EDIT: With each new chapter I edit, a little bit of my sanity dies. I imagine by the end of this I'll be a brainless zombie wandering the streets rambling lines from Fate:US that got stuck in my head.

Howdy readers!

There isn't a whole bunch to talk about. More reviews from you guys which were awesome to see, a couple of which were focused on Caren. In canon, from what I've been able to research, she is 14 years old during the Fifth Grail War. Since we're still in 2002 that makes her 12 years old.

Some of you predicted Lorelei Bathomeloi and well... Guess you'll just have to see.


"Come on Lectra, just a little more!" Slamming his fist in the face of an ether construct, Shirou searched for the next. With a spray of purplish sparks, the familiar collapsed into a pile of slowly fading ash. Two more constructs came at him at once, swinging energy-based weaponry toward his head. Ducking low, he swung his leg around in a circle to send both familiars onto their backs. "That's good! Keep it up!"

Two more replaced the couple he had knocked down. As he prepared to make a move that would defeat them both, a crackle over his shoulder sent his head reeling backward. Lectra had created a familiar behind him, setting him in the center of a pincer. As his mind raced to think of a way out, a low energetic hum from above sealed his fate. Even though he wasn't going all out, he had lost. Smirking to himself, he fell to the ground, tucking his legs up to his chest so the cape on his back could shield most of his body.

As expected, something impacted his back and a massive explosion dominated the arena. Weakness invaded his body and his skin warmed significantly as mana was sucked straight from his reserves. As the blast of energy subsided, normal vision returned. Emo Robin Hood released a held breath, panting while his body tried to adjust to everything that had happened.

From behind him, an enthusiastic voice shouted out. "I won, I finally beat you for once!" While Shirou wasn't even using weapons or putting all of his effort in, Lectra did manage to catch him off guard. He was actually a good tactician when given time to think. Shirou could only hope that their opponents would underestimate Lectra and focus on him instead.

Standing shakily, Shirou adjusted to the weak feeling in his legs. Lectra moved close, joy clear in his motions. When he was within reach, he pressed a hand against Shirou's chest, offering back the mana he stole with less than perfect efficiency. Strength returned to him then. It was an odd feeling to have power torn away and given back like this, but as it became more common, Shirou acclimated to it.

"That was very good, Lectra. Striking while your opponent is distracted is a great way to end a battle quickly." Shirou offered a smile, then remembered his face was concealed by the scarf. "If you couldn't tell, I'm smiling under here." He pointed to his face, getting a snort from the older boy.

"I didn't even know you had a face under there." Throwing his arm over his head, Lectra stretched with small noises of strain. "Hey, if you don't mind me asking," he paused, likely deciding on how to phrase the question "What's it all for?"

"My outfit?" Shirou asked for confirmation, getting a short nod. "My identity needs to be hidden to protect people that are important to me." Pausing for a moment, he decided to be entirely honest. "That, and in the off chance the Clock Tower wants to stuff me in a jar, I can leave and come back under a new alias with my true appearance."

Holding both arms behind his head, Lectra made a noise of acknowledgement. "I guess you have things all sorted out then."

"Well, not everything," he admitted bashfully, closing one eye and scratching the back of his neck. "I still have no idea how this tournament is going to end up."

"I have faith it will be in your favour." A strange voice from the side made Shirou snap his head to the source. It didn't take more than a half second for him to identify who it was.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shirou could see Lectra was absolutely stunned. "Lord-"

"El-Melloi the Second, yes." Clearing his throat, the raven-haired man directed his attention to Shirou. "Landry Hammon, if you wouldn't mind excusing yourself so that I may speak to your partner alone." Waver's piercing gaze never left Shirou's eyes; the two were locked into a staring match. The glare made his body tense, senses reflexively sharpening in preparation for a fight. Was this some sort of power given to the Lords, or was it just something Waver could muster on his own?

Lectra audibly gulped. "You're on your own, Blade. Whatever you did it looks pretty bad." Without another word, he bolted toward the entrance, closing the door quietly behind him. Waver raised one hand, snapping his fingers to shroud the room in a dense bounded field. Immediately, his face softened and Shirou felt relieved.

"You're not in any trouble...yet. I merely wanted to take a moment of your time to speak with you for a little while. I couldn't speak much in class and I was unable to make time before now." Waver paused, taking a few steps around the arena.

Shirou felt his body relax, fists he didn't know he'd made unclenching as the threat vanished. "You come in looking like that just so we can have a chat?"

The lord chuckled, looking down at his feet as he paced the room. "It was the only effective way to get your friend there to clear out in a timely manner." He looked up at the redhead, lifting an eyebrow. "Do I want to know what you two were doing in here?"

Shirou's head twitched. What sort of question was that? "We were training for the tournament, what else would we be doing?"

Waver's eyebrow was still suspended high. "So you don't… Hm, well you'll find out sooner or later. Speaking of the tournament, how are you feeling?"

The boy shrugged, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while letting out a breath. "I can't say I'm too confident. I have no clue what I'll be up against and this will be Lectra's first time in a real combat situation. Our cohesion is sketchy at best but he trusts me enough to keep our tactics in a decent state."

Reaching into his coat, Lord El-Melloi fished out a cigar and calmly placed it between his lips. Just as casually, he reached into the other side and withdrew a lighter. Within seconds, the room was filled with the subtly sweet scent of genuine tobacco. Comparing it to cigarettes wasn't even fair. While Shirou didn't like the smell regardless, this he could at least bear with it. "You should be fine. From what I hear, you're used to taking on multiple opponents on your own anyway."

Shirou narrowed his eyes. "You know about that?"

"Of course. I told your father that I wouldn't permit you into the Clock Tower unless I had all the facts. I wasn't about to risk my head for someone I don't know the history of. I know you killed two freelance agents and Elizabeth Velum, an enforcer. If I had the intention, I could have you executed or imprisoned."

Shirou narrowed his eyes. This wasn't a threat, the man's body language was too open for it to be taken that way. He was merely being blunt and pointing out information. "So you want me to grovel and beg at your feet?"

Waver snorted, pausing to blow out a lungful of smoke. "Of course not. I owe your father a great debt, some might say my life. I have no doubts that his gun was trained on my position through the entire War. For one reason or another, he kept me alive, allowed me to work with him in the shadows. For that reason, I've allowed such a great favour to be asked of me. Your father and I have both agreed that this is the last time. We both have our own lives that we need to keep separate." Closing the distance between them both, the older man offered a smile. "But let's talk about less depressing things. There was a girl Kiritsugu had me look after, I believe her name was Sakura." A sudden pang of guilt and sadness coursed through Shirou. It was a feeling that hit him every time he was reminded of Sakura's past. It was also a reminder that he wasn't doing anything to help her. "How is she doing?"

… … …

… … …

Sakura would never consider herself the jealous type-

No, that was a terrible lie.

She was jealous that Rin could get so close to Shirou without it being seen as weird. She was jealous that Illya could sleep in the same room right beside him. She was jealous that they all lived a normal life free from any sort of torturous magecraft.

Most of all, she was jealous of their freedom.

She had been free once when she was younger. Kiritsugu had risked his life saving her and he destroyed the Matou manor in the same act. In his attempt, he had been heavily injured but once they were outside, he could do nothing but laugh.

Above all else, Sakura wondered why he laughed at that moment. Was it because he hadn't expected to make it out alive? Was it because the act was so out of character for him? Or was it because he realized how worthless she really was, and that the thought of him risking his life over something so trivial was amusing in a macabre way? That didn't explain why his eyes seemed so sad when he looked at her. It wasn't pity, of that she was sure.

Across the table, his sombre, smirking facade betrayed deep sadness. It was the only emotion she could ever glean from his features. While she was naturally good at picking out people's feelings or seeing if they were lying, Kiritsugu consistently eluded her. Only Illya could decipher his nuances and determine his true thoughts. Examining Illya's face, Sakura could read from her that she was concerned with her father, that she could see what he was feeling.

Reaching over to tug on the sleeve of his robe, the girl asked the question Sakura had wanted to for years. "Daddy, what's wrong?"

"Yeah, you've hardly even touched the delicious meal Sakura made for us!" came the joyous quip of Taiga. Shortly after commenting, the clamour of cutlery betrayed the Tiger's appreciative appetite.

The Emiya looked down, expressing a hollow chuckle as he tossed food around his plate like a fussy child. "I suppose I've been lost in memories."

"Memories? Like when you and mommy used to live in Germany?"

He shook his head, keeping his eyes cast down. They seemed to darken another shade at Illya's comment, but she couldn't have been sure. "A little more recent than that, sweetheart. It's nothing to worry about. Just something that happened to slip out of my hands." He lifted his head to look Sakura right in the eyes. The saddened smile told her more than enough. He was thinking about her when she was recaptured by Zouken. She had no idea that he still thought of such a day. It was years ago and he couldn't have done anything more.

it wasn't his fault.

"Regret then," came the soft voice of Missy. "They say regret is the most destructive emotion. Turns mountains to quivering stones, heroes into villains." The woman popped a single onigiri into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "So I've read anyway."

Illya leaned forward in the table, narrowing her eyes. "The only thing I see you do all day is read. Where do you get the money for all those books?"

Kiritsugu laughed, placing his hand on top of her head. "I allow Missy to purchase whatever she desires." Illya's head snapped back so fast that Sakura thought it might fly off her shoulders. The look in her eyes must have meant something to Kiritsugu because he awkwardly stiffened before trying to laugh it off with another pat of the head. "You didn't get a new dress because you didn't get an A+ on your final exams. Missy, on the other hand, contributes to this house in more ways than you might notice. Who do you think has been cleaning up after us all since Shirou's been gone?"

Sakura didn't bother to listen to the rest of the conversation, setting her body to eating autopilot as she thought about what Kiritsugu must have gone through over the past few years.

… … …

"You sure you can't stay?" he asked, leaning against the door with crossed arms. His eyes darkened a shade, becoming empty. "I know you have certain responsibilities to attend to at home, but another day wouldn't hurt, would it?"

Sakura opened her mouth, taking a half step forward before her mind could stop her. She wanted to, she would wish for nothing more than another day away from that hell. The more rational part of her brain reminded her that staying would kill her and forced her to shake her head. "Without Shirou here, I wouldn't have an excuse to stay. Grandfather might get suspicious."

Kiritsugu frowned, smouldering rage blossoming in those dark pits. "I told you never to call that worm your grandfather."

The tone of his voice was enough to make her flinch. He had said exactly that all those years ago, hadn't he? But she'd never had a choice. If Sakura didn't call him grandfather, she was punished. Not only by the old worm but by Shinji. Her hands clenched around the fabric of her dress, head shaking with more confidence. "I'm sorry," she stumbled out, turning on her heel and moving toward the exit.

"Sakura!" a commanding voice cemented her in her tracks. Sniffling, she half-turned her head to look back. She could see him sigh, shoulders slouching forward in defeat. Even his voice now expressed how much sorrow he was in. "Just a little longer. I don't know how, but I'll figure it out." Even with vague wording, Sakura understood his meaning.

… … …

… … …

… … ...

The preliminary fights were tomorrow, Friday. Shirou had been working hard catching up in his classes as well as training Lectra and so far he was balancing both nicely. The lack of word from Bazett was starting to concern him though. It had almost been a full week and nothing so much as a "boo" had come in. She had said she would be lying low, but how low was she going?

The sound of rain on glass drifted into his mind for a moment. As Shirou had come to expect, it was raining again. That meant outside was totally cut off for the day. Actually finding himself missing the sun, he had started moving his activities outdoors whenever it happened to be nice out. Studying, eating or just hanging out was usually brought outside whenever the sun appeared.

Over the past few days, life had fallen into a little routine. Shirou met Luvia before his morning class, had lunch together and hauled her books around all day before going to train with Lectra. Two days ago, Lectra expressed his desire to join Shirou and Luvia at lunch. The only awkward hurdle had been Lectra's schedule. He attended night classes, which meant their lunch was his breakfast, and sometimes noon was too early for him.

"Blade?" A pair of fingers snapping before his eyes brought him out of his worries. Luvia and Lectra were both giving him an odd look. "I asked you a question three times and you gave me this blank look," Luvia huffed, leaning back in her seat with crossed arms. As if on cue, the muffled rumble of lightning coursed through the building.

