Chapter 4: Loop 6-3
It was done.
Shirou gave their surroundings one last scanning look after he glanced at the finished magic circle. The car was softly rumbling, the neutral gear keeping the engine running with minimal gas as he sat in the driver's seat.
Everything was set and ready.
Lord El-Melloi sat beside him while their two strongest magi sat in the back, nearest to the barrier as the car was backed right up against the edge of the circle as far as they could make it without being on top of it.
It was close enough for Rin and Luvia, thankfully.
"If we are forced to leave, will that be a problem?" The Lord turned around to look at the two and both shook their heads, indicating it wouldn't be an issue. "As soon as you two are ready, then at your own discretion you may begin."
The Lord turned back around, awkwardly moving his legs as he stared at the pile of bottles stored in his leg-space, wrapped in the leftover shirts Shirou had taken. It wouldn't do for a sudden shock to break these valuable armaments, after all. The Lord seemed annoyed with the tight foot-space he was forced into and out of sheer habit pulled out a cigar, before looking at the pile of firebombs beneath him and thought better of it.
Shirou looked behind him and noted that the two had sunken into a state of concentration, muttering under their breaths as they held various jewels in their hands for focus and resonance. Behind them, the circle began to thrum with light, the lines drawn on the pavement coming to life as the air itself grew abuzz with energy.
"How long will this take?" Shirou turned back around, scanning the streets and rooftops again; so far nothing seemed to be happening in reaction to them.
"Less than a minute, if everything goes well." The Lord shuffled in place as he spoke. "The preparations ought to shoulder most of the work. A marked advantage of jewel magecraft, among many others. As long as their codes are not disturbed, it shouldn't be a problem."
Shirou nodded and said nothing. Assuming that their target was knowledgeable of magic in general, given his rank and age, those jewels would be targeted first. Which brought something to mind that had been bothering him for a while now.
"Do we have a designation for our target? I mean, we don't have a name and it's a bit awkward to keep dancing around that fact."
Waver started at this, as if realizing it only now himself and turning thoughtful.
"You're right. How about—"
The sudden impact and rocking off the car halted all conversation, as a shadow smashed into the windscreen.
"Wha—!" Shirou started. He had quite literally just scanned the street; the horror now rocking their car, smashing its limbs and claws against the car had appeared from literally nowhere. A second impact rocked them, as another horror came from the side at full sprint and rammed itself against the passenger door behind Shirou.
"Tch!" Shirou put his hand on the handbrake and looked back at the two behind him as he revved the engine. They could drive off and lose these two easily, but that would mean interrupting the spell and neither magus seemed inclined to give up just yet, as they continued to ignore the sounds and chaos around them.
"Where did they come from...? A direct summoning? But the magical energy required for something like that from a distance is... But!" Next to Shirou, the Lord seemed to be juggling four different lines of thought as the same time as his head swiveled from side to side, looking at the horrors, the surroundings, the ritual and the field, all in turn.
"Hold on!" Shirou shouted, almost too late, as a larger third horror came barreling in from the front, hitting the car with enough force to send the entire vehicle skidding backwards despite the engaged brakes. The car only stopped once the rear bumper hit the edge of the boundary. Stuck between a horror and hyper-stagnation, they were well and truly trapped.
Well, at least most of the jostling around stopped since the car was now held in place by the bounded field behind them. Luckily the circle hadn't been broken, either.
Behind him, Shirou heard the change in the tone of the two magi. Looking back, he gave them a cursory glance and decided that they hadn't given up yet, but had encountered a setback. Looking at the side-view mirror, he spotted that their car had knocked aside several of the jewels that had been placed in the circle.
Spoken too soon, then.
Scowling, he leaned over to Waver and grabbed two of the Molotov cocktails and looked at Waver.
"What are you—"
"Take the wheel! If you need to, then just drive off!" With that, Shirou kicked open the door and burst out of the car. El-Melloi's reply was cut short as Shirou slammed the door behind him with a kick as he rolled to avoid a lashing tentacle of a raging horror that hadn't yet noticed him but still clipped him, the claws raking the back of his coat.
The three horrors, realizing they had an easier target for which they did not need a can-opener, all turned to look at him now. Teeth and claws clicking, the strange and wet whistling sound they made rising to a heated crescendo before they all stilled.
Predators naturally seek to ambush their prey, thus the horrors were springing themselves before launching, hoping to slowly creep a little closer before they were noticed. Shirou hadn't run off, thus their instinct screamed at them to hold, just for little longer. TO gain the greatest possible advantage before pouncing onto him and rending into pieces.
The tension mounted almost unbearably as the two parties looked at each other, the horrors salivating as they inched closer while Shirou tried to inch backwards.
The moment lasted only an instant and suddenly the one of the windshield jumped for him.
Shirou scrambled backwards, throwing the first Molotov cocktail and hitting the monster square on and dousing it entirely in the sticky mixture as shards of glass and the cloth stuck to it.
He hadn't had time to light it, but that was okay.
Turning on his heel and reaching for his rifle, Shirou turned to sprint for the other side of the street, the three horrors hot on his heels. Feeling the safety come off under his finger and settle on the R, he jumped over a parked car and slid off the hood.
Coming to a stop behind the car so that he had it between himself and the incoming horrors, he crouched down and jumped backwards until he felt the car against his back. The first horror came vaulting over the roof a second later, now loudly screeching and almost vibrating in its maddened bloodlust.
Now...!
Raising his rifle—spotting the doused one as it came to a sliding stop after vaulting over the car, turning back to look at its prey with raised claws and a horrible mish-mash of eyes and beaks underneath its tentacles—Shirou took a bead on the monster.
The trigger was pulled and a single bullet roared out of the barrel, drawing an angry red line in the air and unerringly hitting the doused horror.
And in an instant of light and pained screeching, the horror caught fire as the tracer round lit the Molotov cocktail mixture.
"TEKILIIII—TKELIIIILIUIIII!"
One down!
Grinning almost maniacally, Shirou rolled to the side as the two other horrors came barreling in after the first. Ignoring the screeching, the second came around the car and chased after Shirou as he had turned his roll into a sprint. The third hadn't seen anything and in a repeat of its first appearance rammed itself into the car at full force, managing only to flip the vehicle on top of the first monster, still burning and writhing in pain on the sidewalk.
The second bottle had been smashed and shattered in his hasty vault over the car, so he had left it there next to the car, where it soon caught fire as the trashing horror spread the flames in its flailing. This left him with only his rifle and his left arm doused in the sticky alcohol sludge as he ran, with legs pumping for all that they were worth.
There was no point in wasting tracers, so despite being in full sprint, he deftly switched the magazine with the remaining tracer bullets for a fresh mag. Taking supreme care not to drop the magazine as he slid it into his chest rig, Shirou glanced behind him.
He had run for 6 seconds, covering a hundred meters in his Reinforced state. Bodily Reinforcement could safely and quickly double ones physical performance, which allowed him to not get instantly and horribly maimed by the horrors as they chased after him, but not much more than that.
