AN: I understand when people ask me who some of my OCs are. But it hurts when people ask me who Otoko is...
Prologue (Finale)
Do you know who I am?
Within the Middle East…
The barren desert wasteland miles and miles away from any civilization.
Saint Serene of Finland dragged her platoon of Executors and fellow Saints through this endless sea of white. All without mounts, without water, without proper covering.
But none of their skin blistered. They never thirst. Their journey had been suicidal in which they should have been dead within the first hour. And yet they had continued to walk on through this valley of hell unperturbed.
At her hip was a sword. A marvelously silver sword that reflected red in the light. But now, having traversed this deep into the desert, its edge was dyed a bloodied red. It had nothing to do with the light in this case. It had something to do with its properties as an instrument.
Its name was Creyroux. No one knew where it originated from. No one knew whether it was a Mystic Code, an Authority of their God, or a Noble Phantasm. It had appeared throughout all of history as an instrument of unfathomable worth. It had been wielded by the Holy Maiden Jeanne D'Arc when she led her crusade against the British. It had been in the hands of Julius Caesar when he overthrew the republic and made Rome into an empire. And it had been drawn by the Siege Perilous, Sir Galahad, to start his quest for the Holy Grail.
It had been in the hands of countless others. Heroes, champions, villains, and even the unworthy and unmentionable. Currently, this instrument was in the hands of Amelia Rosewood, better known and revered by the Catholic Church as Saint Serene of Finland.
Creyroux drank in the sins of all things around it. She had been born with this blade and used it to conduct 'miracles'. She healed the sick, the wounded, the crippled, the hungry, and even the deceased. Simultaneously, she could inflict the sins of all the things she absorbed onto any of the Church's enemies threefold. Always three.
God had some strange fetish for the number three. Let it be known Amelia was anything but religious. She didn't need to be in order to be doctrine a Saint.
But it was her personal fetish to spit in the Lord's face. Preparations had been made in haste due to the emergency. No one had noticed there were three groups of five Executors being led by three Saints. In short, there were three groups of six.
Her joke— though it had been intended to be more of an insult than a jest— had not been taken lightly.
Not that it mattered in the end. They had all come here fully aware they were going to die. But try they would to face the worst spawn the planet could throw at them.
Their plan was to bombard the Beast with as much carnage within their arsenal. The priests would keep the Beast at bay, using their own bodies as shields, while Amelia drank in their sin. And she, in turn, would unleash as much sin upon the Beast as Creyroux could channel. It was why they exposed their selves to the trials and elements of the worst possible desert imaginable.
"It comes," she said. They had hoped to march further, to let Creyroux drink more sin.
From halfway across the globe she felt the Beast stir out of its slumber. She felt it gradually awaken, rise at its full height, and shake the weariness of the dreamscape out of its mind. It only needed an instant to bring itself to the full might of its power.
It was at its peak. The wounds dear Sir Siegfried had inflicted on it were gone. There was nothing left to hinder the Beast from hunting its prey.
Then, it moved.
She almost lost sight of it. Her senses scanned the entire globe forward and back, demanding the attention of Alaya to answer her. She found the Beast, piercing through the air and gliding across the ocean. It was the wind itself as it slipped into the elements.
The priests scrambled into positions; Amelia pointing in which direction the Beast would arrive at. Formations were made with Executors at the front and Saints at the back. Amelia placed herself at the core of the three groups with Creyroux drawn.
Her heart was pounding. For the first time in her life her heart raced against her will. A primal feeling stirred within her soul. Not even in the hell of her slavery as a child did she feel something so… hopeless.
It took only a few minutes for the Beast to cross the ocean. And it moved faster than Alaya could keep up. Alaya could not keep a locked position on the Beast and could only tell Amelia at which pinpoint location it passed.
God Almighty, she cursed. The Beast had crossed half the globe in less than ten minutes!
Of course it could. It was Gaia Herself. This planet wasn't just its territory. This planet was its own body. Of course it could ignore the terrestrial boundaries and physical limitations the viruses that was humanity had to endure.
She did not need Alaya to tell her how near the Beast was.
There was only an instant. There, in the sand, she spotted a fin. The Beast was swimming through the sea like a shark prowling for a school of mackerels.
The first group of Executors didn't have a chance to scream. The other two groups did not have the chance to realize the Beast had arrived. Its claws moved; flesh parted and bone snapped with such damnable ease the idea alone should not have been conceivable. The only indication of their doom was a sudden eruption of red mist. Eleven of the fifteen Executors were dead and even the most experienced of them had yet to realize the Beast had arrived.
But the Saints knew, having sensed this pagan signature that tampered with their divine influence.
There was another reason they had chosen the desert as their battlefield.
Saint Purity, a young sister-in-training no older than thirteen who truly did not belong on the field of battle, had only an instant to raise her hand and call upon her heavenly gift.
Sunlight flared, focused, and scorched the Beast at its side. The Earth Mother may be as quick as the wind and may traverse its territory however it may perceive, but even it could not be faster than light itself. Purity brought about the wrath of the sun akin to a magnifying glass upon an ant.
There was a howl unlike any other as the Beast released a roar of pain. The earth itself shook below Amelia's feet as her heart froze. Those who had survived the first strike had dropped dead from stilled hearts and shattered brains. The sound alone created acoustics that rendered insides into mush. The screech of the howl made the soul quiver. Their greatest of divine protections prevented the worst of it, but it felt like Amelia was ready to collapse the moment she lost that faint ember of focus.
The strike had made the Beast pause. Only for an instant. But it was an instant Amelia had to witness the creature.
Tall. Slender. Feral. Elegant. Primitive. Raw. Beautiful.
Powerful.
The moment passed.
Saint Purity was nothing more than a droplets of blood across the sand.
The Beast moved, ignoring all else and coming straight for Amelia. Those that tried to intercept the Beast were crushed by its presence alone. Simply by standing near it were the remaining Executors and Saint Virtue destroyed.
An instant was the incorrect term to use. The Beast moved faster than anything a human could perceive. It moved faster than an instant.
Amelia became a pile of scattered meat.
But the Beast did not stop moving. It sank deep into the sand and burrowed below. Its massive body fully submerged in less than a second as the sand more so opened and welcomed it rather than it digging with its claws.
The next moment, where the Beast once stood, the sand turned to glass as superheated and focused rays of sunshine beamed down.
Saint Purity, frazzled and close to maddened with fear, had her hand pointed in the direction where the Beast had been. There was no wound on her, though she stood naked in the searing and unbearable heat with the monster tearing everything about her to shreds before.
Executors stood. Their blades readied and hymns singing, they prepared their selves for the next engagement.
Saint Serene of Finland, Amelia Rosewood, gritted her teeth as her Creyroux drank in the sin the Beast had wrought onto her comrades. Their deaths and destruction had been taken by the blade, leaving them as innocent as they had been before. But Amelia felt every pain and every death of their experience. And it showed on her body.
Deep gashes decorated every inch of her body. She looked to be nothing more than a pile of raw meat compressed into the mockery of a human shape. But even Creyroux drank that in. In the next moment her body had returned to its peak condition.
The Beast surfaced, bringing a grand storm of sand that rubbed everyone down and tearing their flesh in its harsh winds. Its fangs bit down and claws severed. It moved faster than any of them could react.
Saint Virtue, the eldest of the Saints and second in might only to Amelia, spread his hands and stopped the storm. His mind flashed the passage of a biblical text, of a story, and the World was defied to replicate this miracle.
Gaia roared and targeted him next. He hadn't the chance to defend himself as it tore him apart beyond recognition.
The storm was called again and darkened the world as it clotted the sunlight. Without the sun Saint Purity could not call upon her own miracles.
But the storm was stopped.
Saint Virtue stood tall, unbending, in the peak of condition as he had been before.
Almost in a tantrum, another bout of sunlight scorched the land asunder. Again the Beast was caught in its rays despite its speed. Again it came at Purity. Again Purity was struck down. Again it came at Virtue and he too was struck down. Again it called upon its storm of sand.
And again it was stopped. And again sunlight burned.
Creyroux was humming as its crimson edge drank in sin after sin. Amelia could not hold back the groans, to which were becoming borderline screams of agony, but her mind would not break. Her mind had never broken. If she had not bent to the violations caused by those men she will not bend to this creature.
She drank in all their deaths. It made Creyroux stronger. It made it more sinister.
"Do you know who I am?!" she bellowed in a voice of power. Her fear clashing against her sanity and the pain intoxicating her. Both could not break her. Both made her stronger.
Darkness enveloped the land. The sun continued to shine above their heads but its light was dim. It was as though night had fallen.
This was no mere shadow of the planet. This was taint, this was wickedness, this was all the evils humanity could perceive being released. This was all the sin Serene of Finland had absorbed throughout her career as a Saint. Every disease, every plague, every catastrophe, every evil humanity had been delivered onto was being exposed.
Creyroux was vibrating in her hands, singing a hymn of omen.
But she would not sharpen this level of sin. She could not. No matter how much she wanted to live, she could not invoke the Dolorous Stroke and slay the Beast.
But she would inflict pain on the Beast. Every ounce of pain she had felt since being born with Creyroux. Since her mother had sold her to slavers. Since men after men violated and robbed her of a childhood. Since her prison within the Church as their hunting dog.
She will leave her mark on the Beast. This she swore. She will make sure the Beast thought again after deciding to challenge another Predator.
The Beast will remember this moment. She swore with every fiber of her being.
"I am Amelia Rosewood!" she invoked her true name as she released all of her frustrations. To say her name after so many years… Feelings she had thought to have been lost resurfaced. "I am Third Predator, the Divine Beast!"
Darkness descended, crashing down on the Beast in a wave of black.
0-0-0
It had almost been a year since Shirou had first met the Golden King, Gilgamesh of Uruk. Their relationship was a fickle one with Shirou walking on glass the entire time. But the boy was perceptive and could follow the King's moods with ease. Though… there had been times when he had angered Gilgamesh after misinterpreting the wrong expression.
At the least… he found out he could recover from those weapons that were supposed to negate all manner of healing. He also found out that hacking off a limb would have the limb regrow while the severed flesh simply vanished when he wasn't looking. He once tried to keep his right arm as a keepsake. It was gone by the end of the day when he returned to examine it.
Even with his lack in understanding to humanity did he know this was unnatural. He kept it to himself, though he couldn't keep it from Gilgamesh as he was the one who cut him on occasion.
There was an understanding between the two of them. Gilgamesh kept him around because he found the boy to be entertaining while Shirou put up with his irregular— if not slightly off— personality for the sake of observation. However, they both knew that should one cross over the line in any way then one or both of them would be dead. Shirou could use the Fuyu no Kishi to obliterate Gilgamesh while the King of Uruk could use his hidden ace to do the same.
Shirou's instinct warned him about the King's greatest treasure. The boy may be able to come back from the most perverse of instruments within the King's vault… but the words of Alaya told him there was no coming back from that. Period.
Outside of mimicking the King's personality and assimilating it into Shirou's portfolio of expressions, gestures, and habits, the boy knew very little about the Golden King himself. Gilgamesh rarely shared stories. He never confirmed nor denied anything pertaining to his legend. Nor did he share how he was still here in this era after six thousand years.
"What is justice?" the King asked, an amused look mixed with anticipation for whatever the boy would reply with.
Shirou didn't understand the King's pattern of appearances. He would seek Shirou once a week, sometimes within a month, sometimes the very next day, to even a few short hours. There was once where he hadn't seen Gilgamesh in four months— but that was only due to the King being away. Something having to do with checking out the results of some event on some uncharted island close to the British Isles…
Always, the King would inquire the same question.
At first, Shirou had responded with the impression Kiritsugu had left. Saying such things about removing one in order to save the many, to be a hero meant to desire conflict and danger, and not everyone can be saved and yet the hero strives to try anyways.
The King would… acknowledge the words of Kiritsugu, but never mark them as words of wisdom. Merely as a sort of understanding based on the man's experience without achieving justice himself. Still, Shirou kept his mind locked on Kiritsugu's words despite whatever the King said.
Gilgamesh didn't so much lecture him as he made the boy question the concept of justice. The King gave different scenarios that always contradicted the virtue and idealism of justice. Things in which made the boy ponder at what point was it justifiable to kill, steal, plunder, and ruin another's life. The more the boy tried to follow along and provide an adequate answer the stranger and more unfair the questions became.
It was like a poor 'Choose Your Own Adventure' where Shirou chose the morally correct answer but got the Dead End regardless. How was he supposed to know the guy getting mugged who he decided to save was really a sociopathic rapist who beheaded his victims?
Not once did Gilgamesh give the answer on what 'justice' was. He always left amused no matter what Shirou provided and promised to ask again once the boy mulled over his thoughts. Had Shirou been a normal boy he would have been frustrated. Instead, more driven since he had nothing better to do, he dove into their conversations and deciphered everything to the best of his skill.
Reading people was easy. Reading the King of Heroes was nearly impossible. The man— if he could be called that— could hide his emotions as though wearing a literal mask. Sometimes his expression would declare one emotion when he was really feeling something else.
Still, he was a marvelous person to observe and replicate for later use. Shirou found conversations with his friends went along more smoothly after incorporating some of the King's personality. Though… he learned quickly the King's arrogance was unwelcomed.
"…Do you hear that?" Gilgamesh said suddenly as he turned his head elsewhere.
"Shishou…?" Shirou questioned. He had been deep in thought with the new puzzle presented by the King when he spoke up. Shirou turned his attention towards where Gilgamesh's senses had expanded towards. What must have been heard wasn't any noise anyone could have picked up, be they mundane or supernatural. Only they could hear it.
Well, the King could. Whatever had been heard had been directed at him only.
"You don't," the King nodded. His brows were furrowed with an expression Shirou had never seen on his face before. Slowly, a feral grin spread across his face. "Well, well, at last the World has spun its course to finally grant me what rightfully belongs to me. First, Second, and now Third have perished. That only leaves me as the most senior and… you."
First, Second, and Third? Shirou didn't know what that meant. Least not entirely. He could only guess those three were the other Predators. It also meant he and Gilgamesh were the last two.
"There were others…?" Shirou asked.
"Of course there were," snickered the King. "Do you not remember the wanderer? Kaname Shisharo. He was one such Predator whom you slew. You became one, did you not? One day more will arise. So long as Alaya remains will there be champions."
A curiosity arose within Shirou upon hearing this rare piece of information. "How do you know they died?"
"…Alaya's voice is only heard if you are willing to listen," he answered after a moment. "You hear it in times of peril, when your life will be in danger. But, hmph, such a warning rarely comes when we are at the pinnacle of might. However, in times of peace, like this, you can call upon Alaya. It's not likely to answer but on occasion it will provide with something useful."
"Why not?"
"Would I, the King of this realm, listen to every question presented by my subjects? If such a problem presents itself I will deal with the matter on my own. While this world may be mine, Alaya exists outside of it. And it is no ruler, merely an observer and an adviser to the King."
…Most of the answer flew over Shirou's head.
"Alaya is old and rotting," Gilgamesh explained further with a tinge of annoyance. "Even as a babe as it was during my Golden Age did it hold over more influence than it does now. There were no Predators back then because there hadn't been a need before, else I would have been First. At its peak could it rival Gaia and did it dub its champions as Predators and lead them on the hunt.
"But now? Alaya is weak. It became arrogant and foolish, drunk with the power it had gained as humanity prospered this far. It made a mistake, and Gaia struck it down. If you bother to listen, you will hear its whimpering as it tries to heal from a wound it cannot. Such is the fate of a fool who underestimates its eternal rival."
There was a cross between a smirk of irony and a grimace of annoyance.
This was the most Gilgamesh had spoken about the subject. Shirou absorbed every detail and debated with himself whether to question further and risk the King's ire or be satisfied with this much.
"How do I… listen, Shishou?" Shirou chose to ask in the end.
For a moment, that cold fury blazed within Gilgamesh's eyes. The mask was brought up once more and Shirou was blocked away from reading the mood. Only his eyes showed a glimpse of what might transpire. But, seeing as how his instincts weren't screaming at him like before, Gilgamesh wouldn't be trying to gut him like before. It meant the King was debating whether to answer or not.
"…The same you would ask me of something," the King of Heroes answered eventually. "Aloud. Within your mind. Whichever you prefer. Know Alaya is unlikely to answer, even more so if you ask about something trivial."
Shirou brought his head back and took a pondering expression. Inwardly, he did exactly as the King recommended.
His senses were swept away.
It was as though he were in a million different places at the same time and yet not overwhelming. He was in the market, observing a hundred different people and listening to their conversations and bartering. He was in the entertainment district, once more watching people play their games, watch their movies, eat their food, and could follow their conversations just the same.
He was in a large room full of desks— the teacher's lounge to Homurahara— watching a stressed out Taiga trying to juggle with her new job. She was sulking over paperwork and complaining about not having as much free time as she had in college.
Incidentally, she hoped Shirou was making her favorite dish for dinner tonight. He decided to indulge her and get to it once his business with the King was done.
He was in the bar of Copenhagen. Hotaruzuka-san, Otoko's father, was at the front entertaining his guests. Otoko, meanwhile, was putting her college education to use by trying to organize and make sense of the files and receipts her father failed to keep in order. She ruffled her hair in frustration, sighed, and then went back to work.
He was in the homes of his friends. Ayako was helping her mother in the kitchen, learning some family recipe. Shirou scowled when he saw Ayako fumbling around with the knife. He'd have to bring her over one day and tell her how to properly use it.
He saw Shinji curled up at his desk, trying to get his homework done. Shirou peered over his shoulder and saw where his math was wrong. He tried to correct it and show Shinji what was wrong… but his body phased through all objects within the room.
He was standing over Sakura's body. She was naked in the pits of some dank crypt buried deep below her house. Worms crawled over, under, and in her as she laid there unmoving. Only the occasional twitch and his instincts told him she was still alive.
There was… something standing off to the corner of the crypt, merely watching as the parasites invaded the young girl. Something was wrong about this creature. It stood in the shape of a human being but was not human in any way. Undeniably this creature was comparable to Shirou. A twisted and corrupt thing, but comparable nonetheless.
Shirou heard the faint whispers of voices and could follow them in the air as though they were ribbons attached to each origin. Simply grasping onto one would lead him across the ocean to a foreign land. Though he couldn't understand the words spoken in this dialect he could read the emotions with both his observation skills as well as the instinct within him. He leapt across the globe hundreds of times, seemingly randomly as he grabbed ribbon after ribbon.
All the while, he never lost focus on the previous individuals he had seen. The market women, the teenagers enjoying their afternoon gaming, his friends— he was with them, interacting with them without truly being there, and never losing coordination or being overwhelmed by this multitude of perception shift.
"Huh," was all he could say at the end of it. He had returned to his body, never truly leaving per se. It was more like he had called out to something and it called back in kind. Like a sonar, he supposed. He hadn't been gone for hours on end like his mind had thought. He had only been lost in this venture for a few seconds.
"Alaya only answers in times of need," explained the King. "When it needs something done or when your life is in danger. Only then does it guide you through the most perilous of trials. The Dragon Slayer once told me Alaya used to be able to speak about the most trivial of problems. Including when you were about to trip on a crack or stub your toe. The idiocy of it all…"
Shirou pondered about this. And as he pondered about this, his senses expanded to notice his surroundings. He could feel when the wind shifted, where the bugs were, and what people were around them. He knew when people were talking about him on the other side of town— most of the time was about gossip with the rare bad intention… from Shinji.
This meant Alaya didn't answer in just times of need. It was unlikely the King of Heroes was lying. Why would he lie about something like this when after some investigation and experiments Shirou would find the truth? After all, just a thought right now warped Shirou across all of town and his life wasn't in danger by anything.
Then… did that mean it wasn't the same to Gilgamesh? Did that mean Alaya wasn't talking to him on purpose? And why?
"What is justice?" Gilgamesh asked out of the blue. It was the soonest he had asked between intervals. Though, it seemed more like he was asking himself with the way his attention was locked towards whatever Alaya had told him.
Towards the Middle East… but that's as far as Shirou got. It was like he was about to invade in something private. He could pry it open, he knew, but then so would Gilgamesh. He decided to not try.
Instead, he focused on the information Gilgamesh had provided on the aspects of a Predator to see if it had changed his viewpoint on justice in any way.
"…To be a champion for the people?" he more asked than answered.
"A champion…?" Gilgamesh blinked a few times to return to reality. He looked down at Shirou with the same amused glance he always wore. A few minutes passed until the King burst out into laughter. "Little pup, such an answer is beneath you. For a moment I almost believed you were a child. You almost had me fooled. But then I remembered what you really are, exotic creature masquerading as man."
He let out a few more chuckles while resting his cheek into his hand. He pulled it away to answer with a posture of a King. Regal, majestic, and undeniable. "I will call upon you once again. But not to inquire your personal belief. I will grant you the answer you seek. Not through words. But through authority and demonstration."
That was certainly a change of pace. Although, it didn't change anything to Shirou. He had his beliefs of justice based on what Kiritsugu shared. Whether he believed in them as zealously as his father did or not was up for debate. But it was the code he lived by, having the blessings passed down by the old man, and he would follow through with them to the bitter end. Whether it was the right or wrong answer.
Following this conversation, it would be another few months before Gilgamesh would return.
0-0-0
Finally, an opportunity presented itself.
There was something of a routine, almost an automatic sequence, in which both Shirou and Sakura partook in. After school, Shirou would be working on his studies so to prepare for the upcoming high school exams. Not that Homurahara was difficult to get into, but most manners of studies went over his head. He was… decent at mathematics whereas his literary skills were on par with garbage. Despite her immaturity, Taiga proved to be a wonderful tutor to help him make up for his weaknesses.
Sakura, meanwhile, would be taking her time after school to further her skills with archery. She wanted to enter the high school team when her time came and at the moment didn't need to worry about academics. On occasion she would be the one picking up his slack when Taiga couldn't be around… with Ayako at her side. She seemed to not want the two of them alone together.
Having that said, they rarely had a moment to their selves. With Shirou being busy with his studies, Sakura seldom came over to share meals and recipes.
Until one day. It was on a weekend right after school. There was not Saturday practice for Sakura and Shirou could hold off on studies. Taiga was going to be with her father for the afternoon until she came over for dinner. And Ayako had business with her family. For what was weeks on end did Shirou finally find an opportunity to be alone with Sakura.
Well, not truly alone. Even if it were just the two of them isolated in a single room were neither of them going to be alone. There was something always watching over Sakura.
"Sakura-chan," Shirou said as soon as they entered his house.
"Yes, Sempai?" Sakura's eyes have become more lively as time went on. She no longer shrank back to her doll-like façade. Though there were some moments where she had a lack of response to something. Slowly, but surely, she was starting to open up to him. But there was still hesitation branded deep into her psychosis.
He thought about his words carefully.
"I don't want you to go home. Stay the night."
"…Eh?" Sakura blinked. Her book bag slipped out of her grip and collapsed to the floor. She didn't notice. A crimson color began to run up from her neck until it consumed every corner of her face. It even made her ears glow.
"S-S-Sempai!" she shrieked, covering her face with her hands. She became frantic, shaking and swaying around while having difficulty looking his way. "I… I'm not p-prepared for this."
He was confused. What an odd reaction for someone terrified. Her reaction was often linked with embarrassment. Or was she not afraid of the thing lurking in her house?
