On Steel Wings

by kujikiri21

Azazel. Governor of the Fallen. Sacred Gear Scholar. Sex machine. A Father of a lost son. He had lost his red-haired son years ago on that horrible day to the Dimensional Gap. What if he returned? DISCONTINUED/BEING REWRITTEN

2. Chapter 2

On Steel Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay Night or High School DxD

Author Notes:
Okay folks, I have heard more than enough. Many of you have written complaining that I have pretty much written off the Nasuverse elite as chump change against DxD. On further reflection, I think you may have a point, but I still believe that DxD are enourmously powerful (Ophis, Great Red, the Ten, Sirzechs (true form) and many others). So, in order to end this debate, I will call it down the middle. The elite in one world are equal to the other. Period. No changes. This may gripe some of you lore-mongers and Nasu-purists but I am trying to make it fair. I also take back that Raiser comment, it was in poor taste and I apologise for it. If any of you out there still want to fight out which verse is stronger, keep me out of it. This is Fanfiction. Nothing is ever exactly like canon, otherwise we wouldn't have good stories and they wouldn't be fanfiction in the first place.

Also, despite arguments against it, I am placing Types on equal ground with Great Red. I am pretty sure not much is touching them in either lore except for specially designed tricks (Black Barrel, Samael the Dragon Eater etc). This is my final word and I will hear no more flames about it. If you have problems with this, the Back button is on the top left and the Big Red X is on the top right, feel free to use them.

Lastly, as a warning to you all, as Shirou's birth is different than what it was, the Fifth Holy Grail War will not follow any definite route. It will be a mish mash of the various routes but focused on Heaven's Feel, along with some original scenes, that will create the back ground of this story. This story will have flashbacks and will explain the past in the thoughts and musings of the characters.

Now on with the Show!
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Chapter 1

It was a peaceful night in Fuyuki, cool enough for comfort and warm enough to not need a coat. A slight breeze blew, not letting the air stifle. The clouds were absent and the moon, round and full, cast it's weak silver light on all below. The sound of a great bell in the distance marked the hour. It was, in all, a night to enjoy for the many who lived here.

But, for a small group of people, it was a night that would not be forgotten, full blood and horror.

Flap, Thrum, Flap, Thrum.

The sound of massive wings flapping, dragging their owner through the air, could be heard, if these unknowing folk had focused.

" When I get my hands on that piece of worm shit," a male voice growled, interspaced with the movement of his black wings through the air, "death will seem a sweet release."

"Only if you get him first," a female voice, lyrical and musical, answered over the sound of her mount's wings, "I still have a debt of blood to pay to the filth."

The male voice rumbled in discontent, his steely golden eyes glancing over at the blindfolded female, "you could kill him," the winged male concurred with a bob of his head, "but you can't make him stay dead," the air generated by his flight caused the shoulder length red hair, flecked with white, to flip about his face as he shook his head, "no, it would be best if I took care of him."

The rider huffed her discontent, leaning forward along her pristine mount's neck to give a pat, "I don't like it." she said bluntly, "Sakura is my master, I should be the one to help her."

"And she is my dearest friend," the male responded quickly, "I honestly don't care who saves her, but you are not the best one suited to fight the piece of shit. I am."

"And what of the Kings?" Rider retorted, her purple hair flying in the wind, "I may be a Servant of some power, especially with you killing that filth Shinji when he forced me to activate Blood Fort Andromeda and allowing my contract with Sakura to return. I could maybe defeat Saber but the King of Heroes is not someone I can defeat, even on my best day."

The winged man snarled slightly in remembrance of that arrogant murderer, the one who had killed Saber, only to allow the worm to resurrect her in a mockery of a form. The same would have happened to Rider had he not managed to heal her with the Avalon within him. He wasn't entirely sure why a King with such pride would suffer the existence of this mockery, but he honestly didn't care.

Gilgamesh and Zouken would die this night, this he swore.

Saber will be freed of her torment, this he believed.

Sakura will be saved, this he knew.

This was his will, his drive. His desire.

"Saber we should be able to manage," Shirou said carefully, pushing down his rage, "the Saber we knew is dead and gone, replaced by this black puppet. It may be a little stronger, but it isn't as fast or agile, nor does it have the defence of Avalon. My guess, it will be stationed as a guard until Zouken can complete the rite. They already have the White Grail when they killed Ilyasviel and tore out her heart. If they can extract the Black Grail that Zouken implanted in Sakura, then, with the addition of the power of the Servants that have already fallen, they will not need to kill the rest of the Servants, ie you and True Assassin, to activate the Greater Grail due to the build-up of power from all the unused wishes in the previous wars. At least, that is what Rin thinks."

"And Gilgamesh?" Rider quietly inquired, digesting the rather disturbing information she had received.

"Right next to the worm. Arrogant and hedonistic Gilgamesh may be, but he isn't stupid. He will be right next to Zouken to ensure the old sand-worm doesn't pull a fast one."

"It makes sense," mused Rider as the ground and city rushed by below them, "each of their goals are similar, to a point, from what we know. It would only be at the last moment that a change would be needed. Gilgamesh wants nothing more than to erase the world and rebuild it from the ground up and Zouken only wants to see someone once more, each of them requiring the Grail."

"Precisely," Shirou affirmed, "It is also likely that Assassin will be lying in wait either with the remnant of Saber or around the other two," Shirou smirked a little, sharp and harsh, "but he will be a non-entity. His little heart trick will only work on humans, something that I am not, at least entirely. This will force him to fight on similar grounds to myself, in muscle and blade."

Both of them smirked at each other for a moment. Both of them knew that if Assassin faced Shirou on his own ground, he would be dead before a heartbeat had passed.

It still shocked Rider that a being so similar to those in her original time, a true demi-being, was around in this day and age, despite the decline of Magic and loss of the Age of the Gods.

Golden eyes sharpened slightly as they locked on to their destination. It wasn't far now.

"Get ready," Shirou warned, as he began to lower his altitude to land, "we aren't far now."

A understanding nod came from the rider of the beautiful pegasus.

As they both circled to land, Shirou couldn't help but grimace in distaste, "Why Gilgamesh and Zouken had set up shop where Caster was defeated by us, I will never know. I honestly thought he had more pride than to use a Temple, given his dislike of the gods."

The two sharply banked, bringing them close to ground, before flaring their respective wings and landing with a soft pat and a gentle series of clops.

Rider swiftly dismounted before banishing her mount back to the World Within and joining the now unwinged man in his staring up the long series of stairs. Their sharp eyes, beyond any humans, could faintly make out the shape of person at the top of them, standing firmly in the middle of the great red torii gate. Even from where they were, all the way at the bottom of the stairs, they could feel the unrestrained malevolent power of the being above them, reflecting the blood stained and blackened armour the duo could make out.

Rider was somewhat unnerved by the raw power coming off the existence above them, "Any particular reason we didn't land closer up there?" she asked, in order to hide her unease, even as she let her chained nails appear in her grasp.

"Bounded field," he grunted as he calmly made the first step up the long stairs, "It won't allow any being, spiritual or physical, enter the grounds except by that gate and those stairs," Shirou fiddled with a golden coin attached to a fine golden necklace around his neck, "Caster should really sue for copyright over this," he joked with a huff.

"Your sense of humour needs work," Rider responded dryly, a step behind the young man.

"I'll work on it if we survive," he said grimly, his firm stride bringing up the stairs to his goal.

Whether he would succeed or fail, is up to him.

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Saber Alter, the Dark-Tainted Tyrant watched emotionlessly as her adversaries climbed the steps to their doom.

She had clashed with these two before, even been the Servant of the red-haired boy, but he did rule her now.

Only They did. In Her name.

She remembered the Golden King. How could she not, when he had faced her on the battlefield, every inch her equal or superior. At one point, it seemed he desired her for whatever reason. That soon died with his new goal within his reach. His disgust at her was also evident after she had Blackened. Nonetheless, he was the one who gave her orders to halt any that approach, and as a knight, she must obey. Even if he did not have her Command Spells.

Then again, her other master didn't either.

Bald, bent and thin as a twig. Matou Zouken didn't look like a threat at all. Right up until his worms tore you apart and devoured you. Saber honestly thought his mind was disturbed and black as pitch, but it was not her place to question. His orders were in her name.

She was a girl to be pitied. Wrecked and despoiled. Beaten down and broken but still having a quiet pride as she endured. Saber was surprisingly content to serve under her, someone who could, perhaps, understand a fraction of herself.

Now if she could only give the orders herself, it would be even better. But They said she was incapable of talking, and that she chose Them to be used as her voice. So Saber obeyed their words, now matter how much she disliked them. Such was her duty.

Even if that annoying voice in her mind disagreed.

Saber Alter examined her enemies, in an attempt to stave off the voice's persistent cries.

The first one, walking just behind the other, was the Servant Rider. She had seen the purple haired female remove her blindfold in order to use the Mystic Eyes of Petrification that they hid. In doing so, she had revealed herself to be Medusa, Queen of the Gorgons. That chain had been troublesome to fight against, she remembered. Fast, unpredictable, stealthy and not afraid to use tricks. If not for her mount, the Assassin class would have been suitable for her, if not for the Hashshashin prerequisite for the class. Rider also seemed to be stronger somehow, than last they met. Perhaps a more competent master than that rat, Shinji.

The other, oh the other. Mid-shoulder length flowing red hair, flecked here and there with white, piercing golden eyes that seemed to almost glow, a tall, muscular and toned body that was clung to tightly by the crimson shroud-coat, a possible last gift from the fallen Archer, black cuirass and black trousers and boots, a grim visage and an aura of power that was almost palpable to her. He was the biggest threat. His skill at arms was on a par with her own, his physical prowess, impossibly, was also a par, even with his part-human nature. Even when she was contracted with him, drawing upon his power, he was still able to match her in spars, point for point. She could see his favoured weapon, but knew he could call it forth in an instant. Along with any other weapon he had seen. Even Noble Phantasms, to her initial disbelief.

Still, she had let them advance far enough, time to bring down the hammer.

