Shirou Emiya was a young man that wanted to be a hero; someone who lived an ordinary life.
"Onii-chan, wake up." A small girl with white hair and red eyes poked his stomach.
Shirou looked at her for a moment, blinked, then went back to sleep.
"Wake up!" She yelled and kicked him.
"Ow!" He rubbed his side. "What was that about?" As far as he knew, he didn't have a sister. "Who are you?"
In his mind's eye, it appeared. A web woven from countless strands of green threads. He imagined several igniting. That was his trigger, and five magic circuits came to life within him.
"I'm sorry." She gave him a small curtsey. "I didn't introduce myself. I am Illyasviel Von Einzbern and this is my servant Berserker."
And then it appeared. It was in the shape of a man, but incredibly muscled and standing at least ten feet tall, with steely skin and differently-coloured eyes: one red, one yellow. A long black and gold shroud was draped across the back of its massive frame. Around its neck dangled a necklace with three canine heads attached to it, the eye-slits burning balefully as they jangled with each movement. In its hand, it held a giant butcher's weapon, a crude and primitive weapon fashioned out of dark green rock into some kind of axe-sword.
He instinctively grasped the strange weapon, the structural composition of it flowing into his mind.
"My servant is the greatest hero in Greek History, Herkules." She crossed her arms and held her head proudly. "Be proud to know such a hero will claim your life."
"Illyas-" Shirou started.
"Just call me Ilya, there is no need to be formal now."
"Ilya, why are you doing this?"
"Don't need to be coy, onii-chan. We both know this was going to happen sooner or later. I promise you that your death will be quick and I won't go after any of your friends. Just die peacefully knowing that. Now, this is really the time you should start running."
"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"
As if on cue, Berserker screamed and bellowed at him like a mad beast. Shirou bolted up, reinforcing his legs to the limit as he ran. A crash made him dodge to the right just as a gigantic mass of roiling death and doom swept past at bullet speeds, smashing through walls like cardboard and tearing the floor to pieces. He ran towards the shed, hoping that he might find a makeshift weapon.
No time, for the giant was far faster than him.
Judging the concept of creation
Hypothesizing the basic structure
The ground shook, and Berserker was right there, with Illya watching from the side.
Duplicating the composition material
Imitating the skill of its making
I expected more from you." the little girl told him. "Berserker, kill him."
Sympathizing with the experience of its growth
Reproducing the accumulated years
There wasn't enough time to complete the last step
Berserker's axe sword met its twin, and shattered it, the impact launching Shirou into the shack.
Shirou groaned, coughing out blood, vision blurring from the impact.
The chunk of rock descended.
He didn't want to die, for he had yet to become a hero like he promised his father in his last moments.
The entire web of nerve-circuits within him blazed into an inferno as they flared and channelled prana through his body.
It hurt, like the Fire all over again, but he endured and pushed out with all his might.
The world flashed white.
With a resounding crash, the axe-sword was stopped by a blade of wind and a crimson spear.
Two fists smashed into Berserker, blowing him away.
A hail of arrows and searing blasts of light assaulted him, though only some were able to wound him.
Illya wanted to scream in frustration. It wasn't fair! Onii-chan was supposed to be weak! Easy to kill! Not some kind of prodigy that could summon seven servants!
Her eyes narrowed. 'Is that why you abandoned me, father? Because I was too weak?' Out loud she said, "Berserker! Retreat!" A pause, as the mad servant vaguely considered continuing the fight. But then her safety came to his mind, and he turned and ran, stopping only to gently carry her, then leaping away as fast as he could.
As they left the seven women turned to one another, visibly at ease, but mentally prepared to sprout into combat at a moment's notice. They were servants, and they were meant to fight and kill each other. They were never able to be fully at ease around their kind, even during alliances.
After a short moment, they turned their attention back to Shirou.
"Are you my master?"