"My bad, just trying to figure out a better way to eat with my scarf on my face," he passed off.

"I have an idea," Luvia began, but Shirou already saw it coming.

"I swear if you tell me to take it off, I will, only so that I can gag you with it." The girl made an annoyed "hmph", lifting her shoulders and pouting.

With a mouth half-full of chips, Lectra chimed in. "I've been trying too, Luvia. I train with him daily and I still haven't seen so much as a nose."

"Both of you can stop trying anytime, really wouldn't hurt my feelings any." Shirou had practically given up on lunch. There was no way he would be able to eat without either of the two trying something. Setting his fork down, he offhandedly shoved his food away.

Lectra groaned, resting the side of his face on one hand. "We just want to see. What do you have to hide anyway?"

Shirou blinked, face as vacant as he could make it. "My identity, the one reason why anybody would wear an outfit like this."

"Oh come on. Just admit that you like looking like a stereotypical D&D thief."

Before the thief in question could answer, a hand landed on his shoulder. It was heavy and too large to be anyone he knew. "More like stereotypical idiot."

Turning his head just enough so that his eyes could see who it was, Shirou was met with the vaguely familiar sight of blond hair. Racking his brain for a name, Shirou made an honest half guess. "Alvin, right?"

"Ayaan, a name you'd take care to remember." This was the man who had picked on him the other day when Luvia abandoned him. The situation here was far from anything Shirou might call stable. It was obvious that this brute had ill intentions. With the man's proximity and physical contact, Shirou couldn't activate his circuits without the act coming across as a threat.

Shirou had to make a decision, and quickly. Either assume that Ayaan was here just to talk, or start a fight by preparing for one. After catching a worried glance from Lectra, he made his choice. "People don't really stick in my mind unless they have a good reason to." A strange sense came to him then. There was something else about Ayaan he was forgetting, something important that had happened during their brief interaction.

"I wonder if a good beating would cement my place in your head." A flicked finger rebounded off the top of his head. Luckily, his time around Rin and Illya had made him rather resilient to the act.

"Hey, that reminds me." Turning his body to place his elbow on the table, Shirou moved his arm to rest one side of his face within his hand. "Are you in the Magus Tournament?"

Judging by the stunned expression, the question had caught the man off guard. He then snorted and adorned a dumb looking smirk. "I am, but I'm not a first year, so you likely won't ever get to see me yo-"

"Wouldn't be too sure about that," Shirou cut him off, casually lifting his face from his hand and turning to face forward. "I'm not in the mood to talk or fight right now, but I'll see you during the Magus Tournament." Cool as ice, Shirou lifted one hand and flapped his wrist as if sending the man off.

Shirou could practically hear Ayaan's teeth grinding in frustration. There was the subtle noise of muscle and skin tensing, a signal for Shirou to prepare. He wouldn't have enough time to reinforce himself as much as he wanted, but it would be enough to absorb the first blow and turn the fight around while his reaction remained unexpected. A gun fired in his mind, circuits coming alive to fill the porous space of his body with mana. Shirou's body clenched in expectation of a blow. On cue, the sound of smacking flesh reached his ears, but he didn't feel anything.

There was an aggravated noise of pain from behind him. "What was that for?!"

"You're trying to start fights with other magi in public again. The last time got you your second strike, do you really want to be expelled because you can't cool that thick head of yours?" It was a woman if the voice was any indication and it was enough to jog his memory. When Ayaan had first cornered him a few days ago, a silver-haired girl had been there as well; that had been the important part he had failed to remember.

"But last time was against a guy who could really fight. This guy would only take a second." Shurou furrowed his brow. Did he really appear that feeble? If he could regularly go head-to-head against enforcers and the occasional werewolf, cocky magi shouldn't really be a problem.

There was a rather sultry sounding hum near his right ear. Shirou had to actively repress a shudder as he tried to read what was going on through the eyes of Luvia and Lectra. "We don't know what he might be capable of, be he seems confident enough to ignore you and I entirely." She paused, moving away from his ear. "Just leave him alone for now. You can humiliate him by kicking his ass in public at the tournament, doing it here would only make you look like an idiot."

There was a grumble which was gradually becoming more distant. "You better make it through the first-years so I can smash you to a pulp in front of your friends."

What kind of incentive was that? Or was it some sort of poorly crafted threat? Neither option mattered of course. The chances of Ayaan randomly being set to fight him were extremely low and the man seemed too overconfident to pose a major hurdle.

At the very least, he had left without a confrontation. "Blade, do you know that guy?" Lectra asked quietly in a hushed tone, leaning forward onto the table.

He shook his head. "When Luvia took off from General Fundamentals on Monday, he cornered me before I could leave. I didn't think too much about it, but I guess he's been stewing over it ever since." Following a shrug, he reached forward to reclaim his fries before adjusting himself so that he could start eating. The two of them would be too startled to try anything now.

"You never told me about that," Luvia huffed, keeping a watchful eye on the two as the walked off. "I actually know of them both. The man is Ayaan Turner and the silver-haired woman who took him away is Kiera Eliphas. I've also seen them take part in the Magus Tournament last year. He can manipulate the atmosphere around him while she uses some sort of mental manipulation to break her opponents." Luvia actually shuddered. "She was almost banned from competing after her last competitor committed suicide shortly after losing."

Lectra's eyes became as wide as dinner plates. Shirou found his reaction stranger than the actual event. "She really messed with them that badly?" He sounded surprised, almost like he couldn't believe a magus would be that cold.

Luvia merely nodded. "However, it was deemed that she had little involvement and that his loss in the Tournament was what actually drove him to suicide." Shirou furrowed his brows. If Shirou knew magi, Kiera had likely paid off the officials to disregard her actions and excuse it somehow. Odds were, her opponent had been someone she disliked or was holding her back. For that possible reason, she had purposely gone further and sent him over the edge.

"How does someone defend against mental invasion like that?" Shirou asked, adjusting his scarf to casually stuff a couple fries into his mouth.

Luvia snorted before her face split into a smug grin. "The better question to ask would be how you can't defend against it. There are only a few reasons why an invasion like hers would work." Lifting a hand, she popped up one finger. "One, she and her target have extensive history." She paused for another finger, "Two, they trust one another, or have some sort of connection." The ring finger followed suit, "Or three, the magus' circuits are inferior to her own."

Shirou silently cursed underneath his breath. There were very few people who were able to consider themselves magi who had weaker circuits than him. If he were to face Kiera in the Tournament, he would have to prepare his mind for some sort of attack. "Sounds like it's very limited."

Luvia laughed heartily. "That's why she barely gets into C tier battles." The strange term made him tilt his head. Luvia seemed to catch on immediately without him even asking. "Do you think that magi wait patiently for an entire year to see which one is stronger than the other? There have always been underground tournaments. The only reason tournaments were ever officiated by the Association was because too many inexperienced magi were getting themselves killed in the lawless, unregulated backyard duels."

In the midst of moving to eat more chips, Shirou caught an odd motion from Lectra. Raising her brow slightly, Luvia continued. "Back to your question, while the Magus Tournament doesn't have any official ranking system, competitors have developed a tier system based on a bunch of factors I don't care to remember. To put things into perspective, any enforcer would easily be considered A tier. Magi usually start at D and slowly work upwards as they last longer in the tournament. First years sometimes drop into F tier if they're really awful and very few ever make it into anything higher than C."

Lectra pouted and slumped forward. "So if these tiers are factor based, even if Blade carries me out of the first-year battles, I'll still be a low tier?"

Biting a chip in half, Luvia nodded with a hinted smirk. "Of course. Nobody is given a reputation."

Stealthily making off with more fries of his own, a question leapt to Shirou's mind. "So which tier do you place in?"

Luvia shrugged, using one hand to toss her hair. "Only B; I got caught off guard last year by some kid using nature magecraft. I hadn't realized that the entire arena was becoming a tomb before it was too late." She scowled then, grumbling under her breath about her "low awareness stat."

Lectra rested his head on the table, producing a loud groan. "These fights sound intense. How am I going to be able to keep up?"

"They're even worse in the first-year qualifiers. Those guys are ruthless and with double the magi, there's effectively double the power being thrown around," Luvia pointed out, eliciting another groan from the boy. "But I wouldn't be too worried. Half of the first years can barely cast two spells." Shirou blinked, unfortunately falling into that exact category.

"So while most of the fights are boring, the ones with powerful first-year magi are intense," Shirou surmised. Spearing more lettuce on his fork, he shrugged. "I doubt it will be that bad."

… … …

… … …

When Friday rolled around, Shirou couldn't stop a feeling of excitement from running through his veins. Today he would get to watch and participate in the first-year battles of the Magus Tournament. This year's first-year preliminaries had so many applications that the rounds had to be spread out over two entire days. If Shirou were to win today, he would move on and fight up to three more battles in the same day before facing off in the semi-final and final tomorrow. There were seventy-eight first-year magi teams, but according to Luvia, that number would be halved within the first couple hours. Apparently, most of the first-year magi were eliminated in the first move, inexperience and uncertainty acting as their downfall.

"So why do they even bother fighting?" he had asked.

"Reputation," Luvia had responded instantly. "Just the knowledge that you were confident enough to sign up for the Tournament is enough to boost your standing as a magus. Even if you're F tier, it means you had the spine to at least try and that's enough to scare some."

Personally, Shirou couldn't see how that worked. Wouldn't being decimated in a battle against another magus decrease one's reputation? Just another confusing addition to the magus world.

His fist rapped against the wooden door of room 9E. Within a few seconds, Lectra opened the door and offered a smile. It was actually a little surprising. While Lectra had been making small efforts to wake up at a reasonable time and prepare for Shirou's arrival, today he was bright-eyed and borderline ecstatic. "Ready to go kick butt, partner?" As the question ended, he raised his fist and held it in the air.

Catching on, Shirou bumped their knuckles together. He briefly wondered if this was how his old man had felt when he was younger. Even being so immature, Lectra's enthusiasm was contagious and Shirou couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Ready as you are. Remember not to go all out in our first battle. We want to conserve our energy so that we can make it to the semi-finals."

Lectra's arm moved up to scratch the top of his head in the middle of a yawn, baggy hoodie sleeve falling to sit just before the elbow. "I went to sleep pretty early this morning so I'm fully stocked for tonight."

Pausing to check the time on his phone, Shirou motioned with his head. "Let's get going. We still need to get through the pre-fight physical before we can suit up."

… … …

As expected, they both passed the test without a problem. With the aid of magecraft, drug screening was significantly easier and less invasive than the normal human technique. A simple spell analyzed the competitor's blood and revealed if foreign substances were present. While the process usually took a few seconds, Shirou had taken a little longer. Every competitor was expected to wear an official tournament uniform to ensure no hidden weapons were brought within the arena. While conceptual weapons and trinkets were allowed, defensive attire was not. Shirou had argued with the officiator over the issue regarding his identity. After some investigation and testing, his scarf was the only piece which was declared to be fair use. Like any conceptual weapon would have been, his scarf and its abilities were recorded and documented. His scarf was all that he really needed, so Shirou couldn't have been happier over the outcome.

After their physical, they were offered a lengthy explanation on the rules and given suits they were expected to wear. From what Shirou could tell, so long as a person's magecraft didn't blow up the entire building or outright kill their opponents it was fair game. Victory was declared when one team was unable to continue fighting or their wounds were deemed life-threatening, which was decided by a referee. The referee could also stop the duel whenever they so desired. The entire fight was being held in the underground area of the Clock Tower, both so that the noises could be dampened and so it couldn't be stumbled upon by any normal human.

After being given a team number - six - they were led down a long hallway which reeked of sweat and antiseptic, a particularly noxious smell that burned Shirou's nose. Almost a dozen doors down, the guide opened one and instructed them to enter. Once both of Shirou's feet were inside, the door was been slammed shut and locked. As an added precaution, a detection-type bounded field was erected on the other side. Since they weren't supposed to leave until one team lost or forfeited, it was to be expected.

