I don't own Negima and the Fate series. They belong to their respective owners. You'll also figure out why I'm calling this an AU.
He could see a vast field filled with corpses. Men, women, children, even mythic creatures lay there, their eyes glassy with death. The sky was dark, clouds obscuring the moon that loomed over like an omen of what was to come. He stood up and began to walk, looking for anybody that had survived. Countless of nameless faces later, he stumbled upon something that he didn't want to see.
Three girls lay before him. One with purple hair, the other with black hair, and the other was a blonde.
He thought they looked peaceful, lying there, if it wasn't for the cuts, scrapes, and holes in their bodies. He still felt nothing, although he could feel anger setting in. Who did this? As he moved his hands to touch Saber's face, he noticed a single drop fall from his hands and stain her face.
His hands were red with the same blood that had belonged to the people, the monsters, and his loved ones.
He killed them.
Protect.
Protect.
Protect.
Protect.
He began breathing more rapidly and hoarsely, wiping his hands on his body, only to see that they were just as crimson as they were before. It was like paint that wouldn't come off; a reminder of his sins. Tears rushing down like rivulets, he bolted from the bodies, searching for anything that could help him. He felt a headache set in, and single word beat throbs of pain.
Protect.
Protect.
Protect.
Protect.
There was a light in the distance. The white-haired man scrambled for it, getting back up when he tripped over a child. Maybe it could save him, free him of his guilt.
Protect.
Protect.
It turned out to be a patch of land that the clouds didn't cover. It was like they were avoiding that area. The moonlight illuminated the area, and its touch was inviting to Shirou's eyes.
Protect.
Protect.
He stumbled after noticing all the blood on himself. It wasn't just his hands, but his face, his body, his hair, his clothes. He even tasted it in his mouth.
Protect.
The source of the light was finally in view. It was a sword. No, it wouldn't be prudent to call it simply a sword. It was a Sword, perhaps the most beautiful one he had ever had the chance to lay eyes on. It was stuck within a boulder with only the guard, grip, and pommel visible.
Protect.
He laughed bitterly. He knew what the Sword was before even laying eyes on it.
Excalibur.
Arrving at the boulder, he took hold of the grip. How ironic this moment was. This sword proclaimed her as King, but now, he couldn't even be called a Sword, an Ally of Justice.
Protect.
Unsurprisingly, he was able to free the sword from the rock. Holding it in one hand, he knew what he had to do.
Protect.
Kill one to save the few. Kill one hundred to save one thousand. It was the creed that he lived by and what Kiritsugu had lived by. But now, he couldn't help but feel some hesitation.
Protect.
Struggling to take a breath, Shirou closed his eyes and began to focus.
Trace on.
This was probably the most difficult moment of his life. Shirou felt the object within slowly leave him. When he opened his eyes, the sole object that had started everything was in his hand - Avalon.
Propping it against the rock, Shirou sat down on the ground, progressively feeling weaker and weaker.
He knew what he had to do.
Protect.
Sword over heart.
Protect.
I am the bone of my sword.
Pain blossomed in his left side, but this time, Avalon wouldn't be there to help him.
Protect.
Even if he was made of swords, it would be alright.
Protect.
Sorry for the short piece after such a long hiatus, but I thought I should get this out ASAP for those who are still interested in this story. I expect to have at least one more chapter pumped out before my Thanksgiving break is over.
Thank you to those who have still stuck with me, and I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving!