First things first: Did you check the last part I added in the previous chap? The reupload was for that purpose.

I'm not experienced in describing combat scenes so a little feedback would be most helpful! I also spent some time pondering about the title for this fic, so I hope you like the current one.

BTW, I find it hilarious that there are some who guessed that this is a harem. Chill. A lot of trouble related to women doesn't necessarily mean a harem.

Anyway, onto this one!

Invitation to Rail Zeppelin

Seven years after the disaster, Shirou, 14 years old

Bazzet was fighting.

The enemies were endless, threatening to engulf her in overwhelming numbers. The smell of sweat and other body odors permeated the air, mixed in with the smell of other savory fluids such as perfume. It was suffocating, but Bazzet was a warrior, and she wasn't going to back down.

"Number 463, Mr. Kishima, Kouma Kishima, if you would kindly follow me!"

Clad in a smart two-piece black suit, red shirt, and a purple necktie that matched her short, magenta hair, she was a beautiful Irish woman with an attractive mole right below her left eye. Her oval earrings that were once worn by a certain hound glinted in the moonlight as she moved.

The nighttime plaza just outside her territory was bustling with people of all sorts, from young to old, men or women, mage or non-mage. People of all statuses that she needs to attend to, lest she let her tavern get run over by a wild mob.

Yes, she was fighting.

Only, not as an enforcer of the Mage Association, but as a guard/manager at Queen's Parlor. Queen's Parlor, also known as the number one social club in Fuyuki, if not in Japan. It was one of the many services the Gilgamesh corporations provided, not to mention every single service was top-tier.

Gilgamesh. That was the actual name of the new corporation that suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the financially devastated Fuyuki, seven years from now. They had helped rebuild the central part of Fuyuki from the ashes, thus, practically owning all the stocks in the city, which was as good as owned by...well...guess who.

All of this started from the words spoken by a young boy. Words that changed her entire direction in life. Bazzet remembers as clearly as yesterday one of the words Shirou had said to her a year ago when they first met.

Bazzet felt herself smiling at the fond memory. Indeed, she is now stronger than ever before.

Bazzet Fraga McRemitz was born in a coastal village in Ireland as a descendant of an old family of magi that had detached itself from the Mage's Association and lived in seclusion.

As a dispassionate and desolate child, Bazett found herself immersed with the story of Cú Chulainn, finding herself grieving over such a tragedy that was his legend, at the same time, finding a purpose for herself. Wishing to pursue a different path than that of her ancestors for her newfound purpose, she chose to join the Association when she was 15.

Despite the fact she was a great fighter and she presents herself as a strong-willed and mature woman, in truth, she always carried a strong sense of loneliness in the depth of her heart. While she strove to become a strong magus to achieve her childhood dream, a wild hope to summon Cú Chulainn and 'save' him from his inevitable fate with the Grail, there was no denying the truth that her soul had a hollow hole in it.

Even so, she was obsessed with her 'salvation' of the Irish demigod, for there was no stronger desire for her in her dull life.

That illusion shattered when she first met her to-be protegee.

A year ago, she had received a call from Kirei, an executor of the Holy Church she had the pleasure of working with on several occasions. They had first met during one of her first missions, and they often ran into each other on assignments and fought together as comrades ever since. Coupled with the fact that they had a similar line of work, Kirei was one of the few Bazzet trusted as a friend.

That was why Bazzet was ecstatic when Kirei, a man who never asked her for help, had gone out of his way to ask her to become a tutor of sorts for his son. She had felt it was quite odd for Kirei of all people to put such high hopes on someone that wasn't even his blood, yet she decided to first judge the boy with her very own eyes to see if he was worthy.

If only she knew how misguided her confidence was!

'To hide your weakness lest it be exploited by ill will is one thing. To divert your eyes from your truth is another. For the truth is both the biggest ally and enemy who lurks within.'