Deciding that it was nothing more than formality, Shirou examined his new surroundings. It was a small room, with a single open doorway at the far end. Sitting above was a sign which would have read "Enter" if it were on. To the left was a small area with two large metal lockers separated by a thin curtain on tracks. To the right sat a small brown couch and coffee table with bottles of water as the centrepiece. Besides these few pieces of furniture, the room was astonishingly bare, with bland grayish walls and equally as unimpressive faux stone tile as the floor. The furnishings were a degree below what could be considered comfortable and thus did little to make the chilly room appear more accommodating.

"Well, this is," Lectra paused to leer around the room while stepping deeper inside, "bland." His reaction pulled a short chuckle from Shirou.

"Couldn't have said it better myself. Well, let's get suited up and go watch the other fights. You and I can get a grasp for what things are like." Shirou moved to one of the lockers, briefly checking that the curtain wasn't transparent as he moved it to divide their areas. When they were both on their own sides, the two stripped and squeezed into their given suits. According to the guide, the suits would change colour and design to match the wearer's personality. Such a thing was hardly more than a magecraft parlour trick, but for the magically inept like Shirou, it was pretty neat.

Opening the locker to put away his clothes, he came face to face with himself in the full-length mirror on the inside of the locker door. What had been blue and gold spandex, had shifted and altered itself without his knowledge. Similar to the first black layer of his usual outfit, it was skintight and left little to the imagination. The arms and everything below the hips was a deep black. Like a mock breastplate, crimson covered his abdomen and pectorals. The side of his body underneath his arm was actually white, but this contrast was broken just enough by a large line of purple. It was a swoosh, with the large section curling around the back of his thighs and the pointed tips coming to rest just above his belly button. The entire outfit was perfectly symmetrical, whether that was a symbol of his inner mind or just the limitation of the outfit was unknown.

Just like his original suit, the piece was outfitted with end-of-thread protection in brushed silver strips. The cuffs, ankles and neck were all collared with this material. A trace revealed it to be simple steel, but through magecraft, it shifted form to fit his body perfectly.

This was really what his mind looked like? Was he really this simple and uninspired? Well, if that's what he was, he just had to accept it. Closing the door to his locker, he turned his back to the curtain and picked at the cuff on one of his arms. Suddenly, the noise of plastic-coated fabric moving along metal rails made him stiffen. Before he could react, arms were thrown around his torso and a warm body was pressed against his back.

Throwing his arms out to his side, he tried to twist in place to free himself but realized that he was trapped. "Lectra, what the hell are you doing?"

"I just don't know how to thank you any more." His arms squeezed tighter, making things even more uncomfortable. "You've taken the time to train me and you'll willingly fight beside me in the tournament. That's already more than that I've come to expect from most people here." Shirou decided that whatever this was had to end, but the resuming of Lectra's ranting stopped him for a moment longer. "But it's not just that, you actually enjoy talking to me."

Slipping his hand between his body and Lectra's wrist, he roughly wedged his hands away. With their connection severed, Shirou pushed himself forward and spun around to look Lectra over. Words were leaping to his throat, but that was as far as they got. He first noticed his suit. Lectra looked as if he could cause chemical burns. There was a vertical colour gradient which went from a sickly looking olive at the feet to a bright lime near his neck. Bubbles of slightly different colour than the area behind followed the gradient. As they neared his neck, they became smaller and more spaced as if a chemical reaction was producing them at his feet and they were diffusing in the air.

But the appearance of the suit wasn't what had caught Shirou off guard. It was the fact that Lectra was a girl. There was no mistaking it. From the differences in the suit's appearance to the subtle bustline measurements, it was clear as day. Now her actions, voice and even personality made sense. Through his confusion and surprise he managed to get out a "you're-"

Lectra tilted his- her head, giving him an odd look. "I'm what?"

"You were a girl this whole time!?" he shouted, taking another step back.

Her head recoiled slightly like the question was entirely unexpected. Suddenly, her face scrunched up in a strange emotion and her voice showed signs of irritation. "Wait, did you think I was a dude?" If Shirou knew women - which he didn't - admitting that he had would only make her mad, but at this point, he couldn't really deny it.

Leaning back, Shirou raised his hands defensively. "Well, with the hair and the voice I just thought that you were a guy who never grew out of his younger years."

The girl slowly crossed both arms over her chest, leaning back and pouting heavily "Why does everyone think I'm a guy? What kind of guy has long hair like this or tits?" With her hands, she emphasized and made references to the parts.

Turning his head in embarrassment, Shirou coughed partly. "Well, you were always wearing those big hoodies and some guys like their hair long." Sneaking a glance sideways, he noticed that Lectra's face had taken on a furious shade of red.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could a woman's voice calmly rang out from beyond the doorway. "Attention all viewers and contestants: The first round of this year's Magus Tournament will begin shortly, please be seated."

Huffing to release her anger, Lectra turned and stormed toward the doorway where the now illuminated exit sign was. "We can deal with this later, but don't think for a second that I'll forget."

… … …

… … …

The exit from their waiting room led into a long hallway which extended to both the left and right. The lighting was rather sparse, but even in the darkness, Shirou could see that all the contestants' preparation rooms were connected through similar halls. At the far end on the left side, brighter light streamed through, likely where they were supposed to go.

After following the light at the end of the tunnel, the two entered a contestant seating area which featured rows of movie-theatre like seats. Across from the seats, the wall fell away to reveal a large circular arena with a floor of groomed dirt. The circumference of this arena featured ten-foot tall walls which led into a great domed ceiling that rose an additional thirty feet. Long, curved bars of artificial lighting were set in the joint between the wall and ceiling, filling the arena with a decent amount of light. In Shirou's honest opinion, it was a little gladiatorial. He almost expected half-naked men to stride out into the center at any moment, asking if the audience was entertained.

Something that detracted from the gladiator aesthetic and made the room marginally more civilized was the material making up both the walls and domed ceiling. Rather than any sort of protective material like stone or steel, it was reflective black glass. In fact, if Shirou looked hard enough, he could see himself in the reflection of the polished surface.

Plopping himself into one of the seats, he gripped onto the armrest and closed his eyes. While he had gathered a basic blueprint of the entire Clock Tower days ago, he had never actually examined the rooms in extreme depth. While it was entirely possible for him to scan every individual millimetre of the Clock Tower, the pain associated with such an overflow of information wasn't quite worth the amount of useless knowledge.

Since he would be actively fighting in this area, however, the more information he could gather, the better he could use his environment to his advantage. Building itself up from the bottom, an exact replica of the entire arena filled his mind. He was surprised to find that the reflective glass walls were actually one-way windows. Behind these windows, were rooms with rows of seating similar to the one he was in at that very moment. There were two levels of seating in the arena, and unlike the first level which housed the masses, the second level seated four per room at most. From what he could tell, the second level featured private viewing rooms with their own luxuries not offered to the lower floors.

Based on the position of the fold-up chairs, hundreds of magi were spectating the event. That wasn't all he had managed to recover from the tracing. He also found some of the private rooms on the second floor were absolutely flooded with ambient mana. It was a solid indication that whoever was watching from inside was a powerful magus. The amount of mana being released would put Rin to shame and would even give Illya a run for her money.

Since he couldn't trace people without seeing them directly, he was unable to properly determine the identity of any of them. Deciding that he had gathered all he could with his tracing, the information stream froze and filed itself away. "We've got a lot of people watching us, Lectra. A lot of powerful people, so be on your best behaviour."

"I don't take orders from boys who are going gray before they're even twenty." She huffed, crossed her arms and turned her head away in stubborn defiance.

"Oh come on, don't be like-" Realizing what she said, he looked up toward a strand of gray hair hanging down in front of his head. "So what if my hair is turning gray? I can't stop how my body changes."

Before their conversation could continue, a booming voice echoed out from the center of the ring. "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the seventh annual Magus Tournament!" As if the walls were allowing sound through, the roaring noise of clapping echoed throughout the area. Were the magi behind the glass that excited, or was it simply a recording of some type? "The first-year qualifiers have an absurd number of contestants so much of the festivities will be foregone in order to be through them all in a timely matter. Leaping into the action, our first two teams will be setting the pace for tonight. Teams one versus two, if you could both make your way into the arena."

To the sound of applause, four students suddenly strode out of the hall Shirou and Lectra had just moments prior and continued through the bounded field into the ring. As if they were machines, the two teams separated and took their places at opposing ends of the arena, eyeing one another up. From their posture and pacing, they were trying too hard to appear composed and dignified. Not a single one of the contestants had any sort of weapons to speak of, so this was undoubtedly going to be a purely magical fight.

"Let the Tournament begin!"

Idly watching as the four began moving and flinging feeble spells, Shirou leaned closer to Lectra. "I'm sorry I thought you were a guy, it was an honest mistake but I don't think of you as a guy anymore." A soft noise of derision signalled how she was taking things. Within the arena, an explosion appeared and the sound accompanying it rapidly lowered to a more bearable level. The bounded field surrounding the arena must have been actively keeping the volume of its interior in check. "Can we both just agree to leave this until after the Tournament? We can still have fun watching and win our fights as a team." Adjusting himself, he threw out one hand for her to shake. Lectra caught the gesture out of the corner of her eye, pouting as she slowly turned forward.

"Fine, I'll be mad with you after the Tournament, if only so we can win our fight." Due to the strange positioning, their handshake was unnecessarily awkward. The two simultaneously turned their attention to the fight taking place ahead.

"Team One has been eliminated from the Tournament!"

Blinking, Shirou tried to determine what had happened. The two members of the first team were lying unconscious in the dirt, smoke gently rising from their singed clothes. It was over so quickly? It hadn't even been a full minute since the fight started!

"Well I hope our fight is that easy," Lectra mumbled. With a shimmy of the hips, she adjusted herself into a more relaxed position, getting herself out of her temper tantrum pose.

"You know you've just cursed us, right? You don't say stuff like that because it brings out the worst scenario possible." Leaning forward, he watched four adults stride out in formal gray coats. The unconscious team was collected, and the two victors made short bows before heading back toward where they had entered from.

… … …

The next fight was nearly as boring as the first. Two different teams entered, a minute of half-baked fighting ensued and one team was carried out by the officials. So far, none of the contestants had utilized a conceptual weapon or anything besides magecraft. But it was only the first two fights. He couldn't discount the value of the Magus Tournament just yet.

The announcer returned and called for teams five and six. Standing from their seats, Lectra and Shirou casually strode out to the far end of the arena where they waited for their opponent. They were a touch late, but eventually, they walked onto the field. One of their outfits looked as if it were on fire. Red, orange and yellow twisted together from his feet, practically radiating heat with imagery alone. The other wore an outfit entirely in gray. It was a light shade, reminiscent of smoke from a grass fire. Their outfits and appearances almost went entirely disregarded. What Shirou readily noticed was the fact that both of them had conceptual weapons. Immediately, Shirou wanted to throttle Lectra. Like he had predicted, she cursed them into a difficult battle. The two men were both close to Shirou's size and weight but each held glares that threatened to slice him in two. Through their eyes alone, Shirou could tell that they were the type of magi he hated. The self-righteous, infallible type who fell into their own sense of importance and became pompous jerks, just like Kayneth Archibald. That man had been the previous El-Melloi head, slaughtered by Kiritsugu in the Fourth Holy Grail War. The old man had written about the arrogant magus at length within his journal, so Shirou could accurately depict his character without even having to meet him.

Leaning close to Lectra's ear, he offered a quick whisper. "These are both powerful magi, let me do the work and try not to be surprised by what you see."

Not waiting to hear a response, Shirou pictured the firing of a gun and murmured his trademark phrase, "Trace on."

Time seemed to slow. Sitting on the sidelines, it had barely been a few seconds before the announcer instructed then to begin. Standing in the middle of the arena, those seconds might as well have been minutes. Murmuring his aria as he traced their weapons, a wealth of data was returned to him. One was a large composite bo staff, made less than two weeks ago and used only by the man ahead of him. It wasn't created by the man himself, but by an older craftsman who had poured his soul into the gift; one Jaques Corvier, as if the name were important. The material was actually far from anything man-made. It was a natural fibre base, turned near indestructible through alchemical means. It was given the special property of manipulation. With the introduction of mana, the staff could bend, extend and contract to the user's will. There were limits of course, but they were more dependant on the user's mana levels than the weapon itself. The cost of manipulation grew exponentially with distance.

