(A/N) It's done. We're done.

Well, not really. I guess you could say that we're just "starting".

But yeah, this chapter is a big deal for me as an author. 60k-ish words into a story, and I can comfortably say that I've closed one of its "chapters", so to speak. Even though this is at most Chapter 0 haha.

Now, this one came out the back end of a lot of hemming and hawing. I didn't know whether I was able to do what I had wanted to do. For that reason, I'd like to sincerely thank euphoric image (an incredibly talented author on this site) for beta-reading this chapter on unreasonably-short notice. I've never worked with a beta before, but I don't think I could have lucked out more than I did.

The next chapter might come out a little sooner-ish, but it's probably going to be shorter.

There isn't much more for me to say. Well, actually, there is, but I won't. Please enjoy.

My body is ready. Haha.

X

"You look like a bruised slab of meat, Barthomeloi. Do you have anything left in the tank?"

For a moment, she gave me a look that lacked any form of understanding. "Left in the– I'm in a serviceable condition, if that is what you're asking."

Then stop leaning on me and stand on your own two damn feet. I told you that you're heavy, didn't I? You know that I have the upper body strength of a wet noodle, right? Actually, where did that maid with the dead fish eyes run off to? Wasn't she carrying you? Someone bring her back, please.

Oh. Right. She went to fight Jubstacheit's pair of homunculi along with the other lady.

"Move!" I heard Kiritsugu shout.

Darius' body came barreling towards us. It wasn't sentient –not really– so I guess him choosing to target the cripple and the child first was simply bad luck on our part. Wait. That wasn't specific enough, was it? Sakura, Illya and the old man probably fit the description of child-and-cripple pairing better than we did. Funny.

Barthomeloi used a wind spell to launch us towards our partners before we could be gored. Kiritsugu steadied us as we landed.

Unfortunately, our emergency relocation made it so that we were ever-so-conveniently bunched together for the vessel of destruction to take us out in one fell swoop.

I traced a few run-of-the-mill swords and shot them at the dangerous entity in the hopes that it would slow it down even a little, but nothing could ever be so convenient. It didn't even bat an eye at them. The swords bounced off its body as if they were blocks of polystyrene foam and not sharpened metal.

Seriously, it felt like fighting Herakles again.

"Steel is my body, and fire is my blood."

My body reached what had become its new maximum potential. It was unfortunate that I had to push myself this far twice in quick succession, but I could worry about the suffering that the urgency of current circumstances was putting me through when I wasn't trying to survive the aforementioned urgent circumstances.

"Windræ!"

The imminent depletion of my magical reserves was postponed for a little longer as Barthomeloi mustered enough of her own to cast another–

WHOOSH!

I had to cover my face, that I was blocking my sight of the enemy be damned. To call whatever this spell was supposed to be another "wind spell" would be flat-out erroneous.

The tsunami of pressurized air hit the servant's vessel like a giant wall. It tore everything apart– the ground, the trees– and sent them flying along with our opponent.

It didn't stop there, however. Due to the scale of Barthomeloi's magecraft, it reached the Einzbern castle in an instant.

And obliterated it.

I stood still uselessly, not knowing how to act for a second. That was a spell and not a Marble Phantasm, right? How scary.

But that brought another matter to light. If she could manage something like that this whole time, why didn't she–

Sakura.

That's right. We were here to rescue Sakura and Illyasviel– a plan that Barthomeloi was wholly involved in. The only explanation was that she wouldn't risk the life of the person she was trying to save by using such a destructive spell without knowing if she'd hurt them by accident.

But at the cost of her own life? She was left in such a sorry state, after all.

Though I should be the last person to call out another's backwards priorities, Barthomeloi's were seriously messed up. The supposed value of her one and only life was playing second fiddle to what, her pride as a Barthomeloi heir? Her sense of duty?

Then again, such idiotic ways of thinking were a dime-a-dozen at the Clock Tower. I could only conclude that in this particular case, it had worked to our advantage.

I sighed.

"We should go back up the other two. If Jubstacheit isn't on us yet, then they're probably still–"

"ROAAAAAAR!"

A chill ran down my spine.

As far from the castle wreckage as I was, I could still make out the large, shifting form of the evidently-still-living body of Darius the Third.

"Barthomeloi. Do you think you could do that again?"

Only after speaking had I turned my attention her way. As such, it was only then that I realized that my question had a clear answer.

I don't think she had even processed what I said. The entirety of her focus was on the foe that her incredibly powerful spell was not able to put down. The way that her hair was matted to her brow and her hands trembled were telltale signs of magical exhaustion.

We were screwed, then. My mysteries were amplified by my aria, but that didn't mean that I had enough od left in my system to project anything worth a damn.

Or enough to kill this brick shithouse of a servant in an immediately convenient manner, at least.

"Take Illya and get out of here, Shirou. I can buy you some time."

Kiritsugu's sudden request caught me off guard. Illyasviel was having a conniption over it whereas Sakura was about as emotive as a dead fish, but I was still processing what he had asked of me so I didn't pay much more attention to what they were doing than that.

After all the time and effort it took to get to this point, you're fine with giving up like that? I'd never hear the end of it from my adoptive sister.

"As if that would work," I answered him bluntly with a scoff for good measure. "An infirm like you couldn't buy us an extra second, let alone enough time to get away. If you don't have anything productive to say, just shut up and let us focus."

He frowned at me. "Shirou, you…"

What about me? Wipe that look off your face.

Somehow, Darius was little more than a few paces from us again and I hadn't even noticed it happen. I wasn't distracted, really, I promise.

It was only thanks to the magical fluidity granted to me by my aria that I was able to trace twenty or so black keys and bury them in whatever parts of the servant's body that I could manage. Thanks to the Internment Rite, the bastard was held still long enough for us to put some distance between us and for me to trace something a little more impactful.

I traced my bow. Pulling the string, I–

"…"

"Is there something wrong?" Barthomeloi asked. I would suppose that she was trying to sound calm, but there was nothing calming about anything going on right now.

"Yeah, I can't use this," I told her. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded hollow.

"Why not?" she demanded with a glare that reminded me a little more of the vice director of another timeline. "Did you expend your energy too quickly? We can't afford to be wasteful, boy!"

I couldn't exactly blame her for her annoyance, either. This really did suck.

"This bow is too dense," I answered her. "I can't draw the string."

"…What? Then why did you–"

"Shut up," I snapped. I wasn't blushing, was I? I sure hoped not. I don't blush.

I allowed the bow to disperse, and I tried to make the embarrassment over my momentary lapse in memory disperse along with it.

Shit!

I wasted too much time. Darius had broken free of the Internment Rite and was officially too close for me to hit him with anything powerful enough to do squat without us getting caught in the mix.

I traced a Noble Phantasm that held a gimmick that was about as gimmicky as the best of them. Crocea Mors was held in my hand, rather than projected mid-air like I was used to doing with my weapons as of late.

The axes of the monster before me came down with enough power to distort the air around us, but I didn't panic despite my twiggy arms struggling to lift the heavy sword and the many subsequent shouts of my name coming from those around me.

Worrywarts, the lot of them. Stop sounding so agitated. It's making me feel guilty for no reason.

Impossibly –or rather, thanks to the Noble Phantasm's bullshit mystery– I had won the initial exchange despite my being outmatched in strength, speed, size, and even numbers. "Miraculously", Darius' axes both struck the side of Crocea Mors' singular blade and bounced off like a pair of flies batted away by a wooden stick. The sword carried itself along its predestined path and sliced straight through one of the fake servant's arms with speed and precision that couldn't possibly be a result of anything but supernatural intervention.

Of course, that's exactly what it was. Crocea Mors guaranteed a single victorious exchange, and would even continue to do so with subsequent exchanges as long as I had better "Luck" than my opponent.

That said, I have never –nor will I ever– leave anything up to luck, let alone my own luck. I immediately dismissed the sword and was content to be sent flying courtesy of a roar strong enough to topple me over.

I didn't expect that last part, to be honest.

Instead of meeting an abrupt and frankly pathetic end at the hands of the behemoth positioned over my defenseless self, I was saved by a blade of wind hammering my aggressor's side.

It didn't kill him, nor did it do much other than scratch him, but it was enough to catch Darius' attention. Then again, maybe "attention" wasn't the best word. At best, the mindless husk's instincts took over and moved to deal with the newer threat.