At first, she was shocked. Her mind went blank. Then, she felt enraged. How dare a mere boy who has probably never dirtied his hands before, question her determination in the choices she made in life? She would have accused him of bullshittery right on the spot if not for her pride and respect for Kirei.

However, that did not stop her past self from attempting to 'teach' the boy a lesson. It makes Bazzet want to squirm in embarrassment to think that her past self was so brash.

She had challenged him to show his determination, to show how he conquered his so-called 'truth within'. The boy merely smiled and asked if she was willing to 'talk through fists' in the fashion of ancient warriors so that she would see his true nature. More intrigued than furious at this point, she had agreed.

As she had predicted, Bazzet's fighting capability was far superior to Kirei's son by all means.

As a matter of fact, she had wiped the floor with him in just three minutes in their first round. Bazzet was secretly shocked that Shirou had withstood her merciless assault for more than a few seconds, astonished that a boy had managed to keep up with her full power, even if it was for a short time.

That only made her competitive spirit burn brighter. Sadly, her flame was one that was destined to be extinguished.

At first, she was confident in her abilities to bring him down permanently, as in long enough to teach him a lesson. After all, she was a specialist in physical combat combined with the employment of runic sorcery on her limbs, hands, and feet to increase her fighting potential.

She was also a skilled mage overall, and that's not taking into account her lineage Sorcery Trait known as God's Holder: Tradition Carrier, which allows her family to pass on ancient abilities from the time of the gods through bloodline alone.

All in all, she was a fearsome foe who had many abilities that nobody could laugh at. That was why she was certain that Shirou would give up sooner or later if she kept beating him to a pulp.

She was wrong. Very wrong.

Shirou just wouldn't stay down. No matter how many times she struck him down, he stood right back up.

'Wu clan Hidden Art: Partial Removal/Demon Heart.'

How in Merlin's pants did he master the Wu arts anyway!? Weren't the Wu clan living in seclusion in their own secret village, somewhere hidden in the spiritual mountains of Old China!? Bazzet didn't want to believe that the boy was an heir. It would make this duel a lot more complicated than it should have been.

With his sclera stained pitch black, burning gold eyes, bulging crimson veins, dark-vermillion skin, and a most gentle, loving smile, he had stood up from his own pool of steaming blood like a Demon from the deepest pits of Hell, all the while without the slightest hint of malice nor hostility.

He would then lunge at her on all fours with a strange twisted weapon he had made from the canines of his right and left side of his jaw, a pair of reverse grip sword-breakers that was shaped like that of a mix between a beast's fang and claw, one held in each hand. Yes, the boy was wielding two bizarre blades which were supposedly made out of his own teeth.

It wasn't a rare thing per se for a mage to transform his own body part into a weapon, but the creepiness of Shirou's multi-bladed weapons was on another level. Mainly because of the fact it literally grew out of Shirou's empty sockets as canines whenever she shattered the blades.

The way the boy ripped his teeth out of his sockets with his bloody fingers when genuinely smiling...it was a nightmarish scene Bazzet really didn't need to see.

'Tawrich: Left Fang Grinder, Zarich: Right Fang Grinder.'

There it was again, as good as new. They were technically a part of his body, so he wasn't going against the rules of hand-to-hand combat in any way. Bazzet gritted her teeth. This was the seventy-seventh time they had repeated this.

For seventy-seven times, Bazzet had repeatedly smashed, stabbed, bent, broke, twisted, choked, chopped, thrust, threw, shattered, and crushed the boy's body. For seventy-seven times, Shirou had stood up with a sheepish grin.

It was about time she ended this for good, even if it meant using her trump card. As hard as it was to admit, Bazzet was scared. She couldn't comprehend how a young kid, a boy of 14 for heaven's sake, had the iron will to keep standing up after enduring such horrendous punishment of the body.

Here he comes, again.

Gleefully, Shirou lunged. Bazzet fiddled with the small iron ball held in her fingers.

A devil-spawn. This boy must've been born in Hell...