"Intruders," she spoke, causing them to halt a single set of stairs below her, "I give you this one warning: Retreat now, and Survive. Approach further, and you will die.

"What is your choice?"

Golden and blindfolded eyes locked with her black, a silent contest of wills. The two then glanced at each other for a moment, before nodding sharply...

And took one step forward.

"So be it," Saber announced, pulling the sword from the ground where it had rested, as Caliburn once had in the Stone, "you have elected the way of Death. May The Lord have mercy upon you, for I will not."

The black prana leaking off of her focused tightly around her for a fraction of a second, before she shot forward in a large leap towards the duo, the ground beneath her armoured feet, cratered by the force applied to it. The tainted sword of Excalibur Morgan, leading the way.

Below, Servant Rider flashed forward, nails in hand and chains whirling. Shirou, the Steel Rain, allowed two curved blades, made of purest blue light, appear in his hands, before leaping to meet the Blackened Saber.

And thus, battle was joined.

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Shirou had the feeling he had have underestimated Saber Alter's power, just a bit, as he clashed her sword with his, before being tossed back with a grunt. Rider was quick to take advantage, lashing out with the sharp nail, before it was deflected by the deceptively fast sword. If that tainted piece of steel could be called such.

Just looking at that sword, feeling the history of it, knowing the atrocities it had wrought, made him want to hurl, but mastered the feeling enough to fire a multitude of light weapons at the black puppet.

Blue lights, crafted in the form of weapons, flashed down on the corrupted Servant. Each of them deadly, each of them powerful. They came in a rain, too many to stop.

Or so he thought.

The mockery of Saber let her vile prana gather about the sword, a swirling mass of darkness, before slashing upwards with a shout, "Haaaaaaa!"

A massive arc of diseased prana swept out from the sword, a line of destruction through the air, destroying all of his constructs.

Obviously, this puppet had deeper reserves of power and more strength than he had previously thought. The original Saber could not have done that, not without using Excalibur at it's highest potential. She would have dodged it with Prana Burst instead or used Invisible Air, which this shadow of her didn't seem to have. Obviously the corruption had given a few more perks. Another glance at the sword revealed the mystery of the ability to him.

'An altered form of her Prana Burst? How troublesome.'

Despite his surprise, he continued to battle, dropping the rain of weapons, before surging forward at his foe.

"Trace...On," he muttered to himself, triggering his circuits and spell as he rushed.

New blades began to appear in his fingerlessly gloved hands, not mere simple constructs of light, something he had been able to use since he was but a child, but true steel. Steel that had been forged without pride or desire to kill. Only crafted for the sake of crafting. One of them white, one of them black, representing the yin and yang.

Kanshou and Bakuya. One of a series of final gifts from the Counter Guardian EMIYA, a twisted mirror of himself.

Rider had been quicker to recover, not bothering to analyze the technique beyond the obvious, and dashed in again, a purple flash amongst shadows of the trees beneath the moon. As the filth was recovering from the vertical arc of power, the corrupted Servant was left open, a chance Rider was more than willing to take. The Servant of the Mount was inside the effective range of the blade in an eye blink, and quickly slashed out with the dagger at the corrupted one's left shoulder. Blood, deep and black, spurted from the wound and Rider quickly dodged away from the retaliatory strike of the black sword. It was not a fatal wound, but that wasn't what Rider was aiming for.

The now hanging and disabled left arm made the Gorgon smile grimly, her task done. Without the left arm, this mockery of Saber shouldn't be able to pull off any power attacks like she had before. The old adage of 'you can't stand, you can't fight' could be applied quite well to a sword-wielder and their arms.

Saber Alter growled in a feral tone as the Rider managed to disable her arm, ripping tendons and muscles from the bone with the nail-shaped dagger she wielded. She couldn't use her more powerful attacks, but that was only temporary, even now she could feel her flesh repair itself, drawing on the immense prana within her to do so.

But it was still too slow for her to be able to fully defend the charging red-head.

Shirou was conflicted as he charged in. Despite his resolve to free Saber of her torment, he found it difficult to focus any intent to kill the thing that wore the visage of a friend. With his rain of weapons, he could tune out the somewhat happy memories they had shared enough to attack her, up close was another matter. Staring into the face of a friend as he tried to steel himself to end her life was quite difficult.

But it was possible.

The one handed defence of the broadsword met the twin blows of the chinese blades in a clash of steel. The stairs cracked and broke beneath the force that almost sent Alter staggering, but she managed to hold on and defend. Shirou bore down, trying to make her kneel, even as his blades began to crack. He only needed a moment to keep her still.

Then, the cry he had been waiting for echoed in the night.

"Bel-!" cried Rider as large sigil appeared in front of her, like a giant eye, peering down at the struggling combatants, previously hidden by her companion's taller body until she had begun to announce her most powerful attack.

Alter had obviously heard it as well and, knowing the significance, reacted harshly, raw power seeping into her limbs and shoving Shirou away hard, just off centre into the trees, then preparing to confront the more immediate threat. Massive amounts of black prana surged about her blade as she prepared her counter, her wound now healed in reaction to her frantic thoughts, "Ex-!"

"Lero-!" Rider continued, a dangerous light starting to appear within the sigil.

"Cali-!" Alter's voice yelled, increasing in volume, along with the insane amount of prana being channeled into Excalibur Morgan. A great pillar of darkness reaching for the sky.

"Phon/Bur !" they yelled in unison, their final attacks leaping out at their foe, a beam of shining light seeking to pierce and destroy the foe and a towering pillar of darkness and despair slashing down like the fist of an evil god in wicked judgement.

From even an outsider's point of view, it would be clear to them that the dark unholy pillar had the advantage in power and could easily overwhelm the bright beam. If the beam was the hope of the world, then hope would fade and die very soon.

Luckily, there was more hope to be found.

Shirou burst from the trees he had been tossed into by Alter's raw strength amplified by a brief Prana Burst, his wings, all six of them, extended as they pumped him through the air towards the nightmarish piece of black power as it descended. Foolishly, to most, he spurred himself towards it, even as a golden light gathered in his right hand, so different from either his Traced weapons or light weapons. It flashed for a moment before revealing itself.

A shamshir, plain as they came, save for the four emeralds inset into the odd off-centre pommel in a diamond formation. The simplicity of the design was, however, ignored in favour of the sheer amount of power Shirou was packing into it, until it fairly blazed with power.

Shirou floated a moment, watching as the darkness in the shape of a blade descended upon him, his blue-white glowing blade held in both hands as if ready to, impossibly, counter the castle destroying attack.

"I really hope this works," he rumbled to seemingly no-one, "because if it doesn't? I'll be dead, you'll be dead and I will continue to haunt you, wherever you go."

Shirou heard a deep bass rumble of laughter, like some giant beast attempting a human gesture of humour, "It should work quite well, little sword. That sword you hold is no slouch in the power department. You just need to believe."

Shirou sighed slightly as he readied himself to slash, "We can talk later, you over-sized furball. If there is a later." he ignored the grumbled response from the steel bracers that appeared over the forearms of his crimson coat.

The harbinger of despair, the colossal blade of impurity and wretchedness, was close to the young half-human when he slashed it with the humming blade of bright blue power, in unison speaking commandingly, "Shift!"

"Shift." his bracers answered as the sword connected to the foul power.

Against all logic, a bright blue line of power, thin as paper, incredibly, sliced through the eclipsing pillar of dark might, cleaving it in twain. Having lost it's connection to it's user, the top three quarters of the immense dark blade lost cohesion and power, returning to a cloud of relatively harmless dark prana that washed around the swordsman, avoiding him and his sword as if they were dangerous to it.

Shirou relaxed slightly, letting the no longer glowing curved sword hang loosely in his right hand, even as he rubbed his slightly tense arm. The strike he had done, while requiring a fair amount of energy, which he could easily provide due to prodigious number, quality and extremely unique nature of his circuits, also required a degree of physical ability that was beyond even the best of humans. Even with his non-human heritage, he was still susceptible to the human condition ie he could be injured greatly if he overstrained himself. Using the sword and the Gear, alongside the large amount of power was not something he had practiced greatly, thus resulting in an almost strained arm. Thankfully, Avalon seemed to be healing it well enough

But now was not the time to stand about. Time to see if his plan worked out.

Shirou carefully began to glide down to the smoke filled crater left by the clashing powers. Shirou nodded briefly at Rider, who was cautiously approaching the crater as well. It seem that the plan had worked so far. With him slicing off the majority of Alter's attack, it had more than leveled the playing field between Bellerophon and Excalibur. Shirou judged, from the last position of Alter, that Bellerophon had overcome the weakened Excalibur beam and had struck the, probably, very surprised Alter.

He could still smell her power, like blood and earth and offal, so the mockery was still alive. But just how much so, if she wasn't attacking, was the real question.

Gathering power into the bracers, he firmly pushed forward at the air itself, similar to the Jedi in Star Wars (a guilty pleasure he had watching them).

"Shift," they announced suddenly and, quickly, the smoke and dust was dispersed, as if in a great wind or pushed aside by a great hand, revealing the sorry state of Saber Alter.

Her upper right torso was completely gone, the shoulder and arm vanished and likely incinerated. Perhaps not so amazingly, her sword lay on the same side, unbent or broken, merely existing in the state of blood-tainted black. The rest of her chest armour was shattered, leaving jagged, ungainly pieces still strapped to the chest, leaving a heavily burnt and injured torso bared to the world. Her legs, armour and flesh, were completely shattered, look like nought more than butchered and pulverized meat. Her left arm, surprisingly, was still intact, even if it wasn't able to move due to very heavy stone that had obviously landed, broken and pinned it down. Her face, once so beautiful before she was corrupted, was completely untouched, letting her stare apathetically at them as they approached. Shirou could see the faint amount of healing of the extremely heavy wounds, but it was slow, as if the power knew that there was no point in doing so.

"So," the corrupted version of Saber rasped, "I am finally defeated."

"You were," Shirou answered coolly, a fragment of pity was felt for this tortured existence as he stood over her, "but you can take this to your grave: It took two to defeat you, not one."