If he tried to close in and fight with his body, he would be horribly out-matched against these things. Perhaps one-on-one, with as strong weapon... That sword would... No, no time for idle daydreaming.
The two were hot on his tail, the third one noticeably lagging as it had a late start. Shirou turned on his heel in mid-step, coming to a sliding stop as he raised his rifle. He needed to get back to the car, not run away from it.
The rifle roared and drew an angry line through the air and hit the horror in the tentacle supporting its mass.
Cursing in his mind over the useless waste of a tracer—it had been chambered after the first shot and he hadn't had time to notice or remove it—Shirou shot fifteen more rounds in the space of three seconds, effectively crippling the horror for the moment as its tentacles were shot out underneath it.
Having come to a complete halt, he kicked off and leaped over the writhing and struggling form of the second horror, coming to lock eyes with the third one that was now between him and the car as they dashed at each other.
Once, twice... Could he hedge on third time occurring? It felt strange to assign personality traits to inhuman monsters, but this one had proven itself to be quite stubborn and even a bit stupid.
Letting go of the rifle with his left hand, Shirou's perception of the world crawled to a halt as his mouth opened. The words poured out like molasses in comparison to the celerity of his mind, drawing out the image, form, texture, shape and material in his mind.
"—trace on!"
The blanket burst open like a parachute before him, hiding the horror and magus from each other as time snapped back into play in his perception. Counting the steps in his mind and running the simulation in his head a bare second before the real thing occurred, Shirou jumped to the side and rolled at the last second before reaching the already falling blanket.
The horror, true to form and habit, came barreling in and tackled the wool blanket he had Projected to hide his form from sight. Missing Shirou entirely, the mess of tentacle, tooth and blanket rolled as the horror managed to tangle itself entirely in its leap.
Yup, the dumbass did it again.
Shirou, not missing a beat, completed his roll and exploded into a run towards the car.
Ignoring the passengers, he slid to a stop and looked at the circle. Jewels were scattered here and there, but he vaguely remembered their original positions. Kneeling to place those within hand's reach back where he remembered them being, he hoped that Rin and Luvia could re-establish connections with the gems and finished up this ritual quickly.
He could have really used their explosive kind of talents right this moment.
Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rising, Shirou turned around and raised his rifle to fire. Only to freeze at the sight of the incoming seven horrors. An instant of observation and a barking laugh of exasperation later, he got up and emptied the magazine down range.
Putting two round bursts into approaching horrors to thin them out, he continued to fire with mechanical precision and speed that made him seem like a machine gun in human form for a moment.
He removed the empty magazine, exhaling and inhaling to control his heartbeat.
Walking up to the car door he had slammed shut not 20 seconds earlier, Shirou had exchanged and emptied yet another magazine into the approaching horrors, leaving only one monster that was still coming at full tilt.
He tried the door handle, only to find it locked. Looking in with exasperation, Shirou made eye-contact with the Lord in the driver's seat. El-Melloi rolled down the window and gave Shirou an intent look, holding a readied and lit Molotov cocktail in an outstretched hand.
Shirou blinked and took the bottle without further ado.
Letting the emptied rifle drop and hang on his hip by the sling, he held the bottle like a baseball as he cocked a throw. Twisting his hips and shoulder to cock for the throw as he raised one leg, the bottle was launched with the force, speed and precision that would not be out of place in the Japan Series finals.
The clatter of breaking glass and the explosive whoof of a fireball consuming the horror masked its screeching howls as it dropped, no more than 10 meters from the car. Taking a scanning look, Shirou found that the rest had gathered themselves and were coming for him, while the now two doused horrors were still effectively out of the game.
"Keep them coming." Shirou said, motioning for Waver to give him another. A second passed and another bottle found his open and waiting palm. "If you can't give me a lit one, I can handle that. Just keep them coming."
Three more bottles were thrown and three more horrors were left screeching and writhing in pain on the pavement. Four left—when had another one showed up, he wondered—with two a mere twenty meters away and closing fast. Judging that he didn't have time for another two bottles, Shirou took the proffered bottle and threw it high in the air with an underhanded throw.
Raising his rifle and reaching for a fresh 7.62 magazine he judged the path of the bottle, the velocity and course of the horrors and the time it would take for him to get ready. Taking three steps backwards, he managed to attach the magazine and chamber a round, taking aim at the seventh bottle.
The loud crack was effectively simultaneous at this range with the clatter of the shattering glass. The lit doused cloth causing the rest of the alcohol to catch fire, creating a falling curtain of flames that made the horrors veer to a sudden halt and retreat as the wall of flames settled between them and the car.
Emptying the magazine once more as he advanced back to the window, his left hand coming down and being greeted with another Molotov, Shirou smirked in satisfaction and threw again. Only, this time the horrors dodged to the side with almost palpable panic.
Had they learned from the previous bottle already?
Perhaps being stationary, they could dodge much more easily a bottle than when in full tilt. It didn't matter, as the bottle crashed into the pavement and another conflagration erupted, veiling the street with thick black smoke and a nauseating smell that was almost as bad as the horrors' own.
Blinded by the smoke and flames, the shadow and brightness intermixed, Shirou almost missed the blur coming from above. Jumping to the side, he heard the massive thud of something crashing where he had stood a mere moment before.
Shirou rolled back up, emptied the rest of his magazine in the creature's center mass in a twitch reaction. The creature ignored it all and barreled at him. Shirou dodged to the side, but was clipped by a clawed appendage that ripped through layers of clothing and drew blood on his back as he was battered to the side like a ragdoll.
Hitting the pavement and losing his rifle, Shirou rolled by muscle memory and managed to not further hurt himself, only to realize he had been pushed almost into the fire itself. Tongues of flame licked his back and smoke filled his eyes and nose, while the ringing sound of the impact still pained his head.
Shirou took half a step forward, away from the immediate reach of the hungry fire.
The horror cautiously stalked around, wary of the fire yet lusting for his blood as it chittered and whistled in excitement. Behind him on the other side of the wall of fire, Shirou could feel the two horrors making a ruckus as if complaining about having their prey stolen. The fourth and last of the horrors was on top of the car, confusedly banging on the windows and trying to reach the squishy humans inside. Waver had a look of apology in his eyes as he met Shirou's eyes, as if saying he had done his best as he had rolled up the window already.
Shirou understood and didn't begrudge the Lord, it wasn't in Shirou's nature after all.
He could Project something, but would it be of any use? He had already made several things today, but his reserves were still good due to the mundane nature of his items. He could try that sword again, but it wouldn't work. He would need a minute to create it and without her around it would only last for a single swing. He had tried and tried since then, but it felt like something was missing.
Mundane creations were more stable and reliable, but didn't offer the kind of firepower necessary to deal with this thing.
Taking off his chest rig and jacket, Shirou eyed the creature in front of him cautiously as he pocketed two magazines. Taking the jacket and throwing it into the flames while holding the sleeves, Shirou eyed the rifle halfway between himself and the horror. The jacket caught fire and he reeled it back out.
Taking a step forward, Shirou swung the flaming jacket once, twice, thrice. With every swing, the horror made a noise of anger and rage but backpedaled nonetheless.
With a lunging step, Shirou threw the jacket forward and made for the rifle. The horror screeched and avoided the jacket, making a lashing lunge of its own at Shirou. Blocking the lash with the butt of the rifle, Shirou almost lost grip of his weapon as the tentacle tried to rip it from his hands. But with a kick and a desperate side-roll while lying down, Shirou managed to free himself.
Leaning on his side, he reached for the magazine and inserted it into the rifle and bringing it to bear on the horror before firing the entire magazine in one rapid string of hip-fire. Rocking his hand back and forward like rockstar would their guitar, the recoil of the now almost-automatic rifle made his shots climb and hit the horror from bottom to top as the muzzle rose with every shot.
The remaining eight tracer rounds fired in an instant, five managed to hit the horror and caused it to collapse into a wailing mess of teeth and chittering agony. Shirou rose and charged, swinging the rifle by the barrel and hitting the horror with the stock so hard that something cracked and gave way under the force of the impact.
Spinning around the horror and placing it between himself and the wall of fire, Shirou dropped the gun and turned to face the horror as it was getting up again. The tracer rounds were slightly incendiary and had hurt it, but would not stop it or bother it for long.
But, at this moment it was still pained and off guard.
That was all he needed.
With all the explosive force that he could muster, Shirou dashed at the horror and crossed the three meter gap like a rocket. Turning on his heel, cocking his hips and bringing low his shoulders while balancing with his arms spread out, he spun on his one foot as the other came crashing around in thunderous spinning back kick that struck with the force of an exploding sledgehammer and sent the horror flying backwards.
Backwards, straight into the raging flames that hungrily enveloped the horror.
Recovering his stance, Shirou could catch a glimpse of the horror before it was swallowed by the flames it landed in. The following wails of agony and teeth almost brought a smile to his face as he turned around again.
The two horrors that had been behind him were now flanking the fires, the one horror on the car still ignoring him in the hopes of getting to the seemingly easier prey hiding in the car. Shirou grabbed the rifle again as he dashed for the magic circle.
Loading the last magazine on his person, Shirou took aim and in another series of three round bursts, methodically crippled the horror jumping on the car. Sliding off the car, with limbs flailing every which way as it angrily screeched, the horror finally seemed to notice him.
Realizing that the stock had been shattered in his previous attack, Shirou noted that at one burst had missed completely as it gave further way under the recoil. Behind a series of cracks caught his attention and Shirou realized his chest rig had caught on fire, setting off the remainder of his ammunition. The crack of a bullet ricocheting on the pavement next to him got him moving again and he dived for the cover the trunk of the car as his remaining bullets set themselves off in the fire.
Taking a breath of relief, he realized that he was again next to the horror that he had shot at just now.
The horror realized his presence in that instant as well, a pair of tentacles lashing out for him like bolts of lightning. Kicking back and managing an awkward backwards roll, Shirou got to his feet after the dodging the rapid series of attacks.
The horror not far behind, leaped for him as was their nature and Shirou almost instinctively, simply dropped and let it fly over him. Turning around in a half-crouch he fired at the monster instantly, only to realize it had gotten stuck in the time stagnation barrier like the one he had fought before.
Turning around the face the two other horrors that he could feel closing in, Shirou noted that the Lord had opened the car window and lobbed another three or four Molotov and held the horrors off while Shirou dealt with the one behind him.
Shirou might even survive at this rate.
The thought made him laugh involuntarily as he took stock of the state he was in and his situation. One broken rifle, his small caliber pistol with one magazine, a somewhat painful wound on his back—judging by the warm wetness leaking down his back and the numbness—and two more horrors to deal with as the fire raged around him and his head was beginning to feel light from the smoke and the oxygen scarcity in the air.
It was at that moment, that the barrier behind him exploded and shattered, knocking him off of his feet and onto his face. Groaning in pain, Shirou had barely enough time to get back up and raise his rifle before something caught him in a vise grip around his throat and lifted him up like he weighed nothing.
The last thing he saw before losing consciousness were the blood red eyes, slitted and boring into his own as the rifle was torn from his grip and shattered with casual ease.
"Grrhhh..." Shirou groaned, as he opened his eyes. Holding a hand to his head, which was pounding in beat with his heart and shooting lances of pain through his temples, he felt like he had been thrown out of a car and then rolled down a hill while stuffed in a bag. A quick check revealed no broken bones however, and his back only ached with slight scabs from the injuries he remembered receiving.
"Good morning, Emiya-kun."
"Huh, Rin. What happened?" Shirou said, barely groaning the words out as he worked out the kinks in his neck with stretching and massaging. He vaguely remembered fighting, but right now he couldn't make any sense of the situation beyond the fact that he wasn't dead.
"You managed to get in the way of an angry True Ancestor." She tittered, walking up to him. "Not many people can boast having survived that."
Shirou grunted, figuring that if Rin was being coy then everything was under control for the moment.
"But." she said suddenly turning serious. "You're lucky to have made it alive. Probably because you were Reinforcing yourself so hard. The gases the horrors exhale and release when killed is pretty poisonous; you let it get way too close to you this time, idiot. The priest didn't make it, either."
"The priest? You mean the old man?" Shirou blinked as he got up on sore legs.
Walking forward to look around, he spotted piles of rent and charred flesh all around them. Many more than he remembered. Many, many more.
"Once Arcueid was free, a whole bunch of the horrors appeared out of thin air. While she was busy with them, a few took out the old man." Rin explained, shrugging as if it did not truly have anything to do with her. "Tore him apart in seconds. Arcueid doesn't seem too bothered, though."
Shirou's mood darkened at that and he looked around the street with a critical eye. The charred remains of horrors surrounded them, with half-blackened shards of glass littering the street. Ripped and torn remains of the creatures were everywhere around them, no doubt the handiwork of the True Ancestor. That it had worked when explosions hadn't, seemed somewhat unusual to him but he chalked it up to some sort of vampiric power or natural authority she possessed that he didn't know about.
He spotted Luvia and El-Melloi, talking with the White Princess a dozen meters away and they seemed to notice him as he looked their way. He felt a bit lightheaded at the sight and he wasn't sure if it was because of his injuries or because of the sight itself. Something about a True Ancestor just being seemed to make the whole situation ethereal and unreal.
"Your back seems alright now. Had to patch you up a little, what with you getting beat up like a redheaded stepchild by those things." Rin smacked him on the back, hitting his bare and somewhat raw skin through the rends in his clothing, with a teasing grin on her face.
"Huh, you're awake." A new voice spoke out and Shirou realized with a start that it was the woman. He blinked and looked at her, before nodding an awkward greeting, not sure what to say.
"Umm, sorry about, you know. Well, but you were shooting at me. Well not at me, but at me, so you know." The blonde woman seemed just as sheepish as he was as she laughed awkwardly.
"Ah, it's fine as long as you weren't hurt. Sorry about that, I was careless to assume that just because the bullets stopped at the barrier in my point of view that they wouldn't still hit you from your point of view." He bowed at the waist, causing the rest of the magi to give him funny looks. The blonde woman stared at him for a moment before laughing.
"Haha! You're a funny guy! I like him!" She waved him off, looking at Waver and laughing merrily. Then she seemed to remember something and raised her hand to reveal something she had been holding. "I uh... I kind of broke your thing. Sorry."
Shirou stared at the rifle in her hand.
Or rather, the pitiful remains of a rifle. It looked like someone had crushed and bent a toy gun made out of tin and then tried to pry it back into shape again, rather unsuccessfully. The barrel was bent to hell and the internal mechanisms were undoubtedly completely ruined.
"Ah, it's fine. Really, it was my fault for shooting at you anyhow." He apologized again after realizing he'd be staring at the gun in an awkward silence.
"Oh, no. That won't do. I'll buy you a new one okay? Or, err, was it precious? I'll make it up to you, Ì promise?" The vampire seemed genuinely worried about that, so Shirou relented.
"Well, thank you. I have more, so it's fine. And... I'm sorry about your companion." Shirou bowed again.
"Hmm? Oh, Merem? He's fine. I think. Well, he should be soon enough. Well if it really was Merem it wouldn't have happened, but the old man should be fine." The blonde waved him off, but then seemed thoughtful. "But I am kind of troubled now, since I don't know how to find that guy now."
All four magi perked at that.
"Ah, Miss Brunestud." El-Melloi interjected, as stiff as a tree and as polite as anyone else present had ever seen the man be. "Could you perhaps share with us the purpose of your presence here? It is not often that the Church or even someone as famous as yourself comes to Britain."
The vampire looked at him and placed a finger on her chin, seeming thoughtful for a moment.
"Mm... Well, Gaia and Merem wanted to find some magus because he was doing all kinds of weird stuff or something, but neither was exactly clear what the problem was..." She seemed more to speak to herself than to Waver, but the Lord thanked her anyway.
Shirou blinked, not certain what to make of that.
"Gaia? You mean you're here as part of the Deterrent Force or something?" As Shirou spoke up, he could see Waver and Luvia stiffen up, making hand signs at him from behind the blonde vampire's back for him to stop and shut up.
"Well... Not really?" Arcueid seemed as confused as he felt, reacting completely differently from how the magi had thought she would, which made the two magi blink in confusion. "I mean, I think so, but Gaia seems pretty confused about the whole thing, so I guess not."
Shrugging, the vampire seemed to forget the subject in another second again.
"Hey, you." She turned back to Waver, causing him to stiffen up considerably. "Do you know where I can find Relchronos Torre? He's one of you weird guys, a magus."
Waver's jaw dropped as he blinked at her for a few seconds. Shirou could see the pieces moving and finding their places inside the Lord's head for a moment, before Waver shook it off and shook his head.
"I believe we are looking for him as well, miss Brunestud. We had been hoping that you would have some clue for us." The Lord spoke, carefully observing the True Ancestor with every word.
"Huh. Oh well." She shrugged and frowned. "Guess I'll have to look for him myself then. Oh yeah, what's your name, anyhow?"
Shirou blinked, as his eyes were met by her ruby red ones. He suddenly remembered those eyes boring into him as he had been lifted up and choked by this woman, earlier.
"Ah... I am Emiya Shirou." His introduction was a bit stiff and wooden as he still wasn't sure what the hell was going on.
"Emiya, Shirou." She seemed to taste the name before nodding to herself. "Got it. Buh-bye!"
And with that she turned on her heel and began to walk away without a care in the world. No one tried to stop her or follow her, nor did anyone say anything for a good minute until the figure of the woman had completely disappeared.
"What a weird woman." Shirou mused, only to have three pairs of glaring eyes lock onto him and make him flinch.
"You idiot! What kind of stupid blockhead asks a True Ancestor about the Deterrent Force? Don't you realize that Gaia's primary interest with the Deterrent Force lies in culling humans!" Rin seemed explode faster than anyone else, grabbing onto his shirt and almost lifting him off the ground. Only, with the tears on the back, the shirt tore and ripped even more. "It's like you have no brain in that head of yours! AAAAGGH!"
"I thought, urk, she only cared about Dead Apostles?" He tried to voice out as she shook him.
Shirou looked at the two others for help, but El-Melloi was studiously ignoring him and Luvia seemed ready explode as well. He grimaced, hoping that she wasn't holding it in until Rin was done with him, as he began to ignore Rin's ranting and manhandling of his clothes with a skill that could only be born through years of experience.
It was rather nostalgic, actually.
He had to listen to her ranting for a full five minutes before she finally let him go. It seemed her annoyance wasn't only at his behavior with Arcuied but was also greatly fueled by his willfulness to simply jump out of the pan and into the fire at the first chance.
"We could have just stayed in the car, that's what we Reinforced it for, didn't we? If the spell failed, then so be it, we would have just left! But you had to play hero and jump out!" She had shouted at him, mere inches from his face. "Didn't you understand when you faced the one before? You can't handle those things alone."
At that he had smiled and thanked her for caring about his safety, which had finally gotten her to drop him and the subject. Still, his clothes were ruined, his gun was ruined and his muscles were quite sore. He had some ideas about how to handle himself if it came to another fight, but it was beginning to look like this was a troublesome mission and that he would be getting his ass thoroughly kicked throughout it, if the last few encounters were anything to go by.
Still, he would keep going. This wasn't the kind of place where he could simply back down.
"What now?" Shirou asked the Lord, once Rin had let him off the hook. The Lord eyed him thoughtfully as he leaned on the car, but did not say anything for a good while.
"How is your crest?"
Shirou blinked, before shaking his head. He could admit to the truth of the matter with ease: "I don't have one."
The Lord blinked. Not in surprise, not in shock or anything of the like. He simply blinked, as if for the sake of breaking eye contact for a moment. Deep in thought once more, the Lord seemed to ignore Shirou's very presence despite looking straight at him.
Shirou shrugged and eyed his supplies.
Waver had gone through a fair share of the bottles, but they still had 16 left. Enough for one or two encounters, especially once the magical powerhouses weren't busy with magic circles. He had his pistol, but it was essentially useless given that he only had the one magazine of 9mm for it. That left him with 16 peas to use against monsters that shook off battle rifle cartridges as if they were mosquito bites.
He frowned at that. Sixteen Molotovs and only a magazine of 9mm rounds.
Noting that Waver was still busy with whatever he was contemplating, Shirou turned to look at Rin. Noticing him looking, the raven-haired magus gave a glower that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise and he hastily turned to Luvia instead. She had seemed mollified with the lashing Rin had given him and had calmed down.
At least, compared to Rin.
"Luvia."
"Hmm, what is it Sherou?" She turned to look at him, from having been taking a closer look at one of the more well preserved remains of a horror.
"Could I ask for a slight favor. I'll pay for the costs, but I'd need your unique talents for it to work." He gave her a helpless smile and the Finnish magus gave him a dangerous one in return, all teeth and predatory interest.