Shirou had the ferocity of a beast and the brutality of the devil. He was without a doubt, something undeniably inhuman in nature, something so barbaric, so primal, so vicious that he made a hardened warrior like Bazzet hesitate. Yet, that wasn't all there was to him. Bazzet also saw in him the indomitable spirit of the Messiah himself, the martyr who sacrificed himself for the greater good. Except that this time, it was for her.

For me. To show me. He's enduring this agony...I inflicted upon him...for me!? Why...why!? Am I...am I truly diverting my eyes from the truth...!?

Frankly, his contradicting nature terrified her.

Most of all, the belief he held in his eyes, the belief in her, Bazzet, a woman he had just met and the one who hurt him so much...it was too much for her to withstand. The silver cross dangling at his chest burned her eyes.

"What do you desire most, Ms. Bazzet?"

His sudden question caught her off guard. This was the first time he had spoken to her since they had started this fight.

Shirou inhaled deeply. Bazzet gulped, her nerves tingling. Her mouth never felt so dry.

"I...I desire for the transcending of human nature, the evolution of all Humanity. What, may I ask, is yours?"

"...I, I wanted someone...who would always stand by me...!"

The words flowed out of her mouth like water and kept flowing they did. Before she knew it, they were sitting side by side, their duel a past memory. She talked, and he listened. Shirou turned out to be a good listener. She talked and talked, from the memories of her childhood to her budding adoration of the great Irish lancer, to her dreams she kept only to herself in fear of someone else ridiculing her.

Suddenly, as if a ray of sunlight shone through the thick clouds hanging over her head, something clicked in her mind.

I was just...lonely.

No wonder she was so afraid of letting others know the true reasons behind her desire. No wonder she felt do enraged at Shirou pointing out something she knew all along. She was afraid. She was a coward.

Shirou Kotomine was right all along. She had lost.

Not through martial skill or magecraft, but through sheer determination. Her frail ego had lost to the boy's desire for a better future...for a stranger.

That was her first encounter with the boy who changed her fate, the boy who was now one of her students.

The giant clock at Fuyuki Plaza struck with a loud gong. Bazzet looked up to see that it was already two hours before midnight. Time she returned home.

Home. The sound was foreign on her tongue, though strangely pleasant. It made her all warm and tingly inside when she imagined Shirou preparing hot stew for her in the church's kitchen.

With a spring in her steps, Bazzet left for her abode.

"Kirei...I have a favor I need to ask you. It's about the present for Shirou's upcoming...b-birthday."

It was an hour after her late dinner. By the time she returned, Shirou had already left for some 'Buttler duties' for Bazzet's employer, a certain Babylonian queen who paid generous tips that ranged from seven to eight hundred dollars per night for his services.

The former enforcer of the Clocktower was sitting across the long table facing the executioner of the Holy Church.

"I'm thinking of sending him a pair of cross-shaped earrings. Earrings with a blessing of high magical property. Of course, I'm willing to pay a hefty price."

Kirei hummed, an amused smirk on his face. Bazzet felt her cheeks burn red. Kirei nodded.

"Very well. For the happiness of my son and my friend, I'll try my best with my inner connections."

Bazzet smiled in relief.

It has only been a week. A single week.

'WHAT. IN. BARTHOMELOI'S. FLYING. FUCK?'

Bazzet seriously regretted her decision for the hundredth time. She had only asked for a skilled craftsman from the Holy Church. Instead, she got the number-one crazy the vampire hunting Agency has got to offer.

That's a literally insane level of craziness if one considers that the Burial Agency is full of whackjobs who would obliterate a country for 'the Grace for the Might of our Lord'. And the worst part is that this was an understatement.

"I heard from Kirei that you needed a sacred craftsman of our Church...for a present. A present for Kirei's son. And to my great surprise, his adopted son is a Holy man, or so I've heard. A saint that even nullifies the men-binding effects of the Shroud of Magdalene. Now, that's a gift we can't ignore."