Barthomeloi's arm was still outstretched and pointed at the hulking beast. Instead of getting away, she sat pretty and made a miserable attempt at hiding her laboured breathing.

Chances were, she simply didn't have enough gas left in her to guard herself.

Hah. I guess you're screwed now too, Barthomeloi. Since I didn't want to be thought of as an ungrateful asshole, I projected a nameless shield Noble Phantasm in front of her. I was banking on the fake servant not having any class skills –or at least anything that would let him burst through it– so this much should be just fine.

Hopefully, at least. Even with the second count of my aria, shields that were any stronger than this would drain me of a good chunk of my energy.

As it would turn out, my magnanimous efforts weren't needed. Barthomeloi's previous attack had loosened the roots of one of the few still-standing walnut trees, and it fell on the servant with exceptional timing. Darius gave up his planned murder to catch the trunk on his arm and push it away.

…Wait. That didn't sound right.

I looked to the old man, and he seemed to catch on as well. He nodded and –for whatever reason– pulled out a fat cellphone from his coat pocket.

"Stay alive for a little while longer, everyone," he asked of us. A little demanding, wouldn't you say?

He dialled a number. Was he calling someone?

No. He put the device to his ear for little more than a second before shoving it back into his pocket.

"Six minutes," he told us, "then we'll need to brace ourselves."

Brace ourselves? For what?

There was no more time to question his methods. Darius steadied his footing the instant that the tree was out of his path.

Kiritsugu, Sakura, and Illya weren't in a position to help me. Barthomeloi was spent, too.

…That meant that everything was up to me from this point on, right?

Fine. I'll show it right now– my worth as someone who's fought in The World's name for innumerable lifetimes.

I wasn't as fast, nor was I as strong as Darius the Third's mindless husk. However, I wouldn't let that disadvantage result in my undoing. Having stupidly high parameters wasn't enough in an exchange between servants. The winner was decided by wit, skill, and most of all, matchups.

I was no servant, admittedly, but I'd wager that I had the upper hand in all three of those categories.

As I focused, the pace of the fight slowed and became readable to me.

The deadly axe held at the end of his remaining arm descended with fury, but despite the untraceable speed with which it did so, the movement itself was clearly telegraphed. I wasn't very fast, but I was able to dodge strike after strike. By anticipating his actions, I was in much less danger than someone more physically capable than my current self.

There were clear lines that distinguished intelligence, instinct, and mindlessness from each other. A hero such as Heracles under the effects of Mad Enhancement may not best a foe with wit, but his instinct alone more than made up for that gap in consciousness. My foe, however, didn't have instincts approaching anywhere close to that level.

Power? Agility? A servant could have all the God-given talent in the world, but without a proper head to go along with those shoulders, talent wasn't currently part of the equation.

As a person, I had never lived a full life. As a warrior? No one would ever match my experience save for, perhaps, a divine spirit. I was more experienced in combat than Cu Chulainn. I was more experienced in combat than King Arthur. I was more experienced in combat than King Darius the Third.

With that in mind, I was more experienced in combat than the man's puppet-corpse, too.

But then, the issue was still my inability to create an opening for myself. Dodging was swell and all, but I was bound to tire soon and Darius wouldn't keel over otherwise.

Time for action, then.

A particular Noble Phantasm crossed my mind. A chain, sturdy enough to trap even the strongest of men, yet becomes harder to break the stronger a captive's divinity.

To my knowledge, Darius likely had little to no divinity– definitely none in this vessel– but the binding property of the Noble Phantasm would be enough to hold him still, if only for a split second.

And so, the golden links of Enkidu did just that.

Then I drew a blank.

My hands were held straight down to my side, already anticipating the twin blades that I would have surely traced in their grasp. With such an opening presented to me, I would trace overedge copies of Kanshou and Bakuya and strike down the enemy with the power of my most trusted technique.

Only, I couldn't. I weighed about twenty kilograms and stood a little over one hundred and twenty centimetres tall. I wasn't able to use that technique. Not like this.

As I had just found out, experience came with habits. In this moment, my habits were my own undoing.

Darius broke free from Enkidu. In slow motion, I could see my death creeping up on me.

It wouldn't be the first time that I had died, nor the second, nor the third. And yet, I couldn't help but feel just a tad more frustrated about this one than any of the others.