"Oh—hoo... Sherou, you mustn't ever tell that you are in a position of needing a unique service, once in a negotiation... Tsk tsk, I simply must demand a proviso payment of two hundred percent of the material costs. Now that you have given me such an easy advantage, it is against my nature to simply give it up easily." She grinned at him and he realized she was teasing him.
"Ah, Nevermind then." He shrugged and turned away, mock depressed. "Guess I'll just ask Rin."
"Nevermind, Sherou! Deal!" The blonde seemed to have mastered true spatial transference as she teleported next to him, grabbing a hold of his arm and dragging him to the side before Rin could notice. "So, what is it?"
"I, ah, could use your help with something. I don't really have a weapon to deal with the horrors, but I have an idea." He said, pulling out his pistol and showing it to her. She frowned at the CZ 75 but did not object the weapon.
"And?"
"Well, we have 16 Molotov and they seem to work best by dousing them first, before lighting it. If they see the fire, they understand to dodge. If I douse them before I light the mixture, then the horrors don't understand to dodge and it's easier to hit them." He explained, removing the magazine and emptying the chamber for the last bullet. "So if I could, say enchant these bullet somehow, I could light them from afar once I've doused all the ones that have appeared."
"Enchant? You need me to use Alteration for you?" She smirked at him. "I thought Material Transmutation was your specialty, hmm? And what material costs would there be in that? Well besides the paltry magical energy, but I'm sure we can working something out."
"That wouldn't work. Even your Alteration wouldn't last for more than a few hours at the most and the longer I wait, the weaker it would get." He shook his head and took out a knife from his pocket. Flicking the blade open, he took the one bullet he had extracted from the chamber and pointed at the tip of it. "You damaged some of your jewels, right? I noticed you collecting them and there were cracked ones among them."
She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly losing all of the playfulness she had had.
"They're all but useless, right? Might as well sell them to me and recover some of that loss?" He suggested with a raised eyebrow, thinking himself clever here once more after his quip about Rin. She huffed and shook her head in exasperation.
"Were it anyone else, I would kill them right here and now. To ask a magus to hand over their mystic codes for cheap remuneration..." She laughed lightly yet with a dangerous undercurrent that dyed the air with menace, her tone catching Rin's attention and she turned to look at them from afar. "But you've just proved that you are simply that naive, with the White Princess. If that woman doesn't mind your foolishness, then an Edelfelt certainly cannot be any less merciful. It would not do to appear any less graceful, after all. Fine, fine. As long as you promise to get rid of them all by the end of the day and not give them to anyone, I guess I can spare a junk one."
Shirou, realizing how he had just almost gotten himself killed over an idea he wasn't even sure would work, nervously swallowed as he nodded.
"I'd ask for a geis, but... No, nevermind. What were you thinking?" She laughed aloud and gave him a sideways look.
He quickly carved out the lead nose of the bullet and showed her the bullet. There was a depression where he figured that you could insert a small gemstone without exceeding the original dimensions of the bullet. She nodded and took out a small gem, lined with fractures and held it in her palm as she whispered a word.
"Call—"
The stone broke apart into dozens of smaller ones, uniform in size and dimensions. She continued muttering under her breath until she finally opened her eyes again and showed her palm to him. The gems had changed color a little and seemed slightly more alive than before.
"A minor effect of spark and flame, stored to be released as soon as the gems crack again. Here, I'll expect payment by the end of the week." She gave him a smile and a wink, as she walked off.
"Thank you, Luvia." He said, speaking from the bottom of his heart.
Luvia was very much like Rin in the regard that despite being a merciless first rate magus, she still had a kinder side that would allow her to make unexpected allowances for people she liked. It was probably what had attracted him to her in the first place.
"Don't worry about it, it's just a sparkle. Hardly anything to sweat over even if you do lose it." She waved, not bothering to face him as she walked away. Only to stop, thoughtfully, before turning to look him in the eye. "But if you give any of them to Rin, I will find you and I will kill you."
He laughed nervously at that. "I promise. I won't betray your trust."
She looked at him critically before huffing and walking away primly.
He pocketed the rest of the gemstones along with the gun and walked to the car. Luckily they still had a few extra t-shirts from his boutique raid and he had a change of clothes, though a bit light for the weather as he had no jacket.
Wearing two shirts felt a bit unusual but gave him enough layering to keep him warm despite the chill. He had always been quite warm of body. He grabbed the jacket, which he had taken off during the fight. It was slightly singed at the bottom and had been quite effectively torn apart by the horror.
Throwing the torn apart green jacket into the backseat of the car with the rest of his gear, Shirou made sure to check everything. Once done with that he walked up to Waver who seemed to have reached some sort of conclusion in his meditations.
Before Shirou could open his mouth, the Lord looked at him.
"You said there were people to the west of us?"
"Yeah. Looked to be from the Clock Tower, from what I could see. At least, they were making a camp there before, I don't know if they're still there." Shirou answered. The Lord nodded and got up.
"Alright then. That would be the Enforcers. We will join up with them for now."
Exiting the town at the west, they quickly found the base camp of the Clock Tower contingent. Shirou also noted that the sounds of fighting around the town had stopped, taking that to mean that either one or both sides had been eliminated.
Pulling to a stop as a heavily armed man, looking more like a mundane mercenary than any kind of magus, appeared before them. Shimmering out of thin air with the rifle pointed at them, holding up one hand to signal them to stop.
Shirou noted the rifle was an American M16.
Not a more easily acquirable civilian version of the basic design, but the actual military issue one with full auto capability. Military style cargo pants, boots, jacket and plate carrier and vest, along with a ballistic mask on his face completed the look.
Shirou thought it a little overdone given how the British population would react to such, but assumed that if you were to make mystic codes, you would customize things you knew worked for you. And the invisibility would certainly help with the local legalities despite the overt appearance.
He wasn't particularly surprised about being pulled over, given the state of their car. Still, he halted and rolled down the window a slight bit. Not enough for the gunman to easily shoot inside, but enough to let sound carry more easily. He just hoped that the road wasn't mined; even with the Reinforcement, getting flipped around would suck more than he would like.
"Who're you? What do you want?" The gruff voice, almost comically overdone Shirou felt, asked from behind the painted on white skull on the mask. Some sort of shaded lenses covered his eyes, but Shirou could feel the eyes peering at him.
"I am Lord El-Melloi II, now get the hell out of my way and tell me where Adashino is." Of course, the man with the gun had nothing compared to the sullen, gruff anger that his employer was putting out.
The man looked taken aback, taking an actual step back at the tone of voice. He lifted one hand to his ear and spoke something to what had to have been a communications headset. After a few seconds, he looked back to the car and waved them on ahead.
Beside Shirou, the Lord grumbled about useless people wasting his time.
Shirou continued driving, taking it slowly as the paved road had stopped a while back and the occasional tree and the high grass on the roadside gave any hypothetical ambushers a distinct advantage. Despite his hurry, Lord El-Melloi did not complain, as even at their slow pace the pothole-filled road was making for a bumpy ride.