A woman with long, blondish hair that stylishly covered her right eye sat behind a large, black desk, her chin propped on her gloved hands. Her piercing ice-blue glinted in cold mirth. She was nonother the head of the Burial Agency of the Holy Church, the bane of Dead Apostle Ancestors who were capable of rewriting the world.

Narbareck. That was the woman's name. Her family was, in a way, even more aristocratic than the Barthomelois.

While the Barthomelois was one of the most influential and powerful families in the Clocktower and took pride in their family name so much that they literally used their last name as their first, the Narbarecks took it to a new level. Yes, they only used their family name, with no first, middle, or last name. Only Narbareck.

The Narbarecks, much like their Barthomeloi counterparts of the Clocktower, was one of the founding families of the Burial Agency and has remained as its director ever since.

The Narbareck of this generation was a homicidal maniac. An incredibly unstable, volatile, and irreversibly insane mass murderer who had already taken down three Ancestors...on her own. And that's sugar-coating it.

Officially, she had a habit of shutting herself away in the executive office to do God's work. In truth, it was more like she was under house arrest...issued by the pope himself.

Bazzet could see why. Narbareck was a failure as a human. An absolute bitch. The number-one vampire slayer continued with an infuriating grin.

"So you see, I decided to cash in some...old 'favors' from Atlas and the Clocktower, as well as the Church. In exchange for a little 'assistance' of yours, just in case. Think of it as an insurance contract. Even if you somehow manage to die, it would be for a cause. How thoughtful of me! Don't you agree?"

Bazzet begged to differ. Narbareck snapped her fingers with a deliberate gasp.

"Oh, and yes, in case you're wondering. This is the first mission I've been planning to assign the boy anyway, so forget about refusing. It would make little difference, only that you'll lose a chance at getting a Scripture-level artifact for free. I'm confident that you'll make the sensible choice."

Bazzet decided very quickly that this woman was a sadistic ass of a maniac. The other woman seemed to enjoy Bazzet's irritation as she clasped her hands in front of her face.

"Are we good?", the director asked cheerfully.

"Yes.", Bazzet mustered out. It took a lot of her self-restraint not to grind her teeth. The woman snorted at her futile resistance.

"Splendid, took you long enough to make a mediocre decision. Now, to business! Ah, one minute."

Narbareck yawned.

She stood up and walked over to the tea table at the side of her office. Humming a Christmas carol even though it was Halloween, she poured two cups of coffee and set them down in front of her.

Then, she drank both of them. Slowly. She finished her drink with a seductive smack of her lips.

Narbareck winked at the stone faces Bazzet.

"Where was I?", the woman asked with a cock of her head. Bazzet wanted to break her neck.

"You were going to explain.", Bazzet hissed out.

"Yes, yes. The Mystic Eye Auction. I've heard from several reliable sources that there might be...unexpected turmoil, some unforeseen anomaly if you will, at the next auction of Mystic Eyes. Of course, you are free to accompany him as you see fit. It's part of the reason I'm even talking with you, the other part being that I was curious what the teacher of our new Saint was like."

Without waiting for Bazzet's response, Narbareck tossed over a white envelope sealed with red wax. Written on the envelope in elegant cursives were the words; 'Invitation to Rail Zeppelin'.

Bazzet was then ushered out of the office before she could ask for more details.

"Ah, you are at a...'satisfactory' level, that's for sure. Take it as a compliment from the head of the Burial Agency."

Those were Narbareck's last words before the oak doors slammed in Bazzet's face.

She breathed in, she breathed out. She smiled.

With a scream, she punched the wall.

FUN FACT:

Bazett's power as a magus is easily three times that of Rin, and that's without taking into consideration that she is the current holder of Fragarach, a genuine noble phantasm handed down to her from the age of the Norse gods.

And she pales in comparison to the sheer superhuman might of Narbareck. Wow. A human on the same level of a top-level heroic spirit.

PS. Shirou's renewed relationship with other characters would be in the next chap, including the episode with the Shroud of Magdalene aka first meeting with his sister.

Review and review! X-kalibuuuur, back to work!