And so, I faced my demise not with sadness, not with fear, but with frustration, annoyance, and bitterness.

Maybe this just wasn't meant to be.

A pebble bounced off the giant's wrist, making him loosen the grip he held on his weapon before tightening it again.

Darius froze.

I froze. Barthomeloi, useless as she currently was, froze too. Kiritsugu and Illyasviel stared at Sakura –who stood right beside them– in shock.

"Leave him alone!" she shouted as loudly as her little tyke lungs could manage. "Just stop!"

She shook– almost audibly, even. Fresh tears trickled down from sparkling eyes over cheeks pinched taut.

"…"

Hey, hey. Sakura… this isn't the time for you to magically get over your emotional retardation. That's awfully nice for you and all, but your timing is horrendous. Please tell me that you didn't just do what I think you did.

Darius about-faced and barreled their way, confirming my fear that she did, in fact, do what I think she did.

A sword –any sword– was traced as quickly as I could manage to trace it. It sped towards the vessel of the servant moving in the opposite direction from me. I wasn't sure that the projectile could manage to reach it before it could pummel Sakura into a pulp.

Her eyes widened in fear at the mountainous figure.

She was not bifurcated, however. Just in time, Kiritsugu threw himself over her at the same moment that my sword impacted Darius. The larger man was thrown away, but as a result, the pommel of his axe slammed into the old man's side in the same instant.

Kiritsugu was sent tumbling like a rag doll, and Illya shrieked.

"Old man!" I shouted in a panic. "Are you all right?"

He grunted, mustering the courage to tilt his head up from the ground.

We locked gazes.

Oh.

"I'm fine, Shirou," he told me.

"Alright then," I muttered, turning back to Darius. We weren't done with him.

Somehow, my sword had managed to slice off the thing's other arm. He was slow to get up.

I resolved myself to end things here, no matter what. I was in my own head, and Sakura was instants away from dying because of that.

I was being stupid before when I was prepared to die so easily. I wasn't allowed to kick the bucket so long as I needed to make sure that those at my back were safe.

…They were my "happiness", right? Sakura, Illyasviel… even the old man. Lorelei wasn't terrible either, so I would suppose that I could let her piggy-back off my generosity for now.

I haven't gotten a single one of them killed yet.

I clenched my fists tightly enough to draw blood.

I... haven't gotten a single one of them killed yet.

How exhausting. I felt like a dog herding its sheep in a constant effort to keep the stupid animals from getting themselves eaten by wolves.

And yet, it was rewarding. I felt rewarded. As long as they were still around, maybe what I was trying to do was in some way more realistic than trying to save the world along with everyone in it.

That's right. This would be my purpose. Not because of some stupid dream passed on from a father to his child, but because I said so.

I have created over a thousand blades; chasing duty, yet rejecting destiny.

Again. I would not lose.

"Hurry! Grab Barthomeloi and," cough, "get away!"

Eh?

The old man's urging cry threw me off. Was Darius planning something? No, of course not. He was right in front of me. What's more, he was missing both arms.

...Not that he could plan anything.

Something wrong with Barthomeloi, maybe? No. She looked beyond exhausted, but she seemed more than fine, other than that.

Jubstacheit?

I looked left and right for signs of an attack. Nothing.

Up?

"…"

Was that a plane?

No. That plane looked a little strange.

"…"

I began to sweat. I sprinted over to Barthomeloi, swung her arm over my shoulder, and dragged us to the others with urgency.

A series of indistinct objects dropped from the flying machine. I wasn't going to make it in time.

I threw Barthomeloi like a sack of potatoes, uncaring for her indignant curses.

Spinning around, I yelled, "Rho Aias!"

This was it. This was all I had left. This Noble Phantasm would sap me of every last drop of Od I had, but I'd need it.

Not a fraction of a second later, the war-torn field before me was carpet-bombed by a UCAV.

Kiritsugu had called in a drone strike.

There were a few things wrong with that statement, namely that this sort of technology was very recent in the grand scheme of things, and wouldn't be used by the military for another few years yet. This unmanned aircraft was either unlicensed or a stolen prototype.

Another more pressing matter was the fact that launching a bunch of missiles at a servant shouldn't do anything. Mundane weapons couldn't hurt what was effectively a ghost.