Finally finding their way to a collection of erected square tents, Shirou look brought the car to a halt a little to the side. Several gunmen acknowledged their presence but did not approach, keeping their positions while fiddling with their coms.
Even before Shirou had pulled to a stop and turned off the car Waver had exited in a hurry, slamming the door in his haste to stretch his legs once more. The Lord looked around, spotted something and began to walk. Shirou moved to follow but a look back by his employer told him to stay.
Shirou took that to mean that he wasn't necessary for protection detail in the camp itself, thus he could do whatever he wanted as long as he was on stand by. Or something like that, it wasn't a very detailed look.
Shrugging, he gave the two magi behind him querying looks. Rin and Luvia, noticing the Lord's exit, hastened to follow. Left behind, Shirou shrugged and got up to look around the camp.
The gunmen kept on eye on him and Shirou wondered who they were. The Clock Tower did not directly employ such men, after all. Even the Enforcers who used specialized combat magecraft got a lot of flak; that the actual gun users would be treated like dirt went without saying.
Freelancers, then?
He wandered until he found the civilians. They were left alone, with only the one guard looking over them, held outdoors in the cold. Shirou could vaguely sense the bounded field, holding them calm and under control, in a dazed and compliant state like cattle of some kind. He felt a sense of nausea and turned to walk to the lone guard.
But at his approach, the man sharpened up and Shirou could hear the click of the safety being set off even from a distance. This man would shoot him before he allowed Shirou to come any closer. That rankled him even more, but he did not try to approach any closer.
The Clock Tower was ruthless but not meaninglessly cruel.
The people would most likely survive just fine, the Clock Tower had an image to maintain. These people would be fine, even if he did nothing. Turning around, he walked away. He didn't really believe his own bullshit, but at the same time he did not act out on his vague impulses to go help the civilians.
He couldn't help them anyhow.
He didn't have the ability to break the bounded field holding them and even if he did, the guards would take him down before he managed anything. And even if he got them away, then what? He couldn't hypnotize them himself and leaving them to freely leave and spread what had happened here would bring down the wrath of the entire Clock Tower on him. And them.
Controlling his breathing, he brought himself to a state of enforced calm.
Shirou made his way back to the car and found himself left alone by everyone around him. He took out his knife and the gun and ammunition again. If he had down-time, it would be good to get his gear in order. Taking out a honey-and-nuts ration bar and a bottle of water, he ate and drank in leisure while working carefully.
After getting the bullets carved out and removing the excess lead, he would drop in the small gemstone and then use Reinforcement to shape the bullet around the gemstone. The dimensions had to be quite exact; the gemstone had to be the first part to hit the target to ensure effectiveness as depending on the target material the lead bullet might not be broken too much. But at the same time if the shape was changed too much it would fail to feed and fire in the gun itself.
The CZ 75 was a reliable and tough gun, but even the best could fail you if you filled it with faulty ammunition.
The Reinforcement was tiring work, requiring minute focus and patience, despite being the most basic spells of magecraft. It did not even burn any considerable amount of his reserves, but still left him exhausted once he had finished with it all.
The first two had been the most troublesome, as he had tested out his designs with two bullets at first. Making sure there were no failures to feed or double feeds as he moved the slide to simulate feeding in another bullet, all while making sure to keep the hammer from striking the primers with utmost care.
At least it kept his mind off of the civilians.
After finding that his "blueprint" was good, the rest was just a matter of reproduction. That was the easy part for him which was fairly unusual he had come to realize. Generally for people, recreating an exact model of an earlier work was challenging, especially with a mystery such as Reinforcement which allowed absolute freedom in what you could do.
A first rate magus could create a more complex spell that would automate most of the work for roughly the same end result each time, he was sure. But when it came to remaking something in exacting detail, he was certain that he was world-class. If someone had already walked the steps, retracing them was elementary for him.
He filled the magazine, slapped it into the magazine well and pulled the slide to chamber a round and cock the hammer. For some reason, the function of a double action/single action pistol resonated with him. The mental operation of he how used his magic was extremely similar; perhaps because his trigger for using his magecraft had always been the image of a dropping hammer, perhaps these further influences with firearms had shaped his mental image even further.
Like the gun, he could chamber an image and wait for the optimum moment of letting it fire. Like the gun, he could store his images before he needed them and once they were stored required little attention.
Releasing the magazine, he inserted the final bullet in the magazine to give him the full 16 bullets to use as he inserted it into the magazine well. One in the chamber, fifteen in reserve. The hammer was cocked, setting it to fire at the slightest pull due to the single action firing mechanism, ready to spit lead at a moment's notice. He set the thumb safety and with smooth motions holstered the cocked and locked pistol once more.
Should he prepare some sort of holster for the Molotov as well? He had the pistol on his right side, which would leave his left side free. He could throw roughly equally well with either hand, so it shouldn't be a problem.
"Hmm..." He mused, before realizing one of the guards was approaching him.
"Hey, bodyguard. They want you at the tent." The gruff voice spoke, looking at him expectantly. Shirou could notice some difference in the gear from the first man he had seen—by the road—but the general feel was the same. Uniform, even in their customization.
Presumably due to some sort of camaraderie formed in this band of mercenaries.
He didn't know anything about that, but he did wonder if he could talk to some of them and exchange pointers. They seemed experienced.
Walking into the tent, he scanned the table that had a surprisingly realistic miniature map of the town on it. He noted several markers and noticed that a few small metal soldiers were moving on top of it. Almost like as if a magnet below the table was pulling them around. Some sort of magecraft, he was sure. He looked up, finding his employer and the woman from the car park earlier standing there. The enforcer from the bar who had run at the first sight of trouble was also there, standing in the back.
"Mister Emiya. How good of you to join us." The woman, Adashino if Shirou remembered correctly, spoke up. She motioned for him to join them by the table.
"What's this about? Are we moving out again? I'm ready to go at any time." Shirou looked at the Lord who seemed to be intently watching him for some reason again. His gaze flicking between the two Clock Tower officials, Shirou noticed that they were both playing with their cards held close to their chest. Whether it was to hide them from him or each other, he couldn't tell.
"Yes, I was informed that you had been crucial in Lord El-Melloi's operations—"
"El-Melloi II." The long haired Lord ground out between clenched teeth. Despite the familiarity these two showed each other, Shirou realized that neither trusted the other one bit. Adashino continued as if she hadn't heard anything.
"—against Hermit."
Shirou blinked at that. It was the codename they had settled on for the target, he assumed. Perhaps a nod towards the man hiding himself and having been a recluse before? Or did it have something to do with the Sealing Designation classification of "Hermit"? Anyhow, it stood out to him that his employer had not deigned to share the name Arcueid Brunestud had told him.
Play with your cards close to your chest, he imagined the Lord speaking out loud to him with a look as their eyes met.
"Yes, ma'am. That's what I am being paid for." Shirou spoke neutrally, assuming the affectations of a soldier. Less the sullen ennui of a mercenary looking for his kicks and cash, like the men outside, and more the vigilant servitude of a professional servant.
He had had the luck to work alongside men like that some years before, thus the mindset came easily.