Alter chuckled bloodily, her white teeth stained with the blackish red ichor that now ran through her veins, "that is something," she agreed with a death's head grin before a light green light, so like her original, filled her eyes, "can I ask for something? A last request?"

Shirou felt a tug at his heart, the voice so different from her original sternness and more recent apathy, but containing a fragment of final desperate hope. It was not something he could deny the King of Knights, not when he had experienced her life, from beginning to end, letting him know her better than he knew himself.

"What is it?" he gently asked, taking a knee beside the fallen King.

"T-take," she stuttered, forcing her words out through the pain, "take m-my will."

Shirou's eyebrows narrowed in confusion at her words, before they widened again as he felt a something shift within him. It was not the Sword, which he still bore. It was not the Gear, he could feel even the fur-face startle in confusion.

That left only one thing.

He could suddenly feel the ideal of the King that lay before him, smell the faint scent of honeysuckle on the soft night breeze, as Avalon, the Everdistant Utopia, accepted a new master at the previous one's request

It accepted him as master.

Eyes wide, he stared at, the now, softly smiling woman King, her eyes once more the light green they were and her hair again was blonde, "Take my will," she said again, mustering the rest of her strength to ensure her words were clear, even if the strain did not show on her face.

"And let me rest."

Shirou looked at the King, so relaxed and accepting on the surface, but desperately crying beneath that mask. As a friend, even if it was only for a short time, he knew what he had to do.

Shirou rose back on his feet, back straight and tall, his wings flared wide and holding his sword by the pommel with the point down.

"I, Shirou Emiya," he declared, to her, to the world, to himself, "do hereby accept the will of Arturia Pendragon, King of Knights. To fight for peace. To defend the weak. To cast down evil. To reach that Utopia, with my loved ones by my side."

He gently lowered the point of the sword until it rested just between her breasts, directly over her heart. Arturia smiled softly at him, thankful and sad.

"Close your eyes," he said gently, hypnotically, watching as she did so, "sleep and dream. Dream the dreams of better worlds."

Shirou waited a moment, until the face of the one he called Saber, slowly slipped into a peaceful expression.

Then thrust the sword down sharply, the resistance less than water, less than air.

Her death was so swift, her expression never changed from the peaceful sleep.

Thus passed Arturia Pendragon, King of Knights, King of Britain, The Once and Future King.

And the Throne of Heroes, filled with her faithful knights, welcomed her home.

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Rider watched on as Shirou stared at the dissipating form of Saber after retracting his wings, who was no longer under the sway of the mindless devouring madness of the Grail. She had been an opponent to Rider, not really a person, but an obstacle, thus she shed no tears. But even she couldn't help but feel thankful that another being was no longer being corrupted by the 'Shadow' and empathise with Saber's plight, so similar to her own twisted form and mentality in her Monster Gorgon state.

But she did not truly matter, only Sakura did.

Shirou sighed and yanked the his blade from the remains of the stairs where Saber had met her end, "We best get moving," he spoke softly, his eyes tired but resolved as he looked at her, "this was but one task. We have many mo-"

A blur shot past Rider, interrupting Shirou's words, much to her shock and surprise. Before Shirou could even react, the figure was in front of him, a white skull mask staring directly into his golden eyes as a scythe-like red arm, filled with the form of a beating heart was pressed against his chest.

"Zabani-urrk! Aaaaaah!" True Assassin declared with a warped voice, activating his sole Noble Phantasm, until he was interrupted by a bone crushing palm to solar plexus, the offending arm seemingly coated in steel, etched with tiger-like stripes, stopping the activation of the deadly technique. His scream of pain was due to Shirou using that eyeblink to recover and lash out his sword, cutting directly through the phantasmal limb.

Assassin was thrown back from the force of the first blow and too disoriented by the pain of the second to sense the incoming strike from Rider.

Assassin fell without even seeing the nail enter the base of his skull.

Shirou let out a slow breath as Rider shook the fading corpse of the Assassin Servant off of her weapon, "Thanks for the help fuzzy," he spoke in relief, his heart still hammering from the close shock of death, even if he may have survived it due to his heritage.

His bracers growled slightly, the metal over his arm slowly receded back into the bracer, "You can thank me by not calling me 'Fuzzy'."

"You can be Furry then," Shirou shot back, much too the irritation of the old spirit, before it growled again and subsided into silence.

"You are well?" Rider inquired, looking at him with a raised brow.

"Y-Yeah," he answered shakily, "yeah, just a little surprised," he ended firmly.

"Good," she answered, turning on her tall heels and walking up the stairs once more, "then let us not dally about. We have things to attend to."

Shirou got serious once more, his face going blank, and quickly followed her, catching up with her as she passed through the torii gate.

Side by side, they prowled onward. They would save Sakura.

Whatever the cost.

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"Any idea where we go from here?" the sensual Gorgon asked as they walked through the immense courtyard of Ryuudou Temple. The dark of the night, the faint moonlight and the empty quiet, all contributed to the eerie feeling of the place. Not that the lingering presence of Caster's sinfully malicious power helped at all.

It made even the Gorgon, a monster in beauty's form, somewhat uncomfortable.

"Quite well," Shirou assured, his steps firm and light, ready to move at a moments notice, "Zouken made a small mistake when he managed to take Sakura. He may have been able to hide Sakura's power, at least within this place, but he forgot to hide his own diseased trail. Though, if it wasn't for my own extremely sharp senses, it would have been to faint for anyone to make out. He just underestimated them."

Rider nodded in understanding as they exited the courtyard and into the main building of the Temple.

We moved quickly after that, going directly through the constructions, following the faint trail of worms and rot. Soon, we were out of the back of the temple, moving easily through the forest. Shirou was getting a little annoyed and impatient, he honestly thought that the initial families would place the Greater Grail somewhere more accessible, to them anyway.

The trail came together at the edge of a small stream, joining with a scent that screamed of gold and hedonism, no doubt it was Gilgamesh.

A sharp glance with his powerful eyes showed Shirou the small cave entrance the water lead from, a quick use of Structural Grasp showed the depths of it, and the sheer amount of power beneath it.

Target confirmed

"This is it," he said quietly to Rider, "the way seems to be pretty narrow though, enough for one person only, until it opens up further down. Can you go into Spirit Form? Will the power of this place affect you?"

"Yes and no." she said simply flickering from existence. However, Shirou's inhuman eyes allowed him to see the now transparent Servant.

"Good," he said, "then let's go."

Shirou began to crawl down the small tunnel, the dark and dampness stifling. Even worse, as he approached the deeper tunnel, the mana in the air became thicker and thicker, a heavy pressure sitting over him.

Shirou finally emerged from the small tunnel, the larger one widening and welcoming him and the just reappeared Rider. He estimated that they were easily a hundred meters down from the surface, probably more, possibly under the lake if the luminous green moss coating the cave walls was any indication.

The air seemed to be almost alive, life in the form of mana and od practically pulsing visibly in it, like a great heart. Or a womb. It should have made those in it's presence feel joy and happiness.

Shirou just wanted to vomit.

This was like life without restraint. A cancer. A bulbous tumour upon the earth. All he could smell was the sickly sweet scent of rot.

It just made Shirou more determined to destroy the source of this abomination, this blight.

Even Rider seemed vaguely disturbed, her face crinkled with distaste as it looked around.

"Come on," he muttered quietly, trudging into the larger cave, Rider following close behind.

The magus and Servant, who were not Master and Servant, walked down the expanded tunnel, eerie echoes of their footsteps coming back to them as they advanced. As they walked, Shirou couldn't help but think that even Rin, for all that is one of the best examples of magi, in power and thought, even she would be repulsed by the sheer malevolence that spewed from her family legacy.

It was perhaps better that she was unable to follow, her injuries during the war preventing her from even walking at this point in time and not even Avalon could have healed her and still have enough time for them to stop the rite.

She was still with us though, in spirit, and she lay her hopes of destroying this Grail, this twisted existence, in my hands. I will not disappoint.

The tunnel went further and further, almost seemingly forever. We couldn't afford to rush our steps here, even if time was of the essence. We could run headlong into a trap if we weren't careful.

Shirou's ears felt like they were playing tricks on him as an odd sound was heard.

Clink. Scrape-scrape. Clink.

...
Cling!

C-Cling.

It was an oddly familiar sound to Shirou. As one who generally cooked and served meals in his home, the sound of someone eating a meal was easy to discern. Rider looked wary, perhaps not understanding the sounds entirely but knowing it was out of place in this barren world of stone.

Shirou had a small idea what could be doing this, but even he couldn't bring himself to believe that that Man had that much arrogance. Nonetheless, the sound came from beyond them, towards their goal. The cause would soon be revealed.

And so it was.

The tunnel soon opened up further into a large cavern, perhaps the size of the his school grounds, with the ceiling obscured by the darkness.

It was also occupied.

"Welcome, mongrels," sneered Gilgamesh as he sat on a regal throne-like chair, a small table in front of him topped with a plate, recently cleared of food, made of pure gold and accompanied by fine silver utensils. A half empty golden wrought goblet of wine was delicately swirled in his hand as he reclined on his throne.

"I was expecting you to arrive earlier," the Golden King scoffed as the table and utensils vanished in a stream of golden sparks, "you must be lower trash than I thought," he glanced at the tense Rider, "and you brought the snake witch. More company? Or a witness for your demise?"

"Merely someone with a vested interest in Sakura," Shirou responded coolly, mentally readying himself for a battle, " and thus, your foe."

Gilgamesh barked a laugh, "to call her a foe is demeaning. She is merely food for the dogs, not yet sliced."

"Where is Sakura?" Shirou asked, ignoring the King's taunts. If he fell to anger now, he would probably end up dead in a moment. The King of Heroes was not someone to take lightly, despite his overwhelming arrogance.

"You mean the Vessel?" he smirked, crimson eyes gleaming cruelly, "she is just being finished up in preparation for the final performance."

"And you are not there?" Shirou retorted, his mind racing now, time was running out, "You trust Zouken that much?"

"The worm knows what it means to disobey a King," Gilgamesh growled lightly, "he would not dare."

