sleep this well. I sincerely offer you my thanks, General."

The general once again roared in laughter and settled himself to his position. He looked again at the man, and certainly, for a criminal, he had quite a sense of humour.

He was Shirou Emiya, the man who had 'instigated' the war in the country. Apparently, he was sold out by his own comrades for unknown reasons, though it could be simplified into fear of his own wellbeing. His white hair almost covering his eyes, beneath the loose rag of clothes for criminals was tanned and well-toned body with scars spread everywhere. In addition to his steel grey eyes, those features should not have belonged to an Asian such as himself. How he had gained such white hair while being younger than he was perhaps about ten years he did not know, but certainly it had not been that pleasant of sunshine and unicorns.

However, what unnerved the general the most was the fact that the Japanese man had been very calm from the start—from when he was caught, interrogated, and being. told of his comrades' betrayal, he had taken it easy as he only closed his eyes for a moment and acknowledged it. He had been so cooperative that he might have doubted the man being the instigator of the cruel massacre if only he hadn't admitted of his crimes.

Actually, rather than admitting it, he just explained of how it all happened. It was as if he had told him to report the events. He certainly knew what happened, and while he hadn't said anythinwg of his involvement, the depth of his knowledge held a certain evidence to his involvement.

Returning from his wandering thoughts, the general walked to the stage and went to his side, signaling the soldiers to prepare for the man's sentence. As they secured the rope connected to the low ceiling to the tanned man's neck, he stepped up to him.

"Any last words, young one?" Speaking with the serious tone that lacked of his previous humour, he was now a soldier preparing to sentence the criminal in front of him.

Instead of answering, the man called Shirou Emiya just closed his eyes and lifted his head towards the monotone-coloured ceiling. When he opened his eyes, it was not a pair of the previous unnervingly-calm and cold steel grey eyes but a warm pair filled with both good and bad memories dear to him.

Then he smiled as he closed his eyes once again and lowered his head, speaking softly to no one in particular, "Maybe this kind of end is not that bad."

And so, the man named Shirou Emiya died that day with a peaceful smile on his face. His ideals betrayed him as they had betrayed his alternate future self. But the again, this was the path he had chosen, no, the only path he had. His comrades were afraid of him, afraid of how he would choose the death of the few to save the many. They feared that when the time came, he would even kill them for the sake of many. That was what brought him to his end, and yet he didn't despise them. He was prepared for whatever this path takes, and this kind of end was better rather than being a Counter Guardian, the beast of Alaya.