She looked him in the eye, not saying anything for a long moment. He ignored the awkwardness of it all, certain that was what she was aiming for. Some negotiation ploy or interrogation tactic that would have made no sense to him. Finally, perhaps tiring of the silence or having achieved whatever it was that she wanted, she continued.
"But is that all you are being paid for?"
Shirou blinked, not sure what she was asking.
"...Ma'am?"
"She thinks you're working for Hermit." His employer supplied from the side, having pulled out a cigar from a box on the table. It seemed that he had been resupplied and no longer felt the need to hold back on his habit.
The mysterious scent of the smoke lingered in the air and Shirou wondered exactly what went into those leaf wraps to make such smoke.
"So you knew." Adashino turned to the lounging Lord, who scoffed at her.
"I was not made the replacement Lord for my incredible magics or my good looks, Adashino." He said, sounding more bitter than gloating, somehow. She huffed, affecting amusement but Shirou was sure it was nothing more than an act.
"You purposefully held back whose crest was stolen, even though you let me inspect the vault itself." He continued.
"I was not at liberty to reveal that. Orders from up high, you understand. But your talents—your wit, your powers of observation and deduction—are most valued. Never doubt that. I made sure to give you access, as it was not expressly forbidden. I am sure it has already paid out, given your confidence here and now, before me." She seemed smug despite her smiling face and Shirou wondered exactly what he had gotten himself involved in.
"So I looked up the public records of magi. Read through 400 hundred years of Clock Tower records and memorized it all. Once you let it slip that Emiya was a relevant name on that parking lot, I had all but figured it out." Waver continued, puffing out a long string of smoke that seemed to change directions and weave around them by itself. With a start, Shirou realized that the Enforcer looked to be straining to listen in.
Had the Lord enacted a soundproofing with smoke alone? Why was he still being allowed to listen in, then? Most importantly, what did he have to do with any of this?
"Of course, that was little more than happenstance. I looked into him just before." El-Melloi continued, motioning at Shirou again with his cigar. "He is adopted, without a crest. Even if it had been passed down I am sure it would have rejected him outright given his unique inclinations. Wholly incompatible with the crest, this one."
"Hmm..." Adashino seemed thoughtful at that. "You are certain of that? If you're wrong, he could prove vital in finding Hermit."
"Certain enough." Waver nodded. "He also helped me unravel the rest of this case. Even if he had been trying to hide something by joining me or trying to spy on my activities, he has helped me understand what and who we face. I doubt any spy sent by our elusive 'Hermit' would be so incompetent."
Adashino started at that, standing straighter.
"You know Hermit's identity?" She asked, suddenly all business once more. "The Department of Policies—"
"Will do nothing. I am a Lord. You will give me command here as I am the highest ranking member of the Clock Tower present and I am the most well informed investigator on this case as of right now." The Lord's words and sudden force of presence brokered no argument and even this snake of a bureaucrat seemed to deflate before him.
After a moment of sullen and tense silence, she nodded.
"But." She began and looked at Shirou. "He will have to remain under watch. Regardless of your assessment, the Clock Tower will not stand for any failures. Even potential failures. His worth on the field does not exceed the potential risk he poses."
Shirou tensed at that. He was suddenly relieved that the smoke seemed to soundproof their surroundings. Even if the Enforcer had been told to keep an eye on Shirou, if he made a break for it right now he might make it out of the camp. It was one thing to work alongside the Clock Tower. It was another to be held captive by them.
"That's fine. But he will not be held captive; he is the type to make trouble if forced to do anything. He'll be more trouble than he is worth, if you try to hold him against his will." The Lord waved her complaints away even as he agreed to do as she wished. Turning to look at Shirou. "It seems your services will no longer be required, Emiya. You will remain here for the remainder of the expedition. You will be paid for your time I'm sure, at the end of this whole debacle. The Department of Policies will have the honor of handling the bill, since I seem to have lost my bodyguard now."
Adashino rolled her eyes at being footed the bill but did not complain, still keeping one eye on Shirou. Shirou swallowed and nodded. As long as he wasn't confined, he could break out if something happened and as long as he got paid his agent would be happy at the end of it.
Besides, most of the townspeople were here already. Mostly safe.
He had done good, this time, he told himself. He had helped solve something, even if he wasn't sure what it was.
"Alright." Shirou contemplated asking about the civilians, but realizing the precarious position he was in thought better than going through with it. Now that the Clock Tower was actively interested in him, however tangentially, if he showed any interest in the civilians they would end up as leverage against him sooner or later.
"Oh, one last thing." Waver continued, realizing something. Rummaging through his coat pocket, the Lord brought out the gun Shirou had seen earlier in the Lord's pocket. Taking out an unopened box of 7.62×25mm Tokarev ammunition as well, he handed both over. "Show me how to use this thing."
Adashino looked puzzled, but a look by Waver told her to stay out of his business.
Shirou blinked as he stared at the stubby looking automatic pistol. He had noticed the five pointed star on the grip before, along with the rather distinctive form of the slide and identified it as a Tokarev TT-33, but the closer inspection revealed it to be an actual "black star" as it was known in Japan.
A widely spread Soviet pistol design, as widely used among the various satellite states and China as it was among the pacific islands in its multitude of derivative forms. This specific one was a Norinco Type 54, the specific model that was synonymous with Yakuza and black market dealings in Japan and Asia in general.
He also realized it had been empty all along; his employer hadn't been carrying it for self-defense at all.
The whole matter with Adashino had left him off-balance, so he took the gun and explained its basic functions to the Lord almost mechanically. Figuring it out as much as he was showing it as he went along, he took to using Structural Analysis to reason out the form and function of the various parts.
It was in that curiosity that he realized something.
Prodding just a little bit too deep, he found something that he had never thought possible.
Structural Analysis was something of an oddity, when it came magecraft. Based on the simple principle of Cause & Effect, it did not quite belong to either the category of a true Mystery nor did it quite belong among the category of Concepts that lend power. Simply put, it was a deduction based on the physical attributes and appearance of an item, through usage of magical energy.
If theoretically one had a sword, one could judge how it had been used and handled from its physical appearance. A narrow and sharp tip and top half of the blade signified that it was the part most used for attacking. If the blade had been ground away until the profile of the blade drastically altered, then one could also assume it had been sharpened and re-sharpened many, many times.
If the bottom of the blade near the crossguard was thicker and blunter, with several nicks and indentations, one could assume that it was used to parry and block with.
If the crossguard was just as beat up and was loosely rattling on the hilt, it would not be out of question to assume that it had been used to receive blows as well, signifying the use of instant counters and skillful swordplay that did not rely solely on parries and attacks.
If there were slightly differently angled nicks on the top half of the blade, one could assume the wielder had preferred to enter with a blow and work from the swordbind, using superior skill and technique to win.
If one could see a spot of rust or even patina a shade darker on the middle of the blade, one could also assume that it had been used for half-swording as the acidic sweat from one's palm would corrode the metal much faster.