Regardless, he pressed the issue. "If you're worried… don't. I'm taking responsibility."
Her eyes widened as her shaking stopped. Her body went rigid, as stiff as a board. He could have given her a light tap, watch her tip over, and her body would rattle around before lying flat on the floor.
Her hands moved from her eyes to cover her mouth. Tears began to sprout from the corner of her eyes. "S-Sempai… I… N-No… Y-Y-You can't…"
"Yes, I can. And I will," he argued, putting firmness to his voice. This was the correct way, right? He never had someone to test this on and didn't know if it was working. "You… like it here, right? You can stay with me as long as you would like. No, I want you to stay here."
"…Really?" something small and scared came out of her voice.
"Really," Shirou nodded. Now, dare he smile here? Or keep his voice firm? If he tried to do both it would come out something cynical or sarcastic. That's not what Sakura needed. He decided to let it stay the same and run its course. "I'll take care of you."
"But…" she muttered. Her eyes grew distant as she muttered something below her breath.
He caught it. "I will deal with your grandfather."
There was steel in his voice. An edge that caught him by surprise. His tone had been as sharp as any of the blades he created. Still, steel didn't bend. This surprise did nothing to his resolve. He glared directly at her, showing her how determined he was.
He would never be able to understand or describe his relationship with Sakura. Friends, lovers, kin, or something else entirely he didn't know. All he knew was that Sakura was in trouble and needed help. He may have been doing it because of his dream of becoming a hero— Sakura would be his first damsel in distress to rescue— but there was something more.
Something possessive, almost. Sakura was his and it rattled him whenever he saw her go into the pits. She clearly didn't enjoy it and the thing living in her house forced her ritualistically.
Plus, he took sexual education. He knew what was going on was wrong in every sense.
Sakura stared back at him, unbelieving his words and sinking back into her blank mask in recoil. But his glare forced her to stay as she was. She couldn't become the doll again. She couldn't hide inside her inner world, void of all reaction of the physical and emotional aptitude. Something in his gaze had her soul hooked in his grasp with it pulling her back out.
She sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself. That stare, she knew, wasn't normal. It was a stare that transcended anything her Grandfather could ever hope to emit.
Fortitude. Hope. Undeniable strength. These were the things coming out of Shirou for her to see.
She shook her head. It didn't matter what she thought of the boy. It didn't matter how much she liked him, perhaps even loved but she was too young to tell if it was true, Shirou was still just a boy. Grandfather would outright destroy him if he tried to get in the way. Grandfather was just as powerful as he was ancient. There was a reason why he had lived for so long.
"Sempai… please. Don't…" she pleaded. Her fingers clutched tightly around her arms.
He said something to her. More assurances or arguments. But she couldn't hear. She became terrified for the boy. Oh so very terrified. Grandfather would surely try to come after him after hearing about this. Her heart skipped a beat. The idea of the boy she crushed dead horrified her. She would never forgive herself if she dragged Shirou into the affairs of a Magus family.
She knew what she had to do.
With tears falling out of her face, Sakura grabbed her bag and fled.
Something made her stop. A hand clasped down on her wrist so strong it hurt. Fingers as firm as iron kept her from reaching the door.
"I mean it," Shirou said with more edge in his voice. "Don't go home. I don't want you to go back there ever again."
"Sempai…" she sobbed. "Please let me go… before… before Grandfather—"
"I will deal with him," he ushered.
He didn't know what he was getting himself involved with, she told herself this over and over again. No matter how strong he sounded, there was nothing he could do against that monster.
"Why…?" she found herself asking. She fell to her knees once more. Her other hand went to cover his, not to pry off his grip but simply to clasp onto him. "Why, Sempai? I don't want you to get hurt…"
"…Because I really care about you, Sakura," he said after silence. "I want you to be happy. You're not happy at home, are you? You never like talking about Shinji or your grandfather. You always try to change the subject when it's brought up."
There was more. His voice had trailed off. But she hardly noticed.
She was shaking with fear. So much it was beginning to aggravate the worms within her. They were starting to squirm from their sleep.
"…I'm dirty," she said in such a low voice she could hardly hear her own voice. "I'm not good for you, Sempai. I'm not pretty. I'm dirty. Dirty…"
More silence. It was agonizing.
The grip on his hand softened. No more did it keep her confounded to the place. But he didn't let go either. He held on for the sake of comfort this time rather than restraint.
"…I don't really get it," he said after so long. "You seem fine to me."
"You don't understand!" she bellowed. She looked up at him with a rush of emotion that sent the tears flooding now. "I'm disgusting! Tainted! Violated! Sempai doesn't deserve me! Sempai deserves someone pure and better! I.. I can't… be with Sempai…"
Her arms moved. One to cover her chest while the other slipped between her thighs. She felt so tainted. So dirty and disgusting. So filthy no amount of cleansing could ever hope to purify her. It had been branded into her being. It had made her into what she was today. It was the burden she had to bear in order to carry the Matou legacy.
Shirou sat down in front of her, having let go of her wrist to let her shield herself. His face was as blank as it could be. But she knew he was confused. He showed his confusion by observing her, studying her, learning from her reactions. He didn't understand what she was going through nor how terrible it was. He couldn't. The only thing he could do was watch how her face warped and replicated them in front of a mirror.
"I never understood, Sakura-chan," Shirou admitted. "I don't think I ever will. If there is something wrong… I don't see it. All I see is… you."
"You don't… understand…" she repeated. She had nothing else to say to convince this boy otherwise. The only way to do so would be to reveal the truth. That horrible truth that ate away at her heart in fear of him finding out. She didn't want him to know about her. She loved these moments of normality with him. Once he learned of the truth will her precious daydream shatter forever.
As soon as she repeated her words, Shirou realized there wouldn't be any progress at this point. "Okay. At least stay tonight. I'll figure out what else to do later."
"…I need to call Grandfather," she said after a moment.
His lips twitched, the smallest indication of a genuine emotion stirring from within him. He wrestled with something in his mind until he conceded and nodded. She knew where the phone was and left her to her business. Shirou left her to prepare for the evening meal.
Sakura dreaded this. She took a breath to calm her nerves as well as calming the worms festering within her. Her heart skipped a beat when the phone answered after the first ring. There was no voice on the other end but she knew the old worm was listening.
"Grandfather…?" she called out. No answer would come anyways. "I was… wondering if… I could stay over at Emiya-sempai's tonight. T-There will be supervision, I'm sure…"
Her grandfather would decline, obviously. He had to. Tonight was the night where she would continue her training. Not in the pit but… with Shinji. Too many days had gone by since the worms had been satisfied. It was difficult to keep them from stirring. Her mental state didn't help.
"But of course," the raspy voice of the ghoul made her stomach churl. "I couldn't have asked for a better opportunity myself. See to it the Emiya boy assists you with your… training."
There was a click. The line went dead.
…No.
She didn't want this. Not like this. She didn't want something like this to happen in this manner. She was by no means a dainty flower at this point, having being violated by the worms and Shinji repeatedly. But she was still a girl who dreamed about laying with the one she loved the most. Whether she loved Shirou or not wasn't the question. She liked him, incredulously, but she wanted their relationship to grow before deciding what to make out of it.
She didn't want to bring Shirou into this world of hers. This dark and horrifying world. She should lie to him and say Grandfather forbade it. But Grandfather would be angry at her. Who knows what sort of punishment she would receive. But if it meant keeping Shirou out of that life…
"Sakura-chan…?" Shirou called out from the hallway. He had an apron on and was wiping his hands clean off of it. "What happened?"
She realized she had been standing there for some time. Unsure on what to do.
The moment she heard his voice, she came to a decision.
"Grandfather… granted me permission to stay."
She was still a girl, in the end. Deep down to her core, no matter how deep and dark it had been buried. This was one opportunity she could not pass up.
Maybe… just maybe Shirou will enjoy it. Maybe, just maybe, he will accept her for what she was.
He didn't need to know about the worms, anyways.