"You are a fool then, King of Heroes," Rider said flatly, getting into the ready stance she preferred, her hand wandering close to the edge of her Gorgon Breaker, ready to unleash her deadly Mystic Eyes, the other one held her deadly nail-and-chain combo weapon, ready for use.

It was time to fight now. Words would do nothing more.

"You dare!" growled the King of Uruk, crushing the goblet in his golden mailed fist, the wine flowing like blood over the appendage. He stood quickly, slamming the throne backwards, toppling it, his gestures angered.

Huge amounts of golden circles, gateways to the Golden Capital, the Treasury of the King, began to appear behind the enraged tyrant. Out of them, treasures of the world, the prototypes of a great many Noble Phantasms used by future heroes, slowly appeared, like cannons on a great ship aiming at another.

Shirou's eyes glazed slightly as they viewed, again, the many weapons and items stored within, cataloguing within his mind to be recalled at a future time. Despite the slight distraction, he slid into his normal stance, slightly crouched and light on his feet, ready to move anywhere at anytime, his favoured sword, one that had been with him for so long, ready in his hands.

'You ready, Old Cat?' he mentally asked, glancing at his simple steel bracers, an oddly tiger striped design seemingly etched into the metal.

'Ready when you are, Partner,' responded the bracers, a ripple of white and black stripes briefly visible on them before disappearing.

"DIE!" roared the King of Heroes, his treasures shooting forth like missiles, barely able to be seen due to the speed they traveled.

At least, for normal eyes.

Rider showcased why she had earned her class, her footwork precise, her body positioning perfect, as she ran and dodged the rain of weaponry with all the grace of a dancer. Her eyes were wide open, her blindfold gone, as she ran. She needed every advantage she could get against this formidable adversary. She glanced at the crimson back of her ally as she parried a few of the flying weapons.

Whereas she had to dodge the falling steel, Shirou seemed deadset on ploughing through it. His sword swung in quick arcs, practically parrying the veritable moving wall of sharp steel as he charged. His speed and agility was impressive, even for a Servant, and astonishing for a human, or even a half-human. He dodged what he could not parry by mere slivers of space, never letting up on his advance.

He was soon in front of the beyond furious and astonished tyrant. The Fake Crow had never shown such skill in the previous engagement and Gilgamesh was ill-prepared for it. Thankfully for the Sumerian royal, he had enough experience to able to react to even the most unexpected and daunting of surprises.

Another series of golden gates appeared above the King, tightly packed and almost overlapping one another. Not a moment was wasted as a wall of arms was fired simultaneously. Again. And again.

Shirou was able to parry and dodge the first wall, slowing himself slightly. The second was almost the same, except that a large golden push dagger -Vajra, his mind supplied- smashed into his blade, causing an explosion that threw him backward, arms wide.

Defenceless.

The last wave seemed to hit him in the torso, skewering him, and sending him flying further into the cavern's wall with a thunderous crash, easily heard over the continuous crashing of weapons on stone as the King of Uruk kept up the barrage on Rider.

The King smirked in satisfaction at having rid himself of one of his annoyances, before focusing on the now grim-faced Rider.

Rider swore mentally, as she barely dodged another volley of missiles. Without a second target to focus on, the projectiles came at her faster, in bigger numbers and more precisely placed. In order to not be impaled to death, she was forced to go where her opponent wanted, a small alcove with only one entrance and a solid wall behind it. She knew it was a trap, but the bastard was careful not to let her be able to charge through the cloud of steel, willing to take minor damage in return for room for manoeuvre. Her powerful eyes picked out weapons that could kill her in a single strike blocking her from doing so.

Eventually, despite all her desperate attempts, she was positioned right where he wanted her, her back to the wall and panting lightly in exertion. He smirked at her arrogantly for a moment, between the waves of weaponry, before the weapons shot forth, faster again, not leaving her time to move. It was arranged as a ring of deadly metal, various implements of death surrounding another in a circle as they flew, ensuring that even if she tried to dodge, she would still be struck, weakening her further and making her easy prey. But that was irrelevant to her.

It was the centre focused weapon that held her fear and terror.

It was a simple weapon, a bronze curved scythe attached to a polished length of ash, looking somewhat like a walking stick with a sharp blade for a handle. It was a simple weapon. It was one she had seen before.

It was the one that had killed her.

Harpe.

As a Heroic Spirit, her form was more of a concept, a representation, of Medusa, the Queen of Gorgons. As a representation, she is thus bound to her legend, her fate. As she was originally killed by Harpe, as a Servant, she was very very weak to the blade. A mere scratch by it could almost kill her, not taking into account properties of the Noble Phantasm and her low Endurance statistic.

She shook slightly as she readied her weapon to futilely defend. She may have fear, but she would be damned in she fell to it before the blade.

It was close now, mere feet. She readied to move and defend.

Then the unexpected happened.

To her disbelief, the weapons suddenly flew askew, as someone had knocked them off-course, sending them careening wildly, into the ground, the ceiling, the cavern wall, everywhere. She didn't hesitate to leap out of the death trap, even as the King's eyes widened in rage and surprise. She didn't know exactly what happened, but she bet that her ally, to her everlasting relief, wasn't quite dead yet.

Gilgamesh snarled in fury as his sharp eyes noticed the damaged state of his treasures from what should have been the killing stroke to the serpent. Not only had someone prevented his execution of a monster, as was his right as the King, but they had damaged his treasures. His eyes practically glowed crimson in fury as he shot another volley toward where he had thought the mongrel had died with a roar of insane rage.

His furious eyes took in the six winged form as it charged headlong into the steel, a sword in each hand. One was a brilliant gold and blue, etched with letters of the Fae upon the blade, a blade he knew well. The other was night to the other's day, red and black was it's colouring, as though it was stained in the blood of thousands, tens of thousands, enemy and ally, friend and foe, innocent and guilty. A sword he had also seen once, borne by the pathetic mud puppet of the woman.

Excalibur and Excalibur Morgan. The light and dark. Each a twisted mirror of the other.

The mongrel that dared to Fake them had a face of grim resolve, a cold fire that burnt behind his eyes, focusing directly on the King's own. He was dusty, cloaked in the stone dust of the broken cavern wall, but otherwise unharmed, something that outraged the King of Uruk. His treasury had been unable to damage the mongrel?! At all?!

Shirou ploughed through the river of steel once more, this time not bothering to dodge. As a weapon came close to him, his bracers pulsed with a silver light, a continuous overlapping repetition of 'Shift' echoing in his mind.

As he ran, heedless of the weapons before, like a swarm of steel wasps waiting to sting him to death, he began to incant his aria, filling blades he bore with power.

"I am the bone of my sword."

The ominous words were heard even over the sound of breaking steel, crushed stone and whistling air.

"With a soul of Steel, And wings of Shadow,"

Shirou was a blur as he ran forwards, his blood, his power, pumping hard, burning high. Rider was less occupied now, the temperamental King focusing his efforts on the winged individual. She watched in slight awe as the man stormed the Tyrant.

The two swords, of dark and light, flared with the power Shirou practically prana shoved into them by the bucket loads, his circuits burning from the necessary power to initiate two Excaliburs. They extended behind him, like an additional pair of wings, a mix of golden light and deepest shadow.

"Enshrouding my Heart with countless blades,"

He was too close for projectiles to be a feasible option now. His defence was too strong for mere fired weapons. Gilgamesh snarled angrily. This winged oaf dared to stand against a King! Then let him meet his demise.

"Mongrel!" he howled, tearing a weapon from his treasury. His greatest weapon. His most loved treasure, second only to Enkidu. "Disappear from my sight!"

Shirou's eyes widened in complete surprise and trepidation as they beheld 'the sword that was not a sword'. That impossible existence that he could not understand. The sword that cuts apart heaven and earth. An Anti-World Noble Phantasm.

Ea.

Shirou's eyes feverishly judged the distance between them, calculating if he was fast enough to strike down the despot before he could unleash the true power of the weapon. He had thought the King would not be willing to use the weapon, out of pride and desire to not harm the ritual taking place. It looks like he guessed wrong.

A quick glance showed that it would be close. While he was inside the tyrant's range of fire, giving him a clear run and a chance to move at his full speed, he was also pumping prana into the mirrored Excaliburs he had traced, readying to strike down his enemy, which diverted a lot of his power from his Reinforcement, leaving him only to rely on his natural prowess.

He hoped it was enough.

"You better not be thinking on taking that damned over-powered excuse for a sword head on, Partner," a voice growled deep in his mind, filled with a certain anxiety and wariness, "I have faced many beings in my life. Gods, demons, monster and men. All of them having power beyond belief or weapons as old as time and powerful as hell.

"And I have emerged victorious. Each. And. Every. Time.

"But that sword... It is a game breaker. A certain kill when it is drawn from it's sheath. It makes a top-tier Longinus look like a toy. I cannot defeat it. Gods cannot defeat it."

"It's just as well I'm not a God then, huh?" Shirou slightly smirked at the voice, his own a mere whisper as he continued to charge, a close eye kept on the roaring figure of Gilgamesh wielding Ea. Shirou felt the fetid air of the underground cavern begin to change, charged with power and drawing toward the slowly rotating pieces of the of Ea.

A soft chuff echoed in his mind, "Reckless fool." the old feline growled in resignation, "Do as you wish, boy. I'll aid as well as I can."

'Have you recovered from the Overlap?' Shirou questioned, referring the to the near simultaneous chaining of using the Gear when he started his charge.

"Enough," the beast grunted, "You do your part, boy, and I will do mine."

'Good.' Shirou affirmed. He noticed the distance was closer now. It was now or never, do or die. The conversation with his partner taking place at the speed of thought.

Showtime.

His black wings, dark as the abyss and seemingly crafted of black steel, flared wide and flapped furiously, giving him that little extra speed. If this move succeeded, he would be close to running dry and probably more than a little injured, especially in the shoulders. If it failed... Still, needs must when the devil drives.

"Ex-!" he roared, the swords he held becoming twin suns, black and gold, as he prepared to use them as nature intended. To smite their foes.

