Fate Prototype
[One-shot]
More Than Meets The Eyes
He stood alone with his mighty foe.
Their battlefield was the carrier-ship, the USS Reagan, that was anchored near the soon to be nuked Manhattan Island.
The foe was a monster, a parasite, a mutant, a hunter. It was the only thing that prevented him from safely deactivating the time-bomb which would kill millions of human life and wipe an entire city off the map if it were to be detonated. He could not let that happen, he would not allow it, not while he could still stand and fight.
It roared and swung its arm at him but he merely rolled to the side and delivered a rib-breaking punch which caused the hunter to momentarily stagger.
"I WILL BREAK YOUR SPINE AND DEVOUR YOU."
The hunter's monsterous arm tore in the floor of the sea-faring vessel. Its tentacles squirmed beneath the surface and snaked their way to his location. He jumped out of the way as the writhing and impaling appendages wildly broke through metal.
No one was here; everybody had either abandoned the ship or had already been devoured to feed the foe's biomass. No one was watching their battle and time was slowly running out.
He had no reason to hold back any longer.
He materialized a blade through magic; a forgery that was almost as powerful as the real thing. And more. And more. And more. His magical blades filled the air, their sharp pointed and deadly ends aimed to skewer the hunter.
"I AM THE APEX PREDATOR."
The swords flew and stabbed the beast like a pin-chusion filled with needles.
"BUT I SHALL BECOME THE PINNACLE OF LIFE AND EVOLUTION."
It easily resisted, ignoring the superficial wounds, and charged with its ten-foot tall body.
He called forth a sword, ducked low, and slashed at the parasite's incoming leg; he tore through skin and muscle, bones and ligament, but that was not enough, he knew it was not enough for the hunter could regenerate from such shallow wounds.
He turned around and filled the sword with prana - he broke the sword - and threw it like a javelin, it sunk in deep into the monster's chest and exploded with devastating energy.
Smoke blinded him for a moment.
Tentacles struck out from the epicenter and pierced into his flesh, digging deep into his arms and legs.
"I SHALL BECOME WHOLE!"
The two of them were out of time, they both knew it. He needed to kill the monster to disarm the bomb and it needed to devour him to survive the explosion.
This was the moment, the time to struggle, now they had to unleash everything they had to defeat the other.
He could not win like this. He treated his opponent like a human, as though what could kill a human would kill the hunter as well, but that was clearly doomed to failure. His opponent was merely a sentient parasite.
Then was it not time for him to stop fighting like a human as well?
No one was here, no one was watching, all that were left was but him and his foe.
There was no point in hiding it anymore.
Swords broke through his skin, erupting like a viciously blooming flower, the copious amount of steel stopped the invading the tentacles from connecting any further. His blood boiled, his hidden mystery killing off the miniscule infection corrupting his body. His body hummed, heating up from his use of magic, anyone who touched him would think he was unbelievably feverish.
It was brutal, it was painful, but it didn't matter, he could take this. He had suffered worst and this would not break him. His mind and willpower was steadfast.
His feet kicked off the ground and he pounced on top of the hunter, his sheer weight and strength bought the monster down onto the ground. Swords spawned off his legs, implanting themselves firmly into the steel floor or into the flesh of the mutant, so that he could not be easily thrown off.
His fists was metal, his fists were swords. He mounted himself atop the fallen parasite and punched and punched and punched and punched and punched. He carved out meat and flesh with every heavy hit.
It tried to invade him, tried to sink its tentacles beneath his skin, it stabbed him everywhere and anywhere that it could find, but it could not break through his armor of interlocked blades. It did not, it could not comprehend, that he was the bone of his swords.
He beat the thing and kept beating it until only a dismal amount of biomass was remained from its shoulders and above. Then suddenly the creatures chest burst open as a thick pillar of appendages hit his chest, trying to force their way into his being, tearing through his pectorals.
"I SHALL CONSUME YOU!"
His form briefly flickered, changing to a hooded man with deep cold gray eyes before quickly reshaping to his current appearance of a graying red-haired man with equally frigid gray eyes.
He growled and raised his two claw-like hands, ten fingers, five swords in each, all brimming with prana and ready to unleash their punishment.
"Eat this!"
He slashed and ripped into the hunter's abdomen. The monster roared as it was cleaved in two, its flesh burned beyond recognition, and now it was nothing but a bloody smear on the ground.
The fight was now over.
With nothing left to try and kill him, he safely deactivated the bomb that was deep aboard the USS Reagan.
[~]
He had come to Manhattan to save lives from a bio-terrorist.
Instead he had discovered hell and then went out to search for the truth.
He had fought with the Blacklight Virus, he had fought with the Redlight Virus, and he had stopped Blackwatch from lighting the city aflame.
But his job was not done, for he had dedicated his life to saving others, as the city was still crawling with a cancerous infection.
He closed his eyes and he heard the screamings of hundreds echo throughout his mind. It was not even a fraction of the pain he experienced from All The World's Evil. But he paid it little heed because there was still work to be done.
He slicked a hand over his hair and snorted.
During the course of those events, he had become less than human yet something more. Even though his powers were less than humane, he was still perhaps - in a way - closer to becoming a Superhero, an Ally Of Justice, than he was before these events. Some would call it a curse but he considered it a blessing. He would suffer for it but that didn't matter, it would assist him in saving many more lives than he was ever capable of before.
He stared at his reflection and then mused to himself.
'My name is Shirou Emiya and I am the King Of Fakers.'
Author Notes
Thanks for reading this rather short one-shot!
If anyone wants to adopt (or do whatever) to this idea, then please feel free to do so.