The staff was used by the man in gray, the one wearing flames used a strange sort of whip. Rather than rawhide or nylon, it was made of intricate ironwork. Barbed, sharpened metal segments linked to one another for roughly ten feet, ending in a sharpened tip. It had been created months ago by Jaques Corvier as well, enchanted with a very basic spell that could coat the weapon entirely in flames.

Based only on these two weapons, Shirou gained a sort of admiration for their creator. Whoever Jacques Corvier was, he was skilled in all sorts of weaponry and construction methods.

Throughout his tracing, Shirou had been mumbling his tracing aria all while he waited for the announcer to begin the fight. What had only seemed like seconds from the sidelines had become minutes within the arena.

Halfway through the third line, the booming voice returned and commenced the fight. Without hesitating, the two men snapped into position and readied their weapons. Like flicking on a switch, the chain whip ignited and enveloped itself in brilliant red flame from handle to tip. A flick of the wrist sent a roiling, clanking wave through the entire weapon, making a higher-pitched clang at the tip.

"Lectra, take the one with the whip, it might look scary but just keep him at range and he can't hit you," Shirou ordered, settling his sights on the one in gray.

"But-"

"Just do it!" Opening his hands, two blades formed within. They were Elizabeth's blades, only altered to change their coloration and modify their shape somewhat. Instead of being emerald green and silver, they were entirely black, like corrupted artifacts. The curve expected of them had been removed, creating straight blades with a diagonal tip. As an added precaution, he spent a little extra mana to create his gloves. If his weapons were destroyed, he might be able to use his hands for a surprise tactic. Lunging forward toward the man in gray made him realize he was being targeted. Like a rifle, the man pointed his staff toward Shirou and began using its extension feature to keep the redhead at bay. At the end of every extension, an explosion of mana resonated from the tip. It was likely just to provide additional impact power, however, it also meant that Shirou would be unable to parry the blows effectively. Having to focus on dodging the incoming attacks, the boy was practically halted in his tracks.

Shirou couldn't gain an inch, as each time he stepped forward the end of the staff shot out to attempt to take his legs off. Deciding to use the time productively, he finished his aria. Sparing a half glance back toward his partner, Shirou noticed that they were both doing the same thing: dodging strikes and stalling for time.

But unlike the other team, Shirou had an easy way to combat this tactic. Allowing the blades to dematerialize, the blueprinted copy of the bo staff formed within his grasp. Even from this distance, Shirou could visibly see the surprise written on his opponent's face. Twirling the light weapon in his hand, Shirou batted away an extended strike, roughly twisting his weapon back to deliver his own extended jab. Forcing his aggressor to dodge gained him more ground, and to gain more Shirou only had to repeat his actions. With reinforcement, he was both stronger and faster than his opponent.

The fight was nothing like the werewolves, these men were flies compared to Bazett or Elizabeth. With four parries, he was nearing the gray man's guard. Shirou was a second away from delivering a decisive strike when a cry from behind instinctively forced him to look back. Lectra had been put on the ropes as well, and she was only a second away from being lashed across the side by the flaming whip. Lectra had allowed the whip user to get too close and she would have to fight him off to gain ground. Their time in training had let Shirou realize that she was abysmal in actual physical combat. She needed help, or else she would be taken out in the first fight.

There was no way to be in two places at once, but did he have to? Shirou could exploit the whip's most well-known trait from a distance. Pulling a straight sword from his collection, Shirou created a projectile and set it to impale itself directly in the ground beside Lectra.

As anticipated, the chain whip struck the foreign object and wrapped itself around the small weapon several times. Essentially, the man had locked his weapon in place. The two of them seemed to be surprised at the outcome, but Lectra was quicker to move, throwing an amplified grenade right into the man's chest. A cry of pain preceded a large explosion of crackling ether.

"One member of team five has been eliminated," came the booming announcer. So while they might have appeared formidable, a meagre blast of ether was enough to knock them unconscious. To Shirou, it revealed that either they were inexperienced with combat, or they simply had more bark than bite.

He couldn't watch Lectra's fight any longer. Turning to resume his own battle, Shirou found that the man in gray had created some distance. It wasn't a problem though. Shirou was much more experienced with his opponent's own weapon so he could easily move into striking range.

Or so he thought. The man in gray waved his hands, arms glowing a bright red as the light from his magical crest shined through the thin suit. With words he couldn't discern in a language he was unfamiliar with, the man cast a spell. Immediately, the very ground in the arena began to quake. Without much more warning, the floor around Shirou rapidly shot upward. Large spires of rock shot through the dirt around him in a circle to create a small earthen cell a dozen feet tall. Expecting what was next, Shirou pulled up the bo staff in his hands and wedged it between the walls to act as a bar.

As anticipated, another chant set the walls churning. The spired tips twisted inwards, closing off his escape above. The walls attempted to compress but the bo staff held them back - for now.

If Shirou didn't figure out an escape route quickly, he would be crushed by the stone. Taking a second to think, he tried to determine which item in his arsenal would work best for the job. The creaking and groaning of the staff did little to tide the oncoming sense of panic. Like a sapling in a rabbit snare, it was slowly being bent into a perfect "C" shape.

The option with the highest probability of success was likely Bazett's gloves. Unlike his, they had special runes imbued within the palm that could essentially act as a hammer against the unyielding stone. With a flurry of golden-blue sparks, the gloves on his hands were replaced with seemingly identical ones. Looking his right hand over for confirmation, Shirou nodded to himself and channelled mana into the material. Deciding that it was everything or nothing, he reinforced the runic sigils and continued to pour an excessive amount of mana into the gloves. At this point, activating them would cause an unstable explosion - but it would hopefully be enough to break through the rock.

Opening his palm wide, Shirou slammed his hand into the surface, simultaneously activating the sigil. There was a flash of heat and pain as the runic pseudo-circuitry superheated and expelled all of its energy at once. As the explosive impact of mana ruptured the rock wall, the pain continued. With the rock, the glove had followed suit. Like shards of glass, high-velocity leather shrapnel tore apart his hand as if he had dunked it into razor wire.

However, his plan had succeeded. The rock cracked and splintered before exploding violently outward. Dust and debris spewed across the arena, peppering the entire side he exited on with pebbles and small stones. Not wanting to be trapped once more, Shirou dove from the earthen tomb and rolled to his feet. Not even a half second later, the staff inside snapped and the tomb collapsed like a vicious iron maiden.

Sparing a glance at his hand was undoubtedly the wrong decision. The sight was harrowing, charred flesh and large oozing gouges. The pain had been intense before, but now that his body realized what sort of shape the appendage was in, it was enough to make him feel faint.

"If I plan to push my projections like that again, I'd better make sure I'm not wearing them." Shaking his hand gently as if that would rid him of the pain, he refocused on the duel. Multiple earthen spires sat between Lectra and the man in gray. Based off the mana-laden cracks on their surface, Lectra had been trying to keep him back, but he was simply blocking the attacks with stronger barriers.

It seemed as if Shirou was the center of attention, however. Lectra and the man in gray had stopped their fight to look at him with incredulity. The redhead paused and looked down at his feet, spreading his hands. "Why are you both looking at me like that, is there something on my face?" Using his good hand, he brushed his cheeks in an attempt at clearing whatever might have been there.

The man in gray returned to himself much faster than Lectra, spinning on his heels and twirling the staff in his hands before slamming the base on the arena floor. The ground shuddered once more, the earth beneath the arena shifting in response.

So the staff wasn't simply a weapon, but it was also a conduit for higher magecraft. This magus was using it to rend the earth. While Shirou could likely copy the technique with swords instead of rock, such an action might be a little too conspicuous in an arena surrounded by magi.

Projecting the same staff in his good hand, Shirou leapt off his feet and forced mana into the material. The weapon extended and blasted the excess mana out of the grounded end. Like a strange pogo stick, he was propelled through the air toward his former tomb away from the rumbling ground. Not even a second later, the entire area ruptured with spiked earthen shards. Starting from the magus and ending just beyond where Shirou had been standing, was a line of ominous jagged rock.

Landing on top of his erstwhile earthen home, Shirou allowed the staff to dematerialize. Putting his hands in position, a bow appeared out of thin air. It was a simple English longbow made of yew with traditional sinew for the drawstring. It was familiar to him, selected due to the organic nature being significantly more receptive to reinforcement. The arrows he decided to project were altered to remove their broadhead, instead being capped with a flattened dense metal to keep the balancing consistent.

Drawing the bowstring and confirming his target was near instantaneous. Projecting an arrow perfectly in place on the drawstring and pouring energy into it was just as fast. Just like Bazett's gloves earlier, the arrow was reinforced and energized to the point where it threatened to explode in his face. When its true limit was reached, the bowstring was released and the process repeated two more times. The bowstring had rubbed against raw flesh of his hand as he fired, sending searing pain through his arm which was only exacerbated by his speed. Thankfully, his injury hadn't destabilized his accuracy and the arrows flew true.

Like a machine gun, three arrows were hailed down on his opponent. Upon contact, each one exploded violently to produce thick clouds of smoke that was extremely dense in mana. Crackles of magical energy formed as blue flashes of light within, revealing just how condensed the mana had been.

The intensity of the explosion had actually surprised Shirou. This had been his first time overloading arrows since he had been given his father's magic crest and the increase in power was obvious.

Before the smoke had even settled, the announcer's voice rang through the arena. "After an unexpectedly exciting battle, team six has come out victorious!" As the meaning reached Shirou's ears, his shoulder reflexively slouched forward and his breath heaved out. With the fight ended, adrenalin made its quick exit from his veins and the pain in his hand steadily grew apparent.

A door opened in one end of the arena, pouring several officials out into the ring. There were six people in total, pairs of two with stretchers heading toward team five and single officials approaching Shirou and Lectra.

Leaping down from the rock tomb, Shirou looked over his hand with a greater degree of scrutiny. While overcharging Bazett's gloves had caused most of the damage, trying to fire a bow with the injury certainly hadn't done him any favours. Much of the palm on his right hand had been flayed by the blast, leaving bloodied red flesh and muscle behind. His fingers had suffered the worst, further torn apart by the recoil of the bowstring. He could actually see the bone on his index and middle fingertips, but Avalon was working hard to seal up the area. Besides the pain, he would be fine in a few hours. In his mind, he called for the dematerialization of his projections,

The official approaching him was an older man, balding with wizened gray strands forming a horseshoe around his shiny scalp. Like his colleagues, he wore a bland gray coat that covered much of his body. "That was a damn good fight, kid. Haven't seen a surprise like that out of a nameless first-year in a long time." With his aria fully completed, information about the man compiled itself behind Shirou's eyes automatically. He was fifty-three, one hundred seventy-eight pounds and almost exactly six feet tall. His lungs indicated that he was a heavy smoker, and one of his kidneys was failing. Estimates on his lifespan sat around the fifteen-year mark.

After tracing so many people, the data gathered became more exact and specific. Afflictions of the body, failing organs and even scar tissue revealed itself. His trace was becoming more of a deep-tissue investigation rather than a cursory scan of physique. As all good things did, this development had its problems.

When it came to Illya, ignorance was bliss. She was dying, rapidly. The more seniors and ill people he was able to trace, the more their symptoms correlated. While she was only nineteen, the condition of her body was similar to that of the man standing before him. Even if his estimates had a seventy-five percent error margin, she had ten years left at the most.

If he was only able to refine his projections more, if he could only make Avalon last longer, he could-

A hand was waved in front of his face. "Hey kid, you want me to fix your hand?" Shirou blinked, mind returning to him abruptly. The man held a concerned smile, holding out one hand for Shirou to place his into.

From what Shirou knew of healing magecraft, it required an incredible amount of mana without a unique trait. It could only be considered efficient when the two parties had a connection of some type. Whether that was spiritual or physical, connecting in any sort of way threatened his anonymity. "No thanks, I'll be fine." Moving the hand in front of his face, Shirou squinted to watch the flesh slowly knit itself over his finger bones.

"Alright, you know your own limits I suppose." The old man stuck around for a couple of seconds, interested in the unnatural healing almost as much as Shirou was.