"Enuma-!" roared back the Golden King, his face almost animalistic in his rage at the... Vulture... before him. It is not enough that he is able to steals his treasure with but a glimpse of his eyes, but now he had destroyed several of them by daring to face the King! Even worse, he chose to use mockeries of the sword wielded by that wretched woman. And worse still, forcing him to despoil the splendour of Ea by using it against the metal feathered trash!

He will bring about a reckoning, here and now!

His weapon filled hand reared back, the sword howling as it drank of the air, such as it was, to fuel its power. The King's power spurred it on with his own supply of prana, the howling reaching new heights.

"Cali-!" Shirou continued to scream, pumping ungodly amounts of his power into the swords. He needed the weapons ready for the right moment, to strike in that single opportune moment. Shirou prayed mentally that his on the spot plan would work.

"Elish!" declared Gilgamesh as he began to release the wrath of his almighty will upon the foolish pigeon that dared to challenge him. A swirling mass of crimson power began to erupt from the most powerful weapon to ever exist as it was thrust forward.

'Now!' Shirou mentally yelled. In response, his bracers blazed with a silvery fire. His thoughts quickly envisioned what he wanted done.

"Shift!" it called, practically unheard over the howling of Ea.

But it was definitely felt.

Gilgamesh suddenly felt like a mountain had crashed down on his arm. Unprepared for this sudden assault, his hand, filled with a screaming Ea, was yanked down, parallel to his own upright body.

With a wailing Ea pointed downwards, touching the cavern floor right between his feet. And releasing it's stored energy.

Gilgamesh had only time for his eyes to widen in disbelief before he was tossed violently into the air with a roaring blast of power, losing hold of his treasure as he did so. The power was quickly cut off as the weapon was separated from the hand of it's master, but even in that brief moment of released power, the damage to cavern was extraordinary. The earth itself shook like a maracca, the residents in the cave were like the filler within the gourd-bell as they were thrown off of their feet. The walls and floor tore like paper, shredding themselves under the pressure of the released energy, with a grinding wail.

But such things were inconsequential to Shirou.

His wings beat faster, lifting him like a rocket toward the airborne, and wildly spinning, King of Uruk. It was his chance now. The King was without his weapons, unable to react or defend against any attack. The only thing stopping the King's death would be his armour, something Shirou had seen to be more formidable than it looked. However, strong as it may be, he doubted it could withstand the force of two Excaliburs.

"Bur!" he screamed, slashing the two suns he held in a move designed to completely bisect the Tyrant.

Gilgamesh didn't even see the blow that killed him, denying him a final chance at spitting upon the fool and mongrel that did so.

The two Excaliburs sliced through the King of Heroes like a knife through hot butter. The two pieces of the fallen King, slowly, to Shirou's adrenaline charged senses, began to drift apart, still spinning. A moment seemed to pass, before the two halves erupted into flame, one gold and one black, as the power of the Excaliburs burned away the remains of the Sumerian King.

The two Excaliburs shattered into motes of prana as Shirou released his hold on their existence, his golden eyes firmly upon the dissipating remains of his enemy, ensuring that he truly had returned to his abode in the Throne of Heroes as he floated just below the ceiling of the cavern. He sighed slightly in relief before grunting in pain as his arms spasmed painfully, the muscles twisting and writhing beneath the skin, making the tight sleeves of his shirt seem to squirm.

His teeth clenched, hard, as white hot agony shot up and down them as he floated back to the cavern floor, where Rider was waiting calmly, her blindfold back in place. This was the price he paid for the stunt he pulled with the two swords. Excalibur's most powerful attack was designed to used with two hands, the raw power of the strike needing the stability and strength only two hands could provide. Shirou had, perhaps stupidly, not only done it with one hand, but had done it twice, simultaneously, with either hand. He was honestly surprised his arms hadn't been ripped off by the raw power. This was also without mentioning the prana exhaustion, that came from invoking two highly prana-intensive Noble Phantasms, that weighed down his body and made it feel like he was dipped in boiling oil. He was more thankful than ever about the size of his prana reserves, if he had any less, he wouldn't have been able to pull off that insane stunt, Amazingly enough, his still had a little bit of prana left in the tank, may be less than five percent of his total. It wasn't much, but it would be enough, it had to be.

But he didn't have time to dwell on such trivialities. He needed to keep going, to keep advancing. He needed to rescue Sakura. The woman who held his heart in the palm of her hands.

He would not fail.

His feet gently touched the stone floor, jostling his arms, causing him to hiss in pain. Though it seemed a little less than it was. Avalon's work, obviously.
Rider gave a wordless nod of thanks to the now unwinged being for saving her life. A brief shrug of acknowledgement, mixed with a grimace of pain, was given before he was shooting off down into the depths of the cave at a full sprint, with Rider close behind.

Wind whistled in his ears as Shirou ran at eye-blurring speeds for a regular mortal human, unhindered by the surrounding darkness. His body, injured as it was, felt the strain as he did so, but it was nothing that Shirou couldn't tolerate. Especially if it meant Sakura's safety.

The tunnel abruptly terminated, opening up into a vast expanse.

Shirou couldn't help but widen his eyes in surprise, shock and awe. This cavern, wasn't a cavern at all. It was a different land, hidden away from prying eyes, free to exist as it chooses, unspoiled. At least by man.

The ceiling traveled up and up, almost without limit. The walls also seemed to extend out forever, but really was an almost impossible two or three miles. From where Rider and Shirou had entered the vast vault crafted of stone, they could the see what was obviously their final destination. An immense towering spire of black stone, etched with vast curving blue sigils, each glowing dimly, leading up to the tri-clawed tip of it. And there, floating directly above, like some black sun, was the Holy Grail.

Shirou's senses were assaulted with the putrid psychic scent of it. More foul than anything he had ever encountered. Like rotting flesh, broiled in the tears of despair, atop the flames of hatred and served with the wine of madness. He physically staggered back from it, making Rider catch him slightly, before he managed to get a hold of himself.

'By the swirl of the endless Root and the Five True Magics,' he thought in disbelief and absolute disgust, 'how can such a thing even exist!?'

'Your guess is good as mine, Partner,' his old friend responded to his thoughts, the old tiger's mental voice showing his own disgusted astonishment, 'but you had better destroy the damn thing. That abomination of life,' the voice was now an angry snarl of rage, 'it should never have existed in the first place.'

'Understood,' Shirou responded grimly, 'and I completely agree.'

Shirou glanced up from his own mental conversation to look at the Rider, whose face also twisted into extreme distaste and disgust. As a spirit, she would be more sensitive to the putrid power of the Grail. It was obvious that she did not like it, not at all.

"Let's go," he murmured softly, shrugging off her helping hand, the movement barely hurting now. Avalon was definitely working overtime, maybe sensing his urgency. "Keep an eye out for everything. If something moves, crush it without hesitation. The only things that should, or can, be down here are us, Zouken and Sakura. Anything else is a probably one of Zouken's shadowy puppets or his worms."

"I understand," Rider responded, her voice still so musical despite the current dilemma they both faced.

The two started off again, not rushing but not dawdling either, a pace that allowed them to relatively swiftly in almost complete silence and able to stay aware of everything that happened around them both, making directly for the large platform, a seeming immense Formalcraft magical circle that sat below the accursed black sun, at the top of the spire, like an altar to an evil god. If any ritual were to take place, it would be there.

Shirou kept his eyes peeled, not daring to use Structural Analysis this close to the Grail. Knowing his horrid luck, he would try to analyse the area and get the Grail itself. He had no desire to have several millennia worth of human tragedy and spite to be shoved into his brainpan, thank you very much. His eyes slid over the path before them, unworn by the tread of man, backed by the monolithic wall at the far end of this desolate land. The waves of magic from the Great Grail, even in their putridity, gave off a light that allowed him to see a little more clearly than in the tunnel. He grimaced slightly as black fire belched from the false sun, feeling the heat of it's malevolence.

This whole place disgusted him. And if he was disgusted by it...

What could Sakura be going through, at the centre of this whole travesty to existence, to life, being so close to something that hates all things, even itself?

This thought, as terrifying and repugnant as it was, spurred him on, Rider matching his steps. They were soon at the base of the immense column, with no stairs in sight to allow Rider and himself to climb it. Wordlessly, he released his wings, black steel reflecting the black light of abomination, and extended his arms in a wordless gesture. Rider looked at him a moment, her blindfold not letting her eyes be read, but obviously searching for something. A heartbeat passed, and Rider stepped into his arms, letting him wrap them around her as he launched them aloft with a powerful thrust of his six wings, her own arm gripping around his neck tightly and her legs wrapped around his solid waist. His piercing gold eyes focused on his destination, unsure of what he would find there.

So focused was the swordsman on his flight, that he missed the slight reddening, barely noticeable, of the Servant's cheeks as she held on warm man's firm, solid and chiseled body before refocusing her thoughts into a battle mode.

His black steel wings struck the heavily charged air, bringing them swiftly to the top of the spire. He soared past the platform at speed, his eyes only seeing a glimpse of two separate figures, one slim and stooped, the other hunched over, much smaller than the former, likely on their knees.

Zouken and Sakura. Just as expected.

A swift bank of his wings had Shirou aimed at the platform again and, after a half a moment, alighting on the warm stone, his piercing golden eyes locked on to the stooped but standing figure of Zouken, releasing Rider as he did so.

Zouken had changed little, still wearing a drab green kimono with a similar hakama and a black coat, bent over on a gnarled but well polished wooden cane. His beady white eyes stared out at the half-human weapons-master from a sallow and withered face and black sclera, something generally covered up by minor magecraft. The only real difference was the wickedly curved dagger he bore in his other hand. A Mystic Code, if his eyes were not mistaken, a unique one with no real name. It had the generic use of amplification, something used by many magi to enhance Formalcraft, but there was a spell already active on it, a binding. No, more like enhancing or strengthening an already existing binding. But there was something about it that had the winged man raging.

It was coated in blood. No, it was more like the blood had been absorbed into the blade, staining it crimson.