0-0-0
It slept.
It had never taken such an infliction of wounds before. The Beast's flesh had been rubbed raw, pussed with infections and diseases that it should have been immune to, and marked with scars that made every muscle spasm and nerves scream.
Sin. It was a human concept. It should not have affected the Earth Mother. But somehow, in some way, that human girl had seared the concept onto its hide.
It didn't matter. In the end her red fang was broken in two. In the end all of them were dead.
But the Earth Mother slept, longer than she should have. Her wounds needed more time to recover than ever before.
The First Predator had been her easiest prey. The Will and Incarnation of Humanity had been hardly a challenge after the Earth Mother had taken him by surprise. It was finding him that had been the biggest challenge and the most time consuming.
The Second Predator had been the easiest to find, but the most troublesome to deal with. He was, however, just as easy to kill as the First. The Second had batted away all of her attempts with his magic. And he had left a few marks on her flesh. Nothing too serious and only some time in slumber was required for her to return to her full might. He was more annoying than challenging to slay.
But the Third… The Third Predator had been most irksome. Truly this one had been a challenge. This one had been ferocious in her strikes, tenacious in her defiance, and wrathful in her retaliations. Everything the Earth Mother delivered was compressed, focused, and brought back thrice as fierce. At first they had been nothing more than nuisances. But as the battle dragged on, as the… sins accumulated, the return fire had become a legitimate threat.
The Earth Mother dove deep into the sand, deeper than any creature could hope to reach, and drank from the blood itself. It was needed else her wounds would leave scars and hinder her movements for future hunts. And here she slept, resting between the surface and the core.
She dreamed of her remaining targets. The Fourth and, within eventuality, the Fifth.
It would seem the white-fanged one had perished. And a new one took up its place. No matter.
She dreamed of the Fourth. The one with the infinite fangs.
And upon sensing her dream, the Sovereign stared back.
0-0-0
The months flew by.
Shirou awoke by the instinct, by the voice of Alaya speaking softly to him. It was alerting him that someone was about to…
He heard the calling of a horn. Something that only he could hear as it was a sound that sang within his mind. Someone was calling out to him and if he asked Alaya, the Will of Humanity replied.
The Golden King was blowing he horn, demanding his summons.
…A phone call wasn't good enough? And the Golden King usually, so to speak, kicked open his front door and paraded around his house if he wanted to talk. Shirou wondered what the fuss was all about.
Sakura stirred the moment he rose out of his futon. He never truly solved the situation with her household… but she seemed to be happier. She smiled more often. Though she was forced to return home he kept an eye on her always. Since demanding her to stay at his house she had gone down into the crypt once a month. An improvement, surely, but not the solution he wanted.
She always stopped him from confronting her grandfather. Fear was etched in her voice but she reasoned with him. She proclaimed things were much better at home and that her grandfather permitted her to stay over his house so long as she returned now and then. She stayed over just about every other day. A full week on rare occasions.
He thought Taiga would flip a table over it (she had once, when he received his first demerit). But she acted like a respectable guardian, questioning the two of them on this seemingly random situation, and spoke with Matou Zouken personally as both a teacher of Sakura and as Shirou's guardian. She even began to stay over at the Emiya household to keep watch on the two of them.
…But she was a heavy sleeper. She never noticed Sakura had slipped into his room on the first night.
But the events that followed was another story for another time…
Right now, the King was calling for him. He didn't want Gilgamesh to pay him a visit this late in the evening. He would bombard the house with his treasures for having to come here after the summons. Shirou really didn't want to risk Sakura's safety… nor the house Kiritsugu entrusted him with.
It took him a minute to wear something warm for the evening and sneak out of the house without making a sound.
"You kept me waiting," the Golden King had said as soon as he arrived some thirty minutes later.
It would be pointless to make any excuse. He wouldn't have listened. Especially to the one where Shirou was still a growing boy with short legs who had to hike twenty miles from his home in the middle of the night.
The King of Heroes was donned in a grand design of primordial armor crafted out of solid gold. There was powerful magic woven deep into the fibers and sheets. Despite the lack of a moon this evening, the armor shimmered with an eerie light that should not have been.
"What is it, Shishou?" Shirou asked instead, knowing it would be unwise to add to the King's impatience.
Gilgamesh had a hardened expression on his face. "Come. I grant you permission to witness something truly marvelous. You are to be my chronicler for this tale and to spread it far and wide. Do this and I shall share with you the true meaning of justice."
Shirou's only response was to nod.
The King's expression didn't change. He turned and lifted his arm to point at the open field. Golden light brightened the area as the King's vault released a peculiar artifact from its confines. It was a rolled up piece of fabric with bright colors. With a flick of his wrist, the article rolled out and spread across the floor.
It was a carpet. A beautifully embroidered carpet with a zeal of colors and patterns. Each edge had a golden tassel and the edge rimmed with a shimmering material unlike any other— neither as a fabric nor a metal. Jewels had been stitched into the center of each pattern that glowed in a mystic light.
Gilgamesh walked to the center and sat down cross legged. He spread his hand and gestured for Shirou. "Come. Be grateful this King grants you permission to be at his side and share one of his spoils. I am generous this evening. You shall never see such a sight ever again."
Shirou didn't question it. He only complied and sat seiza beside the Golden King.
The carpet lifted up into the air instantly, rising higher than any skyscraper in a matter of seconds. It flew forward, faster than any jet plane. And yet the wind did not buff against them. They were not cold by the height or battered by the turbulence. It was more like they were within a protective bubble than on a flimsy magic carpet.
Shirou did not question anything. He kept silent as he examined his surroundings. Within a few minutes they had crossed over the mainland and entered the Sea of Japan.
"…Ah, there she is," Gilgamesh had declared. He cocked his head and crossed his arms. His armor rattled with each movement.
"She…?" Shirou questioned.
Gilgamesh's only response was to narrow his eyes. But not because of Shirou. He did so because of the one who had his attention… the thing Alaya was telling him about.
Shirou decided to look in the same direction as the King. He expanded his senses and let him be taken by Alaya. His mind stretched over the sea, over the mountains guarding China, and stretched further. Whatever he was looking for was far, further than anything he had searched for.
"You spoke once of being a champion for the people," the King said suddenly. He snickered. "You are not wrong, but it is not the correct answer. I could tell you it is the duty of the strong to defend the weak; I could tell you it is the weak who must be culled by the strong. Neither reason would be wrong.
"Do you know what it means to be a Predator? To be a champion of the people? To become one of us, you don't just need to be strong. You must be the strongest. None else except our own kind may oppose us. It means we are the greatest humanity has to offer.
"So, little pup, tell me. What is justice?"
Shirou continued to expand his senses. What he was looking for would take some time, especially since he had no idea what he was looking for in the first place. He was only following Gilgamesh's gaze. He decided to take the time to answer.
"To use what we've become for the people? To make sure humanity survives?"
"This and that are entirely different," the King chided, a small curl of a frown donning his lips. "No, boy, what is justice? Justice, by definition, is to will the rewards and consequences invoked by the law. Now do you understand? Do you understand what it means to be a Predator? Do you understand what it means to be a hero of justice?"
The King's head snapped up before he could listen to the boy's reply. He unfurled his legs and stood. No more was he lax in posture. He was tall, impenetrable, as solid as a fortress. His presence was unrivaled as he donned his mantle of a King.
Finally, Shirou caught what had gained the King's attention.
It sees you. Run!
His eyes widened as something primal shook at his core. It felt like his heart had exploded within his chest. He was shaking, a defense mechanism and reaction from witnessing something he shouldn't have.
It rose out of the sand from across the globe. The thing shook off what sand clung to its fur and stretched its limbs. The drowsiness had slipped off like a blanket. It only needed a moment to fully awaken.
It stared back at Shirou. Moonlit eyes peering into his very soul.
Then it moved.