… … …

After the arena was cleared of combatants, different attendants entered the arena to restore the terrain. Within ten minutes, it was as if nothing had ever happened. Once their condition was certified, Lectra and Shirou returned to their seats at the side of the arena. Moving to the back row, Lectra sat down and immediately grabbed onto his injured hand. Wincing as she yanked it toward herself, she offered a look of agitated concern.

"Why didn't you let them fix your hand? Doesn't this hurt?" she asked, looking over his hand with macabre intrigue.

"It certainly does when someone squeezes it as tight as you are." Carefully with his other hand, he peeled her fingers off and gently moved the injured limb back onto his lap.

Lectra seemed to realize what she had done, offering a scorned "oh, sorry." She was silent for a few seconds before suddenly brightening. She sat on her legs in her seat and gripped him by the shoulder. "We won the first fight! Against guys who were actually tough! I took one down myself, too!" With each exclamation, she shook him harder.

Being shaken by someone wasn't really new to him, so her excitement was simply laughed off. "You did good. You didn't have to use your familiars either, so that secret is still to our advantage."

She seemed to glow at the compliment. "I might have been good, but you were awesome. You were so fast and you copied that one guy's staff and protected one for me while you were fighting the other!" Lectra continued her storytelling with flamboyant hand motions to reference attacks or the positioning of everyone on the field. In the midst of her story, the fourth duel began. Just like the two fights before theirs, none of the fighting magi had weapons, and it was over before he even realized.

So Luvia was right for once. First-year fights really were boring.

… … …

While the battles carried on ahead, Shirou idly conversed with Lectra and watched his own hand repair itself. Watching the first rounds meant he was able to see every potential team in the tournament this year. Sprinkled throughout the average, weak magi were actual formidable opponents even stronger than the two Shirou and Lectra had gone up against. Only these powerful few were in possession of conceptual weapons and after thirty-nine battles, he had seen all he needed. Shirou had no idea when they were required to fight, so waiting seemed to be their only option. With more skilled members fights would start taking longer, so he decided to head back toward their room so they could relax and have a drink of water.

Gauging the condition of his hand, there was a sixty percent chance that he would be ready for their next fight. Sitting on the couch, Lectra kneeled in front of him and grabbed onto his wrist, much more softly this time. "How are you doing this?" she asked with concern, looking the appendage over multiple times. It was far from perfect regeneration, but his bones were hidden and the flesh surrounding the area had reformed itself to appear less like a Halloween skeleton. Every motion still hurt, but he was used to that by now.

How was he to explain that his hand was casually rebuilding itself after nearly being blown off? In the middle of his thoughts, an idea struck him. With his other hand, he flared his fingers and wiggled them a bit, saying "magic" in the most whimsical voice he could manage.

Lectra blinked, letting his hand fall painfully from her grasp. "Your circuits aren't active, don't try and lie to me."

Huffing with slight annoyance, Shirou positioned his hand so that it was comfortable. "Does it really matter how it's happening? It just is, so let's leave it there."

"It's just that I've never seen a hand rebuild itself without magecraft before is all, sorry." Picking up a bottle of water, she strode across the room toward the locker, gently opening the door and wiping away something on her face. The crack of crumpling plastic followed as she took a long drink. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she spoke in an unnaturally quiet voice. "Do you think we'll make it out of the first-year qualifiers?"

That was a difficult question to answer. Some of the teams he had witnessed were enough to put him on edge. While he had already developed strategies to counter each one, nothing was for certain. "We have a good chance."

"But there's a chance we could lose."

"There's always a chance-"

"It's me, isn't it? I'm the one who's dragging you down. The only reason I wasn't taken out in that fight was because you saved me. If your opponent had focused on you while you were distracted rather than running away, we might have lost." She turned to face him, face set rigid and eyes devoid of their natural joy. Lectra usually had a constant smile and this serious expression did not suit her at all.

Biting the inside of his lip, Shirou set his brow and offered a strange look. In reality, she was right. If he didn't have his scarf, he wouldn't have been able to pull off such a lie. "What do you mean? We're teammates, we look out for each other, that's all it was." He stood and gently fanned his hands. The action sent a flash of pain into his body from his injured hand, but he tried to play it off. "I might have helped, but it was only because I could. Remember that you have just as many eliminations as I do, so we're still even."

The girl looked into his eyes, searching for the truth hidden within for some time. Eventually, the happiness he was used to began to trickle back into her features. "You're right, and I'll do my best to beat you!"

… … …

"It's not illegal only due to a technicality."

A man sitting at the table slammed both hands down, standing upright with fury written on his features. He was a tall, wiry man with back-length raven hair and a bird-like nose that took prominence on his ghastly skin. "That's bullshit. A kid nobody has ever heard of shows up and takes down one of the B tier first-year teams without breaking a sweat?"

"Interestingly enough by using their own weapons," a much smaller, calmer woman added. She was blonde with sharp, picture-perfect features. It was more like she was designed by an artist than born into a family.

"Which makes his victory and participation in the Tournament entirely legal. He went through the screening process same as any other competitor. The only item recorded as being brought with him was the scarf covering his face." A composed looking woman in glasses gently laid out pieces of paper on the table, spreading them out and reading the information off. "Nothing more than some appearance disruption runes and durability enhancement."

"Are you telling me he made identical copies of mystic codes using magecraft, copies which had the abilities of the original?" the raven-haired man asked, glowering harshly.

"So it would seem," the blonde commented, leaning her head back over the chair in obvious boredom.

"This is all trivial and frivolous." Every member around the table turned to look toward the brown-haired woman standing at the head. She had features which were rather plain in comparison to the blonde. The simplicity had its own attraction, however. With smooth brown hair tied back into a ponytail, she took on the image of absolute no-nonsense. The air around her seemed to still and chill by several degrees just because of her mere presence. Her eyes opened, revealing plain but controlling brown eyes. "The Observatory says nothing about him and until it does, I don't see a problem with his attendance and participation."

The raven-haired man parted his lips, a vein on his forehead making itself known. It was taking an incredible amount of will to tame his anger, and it showed. "Madame Vice Director, I do not mean to argue with your decision-"

"If that is your intention, then you won't finish that sentence, Vernier. You have already spent a considerable amount of influence pairing your son with his selected partner." Her eyes narrowed, daring the man to challenge her decision.

The raven-haired man, Vernier, straightened. "My humble apologies, Vice Director. I seem to have let my emotions get the better of me." Swallowing, he straightened and settled calmly into his chair. "I won't let it happen again."

The woman turned her head away from him. 'See to it that you don't."

… … …

… … …

Flexing his fingers, Shirou turned his hand over a few times. Everything still hurt to move and it was still composed of skinned red flesh, but it was good enough for the next fight. Clenching his hand tentatively, he found that the stinging pain was a reminder not to overload the projections he was wearing.

While waiting, Shirou ran over the conceptual weapons he had been able to extract from the other competing mages. A staff which amplified fire-type magecraft, a small, seemingly average dagger which could deflect moderate-power magecraft, a rapier that could fire beams of damaging light when thrust and a spear which returned to the user after being thrown. Those were all of the conceptual weapons he had managed to gather anyway. Plenty of other magi had brought basic weaponry into the battle. While each one had been recorded, they weren't nearly as important.

At the very least, Shirou had a few more swords to use now. No longer did he have to rely on Elizabeth's weapons or those rusted blades he had gathered from the Fuyuki history museum.

Come to think about it, there was a location he had been neglecting that would likely have exactly what he was looking for: The British Museum. A collection of relics from the European medieval age would be littered throughout. While they might be in the same condition as that crumbling blade in the Fuyuki museum, just having some more variety would be nice.

"Which team do you think we're going to fight next?" Lectra asked, tugging him by his good wrist. Shirou idly followed her through the doorway toward the competitor seating area.

"Hard to say. If we're lucky we'll fight one of those weaker magi like team two or nineteen. If we're unlucky, we might have to fight team fifty-one or thirty-two." They rounded the corner, finding the spectator area actually seating four people.

Shirou recognized them immediately. One set of two was the aforementioned team thirty-two and the other two were members of a weaker team, number fourteen. Team thirty-two comprised of the users of both the magecraft-parrying shield and the thrusting rapier. This was one of the teams which Shirou actually had his doubts on defeating. They were as strong as one might expect for being inexperienced, first-year magi. In fact, they were likely more powerful than expected.

As they took notice of Shirou and Lectra exiting, the rather short man who used the rapier waved him over. "Hey Six, that was a good fight between you and Five." So it was common to refer to one another through numbers? Deciding it was in his favour to try and fit in, Shirou decided to do the same. The man who spoke to him was rather plain, easily lost in a crowd. Average features beneath black hair with black eyes behind black-rimmed glasses.

Before Shirou could even open his mouth, Lectra leapt in front of him. "You were watching us fight the whole time? Where were you?"

Blinking a few times in surprise, the man raised his hands in surrender and chuckled with closed eyes. "We weren't watching per-se, that might have been an improper choice of words."

A black man from his side leaned forward to rest on the chair ahead. "What he means to say, is that we heard you kicked Five's ass so hard, they want to leave the Clock Tower."

"Really? Such a little thing like losing the Magus Tournament would lead them to that decision?" Shirou asked, stopping to lean against the corner of the wall.

A stoic dark-haired woman with deeply tanned skin pushed glasses onto her face. "Thirty-Two exaggerates everything it seems: Five is upset, but they surely aren't renouncing their magus status." Crossing her arms, she leaned back in her chair.

From behind, a buff man with short ginger hair draped his arms over the seat next to her. "Sometimes exaggeration in a story is a good thing, Ivy."

Closing her eyes, she scrunched up her face as if she had just swallowed a frog. "Exaggeration is one thing, outright lying is another."

Shirou cleared his throat, indicating that he was already growing tired of the banter. "So why are you both here? It obviously isn't to watch the other fights because if that was the case you would have been sitting here with us earlier."

His bluntness caught everyone by surprise, including Lectra who gave him an uncertain look. Thirty-Two's partner, an averagely sized black man with cleanly cropped, short gray hair offered little more than a smile. "We both wanted to talk to you of course."

"You mean us?" Lectra asked with the subtle hopefulness of a puppy pouncing on the glass at the pound.

"No, we mean Blade," the woman with black hair declared blatantly. Dramatically, Lectra collapsed on her knees, whining about her lack of recognition. Her lamentation went unnoticed by the other members present.

Shirou narrowed his eyes, looking between all four. If need be, he could take them all on - but he would need to activate his reality marble if he wanted better than a forty percent chance of victory. Only, that would cause all sorts of other problems. "Is this just a talk, or is it a talk?"

"We're not here to bump you off if that's what you mean. The four of us are just really interested in your style." The dark haired man from Thirty-Two leaned back in his seat, getting agreeing nods from the other three people present.

Keeping his eyes narrowed, Shirou pushed his shoulder off the wall to stand at the ready. "I'm missing the intention here."

The two teams looked at one another for confirmation, or to see which one of them would ask the question. The black man decided to bite the bullet, talking after a great sigh. "We want help."

Shirou paused, turning his head and running the words over in his head. Even Lectra had stopped whining as the confusion took over. "What do you mean help? You can't expect me to join the fight with you."

lvy shook her head, throwing strands of black hair in every direction. "From what we've heard, you can create mystic codes purely out of magecraft."

"We want in." The dark-haired man finished for her, leaning forward to give him a rather desperate look.

Shirou straightened, giving the two teams the most bewildered look he could muster. "You want me to create conceptual weapons for you to bring into the Magus Tournament so that you can effectively cheat and come out victorious."

Ivy nodded, and the rest followed. "Very bluntly put, but yes."

"With no consideration that either of you might end up as our opponent in the Tournament, or that doing such a thing might get us both removed or even expelled from the Clock Tower?" Shirou surmised their plan and pointed out the myriad number of flaws with less than ten seconds worth of thought. While he might have been young, he wasn't as foolish as these people apparently. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

The buff ginger stood up abruptly, pointing one pickle finger toward Shirou in obvious threat. "It's not stupid at all! You have no damn chance of making it to the finals, so you should just help us out instead."