With. Sakura's. Blood.

A thunderous growl of anger rumbled from his throat as he turned his attention to Sakura, trusting an enraged, but calm, Rider to keep an eye on Zouken.

Sakura was knelt in the very centre of the large magical circle, her head hung low. Her now white coloured hair hung over her face, concealing it from his view. Her clothing had changed aswell, different from what she had worn before her kidnapping, an ankle length sundress with crimson and black pinstripes. Honestly, it would have been easy to mistake her for someone else entirely if he did not know Sakura as well as he did.

The biggest change, though, came in the form of her power.

Where before, she had a powerful psychic scent of seawater, an acknowledgement of the form of magecraft forced on her by the worm beside her, she now had a scent that was scarily similar to the Grail that even now stood above them all like the sword of Damocles.

And the sheer power of it was beyond belief.

It all lead to one conclusion.

"What have you done to her, Zouken?" the whisper was harsh, cold and raging, like a blizzard bearing down of some poor soul.

A watery chuckle filled the stooped monster's throat, "Merely what I needed to do, boy."

Shirou scowled heavily. He was faster than the old monster, and a boat load stronger, but this wicked piece of worm offal had the experience, intelligence, ruthlessness and time to prepare. Shirou was more than willing to step up to the plate to save Sakura, but he needed to do it carefully, otherwise his efforts would be pointless. He needed more information. He thanked his lucky stars, few as they are, that Rider, despite her hidden rage, was willing to follow his lead and maintain a clear head. Even she knew attacking a prepared mage in his sanctum was a bad idea.

Time to test the waters then.

"And what might that be?" he growled, not needing to fake the anger and leashed wrath behind it, his hands itching for his sword, "How to be worm shit?"

An amused shake of the bald head, like an elder not understanding a young boy's foolish actions, was his reply, "Youth today," the old monster muttered, "so uncouth, impatient and undereducated," a mocking sigh, "but I suppose I have time to school you. She isn't quite ready yet, after all."

Shirou narrowed his eyes, unmoving, even as Rider tensed slightly, ready to move at her usual blistering pace at a moments notice.

'So his plan involves Sakura meeting a set of conditions. A time limit or 'gestation' period perhaps?'

His concerned eyes wandered over Sakura again, eying her more closely. She looked the same as before, until he noticed the side of her neck. A pulsing red mark, like veins, seemed to have peaked over the top of her collar, something he was sure wasn't there before. A spell mark or something of the sort? He wasn't sure, but he would bet his wings that they had something to do with this whole catastrophe.

"You should know a little of how the Holy Grail works," Zouken began, a demented gleam appearing in his eyes, "the Lesser Grail contains all the Servants who have perished until the last one dies, which then forcefully triggers a channel from the Lesser to the Greater which hangs above us now, filling it with the energy of the Servants and further triggering a response from the Greater, which amplifies the energy and sends the Servants back to the Throne, dragging the connection to the Greater Grail along the way, thus connecting it to the Root and allowing for the fulfilment of wishes based upon the user's own perception.

"The crux of the problem there is 'the user's own perception'. If one wants all the wealth in the world, but could only seeing it happen through theft, the Grail would boost the user's thieving prowess to unheard limits. Conversely, If someone does not know how to fulfil his wish, in some manner, then the Grail is nought more than a powerful glowing paperweight."

Shirou's eyebrows raised briefly, his eyes still on the slowly crawling mark on his beloved's neck. To hear that the vaunted Holy Grail, something that had been fought over for over two centuries, being reduced to useless because of a man's ignorance was quite a surprise.

Zouken continued his rambling, "In this sense, it is not a 'creator of miracles', but more of a 'manipulation of the present in order to achieve the desired future'. What I want, more than than all the gold in the world, than all the knowledge in the Root, is True Immortality, something that is impossible to achieve." the monster's face twisted in anger.

Despite himself, Shirou understood. As there were many definitions of Immortality (being remembered when you were long dead, endless longevity, inability to die etc etc) it was an almost impossible wish to grant. Immortality in one way would then have a way around it. If one cannot die, then one just imprisons them. True Immortality, however, is beyond human understanding. And, as such, due to the Grails limitations, cannot be granted.

It must have been maddening to the old worm, to have what is as close to ultimate power as you can get at your fingertips, only for it to be nothing more than a glowing ball.

It must have drove him round the bend.

"So I just decided to come at it another way," here the old man, if he could really be called that, smirked dementedly, sending shivers of dread down the spines of Rider and Shirou, "with the aid of my dearest granddaughter," here he stroked his withered and filthy hand over the white hair of Sakura, caressing her with the blood stained dagger, angering the duo that faced him, "I plan to become the sole existence. After all, if everyone but I, lies dead, then truly I am Immortal. Angra Mainyu will see to that.

"And I will see to you."

Those lasts words, along with the implications of his previous statements, had the Servant and former Master moving, their senses registering danger a bare fraction of a second before a colossal arm, made of shadows, hammered into where they had been. A bright flash of prana from where the massive fist had struck, prevented damage to the magic circle that kept the Greater Grail stable.

"Shit," Shirou swore, seeing the arm, or tentacle, of the Shadow, though greatly increased in size, "Rider!" he roared, hurling himself into the air, using his wings to dodge the flurry of tentacles that chased him, weaving and dodging like an old dogfight, "Get Sakura out of the circle and crush Zouken! You can't fight this thing!" he dodged another looping strike that attempted to entangle him as he rose ever higher, the monster's sole focus on him, "Do it now!"

The Gorgon said nothing, swiftly moving at impossible speeds towards Sakura and her captor. The maddened worm didn't even bother to defend or dodge the crushing blow of her deceptively delicate fist, destroying his head and upper body in a blow, the dagger flying away from his grasp before it was struck quickly by a shaft of light from a watching Shirou, even as he continuously evaded the Shadow's grasp.

Rider was at her master's side within the next moment. She carefully looked at the seeming comatose girl, acknowledging her differences but still seeing the small remnant of her original self. Satisfied, she slung the girl onto her back and blurred towards the edge of this monument to darkness. A single step and she was sprinting downward, her feet kept her attached to the pillar of death like it was merely a garden path. A heartbeat passed, the stifling air whistling in her ears, before she arrived at the base of the monolithic black stone and carefully placed the girl she had come to care for, like a mirror of herself, on the warm stone. She didn't know what would happen now, but it was not within her power to control it.

It was Shirou, the one who loved Sakura, who would be needed to decide the path.

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Shirou was not having the best of times with the Shadow, something that was capable of kill Servants like they were helpless puppies and able to drain prana from others at rates that were beyond ridiculous. He knew if he was caught by the strands of dark prana that whipped about him, making him perform aerobatics that were killing his muscles, he would be dead within seconds, or even less, considering the state of his od reserves. He would need to make it quick.

Thankfully, when Rider had destroyed Zouken's form, he was able to spot the flying dagger, something he was sure had to do with the reappearance of this damn thing, especially considering the way it attacked was more thoughtful, like a puppet being moved by it's master. A short gathering of his other, something that mingled with his prana but was slightly different, and focused on his inborn ability, the gift of his heritage according to the old tiger, and a spear of bright blue light flew swiftly and had shattered it to pieces.

The behaviour of the Shadow changed almost instantly, from calculating precision to a wild beast unleashed. It thrashed everywhere, but kept focused on him, attempting to swarm him under an endless wave of the darkly serpentine tendrils that acted as it's limbs. Even as he evaded, going even higher towards the ceiling above, he also noticed the a portion of slowly creeping tendrils from the base of the Shadow, slowly make their way toward the reclined Sakura and slightly apprehensive Rider.

No.

He couldn't allow that- wouldn't allow that- to happen.

He quickly analysed the weakness of the Shadow. Prana attacks were out, it would just absorb them. Touching it was suicide, it would just devour him. His Noble Phantasms might work, but it would need to be powerful and his reserves were low, and he still needed to destroy the Grail. His Gear wouldn't work well against it either, not directly, despite it working very well against spiritual existences. No, he needed a medium of sufficient power to crush, kill and destroy it.

And he had just the right thing.

While he kept flying away, circling and diving, from the hungry grasp of the Shadow, he mentally reached out toward something he had first stumbled upon whilst meditating under the instruction of old-man Kiritsugu. a warm golden light, pulsing in a military cadence, the sounds of war drums in his ears. He pulled.

The shamshir appeared in his hands for the second time that day, still as plain as ever, and still glowing that blue-white it generally did.

This time, Shirou wasn't going to pack power into it, he had little left to spare. Instead, he was going to use the swords own internal power to bolster his own. Something he rarely did due to his own plentiful reserves.

Not to mention it was difficult to control without causing a lot of collateral damage. The old man never let him forget about that mountain ridge he had destroyed when he was just aiming at the boulder that had been just in front of him.

He needed no words, incantations or oaths. He merely raised the sword high, like a beacon of hope within this desolate land, let his injured body ride the wave of power he coaxed from it and slashed down. The sword, seemingly eager to fight, surged with power, a blue-white wave of power splitting the Shadow in twain, from top to bottom.

It seemed to shudder as the wave passed through it, before freezing in place. It was still as stone, until the now two halves of the fearful beast slowly separated from each, like two trees felled by a lumberjack. As the colossal construct fell, it began to dissipate, becoming motes of darkness that then slowly disappeared before it hit the stone floor.

Shirou took a deep breath, trying to relax from the exertion. His still healing arms twinged heavily in pain once more, the attack causing just more strain. But he had succeeded, the Shadow was slain. Hopefully it wouldn't come back, especially as Zouken seemed to be unable to manipulate Sakura into crafting another at the moment.

Now he just needed to make sure the old worm was dead as well. Permanently if he can manage it.

A swift series of wingbeats propelled him towards the waiting Rider, her face still as stoic as ever.

"How is she?" he inquired briskly as he landed, his feet carrying him swiftly to the side of the one who held his heart.

"She seems to be unconscious," Rider spoke bluntly, knowing now was not the time to mince words, "But I am concerned about the state she is in. She is so different from what she was before she was taken."

"Zouken's doing no doubt," Shirou scowled as he examined Sakura, the mark he had noticed before had grown since his last glimpse, covering almost the complete left-hand side of her neck, like a crimson web of power. It also gave off a feeling that turned the swordman's stomach.

Still he could focus on that after he had rid her of the last remnants of Zouken.

"Speaking of the old worm," he spoke, his voice a light growl, "I need to get rid of him. Permanently this time."

Rider stiffened slightly as she glared at him through her blindfold, "And how will you do that without killing Sakura? You said yourself that a part of the parasite is inside of Sakura's heart. How do you plan to get it?"

Shirou lifted his shamshir to show her, "This particular blade has many abilities. One in particular is the ability to excorsize and seal spirits. Zouken is pretty much a specter or wraith. A spirit. With this blade, it is feasible I can remove the last of Zouken from her."

Rider was quiet for a moment, contemplating the pros and cons of letting him do so. In the end, there was only one real answer.

"Do it," the Servant of the Mount commanded, relaxing her guard.

Shirou nodded quietly and knelt beside Sakura. He brushed her hair for a moment, a gentle smile on his face, before he quietly placed the hilt of the sword over her heart, the emerald gems touching her chest. He then slipped his ring finger on his right hand through the hollow ring of the pommel.

"Invoke," he intoned, the four emeralds all lighting up, "Excorcism," all but one dimmed, "Activate."

Shirou shuddered briefly, still not use to what the sword had done. The emerald glowed brightly, emitting a field of green energy that covered the whole of Shirou's right arm, all the way to the shoulder. It swiftly moulded itself to his arm, like a second skin.

Then the arm turned transparent. Shirou could see the rock floor, tinged with green light, through his arm. But he remained calm.

Then what Shirou was most uncomfortable with began to happen. His vision started to blur, shapes were less defined, less real. But colours became both brighter and darker, incandescent and abyssal, the contrast so great, his eyes had to adjust from going to a dark hued area to a light one and vice versa.

But that was not the only effect.

Shirou concentrated on Sakura's body, a crimson flame mixed with black rather startling for her aura, searching for that little spot of trouble that represented the power of Zouken. Since his sword was able to excorsize spirits, it stood to reason that it would allow the user to identify, to 'see', spirits at work. It also had the side effect of making the user see everything in it's spiritual form, quite a disadvantage in battle due to the mingling auras that confound and confuse even the best of exorcists, even driving some of them mad after a time.

After the spirit is seen, then the second part comes into play. The arm that had become transparent specialised in counter-possession exorcism, letting the arm become a spiritual existence able to interact only with spirits or heavily spiritual influenced objects. To touch them, harm them, kill them, without causing damage to the host. But such interaction was limited to only that arm as reverting his entire body, or even just his vital organs, like his heart or brain, to a spiritual form would immediately kill him.

But this meant nothing to Shirou, his focus solely on Sakura. Search, seeking and, finally, finding the core of her problems. His spiritual sight locked his eyes directly on a steady blotch of putrid yellow white, like curdled milk, within the otherwise chaotic red and crimson inferno.

He didn't hesitate.

His emerald glowing spectral lashed out like a shining spear of green light, piercing Sakura's chest like a sword dipped into water. He seemed to move his hand for a moment, groping for something only he could see, before his arm tensed, clenching hard. A choked gasp came from Sakura, her eyes springing open, baring two blood red orbs for their view. Shirou noticed that the gasp did not seem to sound like it should have come from a female's throat, and acted swiftly.

A quick wrench and his arm, a vivid green and pulsing like a strobe light, re-emerged from her chest, a pale white worm like thing in it's grasp. Putrid and squirming helplessly, like a maggot.

It's words were heard by all there, including a disbelieving Sakura, a stoic and disgusted Rider and a grim and implacable Shirou Emiya.

"How dare you?!" it squealed wetly, trying to escape the tight grasp of the Faker, "Do you have any ide-!"

SQUELCH!

Shirou glared at the crushed remains of what was once Matou Zouken in his spectral hand. He didn't have the patience or desire to listen the foul screams of an equally foul being.

Especially one that had hurt her so.

Speaking of...

"Sen...pai?" whispered the changed form of Sakura.

"Sakura," he answered with a slight nod and a smile, slipping the ring from his hand and letting his arm return to normal before rising to his feet.

He was beyond relieved that the whole gamble he did had payed off. He mentally gave his thanks to both the blade and the old tiger that had suggested the idea. A low rumbling purr of satisfaction was his only answer.

"Master," greeted Rider, her usually stoic voice showing a bit of the relief she held for the young woman.

"Rider?" Sakura responded in surprise.

"Save the greetings for later," Shirou spoke, his voice serious as he gazed at her, his eyes narrowed as he tracked the spreading spider web of veins, a sensation of familiarity niggling at the back of his mind, something about them seeming so familiar yet different, "this whole debacle isn't over yet," he looked seriously into Sakura's wide crimson eyes, so different yet similar to her previous deep blue, not wanting to disturb her, but needing to in order to ensure her safety, "I hate to ask this Sakura, but do you now what was done to you? What caused the changes?"

Sakura stiffened, fear, disgust, anger, rage and so many other emotions flashing across her face that it was impossible to make them all out. A ball of lead sank heavily into the Faker's gut. She knew what had happened, and it wasn't anything good.

"Gr-grandfather," she spoke haltingly, the twisted morass of veins on her neck bulging as she spoke, "h-he tried to b-bind me to the Greater G-grail. S-Something about the Lesser Grail not being enough."

Shirou's eyes narrowed in quiet rage. Trying to bind a young woman to a corrupted piece of magical power was just par for the course for the old monster. It was just as well he was dead now, and beyond any grasp of vengeance. Otherwise, Shirou would have made his last moments of his miserable life very uncomfortable.

It also concerned him about the mention of the Lesser Grail, also known as Ilyasveil von Einzbern. She had been killed, and her heart, stolen. Shirou thought it may have been a failed gamble to awaken the Greater Grail. Zouken had tried to cheat the system, only to find it failed to work, making the little homunculus' death pointless. Even if he had to face a blackened Heracles in the end.

So, what could Zouken think that Sakura could achieve, that the little Einzbern representative could not?

Shirou eyed her, concerned, as Sakura went on, her words ragged and halting, her limbs twitching violently, as if in pain, even as the mark glowed a dull red, alarming the other two.

"I-it hurt. It still hurts." the mark on her neck burned a brilliant red light, making Rider and Shirou stagger back, an overwhelming feel of power erupting from the young woman, vile and putrid, "My blood burns, my bones feel like razor shards buried in my flesh," a veritable wave of pure prana washed over the other two, throwing them backward from the now unstable magus. The Greater Grail, burning a black fire, like a sun of death, began to flare, gouts of raw power reaching for the ceiling high above as something within it struggled to emerge.

To be born.

Sakura rose unsteadily to her feet, madness and sorrow and rage and anger all mixing in her face as the mark, like a virulent disease, slowly spread further up, touching her ear. She reared her head back, clutching her hair and screamed.

Rider and Shirou held their ears in pain as the sound, a wail of pure agony, washed over them like a wave at the beach, engulfing them, letting them feel just the smallest portion of the girl's madness and despair and pain.

As if in reaction, the Greater Grail erupted with power, as if it fed on the girl's despair and anguish, a black key that unlocks the horrors hidden away.

Shirou almost fell, insensate, as the true power of the Grail washed over him, the cavern shaking fiercely, massive cracks appearing in the walls, seen even from where he stood, near the centre. Stones and rubble fell like deadly missiles from the ceiling high above, barely missing those that stood below.

"Fuck," Shirou said roughly, his voice strained by near physical exhaustion, prana depletion, painful injuries and Heaven knows what else, "This is insane."

Rider swung her hand to the side, swatting away a large piece of earthwork that would have otherwise caused injury, "Do you know what is happening?" A slash of her nail split another large rock in twain, falling harmlessly beside her.

Shirou peered at the distraught girl, idly noting that the stones never seemed to come near her, under the black light of the, obviously, out of control and unstable Grail. He looked her over again and suddenly, his eyes locked on that spidery mark.

Mark. Mark. Binding. Ritual. Command. Contract.

A swift series of words buzzed across his mind and he began cursing out that fucking sandworm of a corpse, Zouken, as clarity pierced him.

He didn't bother explaining to Rider, simply sprinted across the heaving and uneven stone towards Sakura, the Servant following close behind in any case.

The distance seemed impossibly long, her power having thrown them a good distance, as he raced against time. To save her. To save them all.

He could already feel the sand falling through the hourglass, a few grains away from running out, as he sensed/smelt/felt the instability of the Greater Grail. If he had dared to look up, he would have seen the previously pristine and perfect sphere of power begin to swell unevemly, massive bulges, black as tar, looking like great tumours, poisonous and foul, appearing on it as the surges of power skyrocketed, scorching, devouring, the walls with it's vile black flame.

Angra Mainyu, dwelling within this device, was seeking his freedom, his birth.

And he was using Sakura to do it. Thanks to the old fool Zouken contracting her to the Grail itself

Feeding off of her negative thoughts, feelings and desires, and converting them into prana, enough to even force his awakening without the death of all the Servants. As a bonus, he had even created a feedback loop. The more she felt despair, the more power he obtained and the further he could drive into despair, thus creating even more power for him.

An endless cycle of pain and agony. Exactly what he would bring to the world when he emerged.

It was only a matter of time.
Shirou raced, faster and faster, towards his Heart. It was only a matter moments before everything went to Hell. It was already too late to escape, even for Rider. The sheer amount of wildly fluctuating power now in the air due to the instability of the Grail, which looked like it was about to explode, would interfere with her spirit form, probably tearing her soul apart if she even tried.

It was now do or die, even more so than before. A second late, a fragment of a second too late, and they would be erased from existence, drowning under the weight of All the Evils in the World.

Looks like Gilgamesh may get his wish after all. Fucking Golden Bastard.

Boulders and stones and other things fell in front of him, or on top of him, delaying him as he dodged them all. What thoughts he could spare were also focused on his magecraft, readying a weapon that would, if not stop, then at least mitigate the oncoming disaster.

