Chapter 1: Breaking Point
For as long as I could remember, I've always wanted to be a Hero of Justice.
A young boy wearing a hoodie was seen walking through a burning landscape filled with screams, cries, and pleads for help. Arms were reaching out for the young red head, desperate for the child to save them. Yet, their owners voices' soon turned cruel and spiteful as they were ignored by the child who could only walk.
I wanted to be able to save everyone-
The people then hurled and spewed out curses as the boy trudged on, empty of everything that made him human. The child's gaze remained devoid of comprehension as he continued to walk away from a painful death.
- no matter the cost.
It was all the boy could do to survive in this Hell scorned even by its creator. What more could have been asked from such an empty curse? All of the child's progress was witnessed under the gaze of a black sun.
...
As time passed, my wish solidified into an ideal.
The boy, now a teenager entering high school, watched the people that went by him everywhere as their lives dictated. Some people going to firms, factories, and bakeries, while others where on their way back home. All of whom where, on a certain level, happy with their lot in life.
Sure, a borrowed ideal it may be, but an ideal nonetheless.
With no direction beyond what he had been left, the teen walked away from the peaceful moment. Then, everything caught alight.
I wanted to pull someone out of that Hell
In only jeans and a long sleeved white and blue shirt, the teen walked through the burning rubble. Ignoring the fire that descended from the Heavens, he continued to walk forward, resolute in finding someone, anyone, in this nightmare.
I wanted to smile like he had upon finding me, like I had saved him.
...
The dream is over once the dreamer wakes up.
Slightly older, the young man is almost cut in two from the gray skinned behemoth carrying a white haired girl who should be in elementary school.
No matter how sweet the dream,
Not liking his odds in surviving this war, the teenager gave up his rights as a participant in order to protect those that would've come to harm from association.
The dreamer must-
All of which was for naught as the child dragged the teen's barely functioning body through the woods, denying Death from claiming his soul.
-wake-
Only to further damage, break, corrode, and defile her, "brother," in body, mind, and spirit in ways only a magus can.
-up.
...
Who creates the Monster, I wonder?
Legs are twisted beyond saving, yet they remain attached, unlike the teen's left arm after the girl's Servant failed to breach Caster's defenses before two other masters did the job for it. She mostly removed his arm for not reacting to the multitude of cuts that decorated his torso after having removed the gift the teen's savior had granted him long ago.
Was it the people?
She also removed the arm in frustration for not feeling the Servant's passing, nor the fake one's in Caster's employ. The girl also removed one of her brother's finger's once Assassin's demise came to light, thereby confirming that something else was absorbing the Servants.
Perhaps individuals?
As she departed to rest for the day, the body continued to stay still. Not once having moved from its position on the cold, stone floor since being dumped there days ago.
Regardless...
The orphan was, once more, an empty curse.
A Monster is born all the same
...
The living corpse laid still as another piece of the ceiling fell and shattered on the ground.
Illyasviel couldn't be happy about the Masters and Servants wrecking the castle, it thought, paying no attention to the door that remained open since the castle's walls started to crumble.
They went the wrong way, again, the corpse noted that the intruders grew closer to his position as the mana from the castle continued to trickle into him, finally reattaching its arm after Illyasviel ran off to greet her guests.
"Nee-San, that door is wide open. Should we check it out?" The familiar voice drags the corpse's attention away from watching the castle's mana deplete as footsteps draw closer to the dungeon door.
Oh well, it mentally shrugged. Stopping the castle from draining for a moment, it, "watched," the two female Masters enter the room, shortly followed by three Servants. Curious about the new faces before its hidden form, the corpse drew on their mana, and took...
SakuraRin$aberRi[)er4rch3r
...
"Ugh... Sempai..." Ms. Matou laid down on a bed before 4rcher, waiting for him to take the first $t3p.
Huh? What is-?
Archer locked lips with her while Rider stood outside the room, keeping an eye out while her Master replenished her mana from supporting Saber and herself.
Why am I...?
"Saber." Pulling away from Archer briefly, Ms. Matou turned to face her blond Servant with a demure smile on her face.
"Care to join Sempai and me?" The King of Knights blushed befo-
SPLUNK!
The sudden pain of a blade piercing his torso was enough for the corpse to cease all activity to avoid further injury.
"What the Hell Archer! You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"While you and Sakura were ransacking the room for info on Illya's whereabouts, I noticed the mana being leached off of you. Hence," the tanned Servant gestured to the sword still embedded in my hidden form to his exasperated Master.
Feeling the bounded field around me come undone, I ceased all bodily functions to appear just like my appearance suggested.
A, "fresh," dead corpse.
"..."
"...sempai..." I, "watched," Ms. Matou stare at me for a second before running back into castle's hallway. Ms. Tohsaka said nothing as her comrade left, nor did she react to Rider and Saber leaving to pursue their Master. She just looked at me, like she were, lost, for lack of a better term.
Regardless, ignoring the Master and her silent Servant, I dove into the plethora of memories, curious as to their relation with a corpse like me.
...
I felt pain
My footsteps where the only ones that could be heard in the empty halls as I limped toward the sounds of fighting. My progress would've been nonexistent if it weren't for the blade that assh0l3 left in my chest. The weapon made a decent cane if nothing else.
I felt loss
My name, was Shirou Emiya. I was found in the aftermath of the 4th Holy Grail War by Kiritsugu Emiya, a participant of that war. He died two years later, giving me a dream to follow before he passed.
A dream that led to me currently absorbing every last drop of mana in the Castle that my $ist3r erased me in.
I felt wrath
My skin felt like bursting despite using whatever it could to twist and pull my body back into use, so great was the amount of mana that kept piling up. Regardless of the agony, I kept walking forward, drawing ever so closer to the battle between Berserker and the others.
I felt venomous
And I knew what, exactly, to do with it all.
...
Useless...
As the castle crumpled all around my cold body, I was tortured with the knowledge that everything was for naught. By the time I had arrived in the courtyard, Berserker was starting to dissolve as Archer picked Illyasvi3l up.
Useless..
I had the hand not clutching the sword rise up, palm facing them, ready to combust all of the air in the room before I felt PAIN.
Useless.
My skin was bursting, ripping, twisting, and more while the castle, slowly but surely, gave out. My left eye had ceased function as soon as I caught sight of them escaping. After which, I fell down a flight of stairs.
As the ceiling dropped down on me, all I thought was,
Fuck. You. EMIYA!
AN: Sorry for the lack of content I've been releasing, I was enjoying a long break from work and didn't feel like doing anything. This idea has been on my mind for awhile and seeing as how I'm the one who issued the challenge, I'll be the one to set up the premise of this Shirou. Hope you enjoy.
EDIT: Had to fix some issues with the sections.