Rolling his eyes, Shirou leaned back against the wall. "And what should I do when the two of you reach the finals? Offer one my aid and leave the other to rot? If you haven't determined that yet, you've really not thought any of this out." Shaking his head and closing his eyes, Shirou could see the golden gleam of Avalon fading.

There was silence as the two rival teams looked at one another, desire to win and suspicion of betrayal taking over what little rational thought they both had. Almost on cue, the announcer echoed through the arena. "Team six and team sixty-four! Take your seats, ladies and gentlemen, because the notorious team six is stepping up to the plate!"

Grunting as he kicked off the wall again, Shirou nodded toward the ring. "Saved by the bell."

… … …

… … …

Settling into the cushioned folding seat, Waver made himself comfortable. Being a Lord granted him the occasional perk. In this case, it was access to what was essentially an "owner's box" of the Tournament arena. It had a private bar, televisions and a seating area above ground. It was only accessible to him and-

"The boy you granted a letter of recommendation to is up to fight next, isn't that right, brother?" Reines El-Melloi Archisorte. The woman who essentially held his life in her perfectly manicured hands. While young, she was a girl of incredible power and status, only lacking the experience and knowledge to put any of it to good use. Waver himself was the exact opposite, lacking any power to put his experience and prowess to use. Together, they made half of a perfect Lord. Half, because their opinions were usually counter to one another.

"Haruto 'Blade' Takahashi, yes." Anticipating that the conversation would be a stressful one, he took up a cigar and placed it between his lips. Below, the man in question and his partner moved into position. Across from them stood a team of average power - sixty-four. If the first fight was anything to base judgement on, Shirou wouldn't break a sweat.

"That name sounds familiar," she hummed, settling herself into the chair beside him before crossing her legs. "It must be close to a name from one of those silly video games you play." The smile she offered was sickeningly sweet, enough to make him worry over its implications. "You never told me why you recommended such an unknown magus."

Grumbling, Waver procured a lighter and held it to the tip of his cigar. "If you had been here for his first battle, you would have realized his potential."

Offering a sharp glare, he was forced to turn his head to match it. She was an absolutely stunning woman, with a face that reminded her of Saber, although the childish features were all replaced with righteous, sharpened ones. Thin, accusing lips and a pointed nose beneath vigilant emerald green eyes all surrounded by perfectly straight platinum blonde hair. While she might remind him of Saber in basic features, the two were nothing alike. Reines had the air of an autocratic aristocrat while Saber was much more regal with confidence, composure and charisma oozing out of her every pore. Their clothing choices conveyed the characteristic divergence further. Taking on a navy blue coat with modern black accents concealing the threads, Reines opted to wrap a luxurious cashmere shawl over her shoulders, tying it at her bust. She was a woman of excessive extravagance, and it showed. "Mind you, the board members and I were just discussing your newest apprentice mere moments ago."

Raising one eyebrow, his interest was piqued. "What about?"

"Whether or not he should be declared a sealing designate," she replied simply, watching the beginning of the fight below her. "I don't know if you were aware or not, but Blade has the uncanny ability to replicate mystic codes perfectly, their abilities intact and all. Not only that but unlike any sort of projection magus before him, they can be made at range and even turned into projectiles."

So the staff members were able to gather that much about him through their brief contact? Dirty rats."Then you can understand why I extended a letter or recommendation."

"I can indeed, brother. However, why have you not taken direct control over his tutelage?" The question came so casually but the meaning caught him off guard entirely.

Breaking up his response was rapid, machine-gun like explosions from Shirou's arrows. While soundless, the flashes of light and thumps of pressure still came through. Within seconds, the entire arena was clouded with smoke and free-floating mana. "You want me to instruct him personally?"

"Why not? You took on Flat Escardos and that strange Gray woman, not to mention Beast Boy." Turning her attention from the fight, she offered that sickening smile once more. "You could have a regular everyday band of misfits."

Facing forward and taking a draw on his cigar made him look composed, but he was actually panicking. It was like that night on Fuyuki Bridge against Archer all over again. He didn't know what to do, and every plan in his mind ended with gory death. He couldn't formulate a reason as for why he shouldn't take the boy on. Although, he had one last-ditch effort in ensuring Shirou remained out of his hands. "As you wish, but on one condition." He paused, considering his wording. "He must win the first-year qualifier and claim one of the top three positions within the Magus Tournament."

She hummed, peering through the clearing smoke. The boy in question was fending off two people at once with surprising ease, dual wielding swords with unprecedented expertise. His partner, the girl in green, seemed to be biding her time, likely because her magecraft affected too broad an area to hit enemies only. "Rather strict requirements, no?"

Tapping his cigar in an ashtray, Waver billowed out a cloud of smoke. Below, Blade disarmed the two other magi and wrapped one up with the chain whip from his first battle. Although it wasn't on fire, it was enough to disable the woman. After watching him fight for the second time now, Waver had noticed that the boy always tried his best to keep lethality to a minimum. He could have gutted both of these inexperienced magi like fish but instead, he chose to disable them with a whip, or knock them unconscious with a palm thrust to the skull.

With both magi disabled, the announcer stated one team's defeat and declared team six as the victor. "We might both be surprised."

… … …

… … …

Their battles weren't overly difficult, but each was certainly longer than the last. They had gone through two other teams and made it out with little in the way of injuries. Their stamina was a different matter entirely. Lectra was laid out on the couch with the back of one hand resting atop her head while she tried to catch her breath.

"One more fight today, do you think you have that much left in you?" Shirou asked, kneeling to her level beside her head.

She lifted her hand, giving him a bewildered look. "How are you not even a little tired?" Weakly, she tried to push his face away.

Chuckling, he stood and stretched. "I've done a lot of training and I like to stay fit. To be fair though, my mana reserves are pretty low."

Groaning, she grabbed onto his arm and yanked him down. "I'm the exact opposite so let me give you some of mine. Not like I'm going to use much anyway." Her right hand gripped onto his while her left manipulated a clump of ether. Like a twisted art demonstration, the formless ball of energy turned into something resembling a leech. Latching onto Lectra's bare hand, a slow stream of mana began to flow from her reserves to his. It was slow and inefficient, but his reserves weren't very big and they had plenty of time until their next fight.

"I want to give you a couple of things that might help out in the next fight. They're a lot better against single targets. Your magecraft is strong, but it might catch me in the blast." In his mind, the blueprints for the various bits of jewelry Octavia wore appeared. "They work just like a magic crest, run mana through them and the spell with actualizing."

Sitting up now, Lectra continued transferring mana. "If you think it will help," she shrugged, looking up at him with surprisingly hopeful eyes.

With a little mana, the jewelry formed itself around her fingers and neck. Now, gleaming gold and gemstones stood out from the varied greens of her suit. She made a shocked noise as it appeared, visibly flinching as they simultaneously tightened to her sizes. "How can you do all of this?"

The question made him laugh, which only confused her more. "This is the only thing I can do," he admitted, scowling in frustration beneath his scarf. "Magi like you can cast a whole variety of spells from every school of magecraft, but I can't. This is the only sort of spell I can manage."

"But that doesn't seem like such a bad thing. You can create anything and everything with enough mana, right?" Lectra's enthusiasm was growing, and a dangerous gleam began in her eyes.

Shirou carefully scratched an itch on the top of his head with his still-healing hand. "I suppose so. I haven't really tried since I don't have the reserves for anything that isn't a weapon of some sort."

"So theoretically, you could create a person?"

"No I-" he paused suddenly to consider the question. His projection skill was refined enough to replicate a relic of the Fae, Avalon. Could he, with enough mana, genuinely replicate another living being? That was a very strange question, but the amount of mana required would likely be ludicrous. "I've actually never thought about it to be honest."

The girl made a simple "huh" and looked off to the side distantly. A few more awkward seconds of silence passed before Shirou cleared his throat and Lectra released his hand with the barest hint of a blush. "It won't be long until the next fight. If we win this one, we move on to the semi-finals."

"And then after that, we fight two more times tomorrow and separately move into the real Tournament," Lectra finished for him, standing up with some excitement.

"Exactly, and since this is our last fight of the day, we don't have to hold anything back." Stretching both arms above his head, Shirou cracked his back audibly while Lectra moved toward her locker once more. "Before then, I'm going to catch a quick nap. Wake me up if something important happens."

"You want me to be your alarm clock?" she asked, turning on her heels. Shirou gave her a short nod as he collapsed on the couch she had just been on. Projecting his cape and using the hood as a blindfold, he closed his eyes and settled in. There was a growl of frustration from the girl, but he took that as a yes.

… … …

… … …

"Teams six and fifty-one to the field!" Trudging out of the hallway, Shirou yawned and gave his arms a few stretches for good measure. He had only managed to sleep a half hour before being called, but that was better than nothing. On the way out, he activated his circuits and cast all the lines of his aria.

Taking their familiar place at the far side of the ring, Shirou gave his hand a quick look over. It was practically fully healed now. While the skin was still a little pink and sensitive, it no longer hurt to move or grab objects.

Turning to Lectra, he offered a strategic whisper. "Those rings I gave you each represent one of four elements and the necklace represents ether. You're just going to have to experiment because I can't explain the full range of use in terms you'll understand, just look at the ring and try to figure out which one is which." Shirou paused to cast a brief glance toward their opponents. "The necklace is the only piece that doesn't have a doe attached to it. It has to be used together all at once with the rings in an ultimate attack. Only use them all as a last resort, alright?" Lectra nodded hastily at his poor instructions, looking over the new tools with uncertainty.

Turning to face forward, Shirou cracked his knuckles. From his time watching the other teams, Shirou could claim without a doubt that Fifty-One was the most dangerous team in the first-year qualifiers. One member of the team was a dark-skinned female pyromancer and the other was a lithe spearman who utilized magecraft to boost his physical abilities. This was the other team in possession of conceptual weapons, specifically the flame sceptre and the spear which returned to the user whenever thrown. The girl's outfit had a very detailed graphic of a Phoenix rising from a pit of flame. The man's outfit started with black as a base, but it was covered in intricate Celtic symbols and designs.

Shirou ran plans and tactics over in his head. He could go head-to-head with the lancer, but it would leave Lectra open to deal with the pyromancer. There was no possible way she would hold up against a magus of that calibre, so he would need to distract them both somehow.

Then again, who said he was alone in this fight? "Lectra, you remember Zerg Rush?"

The two made eye contact and a brief second of confusion popped into her eyes before a malicious smile spread across her face. "Plain or hybrid with Carpet Bombing?"

"I'll leave that decision up to you," he nodded, waiting for the announcer to begin the round. As it had been for most fights, as soon as the echoing voice started to speak, both teams advanced at a sprint. Shirou moved himself to stand between the two enemies and Lectra, acting as a blockade as she began speaking lines of French.

Elizabeth's blackened swords appeared in each hand, onyx surfaces gleaming in the artificial lighting. Rather than simply being a different colour, however, they were fundamentally changed. Rather than shiny black birds of prey for the crossguard, the magic-repelling shield from Thirty-Two took their place. Before Lectra could finish her aria, Shirou was already under fire. A spear nearly took out his right shoulder and a wave of searing blue flame threatened his entire left side. Deciding that the spear was easier to handle, he darted to the right to avoid the inferno. Slipping underneath the thrown spear, Shirou inverted one blade and caught the weapon by its body within the cross guard.

While Shirou really should have been expecting it, he was taken a little off guard when the spear suddenly shot backwards. The bladed tip caught the guard of Shirou's sword and sent the weapon flying from his hand. Obviously, team fifty-one was more tactile than he had expected. With his remaining blade, Shirou reflected a wave of flame, sending it harmlessly in a direction devoid of people. As the pyromancer prepared another gout of flame, a rumbling throughout the arena brought a smile beneath Shirou's scarf.

Like a volcanic geyser, the floor split open at random points and began spewing thousands of baseball-sized ether clumps into the air. Like water, the clumps splashed across the ground with electronic chittering noises. The two members from Fifty-One immediately backed off, but the pyromancer took control of the situation. Shirou watched the woman channel a great amount of mana into her staff, swishing it to and fro to throw waves of flame along the ground. As the searing blaze touched the sentient ether clumps, they exploded violently with shrill cries. The heat from the flames was enough to make Shirou and the ether familiars back off, but a quick thought came to mind. His projections in the Tournament didn't have to end at weaponry, he could put on his proper outfit to keep the blaze at bay. While the ether clumps burnt away in the flames, his outfit appeared in a spray of blue-gold sparks.