It moved across the sand, never disturbing it as it glided across at an impossible speed that should have torn it asunder. Wings sprouted out of its back as it took to the air. And then it phased out of his vision as its speed increased and it slipped into the wind.
A wall of light illuminated the area. No, not a wall. This time it was a mountain of golden light. The Gates of Babylon were opened entirely as an endless wall of treasures stretched from sea to sky, from horizon to horizon. Blades of every shape and color poked out, ready to be launched at a single command.
Shirou's mind drank them in. Each and every one of them. The thousands upon thousands of blades. Not all of them had been blades. Some of them instruments, some of them constructs, some of them ships, artillery, and jewelry.
"You're not using that right," he couldn't help but share.
A brow twitched in annoyance. But the King ignored him. Instead, he waved his hand forward.
A flood of steel was unleashed. The blades overlapping another so closely there was less than a centimeter of space between them. Had Shirou moved even the faintest bit he would have been shredded. Neither he nor the King moved as this barrage of endless weaponry shot forward without direction or target.
It flew towards them, having reached the edge of the sea on the other side. The treasures of the King were there to meet it. But there was nothing they could do against it. No matter how great they had once been, they hadn't been enough to pierce its hide. The creature, this monster unlike any other, had let the first wave crash against its impenetrable fur as it flew forward without hindrance. It did not slow down in the slightest as it swam through this flood of weapons.
But the weapons continued to come. They continued to pump out of the Gates, not one a single replica of another nor was a previous treasure used twice after being called back. The vault was so vast there seemed to be an endless supply of the most epic of treasures.
All weapons for Shirou to witness. For him to see, to analyze no matter how brief of a glimpse he caught. His mind, no, his body, no, his soul absorbed each of them with a loving embrace. Each blueprint was read, corrected, and set aside within his core to be called upon later.
"Who is it that decides what is just?" Gilgamesh asked.
The creature continued to travel forward. Gilgamesh snapped a finger. There was a single instant where the Gates stopped firing. A single lapse of a frame. It didn't matter anyways as the monster continued to fly forward at its impossible speed. But in the next instant, a new set of weapons were called out from the vault.
Shirou's eyes widened at the sight of them. Weapons of gods, titans, of beings more ancient than the King of Heroes— of heroes foretold through oral story when the written language had yet to be conceived. Weapons forged from the primordial era where the earth was a heap of magma and rock.
Spears of lightning as bright as the sun cracked through the air. Hammers as loud as thunder slammed into the creature's hide. Swords glowing with colorful flames, of pure light, of cosmic energy stabbed into its limbs and wings. Artillery firing beams of archaic force. Constructs transforming into dragons, serpents, great birds, and things liken to angels soared.
Finally, the creature was stunned. Its hide pierced at last as the greatest of the King's treasures stabbed into it. It released a roar of pain that sent a shockwave forward, knocking the lesser instruments aside but not for the godlier of creations.
It was knocked out of the sky and sent spiraling into the ocean by a sword… A sword that could have only been wielded by a titan the size of the moon. The blade itself was the size of a mountain!
The onslaught did not end. Gilgamesh looked down at his target and changed his trajectory. The Gates aimed down into the watery depths and sent a storm of primeval weapons without restraint. Shirou knew the creature was far from dead. Merely stunned from the impact.
His instincts flared, screaming at him to get out of the way by any means.
Gilgamesh felt it to. In the next instant his greatest of shields covered his front as he commanded his carpet to carry him back, as far away from the thing as possible.
Clouds rolled with thunder clapping. Rain began to pour down, pelting Shirou with water and hail powered by the wind that would have bruised or broken bones had he been a normal boy. Lightning fired down, striking at one of the shields and being deflected.
The thing was angry. Nature was being bent by its will.
It rose out of the sea, swiping its talons and claws at the wave of silver coming at it. It had summoned the wind and knocked away a plethora of weaponry. The rest that followed had been caught by its tail, by its wings, by its fins, by its jaws, and again by its talons and claws. It moved like a blur, swimming through the sea of colorful death. It did not approach them as fast as it had previously done, but it moved with enough ferocity and swiftness to be a giant blur.
But it was still too far away for Shirou to see with his normal vision. He was following the battle through Alaya's guidance. It also didn't help that Gilgamesh was retreating. They would be reproaching land within a few minutes.
The question was… did they have a few minutes to spare?
The King's gaze was hardened. His legs were bent as he used most of his focus to control what instrument to use against this creature.
It frightened Shirou. Yes, this feeling was fear. After witnessing a gluttonous supply of the greatest of blades and learning about each and every one of them at an intimate level upon a single glance, it frightened him how well this creature was capable of knocking them aside as though they were nothing. What the Golden King was using now were instruments that were capable of bending the laws of space and time itself by their presence alone! They defied the elements and projected their own reality into existence. These were weapons used by the primordial lawmakers when designing the world at its creation!
And yet this monster were treating them as though they were nuisances.
The King began to laugh. It had been a small chuckle at first before it grew into an uproar. He brought his head back while putting his hand over his brow. "Yes! This is it! This is the challenge worthy of me! The Ultimate Killer against the Ultimate Hunter. The rightful king of the planet against the primordial ruler of the planet!"
He brought his head down. He spread his arms out as though welcoming the monster into his loving embrace. "Do you know what it means to be strong? Do you know what it means to be a champion? Do you know what it means to uphold justice?!"
…He wondered if the King had gone mad. Shirou couldn't tell. He had difficulty enough understanding normal people. Diving into the psychology of a deranged person was nearly impossible.
A feral grin spread his face. There was something in his eyes. A glint of something dangerous. Shirou's instincts made him want to react. His body twitched, desiring to strike down the King where he stood. But he didn't know why this feeling came. It was as though the King was just as dangerous to him as the creature gradually approaching.
Gilgamesh reached into his vault. It was the first time ever the man would pull out something by his own hands.
"Do you know who upholds justice? The strong! Do you know who makes the law? The strong! And who am I? But the mightiest of Predators! I am the Sovereign! I am King of this world and it is I who make the rules, for I am the rules! I am JUSTICE!"
What he pulled out of the Gates of Babylon… it made Shirou spasm as a sharp pain struck him everywhere. His entire body convulsed upon seeing this instrument.
It was a blade. But not a blade. It was a weapon. But not a weapon. It was an instrument for humanity. But not made by humans.
A nameless instrument said to be equal to the ancient and most powerful divinity in existence, the Sumerian Godking Ea. It was forged out of the bones of the Outsider Marduk after he tore the Original Chaos in half to create Potential and Entropy. It was an impossibility. Not even the Root could acknowledge its presence for the Root could not comprehend its foreign nature.
The bladed rod began to spin in three different directions. The core of it came alive, brimming with a power that should not exist within this Inside.
The barrage of weapons ceased. Every instrument was called back into the vault. The skies were open. Lightning continued to crackle down and wind cut through, but all was obliterated within reach. Everything was torn asunder by the cycling energies of the Kings ultimate treasure.
As a demigod Gilgamesh is stronger and more durable than any man. As the king who united the world as one, his brilliance is unchallenged. As the collector of all of humanity's value, his resources are endless. His options for battle are endless.
But it is this weapon that had made him into a Predator.
Shirou's eyes shot open as far as they could. Now, more than ever, his instincts were screaming at him. If Gilgamesh followed with this attack… the world will die in its entirety. Nature would cease to exists. Humanity will perish.
"I am King! I hereby declare your execution, Gaia! May the world be purged in your absence! Enuma Elish!"
He brought the sword forward, stabbing it into the air.
A storm of nothing tore through the air, sending discharges of chaotic energy from Before the Beginning out of its wake.
The creature could not run, no matter how fast it had been. It roared out in defiance but was swept away in the currents.
"Graaaaah!" cried out the King. He lurched forward, gripping the side of his head. His eyes were crazed as he was sweating. "Damn you, Alaya! DAMN YOU! You choose now to interfere?!"