The old man had realized it then, it would seem, when Darius pushed the tree away with his arm: a servant shouldn't need to do such a thing.

Most probably, what I had been calling "Darius' empty vessel" was, quite literally, a physical vessel. Some sort of homunculus, perhaps.

With just that much to go on, Kiritsugu had played an all-or-nothing hand. Was he really that confident in his assumptions, or was it really that we were pushed that far back into a corner? What a scary guy.

The bombardment ended some thirty or so seconds later. It felt like an eternity.

Dismissing the last Noble Phantasm that I would ever manage to summon for a good while, I was caught flat-footed by the sight of Darius' hulking form looming over us from a distance. He still stood on both feet.

…I could practically feel the tension between us collapse when he fell.

There wasn't much of him left. He was a gored mess, and obviously dead.

Hah… we had won.

"Lady Illyasviel. Are you alright?"

The new voice shot adrenaline right back into my system, but I was able to relax again after realizing who it was.

Illya ran up to the maids that had just returned and tried to hug them both with her stubby arms. Somehow, the girl had yet to notice that the busty one was holding her severed arm in her remaining hand.

That particular observation notwithstanding, however, they seemed fine. Alive, at least.

"Jubstach…eit?" wheezed Barthomeloi questioningly through haggard breaths.

"He escaped," the narrow-eyed maid replied bluntly.

How unfortunate.

"Whatever," I grumbled. All eyes were on me now. "We have what we want, so let's just leave."

Or actually, I had what I wanted: no casualties among those that mattered. I couldn't care less about anyone else's objectives.

...Yeah. No casualties.

There were no arguments. Despite having lost an arm, the empty-looking maid tossed Barthomeloi over her shoulder and carried her in pace with the other homunculus. Illya and Sakura were content to follow behind them, the white-haired girl emboldened to spur a conversation with the shy younger one.

This was it, then. It was over. Done. We got what we came here for, right?

I was tired– much more than I had originally thought following the violent and deadly exchange. Kiritsugu and I hung back, using each other as a crutch to drag ourselves forward at a moderate pace.

So tired.

"Shirou," he said.

My face was blank. I didn't turn to face him, and I'm sure that he kept his sights set firmly ahead just the same.

"Hm?"

"When I was younger– no. Until just recently, even, I had a dream. Did I ever tell you what that dream was?"

What a bore. We're going to fall behind if you start with the small-talk out of nowhere, old man.

"You might have mentioned it once or twice. Who knows. Your memory hasn't ever been the greatest."

"I wanted to be a hero," he told me, uncaring of my flippant attitude. "I wanted to save every man, woman, and child on this rotten pile of trash we call a planet."

"I see."

"I wanted that dream so badly. I was happy, once, and yet I threw it away because I thought that it wasn't enough."

There was nothing for me to say to that. I knew that already. I knew all of that already. So just shut up.

"But now, even if it's just a little, I was given some of that happiness again, I think. It was returned to me."

"…Yeah."

"Thank you, Shirou."

Not so much as a peep came out of me.

We walked in silence a little longer. Our pace slowed, but no one ahead of us had noticed.

"I'm glad," he said.

I almost stopped walking, but I easily caught myself before I did.

"For what?" I humoured him.

"That you won't make the same mistakes as me."

I chuckled. "I'm plenty capable of making my own mistakes, thanks."

I've already made one, after all.

"Mm. Sure, but I'm sure you'll figure out a way to pull through when it counts."

I grunted.

What a fucking jackass.

We were barely moving now. Our feet dragged against the dirt path.

"Illya will be happy," he affirmed gently.

"Of course she will be," I agreed.

We stopped. Rather, he stopped, and I was forced to stop along with him.

Even now, I couldn't look at him.

For what it's worth, old man…

"Thanks… dad."

"…"

Carefully, I moved to the side and leaned him against a tree.

I mustered the courage to look at him, finally. He was smiling at me.

What an annoying smile.

The red bled through his thick trench coat. It hid the spot where the pommel of Darius' axe had punched right through his body.

I sighed.

Groaning from the soreness in my muscles, I sat down and leaned my back against the very same walnut tree.

"Ah, damn it," I cursed under my breath. "I really tried my best, you know?"

I leaned my eyes his way. Of course, I didn't get an answer.

I wouldn't get an answer.

He really is the worst.