"Take on the spearman, I'll get the pyromancer!" he called out to Lectra, who made a noise of agreement. Immediately the two changed positions and Shirou projected the bo staff from his first battle, using it to launch himself high into the air. While falling, Shirou hastily projected his bow and fired dozens of arrows around the pyromancer before focusing directly on her position. The overcharged arrows exploded violently, covering much of the arena in a dense smoke which served to smother the flames and provide a cover for the ether clumps. Landing on the ground, the bo staff reappeared in his hands. Even though he couldn't see anything with the smoke around him, he could easily sense the sceptre by the amount of mana that was stored within.

Pointing the staff in the pyromancer's direction, a burst of mana sent the staff shooting forward. As it neared its target, the end curled into a hook and wrapped around the sceptre. There was a noise of surprise as the staff contracted and brought the sceptre back to Shirou. Wrapping one hand around the sceptre, Shirou haphazardly sent it flying somewhere behind him. He didn't want to break it, as it might have had some meaning to the girl. That didn't mean he wouldn't treat it roughly, however.

He took some pride in the minor victory even though he couldn't take any time to celebrate it. The temperature of the air was rapidly climbing even without any flame and an ominous orange glow was growing from within the smoke. Deciding on his feet that this attack would be too quick or too broad to avoid, he reinforced his cape and curled into himself on the ground with his back toward the orange glow.

Within a second, a massive detonation shook the whole arena. An intense heatwave roiled over his form, accompanied by the great roar of an inferno as hot fire washed over the arena. Memories of the Great Fire forced their way into his mind.

The heat continued to grow. This roaring inferno had no end. Shutting his eyes tight and gritting his teeth to stop the pain, Shirou found himself walking the path of rubble and ruin toward an unknown destination.

So many screams.

So much suffering.

So much guilt.

I -m t-e -ne of my -w-d

Opening his eyes with a gasp, hot embers from the flames were forced into his lungs. Searing hot pain stabbed at his back and a brief trace of his clothes revealed that his cape had burnt off entirely. His vest was doing most of the work in protecting him now, but its condition was rapidly deteriorating. Within seconds, his bare back would be exposed and he would be burnt to a crisp.

Holding his breath, Shirou traced Elizabeth's altered blades. With awkward positioning, he placed the small silver shield in front of the oncoming blaze, marvelling as the torrent was redirected entirely.

However, holding it still was far from easy. It was equivalent to holding firm against the blast of a firehouse. The brief respite in flames gave him enough room to stand at the very least. Getting onto two feet and using both weapons, more fire was being reflected.

He at least had a moment to breathe now, taking note of his surroundings before deciding on an action plan. Everywhere around him was being tormented by a sea of flame. In his current position, he was a stone in the middle of a stream, flame consuming all but himself and the area just behind. The mana cost for such an attack must have been extreme, but it was certainly effective.

With so much flame came a few other problems. Not only was the ambient air temperature rapidly climbing to dangerous levels, but oxygen in the room was depleting at an extraordinary rate. If he wanted any chance at winning this fight, the pyromancer would need to be dealt with very quickly.

He had no choice here, he would need to trace projectile blades and bombard the area in an attempt at making her stop. There was a danger of her being impaled, possibly killed by a blade, but she might end up killing Lectra and her own partner if she carried on like this.

Dozens of nameless swords leapt to mind. The Magus Tournament had given him more than just conceptual weapons. Equally as important for attacks like this, he had recorded a dozen simple, basic swords. In his opinion, each and every weapon he traced was equally as important as one another. They all had their uses, their effectiveness only depending on the situation they were to be used in.

With his tracing complete, swords appeared over his shoulder one by one before firing down onto the pyromancer's position like artillery. On the sixth blade, a shrill cry of pain broke over the roar of flames and almost immediately, the blazing sea ended.

The residual heat from the attack left the floor steaming and made the air nearly impossible to breathe but he had to eliminate her on what little breath he had. Shirou sprinted forward toward the pyromancer's location, boots melting and sticking partly to the floor with each step. He found her easily, crumpled on the floor with a thin blade impaled in her shoulder all the way to the crossguard.

Standing above her, their eyes met for a moment. The only thing that came to mind for him to say was an honest "I'm sorry" before delivering his fist to the side of her skull. Crumpling on the floor, the pyromancer was put out of the fight. A huge gust of air blew much of the smoke in the arena away, sending pieces of smouldering dirt clumps into his face.

"A member from team fifty-one has been eliminated from the Tournament!"

With the clearing of the smoke, the situation made itself clear. Before he could even move, the spearman had wrapped himself around Lectra. With a slight struggle, he stuck a rather familiar blade against the side of her throat. At the touch of cold steel, Lectra immediately stopped struggling. Reflexively, she turned her head away, trying to keep the soft flesh away from the sharpened blade.

Everything seemed to stop at once, gravity of the situation taking hold. The only noise was heavy panting of all three members present. Cautiously, Shirou lifted both hands with open palms, indicating his surrender.

That sword was one of the first Shirou had ever seen, a refurbished blade stored in the Fuyuki museum. The spearman must have picked it up from the floor after the bombardment of his partner, opting to use his conceptual weapon to keep Shirou at bay. The tip of the centuries-old weapon was pressed beside Lectra's carotid artery. One motion and she would die within seconds.

Trying to find the words to say, he eventually stumbled upon something uncannily coherent. "Whatever you think this will accomplish, it's not going to help you out here." Surprisingly, Lectra was rather calm with being a hostage. Rather than struggle or try to move, she remained still and moved with the man, motioning with her eyes toward her necklace and hands as if to indicate her intention. She was planning on using the ultimate combination move? Or did she want him to overcharge the projections so they could blow the two apart? "I don't think you know what you're doing." As subtle as he really could, Shirou shook his head "no", trying to keep Lectra from doing something rash.

"Shut up!" the man barked, taking a step back as he grit his teeth in rage. "You hurt Ollia, you put your damned dirty hands on her!" he shouted, raising the blade to level it threateningly against Lectra's throat.

Why hadn't the fight been stopped? Couldn't the referee see that this situation would result in her death? Shirou nodded to the man's claim. "I won't lie, I did. You're right, I was the one who hurt her, so why are you threatening a girl who has nothing to do with it?"

There was a second of pause. Rage was clouding his judgement and likely reaction speed as well. Shirou cautiously shuffled forward as calmly as he could, closing the distance some. If he could just make it a little closer, he might be able to-

"Because I'm giving you the same treatment!"

"Killing a girl is equivalent to me knocking one unconscious?" Shirou barked back with a little more anger than he had intended. Composing himself in the next second, he continued. "Just let her go and I'll admit defeat. You can use your spear on me all you like - but just let Lectra walk free."

"Blade, you can't!" she shouted, giving him a look of incredulity.

The blade against her throat applied a little more pressure as she spoke, puncturing the skin to let a trickle of blood spill free. Just a little closer, keep stalling. "How do I know you won't use any tricks?" the hostage-holder asked, eyes full of fear.

Rather than dematerialize his clothing, Shirou carefully took the time to remove it by hand. Hitting the release button on his chest for what was left of his cape, he made one subtle step forward. The vest followed, and another step was gained. Unzipping the suit to reveal the remains of his Tournament outfit was the last step, and that had gained him two steps.

There was a little over seventy meters between them, but those few steps had been just enough to make his plan possible. Keeping his hands spread wide in surrender, Shirou made one last step forward before a wild glint in the man's eyes indicated he would gain no more. "I'm wide open, all you have to do is let the girl go." The barest lull in his guard set the trigger off in Shirou's mind.

Time Alter: Double Accel!

All at once, the world slowed around him and Shirou bolted forward with as much speed as he could manage. With the barest indication within his mind, the sword in the man's hand dematerialized into golden-blue sparks. His hand thrust forward at half speed, indication that he absolutely would have killed Lectra without hesitation. Witnessing such a foul sight, indescribable rage flowed through Shirou, serving only to propel him faster toward the man.

One second passed, and Shirou's body felt like it was tearing apart from the inside out. Every muscle was being shredded and flimsily stitched back together by Avalon only to be destroyed in the next motion. Two seconds and Shirou was nearly upon the man, but his spear was already being poised - he was too late.

Time Alter collapsed around him and real-time returned all at once less than six feet away. The spear was thrust and a disgusting noise followed as it impaled Lectra through the abdomen. The girl screamed and was heartlessly kicked forward. Instead of landing on the spear tip, the weapon was magically torn backwards to leave a gaping hole in her stomach. Shirou had way too much momentum to even attempt catching her. He would have caused more damage by crashing into her at a full reinforced sprint so he opted to leap over her entirely. Shirou reinforced his legs and in the same jumping motion, collided with the man in a poorly established flying kick. With his foot impacting his chest, the man was launched toward the far end of the arena. Shirou hadn't intended to stop his attack, but before he could even move, a sudden beam of energy flew past him, striking the man and driving him further against the wall.

In shock, Shirou looked back to find Lectra holding the still-smoking necklace in her hands. She offered a weary-looking smile before collapsing onto the floor. A visual trace revealed that the attack had drained her reserves entirely. Either she had put her all into it, or the conceptual weapon had a little more draw than they both had expected. Dematerializing all of his traced weaponry, he sprinted toward the girl, but as he tried, his body locked up solid and he collapsed onto one knee and one elbow. He heard himself shout her name, but his consciousness was fading fast.

"One member of team six and the last remaining member of team fifty-one have both been eliminated from the Tournament."

… … …

… … …

Shirou hissed in pain as he pulled charred bits of synthetic material from his back. While his projected outfit was strong enough to withstand the flames, the Tournament suit was definitely not and it had welded itself into his body as a consequence. The process for removal was painful, but it wasn't anything he hadn't done before. Using a scalpel, he was simply cutting the material free - there was no other way to remove it.

The door to the medical room opened, and Shirou used the mirror to see who had entered. He was surprised to see Luvia, who grimaced upon seeing his state. "She really did a number on you, didn't she?"

"How is Fifty-One holding up?" he asked abruptly, disregarding the comment on his own condition as he returned to his task. He was half-bent over a steel table, mostly because he couldn't actually support his own weight. Using Time Alter under such extreme stress had debilitated his body and while Avalon had repaired a decent amount, it had other injuries to focus on.

Luvia blinked, then furrowed her brow. "Ollia is doing fine. They repaired her shoulder and treated her concussion. Word is that she'll be walking around in an hour or so."

"And Flake?" After the battle, officials flooded the arena. They had taken the man, who was named Flake as Shirou learned later, away in magical bindings. Threatening the life of a student was against Tournament rules as one might expect, and he was to be penalized harshly after recovering from his injuries.

"Much worse. Beyond all the burn wounds inflicted by Lectra and his own partner, you shattered nine ribs and punctured both lungs. When he hit the arena wall, he fractured two vertebrae and there's talk about him never walking again." Shirou winced, both because he had sliced his back a little deeper than intended and because the list of injuries was grim. "Did you want help with that?"

"What do you know about removing bits of debris from someone?"

"I never told you about my family? As a mercenary, first aid in the field is a mandatory skill."

He gave her a look, then looked at his back in the mirror before begrudgingly holding the scalpel out for her to use. "Lectra definitely didn't help with anything."

Taking the tool, Luvia nimbly spun it around in her hand, admiring it for a brief moment. It was a projection of his, and she could likely tell just by touching it. "He was eliminated before she hit him with whatever that beam was. More than forty percent of his body has second-degree burns on the front and his mana reserves were drained enough to send him into a coma. No charges are being pressed against either party, but there's consideration for expulsion against both Lectra and Flake." With someone removing the fibres, it was much less painful and seemed to be progressing quickly.

He had expected Flake's possible expulsion, but not Lectra's. "She's probably being put up alongside him because of her last attack, right?" Luvia hummed in agreement, yanking a particularly large piece free. "How is she doing by the way?" While Shirou had checked up on her as soon as he could, he was quickly sectioned off to his own room in the medical ward and placed under a brief "room arrest". While not in any sort of trouble, the officials wanted to know his location until matters were sorted. A staff member coordinating the Magus Tournament was positioned outside to prevent him from leaving.