If the pommel had been beat up and scratched, assuming that it was used for striking as well was the obvious conclusion.
This and much, much more one could learn from simply looking at a sword, even without holding it.
Of course, this was vastly simplifying the magecraft's actual potency and function, but even a basic understanding of an item made it possible to grasp unimaginable facts from the most mundane of items.
Shirou had more than a mere basic understanding of weapons and his talent for the magecraft was quite considerable, mostly due to constant and unceasing training in the skill far beyond what any other magus would find reasonable through the years he had known magecraft.
Weapons, swords in particular but even firearms to an extent, sang to his touch and told stories to him at the slightest invitation. His eyes and fingers explored the gun; each groove, nick and mark telling a story. A mass-produced weapon such as this was somewhat soulless to the touch, as the mistakes and small tells that a craftsman would leave did not exist to tell of the basis of creating such an item for him to judge.
"What is it?" The Lord asked as Shirou stopped his explanations.
But those who wore such weapons left their mark that much strongly. Like katana and rapiers, pistols had long been items of honor. Side-arms; a sign of being someone capable of defending yourself in a civilian setting.
Like a sword, it required a fair amount of capital to acquire and in use required a fair bit of training and maintenance. As such, the thoughts, emotions and beliefs of those who held such weapons tended to accrue in them with the years.
The smoothness of the grip; the erosion on the front-sight from being holstered and drawn many, many times; the weight of the trigger; the shape of the cocking hammer; the impacts it had suffered and the care it had been taken care of with.
It all sang out to him, as if yearning to share themselves with anyone who would simply listen.
"I... it's nothing. Here, let me fill in the magazine for you." Shirou recovered quickly, turning to the box of ammunition so that he could hold onto the gun for a little while longer, his thoughts churning at breakneck speeds.
After all it had been this gun his adoptive father Kiritsugu had used to kill his own father, Emiya Norikata, once upon a time.
Shirou had ended up fixing the spring in the magazine with a quick Reinforcement, since it had been worn out and had become too loose to properly feed ammunition from the magazine into the chamber with age. He had also field stripped the pistol, cleaning and oiling it while inspecting all the parts to make sure it was still functional.
At every step, he looked deeper and wider. Trying to find some reason, some motive, some explanation that would undo what he had learned. But in the end, nothing changed and that perhaps scared him the most.
The fact that he understood what Kiritsugu had done. And why.
Then when he had finally learned all that he could from the gun and could no longer justify holding onto it, he had loaded it up and handed it to the Lord.
The gun had left him numb and off balance, so he hadn't really thought about the whole matter with the Clock Tower or even the civilians any further as he was shown the way out of the tent. Before he realized it he was sitting in another tent with a group of freelancers and the Enforcer from before as his company.
The rather unremarkable man had not changed since their first meeting at the bar. With a glance, Shirou could tell that he hadn't run into any trouble on the way here as his appearance was still immaculate and there was not even the trace amount of the smell of the horrors on him.
They were discussing inanities, pretending at resting, drinking and eating while playing cards. But Shirou could see them glancing at him every once in a while. They weren't there to keep him company, but to keep an eye on him. He numbly accepted a ration bar and ate it, but did not join in their card game as he drank some more water to wash it down.
That didn't matter to him, his thoughts were focused on entirely on the past instead.
He had known his old man hadn't been completely clean; his adoptive father had told Shirou as much himself. The disaster in Fuyuki had been his old man's mistake, he knew that much and had forgiven the man long since. After all, Kiritsugu had gotten him out of that hell and Shirou could never forget that fact.
Kiritsugu had killed and killed, for the same ideals that Shirou himself held, just as Shirou had killed and killed.
What did he have to show for it? He had been working as hard as could for years now and had nothing to show for it. His magecraft was all but useless and he didn't have the resources to fight using nothing but conventional weapons. Not if he wanted to actually accomplish anything. This day had showed him that, if nothing else.
He had flailed about, barely slowing down a handful of the lowest rung monsters a mad magus had summoned to keep others distracted, while everyone else did all the real work. That he had helped in the uncovering of the magus' identity was questionable; an excuse he could us to cover up his ugly feelings.
Nothing he had done here was of any true note.
The moment the vampire had been freed, she had taken him out in less than a second. He had no illusions about how much effort she had put into it, no doubt even the weakest Dead Apostle could do the same to him in a heartbeat. He had taken out the vampire in Bolivia with a timed detonation, having been wounded by the Dead underlings as he tried to ex filtrate himself while the vampire lay dying.
Maybe if he had had that sword from back when he had fought side by side with Saber, he could actually match some of the things that he faced, he thought.
But no. He couldn't maintain the image in his head well enough to Project the sword and even if he did, his body could not handle the strain. The removal of Avalon and the connection to King Arthur being severed had cut that option from him forever.
He could create the sword. A couple of times a day, for less than a second before it shattered as his will failed him and the World crushed the phantasm ruthlessly as the abnormality it was. It was Rin had lectured him, all those years ago. The World will not accept aberrations which encroach on it.
What use was that?
Why had he wanted to become a Hero of Justice?
Once upon a time, he had thought he could save people, but in the end he hadn't accomplished anything, had he? Would he continue to roam battlefields, hellish disaster sites and war zones without truly saving anyone for the rest of his life?
What was the point of that? Why did he continue running after all these years, even as the finish line never even came into sight? Had he ever saved a single person?
His old man had been a Hero of Justice, Shirou believed that absolutely. After all, regardless of the fire's origin, hadn't Kiritsugu saved him? As long as it was to save someone, wasn't it good to act? He wasn't that unblooded and naive child from his childhood any more.
He had killed men himself, innocent and guilty alike had been put down by him. Sometimes he would make a mistake, sometimes there would be collateral damage, sometimes someone was suffering and it was a mercy to end them. He would always aim to minimize the death and suffering around him, but he wasn't perfect.
He wasn't even all that skillful to begin with.
While he had been playing at hero with the small fries, the magi here had used bounded fields to gather up and protect the civilians, all while observing him through some familiars no doubt. They could casually achieve so much more than he ever could. They had seen him fighting and hadn't even bothered to take away his pistol, after he had been told to step aside.
They were suspicious of him, but not even a little bit cautious. That was how insignificant he was in the grand scheme of things.
He hadn't been able to figure out anything at all, merely driving around the person who could actually deduce what and why everything was happening. He had thought that as long as he believed and held onto his ideals and struggled onward, one step at a time, then that somehow he could make it. That if he just worked harder, then his ideals would not lead him astray.
But. Shirou had never thought that Kiritsugu would have killed his own father in cold blood over those very same ideals. It left him numb for some reason as he sat in a daze in that little tent.
Could he kill someone he loved in the name of his ideals? He wasn't sure he wanted to even think about what answer he would give, if it came down to it. What had he been doing all this time? What would he do from here on?
As Emiya Shirou fell into the depths of self-doubt and despair, the jibes of the freelancers around him, the flickering light of the storm lantern and the flapping of the tent in the wind surrounded him.
"Old man, what should I do...?"
Re-edited and re-uploaded 10.3.2018