"Trace...on!" he barked, slightly breathless as he sprinted while channeling his prana just so.

A flash of blue light appeared over his hand briefly, before vanishing, revealing artifact he now bore.

It was a strange athame, a ritual dagger frequently used by practitioners of the arcane. Its blade was short, maybe ten inches, but was somewhat shorter due to the crooked form of it. The blade was also iridescent, a rainbow of a thousand colours. It seemed to have no use as a melee weapon, likely to break on the first strike.

But there was an air about it, foreboding and ominous, like a viper with hidden fangs.

It was Rule Breaker. The Noble Phantasm of Medea of Colchis, the Witch of Betrayal, who was summoned as Caster in the Holy Grail War.

It's nature was an anti-thaumaturgy weapon, able to destroy almost all magecraft by 'returning it to its previous state'. It was able to even destroy contacts of the like between Servant and Master.

Between Sakura and the Grail.

Rider seemed to understand his plan, her footsteps not faltering as she ran alongside, bashing, cutting and striking debris away from her.

But she was not the only one that noticed. Angra Mainyu also noticed.

Shirou was suddenly dodging raw blasts of power from the Grail in the form of black flames, deadly and devouring. But Shirou was close to, within feet of, a still wailing, screaming and thrashing Sakura.

Shirou stretched out, the blade of betrayal extended, seeking the flesh of his target. His arm was within inches, the blade of Rule Breaker almost touching the heart of his Heart. A gout of burning darkness passed within millimetres of his arm, burning it but not doing anything more.

Then the blade started to brush the skin of his Heart, parting fabric like water.

It was time.

"Rule Breaker!" he roared over the cataclysm the cavern had become, shoving the last of his available prana into the blade.

The world seemed to turn still and silent, as if frozen in shock, Sakura's cries cutting off abruptly, her carmine eyes wide in shock, even as the rocks still came down, as Rider kept fending them away from the pair, as the world slowly returned to it's normal state.

Shirou ignored everything, except for Sakura's face as it slowly transformed back to normal. Her crimson eyes returning to the deep purple he loved so much, her white hair following suit, along with the ribbon that tied her hair. The pinstripe sundress, revealed to be only a dress made only of ribbons, stayed though, the colours switch to purple and white, matching her normal beauty.

Her wide eyes looked directly into his own intent gold, shock and relief showing through.

He smiled. A smile so full of happiness and relief and wonder and joy. The mirror of the first one he remembered seeing, practically carved onto old-man Kiritsugu's face when he found him alive within that fire a decade ago, at the end of the Fourth Holy Grail War.

It seemed fitting for the Fifth to end with the same expression.

Something didn't agree.

A bone-rattling, fear-inducing, feral, primal, maddening howl destroyed the moment, blasting the three living beings within the cavern into a heap, Rider catching the other two before falling, with a wave of pure malicious power.

The trio looked at the source where they lay.

The Greater Grail, no longer pristine, looked like a massive black tumour, doused in oil and set alight with darkly burning flames, shedding its putrescent light over all and sundry. Massive gouts of flame and power erupted from it in random moments, gradually increasing in severity and shortening in the interval between them.

Snap! Crackle!

Part of the Grail cracked and shattered, crumbling away from the main sphere and falling down to shatter upon the pillar, letting a massive wave of power to flatten them again.

Angra Mainyu was not happy, and he wanted revenge, even if he had to destroy his conduit to the World in order to do so.

Shirou eyes widened. He could see his death, the death of Rider, the death of his Heart approaching.

And there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing anyone could do about it.

Doing the only thing he could, despite it's pointlessness, he threw himself over the forms of Rider and Sakura, vainly trying to protect them with his body.

A final roar, filled with curses spoken in a tongue long gone, filled the cavern. A last word, filled with hate and spite, split the air.

Then the power exploded.

The destructive wave shattered the great pillar before rolling swiftly in their direction.

Shirou wanted nothing more than for all of them to survive. He desired nothing else. He dreamed of only that.

Inside of him, a power that had been with for a decade, keeping him alive, keeping him safe, albeit unwittingly, from the powers of Gaia and Alaya, responded.

A rainbow light washed over the three beings, before vanishing, without a trace, just before the wave of power could have destroyed them.

A week later, the investigation into the collapse of Ryudou Temple was classified as a seismic movement. The government was able to finance the rebuilding of it, much to the monk's gratitude.

The investigation into the disappearance of Shirou Emiya and Sakura Matou was still ongoing, but with the damage to the temple and some of the surrounding town caused by the quake, none were very hopeful of finding them again. Alive anyway.

Rin Tohsaka was called before the Magus Association on charges of endangering the existence of Magecraft. Thankfully, the charges were dropped by a combination of Zelretch's influence, who had made an offer to take Tohsaka as an apprentice, something he had promised her family if they could complete the 'homework' he set, which Rin had managed to achieve with a little of Shirou's help, as well as the circumstances under which even the most pompous and foolish of magi were at least slightly out of her control.

Rin then went on to join the Association and spearheaded the move to shut down the Grail, especially with the damage it had taken during the last war, for good.

She suceeded, and went on to become a highly successful magus.

But she always had doubts, feelings, that her sister and friend had not died that night.

And she was right.

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Dimensional Gap
After the Explosion

Shirou felt the change immediately, the fetid, power charged air of the cavern containing the Grail becoming empty, silent and made of power, making the cavern feel like a water drop next to the ocean.

His eyes snapped open, despite his exhaustion, despite his pain. And stared into wonder.

As far as his eyes could see, was nothing but a collage of colours. A realm of kaleidoscopic existence.

But nothing else.

"Partner!" his Gear cried in surprise and urgent apprehension, "We can't linger here long! The Dimensional Gap is dangerous, deadly, to those who are not protected! We must leave! Now!"

"And how will we do that?" Shirou retorted in anger, his mind starting to fog up, the power of the Gap slowly beginning to invade his soul, "And what is the Dimensional Gap?"

"No time! Give me control! Quickly!" shouted the old tiger quickly, mentally beginning to prowl in agitation.

Heeding the tiger's advice, Shirou intoned "I, who is of Steel and Sword, give of myself to the White Tiger Ruler. Let us ride to battle, to victory."

Shirou swiftly felt his mind detach from his body, merely an observer as it moved, gathering his unconscious companions to him and slashing out, like a cat batting at a toy, the bracers of the body's arms glowing a bright silver.

A distortion appeared in the 'air' in front of his body, revealing a small alleyway, no different than what you would see in a big city.

A swift movement of his steel wings and they were all through, Shirou once more in control of his body and holding his companions around their waists, over his shoulders, like sacks of potatoes.

Little did Shirou Emiya know, he was in a whole new world. With new rules and new ways.

It would be here, that Shirou Emiya will make his mark.

It was the beginning of a Legend. The journey of a Warrior. The path of a King.

All made, on steel wings.

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Kuoh-City
Japan

Crackle!

Inside a small apartment, a man started awake, his eyes as they searched for what had awakened him, focused hazel piercing the darkness of bedroom.

His eyes softened as they landed on the source, a picture frame on his bedside table, containing a photo of a small family. A middle aged man, a young red-haired woman with golden eyes wearing a black veil and robes, the man himself, not having aged a day, laughing and smiling. And one other...

A small boy, between five and seven years old, with the same hair and eyes as his mother and the refined looks of his father.

The noise had come from the glass in front of the picture breaking, in such a way as to surround the figure of the boy, leaving him surrounded by cracks, emphasising him.

"Salil," Azazel, the leader of the Fallen Angels spoke softly, gently reaching out to caress his son's face momentarily, before sighing deeply, feeling the old sorrow and grief, and gently pulling the frame face down before returning to his rest.

His last thought before he rested again, 'I wish you were here, my son.'

Little did he know, that his wish would be granted.

But not yet.

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Well folks, how did you like it?

I know that this isn't my best work and it deviates from Heavens Feel quite a bit, but that was the point. Shirou here is different from CanonShirou. I also apologise for duffing the scenario. I just wanted it out of the way so I can get to DxD verse and the real meat and potatoes of the story can get moving.

I can also here you all screaming over Shirou's Sword challenging, and defeating, Excalibur. In this case, it was a battle of concepts. Here is the profile for the sword.

Name: Shamshir-e Zomorrodnegar

Title: Sword of the Soul of Solomon

Appearance: A simple Shamshir. Steel Blade and ebony hilt. The curved pommel like bit at the end is a hollow steel ring, inset with four emeralds around the outer rim. The pommel ring can come off with a chain attaching it back.

Abilities:
Is able to 'cut' through magical energy. (The reason why he was able to cut through the Excali-blast. It is, after all. crafted from magical energy.
It is a Holy Blade and as such is extremely powerful against Devil, demons etc.
It can command water in all forms (ice, mist etc) via one of the jewels on the pommel.
It can command the air via one of the jewels on the pommel.
It can allow the user to interact with the spiritual realm via one of the jewels.
It can allow the user to speak all the tongues of man and beast via a jewel. This is a passive gift.
It can 'seal' beings of spirit into the blade, using the chain, allowing it to convert the captured into energy that the sword can use to bolster it's master and repair itself.
It also confers a decent level of Magical Resistance. About B+, maybe edging into A, only as long as it is in his hands. About C otherwise.

Rank: A

Type: Anti-Unit, Anti-Army, Anti-Thaumaturgy.

As you can see, it is a very versatile blade. An amalgamation of King Solomon's Sword, Seal/Ring and Chain. It is nowhere near as powerful as the Anti-Fortress attack of the Sword of Promised Victory but it wasn't trying to match it power for power. He only wanted to remove part of the attack from it's source, the inherent anti-magic properties of the blade allowing him to do so. If he had tried to strike the actual sword of Excalibur while it was empowered by the attack, then he might have had a rude awakening as his sword may have just broken. Thankfully, my Shirou isn't that stupid.

Maybe.

As I said, sorry for my somewhat lack of quality writing. But now the story truly begins to unfold.

Best Wishes and please review,
kujikiri21