Shirou couldn't move. In the end he had done nothing to stop the world from ending. In the end he continued to sit and watch. He had been forced between two sides he didn't want to be a part of. On one side was a monster that could end him faster than a heartbeat. And on the other was a maddened king who could do very much the same.
The carpet flew back and thudded. They had landed on the shores of Japan. The King got off while continuing to grip the side of his head. He swore curses to Alaya while continuing to carry his… sword.
Error.
"You're… not…"
Error.
"Using…"
eRRoR
"Grk!"
E*R**r
Shirou gave up trying to understand this weapon. The best he could do was know the most efficient method of using it. He couldn't understand how it was forged, what its name actually was, or where it had come from. It hurt. It hurt. He never felt pain before. He had something akin to it, but it was more of a system his body used to tell him something was injured. This was the first time he felt something so unpleasant it couldn't be anything else but pain.
"The Beast yet lives…" snarled Gilgamesh. He spun around and faced the ocean. His greatest treasure crackling with chaotic energy still. "But Alaya can't stop me again. He's too weak now."
…He?
"Shishou, what was that?" Shirou asked.
Gilgamesh's head spun around as though he had forgotten about the boy entirely. Perhaps he did, being swept up in his own moment of glory. His eyes flashed something wild and untamed before his control returned. "Hear this so you may tell the tale. That is the Beast, the Predator of Predator. It is Gaia Incarnate, heralded as the Earth Mother. It is the fully manifested form of the Will of the Planet. All the power and authority of the planet itself given physical representation in order to hunt us down.
"And I shall be its slayer," he announced without hesitation.
Again, Shirou's instincts flared, demanding he stop the King from carrying this out.
"Humanity brought this upon their selves," the King rambled. "They festered into something that cannot be controlled. In my day I would execute hundreds so all will hear my words. But that cannot happen in these times. Performing a culling will change nothing, even if I were to execute a third of the population, perhaps even two-thirds. This world is sick and dying… all because of humanity.
"I've decided the world is no longer worth saving!" he declared with a smile. A smile. "While it is still mine and still beautiful, I shall destroy it before it can collapse into something putrid. Like a flower that blooms before it wilts, I will end it all before humanity can corrupt the planet any more than they already have. Such is my right as King!"
It didn't make sense. It didn't. Never mind his insane idea. It didn't make sense to bring Shirou along for this. There was no point in him witnessing the end of it all if all of it was going to end. Gilgamesh didn't need him to 'tell his tale' if the world was going to go to shit.
No. There was a reason Shirou was here.
It began as early as when Shisharo Kaname showed up. Why hadn't Alaya warned the Predator there was someone more than capable of killing him? Why didn't Gilgamesh know he boy wasn't dead after their first encounter? And why did he suddenly change his mind after witnessing Kaname's technique? Why come back to Shirou after repeatedly losing his patience and repeatedly striking him down? Why allow Shirou to stick around with him in the first place?
"…What do you think you're doing?" the King's eyes narrowed to a dangerous level.
Fuyu no Kishi was in Shirou's grip. The white katana did not shimmer with impossible energies. The pedestrian blade was beyond a laughable opposition to the thing that split the Original Chaos.
"Alaya sent me to stop you," Shirou figured it out and announced his findings. "We're supposed to protect humanity!"
"Have you learned nothing?!" the King snapped. He roared, "Do you not know what you are? What I am? Predators! The apex beings! The Ultimate Killers who rule this planet! None may oppose us, not even Alaya himself! We are the strongest! By the divine right of steel and conquest are we the lawmakers, the rulers, and the executors!"
"…There is no we," Shirou retorted.
All emotion washed away from Gilgamesh. He was beyond rage at this point.
"There is no 'you and I'. I am a dog of Alaya, a whelp used in the hunt to slay the enemies of humanity."
A cold fury washed over the sand. Gilgamesh's entire presence darkened as his own words were being used against him. The Gates of Babylon opened as a series of primeval weapons of the primordial age were fired.
"THIS IS HOW YOU USE IT!" Shirou shouted as he brought his arm around.
He did not swing with Fuyu no Kishi. He swung with a hammer brimming with the power of a star going nova within its core, forged out of dwarven magic. It would, one day, become Mjornir, but for right now it was simply a cosmic weapon used by beings beyond understanding.
It was also ten times the size of Shirou. It was to be used by a giant of unparalleled might and strength. But wield it he did. The hammer was weightless in his grip. No, more like the hammer guided itself with Shirou giving it direction. Giving it purpose.
It slammed into open air and created a shockwave. Space itself cracked like glass before an eruption broke out. Every instrument the King sent became dust. It did not matter if they were cosmic by design. They had been fired away like rocks from a sling. Without a wielder to master them, they were nothing more than atrociously expensive projectiles.
"Do you know who I am?" Shirou demanded out of the King.
The King did not move. He did not react. His stare was void of any emotion. But the grip on his ultimate weapon tightened. It began to spin lazily.
The prototype Mjornir was dismissed. It faded away from existence. In his hands was Fuyu no Kishi once more.
"I am the Sword."
Words filled his mind and escaped out of his mouth. It sang with him. Whether this was the guidance of Alaya or by his own merits was beyond him. He let them out, empowered by the Will of Humanity.
"Steel is my Body,
"And Glass is my Heart.
"I am the Executor,
"I am the Strongest.
"Justice is my Law,
"The Blade is my Guide.
"And so I declare…"
His senses sharpened. An infinite pathways were opened to him. Every option he could imagine, that could happen, what will happen, and what shouldn't happen was visible to him. Information that would drive anyone insane was welcomed by him. Nothing overloaded him.
He could pry into Gilgamesh's mind and hear his thoughts. Alaya whispered the secrets of the Golden King. Every memory was there for Shirou to see, to absorb, to study. Every bit of information the King knew was his to delve into.
Including his endless armory.
"I am… the Predator!"
"Usurper!" bellowed Gilgamesh. His eyes widened with an uncontrollable rage consumed him. He spat each word out. "Thief! Faker! How dare you take what is rightfully mine! The punishment for this crime IS DEATH!"
The nameless weapon began to spin, discharging chaotic energy.
Shirou moved, his legs kicking against the sand and sending him flying forward. His body started to unravel. But it did not bleed out. His legs became steel to keep up with his inhuman speed and strain. He became a silver flash as he crossed the distance in an instant.
"Enuma El—"
There was no time for Gilgamesh to finish his attack. Nor was there time for Shirou to deliver the final blow. The distance was too great. But there was something he could do against that weapon.
Fuyu no Kishi was brought around. The heretical technique of Shisharo Kaname spliced through nothingness and tore open reality. Reality could not accept this. It closed shut, stretching all existence in order to conceal the gap created by the blade. Sand blew everywhere, the waves crashed hard on them, but these things would not move the two gods clashing.
It was the cut that destroyed the nameless weapon and tore open Gilgamesh's chest. His armor came apart as a large chunk of his chest was ripped off. The spiraling weapon was stretched, could not maintain is form, and was obliterated from existence.
It would never be in this realm ever again.
"You…" Gilgamesh looked at what became of his greatest treasure… as well as the missing limb pried out. Shock, rage, and disbelief all clashed in unison. "You… Do you have any idea what you have—"
Sand and sea sprayed everywhere. A massive mouth opened up with fangs as large as bodies in hundreds of rows were beside them.
Shirou moved, scrambling away at the last instant. Alaya had only an instant to warn him before hand of the Beast lurking.
Gilgamesh, ripped of his privilege as a champion of Alaya, had no such luck. Wounded and in shock of defeat, he could not move.
He gazed up at his death just before the Beast clamped his mouth shut. A smile escaped his lips.
Blood splattered as his body was crushed between gnashing teeth.
0-0-0
Now that things had calmed down, Shirou could take a look at this Beast. At this Incarnation of Gaia.
It changed shape however it seemed fit. He recalled it being something liken to a great bird while they were in the sky. When it swam in the ocean to blindside Gilgamesh it had assumed the form of a mighty Leviathan. But now with the King of Heroes dead, it changed forms once again.
It took the form of a wolf. A large wolf taller than a pickup truck, but still remarkably smaller than its Leviathan form. Its fur was hard with each strand as sharp as knives, its fangs harder than steel, and its drool dripping acid that left smoke on the sand.
Its hind legs were completely gone. The sand shifted and assumed the form of legs, but continuously broke apart when it tried to move. Constantly it formed, crumbled, and reformed again.
The Beast collapsed, exhausted and heavily wounded having taken a direct hit from the nameless abomination. Blood trickled out of its burnt flesh, to which the sand moved to cover and attach like a second skin. Even the water obeyed its will as it streamed up the slant of the sandy hill and turned crimson while injecting itself into its wounds.
The Beast glared at Shirou. It was too wounded to hunt him but it continued to eye him.
Right now… Shirou couldn't hear Alaya's voice. If what he could gain from Gilgamesh was true, then perhaps Alaya's influence had limitations. Perhaps Alaya was weakened after all and could only provide assistance so much. It's not like he could ask anyone about this.
He was alone. He was the Predator now. The last of his kind.
"Hold on," he said to the Beast, as though it could understand the human language. Though… the creature eyed him as soon as he spoke. "I'm going to find a phone. You're hurt. Someone will come to examine you."
If this thing really was the Will of the Planet, he couldn't have it go and die on him. It seemed to be recovering on its own but that looked more like some mild patchwork. The creature was missing its hind legs and flowing with blood. Shirou was no medic. He didn't know the first thing about stitching up wounds besides his own personal experiences.
Not that he needed stitches anymore…
He found a payphone. But he had no cash. He didn't think about bringing anything other than a few bills. This was remedied by calling a fine dagger and stabbing it into the device. The coin purse opened up with several coins spilling out.
For the record, using a dagger that can open any lock just for a single phone call was a bit… much. This was once an instrument of a master thief. No shocker what he used it for.
He dialed the number and waited for it to ring. There was no answer and he regained a refund on his coin. He put it in and dialed again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
"WHO IS THIS?!" shouted Fujimura Raiga on the other end. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT TIME IT IS IN THE FUCKING MORNING?!"
"Raiga-ji," Shirou replied calmly. "I'm in a bit of trouble."
0-0-0
The Earth Mother was searing with pain. It was more than anything the Third had inflicted. Pesky stomach cramps, welts, burns, cancers, and fleas were nothing compared to having chunks of her body sent to oblivion. They were pieces of flesh that will never return. Though try she did.
The earth and sea obeyed her command. She called upon them to turn them into her flesh for this body of hers. Only a few grains and a few droplets manage to convert into flesh at a time. She will need to submerge into the deep once more in order to recover. But she knew not when the next time she will arise.
The Fourth had been her greatest challenge yet. The infinite fangs hadn't been just numbers. There had been a value to them. Fangs she and her Effigies had destroyed were brought back. It baffled her. Only by the means of a time paradox could something she destroyed be brought back again.
But the Fourth was no more. She drank in his blood. It was a putrid thing, his body both human and divine. Both of which had been her enemy for so long she nearly retched if she didn't need to sustenance to keep her alive.
What confused her the most… was this child before her.
He was not human, though he walked like one. He moved like one. He spoke. He interacted with Fourth, battled with him using human fangs, and listened to the words of Alaya. She had detected the presence of one of those blasphemous Predators. He was one of them.
But he was not human. He was… a fang. Entirely.
In short, this boy was an Effigy— a representation of a greater force given shape and form. Most Effigies were without intelligence other than the driving force to continuously feed. Even the Elemental Effigies— creatures of the five natures being twisted by human souls— were primal in their actions and devoured their counterparts in an endless cycle.
Yet, this boy resided in this realm as one of them. He had been with the Fourth the entire time and the Fourth did not suspect a thing until this boy presented his fang to the Fourth. How had he gotten so close? Effigies were the enemies of the Predators just as the Earth Mother was. Effigies were the enemies of all the humans. Surely the Fourth should have detected his presence and struck him down…
Or was there a reason for this… human visage?
A defense mechanism? She pondered.
She watched the boy closely when he returned. He said something to her, barking in the noise of the humans. She could not read him. He gave off no scent nor any intention whatsoever. She knew nothing of humans to understand their physical distinguishes.
By all means, this Effigy had completely merged in with the human settlement.
He had slipped in with their civilization and had gone unnoticed. Not even a Predator, backed by the knowledge and foresight of Alaya (though weakened as he was), could detect his presence.
There was also the thing she sensed from him during their conflict. This boy was a Predator. This Effigy, this enemy of Alaya, had managed to convince Alaya he was one of his champions!
Ah. Now she understood.
0-0-0
Shirou sat on his porch some few days later, drinking warm tea. He wasn't cold. The cold couldn't affect him. He could probably survive against the artic chill in the nude and be fine. But he drank the tea because that's what normal people do if they sit out during the winter.
The Beast had vanished before Raiga and his men arrived. It took his crew seven hours to drive all the way up north from Fuyuki. Shirou shared his story on how he had gotten there. Raiga gave him a level glare but dismissed it in the end.
Raiga was a firm believer of magic after his two men had died that one night at the hospital. It only took Shirou calling upon a magical blade out of thin air to prove it. After that, Raiga muttered something about all the dry jokes Kiritsugu made about being a 'Magus Killer' and pondered how many of them were actual truths. By this point, Raiga accepted almost everything relating to the supernatural world… More like he couldn't argue against it as it was something beyond him.
He was more than glad to hear the Golden King was dead. But that joy only lasted the first hour. Shirou was scolded for the following six hours.
Sakura had been worried sick after waking up with him missing. He could have tried to tell Raiga to keep quiet but not Sakura. It was how Taiga learned of his sneaking out and put him in the dojo for 'disciplinary training'.
…He resisted every urge in every fiber of his being from correcting Taiga on how to use the wooden swords. He accepted his punishment and went on with his life. But it did take him a day or two to get over how Taiga abused the wooden instruments.
Here he was, with the peace starting to return and the people around him starting to trust him once more. He looked up at the sky and watched the snow fall.
He looked down. The barrier did not trigger, there was no sound, and Alaya did not say anything. But there she was, approaching him with a primitive grace. She did not have Gilgamesh's divine perfection. But she was perfect in her own way.
She was tall, slender yet powerfully built. Her hair fell down to the small of her back and her eyes glowed with moonlight.
…She was also naked. And dirty. And her wounds had yet to heal. Her bandages were coming undone and he would need to change them once again. By the looks of them, she had been scratching at them in irritation.
"Welcome back," he said to her and patted the empty space beside him.
The Beast looked at him then eyed where his hand rested. In a single leap she crossed the distance without disturbing the air or the falling flakes. It was as though she slipped through time itself to appear at this spot.
She did not sit like a human. She had yet to figure out how. She curled up into a ball while laying on her stomach with her arms crossed beneath her chin. It took a few tries for her to get comfortable.
She kept her distance from him. Her eyes were constantly vigilant. Though… he could relate with her. She was studying everything about him just in the same way he observed everyone else around him.
"Alaya tells me something big is going to happen in a few years," he shared… even if she couldn't understand.
He said nothing else as he watched the snow fall. Neither of them moved. It was a strange relationship. So strange, in fact, even he didn't know what to make of it. It was only a few days ago where this thing masquerading as a person now was trying to kill him. Almost succeeded too. Now, she watched him with great care.
…It felt like he was now Gilgamesh and she Shirou.
"You hungry?" he asked suddenly.
She perked. Probably the only thing she understood coming out of his mouth.
He nodded, stood, and entered the house. She followed behind him like his shadow.
The Earth Mother would eat with her hands, would throw him across the room if he tried to put clothes on her (let alone get her in the bath), and would sleep outside despite the cold. She loved to sleep beneath the snow, deep in the ground.
And by the next morning she would be gone without a trace.