"She's much better now. Thankfully the necklace broke after draining all of her mana, so she wasn't sent into a coma like Flake. You should be let out of here soon enough, don't worry about it." The girl mumbled the last part as she sliced at a particularly stubborn piece.

The following moments were mostly silence, broken only by his own noises of pain as Luvia removed pieces. Eventually, Shirou decided to ask the most important question on his mind. "So what happens now that my partner in the tournament has been eliminated?"

"She is out for good and you continue on to the next fight alone. You'll get to have some two-on-one battles but from what I've seen, you're used to that kind of thing."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Luvia tore out the piece she had been working at, forcing him to clench his jaw lest he shout out loud in pain. Once the sensation subsided, he resumed the conversation. "I guess I don't have to hold back anymore then."

He felt the cold blade pause against his skin. "You're telling me those three fights were you holding back?"

Shirou could only shrug. While he had a significant number of tricks to use that could end fights in bloody, harrowing ways, most of them would place him in a jar. His reality marble was his greatest tool, but at the same time, it was his most dangerous and sensitive one. Time Alter was still fair use since it was just a complex bounded field. Speaking of, when was Gaia's equalization effect going to kick in? Last time it had been mere minutes following the use of Time Alter, how long would it take now?

"Almost done here. I'm surprised more of your skin isn't burned if this was what the suit looked like." The irony in that comment was that his body was burnt. It didn't appear as such only because Avalon had stretched a new layer of flesh over the damaged areas. The artifact treated burns much differently than other wounds, opting to start from the outside and move inward rather than the other way around like it did for conventional injuries. If Shirou had to guess, it was to prevent infection and reduce healing time.

"Guess I'm just lucky."

"Or hiding something, but you already hide your face so what's a few more secrets?" More time passed as Luvia picked out the last remaining bits of fabric. "Just one more and we're done."

Without warning, Shirou felt every circuit snap to life. Against his will, his body seemed to prepare to unleash every ounce of mana in his reserves. Luvia made a noise of surprise as his magic crest spread across his entire bare back. There was a clatter of steel as the scalpel hit the floor, but it only made a single noise as it quickly dematerialized into sparks.

With nowhere for the mana to go, it began seething from his body, releasing itself into the air and heating his body by several degrees in an instant. Accompanying the rise in temperature was searing pain which made him grip onto the table. "What's wrong, did I do something?"

Shaking his head was all he could manage as his body clenched to deal with the agony coursing through his nerves. Was this feedback from Time Alter, or something else entirely? With one hand and an astonishing amount of effort, he waved behind him. "Water!"

With some panic, Luvia stumbled backward before racing out the door. With her gone, he could enact his real plan. His theory was that if his body was in pain from the excess mana, spending that mana would alleviate the pain.

Without hesitating, he projected Avalon to float in the air. This act had the intended effect, decreasing the pain enough so that he could at least bear it. Seeing success in his efforts, nearly a dozen copies of Avalon were created in quick succession, draining his reserves entirely. With his circuits not working hard to maintain the upkeep on multiple copies of Avalon, the pain vanished. With so many copies Gaia was removing each one at an accelerated rate. They would be gone within a minute if that.

Catching his breath while the pressure of pain left his body, he gave himself a detailed trace. Avalon was still working to repair the burns across his back which led him to believe that the pain hadn't actually been harmful. While the rest of his body seemed normal, his crest was going crazy. Like a kid at a light switch, the circuits in it were being flickered on and off haphazardly, switching from wide-open to idle with the same randomized rate.

Sending the mental signal to shut them down wasn't working as each time he did they simply turned back on. Looking at his crest in the mirror revealed a possible cause. His crest was expanding, increasing in size and contributing to the original design. Its basic design had been simple circuit-like ribbons almost like a shoulder strap. From the concentrated point in the center of his back, the ribbons crept over both shoulders to land on his pectorals, with a sword-like design resting at the nape of his neck. Since then, the crest had expanded. A large ribbon now extended to the base of his back, and the first curved portion began midway down as if signalling that more additions were to come.

As the copies of Avalon disappeared, searing hot pain stabbed directly into his spine. While it brought him to his knees, the sensation was oddly familiar. He had felt the same pain before, but where and when?

Gripping onto the table, he closed his eyes and tried to will the pain away. He could feel his sweat turning into steam as it touched the sizzling crest. At this rate, he would succumb to hyperthermia before this would end. Blood rushed to his head and a sudden faintness washed over him. Before he could pass out, however, ice cold fluid was splashed onto his back, producing sizzling snaps and startling him to attention.

The shock seemed to be just what he needed because his circuits suddenly stopped flickering to land in the off setting. Like he had just been subject to electricity for the past ten minutes, his body collapsed and felt entirely numb.

Groaning, he laid his head on the ground and huffed in exhaustion. A hand landed on his shoulder but it was quickly removed as the unexpected heat reached it. "What was that all about?"

"I have no idea, but I don't think I can move."

Luvia huffed, stood tall and put both fists on her hips. "You expect me to lift you? Might I remind you that you're still my lackey for another day."

Groaning, he closed his eyes. "If you help me out, I'll extend our agreement until Sunday - one extra day, alright?" Immediately, he felt her arms hooking underneath his, yanking his body upward.

With a chuckle, the girl positioned him on the bed. "You know just how to make a girl happy, Blade."

… … …

… … …

With absolute dead exhaustion, Shirou stumbled into his darkened room and turned on the light. Turning his head, he barely had a second to react as something hard and metallic slammed him back first into the door. The act was entirely unexpected, and with his injuries from before, he found himself winded. The hammer of a gun came down within his mind to activate his circuits-

But nothing happened. His circuits lay dormant, entirely dead. There wasn't even enough residual energy in his body to reinforce his muscles. As he focused on what had hit him, confusion spread across his features. The person - a woman - was made entirely of metal. She had flowing, artificial hair similar to bubbling fluid and a pleasant, finely crafted face with eyes closed in a monotonous expression. She was wearing an overly stereotypical maid outfit, complete with a frilly white headband.

Her appearance was far from the most concerning feature. What troubled Shirou was the fact that her hands had become cages around his own. He was trapped, held in place by this metallic woman.

In the surprisingly fitting, flat tone she spoke. "I need your clothes, your boots and your motorcycle."

Huh?

"Trimmau, put him down this instant!" came a foreign voice from deeper within his room. On command, he was suddenly dropped onto his feet and given room to stand.

The metallic maid actually offered a short bow and calmly stated "I'm sorry, Mrs. Archisorte," in a hollow voice.

"We are supposed to be guests in Blade's room, not his enemy." Stepping to the side, the metal maid revealed a rather stunning girl standing proudly within his room. "Good evening to you, Mr. Takahashi."

Blinking in stunned silence, rational thought slowly returned to him. "Good evening? If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing in my room?"

Sighing with something similar to defeat, the girl seemed to slouch forward in as much exhaustion as he was in. "I suppose that response is justified, especially after being attacked within your own room. I merely wished to speak with you for a moment, and I knew of no better place than in the privacy of your own dorm." With surprising elegance, the small girl seated herself on the desk in his room, offering the barest hint of a smile. "My name is Reines El-Melloi Archisorte, you likely know of my brother, Lord El-Melloi the Second."

Shirou furrowed his brow, rubbing his wrists to alleviate the irritation such rough handling made. "I wasn't aware he had a sister."

"Yes, well it is less a blood relation and more of a political family tie." Clearing her throat in a way he found strangely cute, she carried on. "Regardless, he is not what I have come to speak with you about. Rather, I'm much more interested in your ability and position within the Tower."

A pit formed in his stomach. So this girl was just like the two magus teams from earlier. She wanted him to create something for her with his projection magecraft? The only difference was that she held much more power than either of the two before, and he wasn't in any condition to fight. "My ability and position within the Tower?" he repeated back. "What does that mean?"

"You're a very intriguing person and I believe you can become a valuable asset for my brother, but he is much too pigheaded to see your potential. In his idiotic ways, he claims that the only way he will accept you as a student of his is if you claim one of the top three positions in the Magus Tournament." Lazily, the girl crossed her legs, placed her elbow upon one knee and rested her face within her hand.

"So you came here to encourage me to achieve this goal, is that it?"

A mischievous smile spread across her face, signals of danger going off in Shirou's mind. "Straightforward and to the point, aren't we? That was my goal initially, yes, but after seeing your reaction to me - I might have to involve myself in your life a touch more if only to gain a better understanding of what makes you tick."

Great, just what he needed - more women around him to make his life miserable. "But, if you're a high ranking aristocrat within the Clock Tower, don't you have responsibilities and duties that you need to attend to? How can you find the time to follow a novice magus around?"

The smile on her face grew a little wider and she stood from the desk to plod a few steps closer. With each step closer to him, her eyes changed shades, turning a demonic red as she closed the distance to a few inches. He was curious as to why but didn't want to voice his query. "My brother has claimed lordship over the El-Melloi house until I am of a suitable age wherein I can claim the position as myself. My brother is tutoring me during this time, although his spare time is fleeting at best. All of this being said, I have all the time in the world to do with as I please."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the girl closed her eyes and lifted one hand over her shoulder. Immediately, the metal maid grabbed him by the shoulders and moved him clear of the door. Once he was out of the way, the small girl left with a brief wave of the hand and the construct followed behind her. The metal maid paused in the doorway, twitching for the briefest moment. It mumbled a rather disinterested "I'll be back" before following its master down the hall.

… … …

… … …

"I have to tell you something incredibly important."

She was a little put on guard. Waver was never one to restrict her from much or offer strict warnings in this manner unless it was a matter of life and death. Seating herself in the plush office chair across from his desk, she folded her arms upon her lap and waited for him to continue.

"If my predictions are correct, I'll be instructing a new student in the near future." He paused to take a long drag on a cigar, blowing smoke away from her with some consideration. At the very least, he remembered that she despised the scent.

"Why is this information important to me?" she decided on asking. A new student for him was nothing new and if the student would pose a problem for everyone around, why was she the only one who was brought into his office?

"Because the risk relates to you, and you only." A long drag of his cigar preceded his lean forward. His eyes were empty and entirely serious. "Under no circumstance whatsoever are you to allow direct eye contact between this new student and Add."

From the fireplace in his office, a condescending, deep voice suddenly echoed through the room. "Oh? For what mystical reason might this be, oh benevolent Maker of the Rules?"

"If this student is allowed to view you, he will gain the ability to re-enact the Age of Gods." At this sudden declaration, she gasped and stood from her chair.

"How is this possible? Are you telling me that this student can summon…" She paused, remembering what Waver had said about eyes in every corner of the Clock Tower. "...that weapon even though I am still incapable of such a feat myself?" The girl clenched her fists at her side, looking between Waver and the mantelpiece with uncertainty.

"My excitement is unparalleled. I get to return to that dark cardboard box in deep storage with all the Lord's foreign video games." The comment was dry enough to suck the moisture from the air, but the mystic code continued its rant. "What if my carrier is in danger, am I to sit idle as they die and take me with them?"

"The matter has been handled. This new student will be your carrier's new bodyguard and will be instructed to protect her with his life." The Lord casually opened a drawer and withdrew an envelope, placing it on the edge of the desk. "Regardless, I wouldn't worry about them too much as they will be leaving the Clock Tower within three weeks."

Silence from the mantle was a rather fitting response to the situation. She decided to speak up and voice her own concerns. "Having Flat and Svin as my guards weren't enough, so now I need a third?"

Waver frowned, resting his arms on the desk as he took a soft puff of his cigar. "As I've told you, Flat and Svin are not your personal guards, they are other students of mine."

The mantle suddenly boomed to life with a chuckle. "If they were our bodyguards, they would have been fired on account of how terrible they both are. Remember the time we were kidnapped by Vikkar after the banquet in Ireland?"

"Unfortunately," the Lord grumbled, leaning back in his chair to make a loud creak echo throughout the room. "However, they were still successful in the end."

"If by successful you mean barely saved the world from total destruction due to absolute sheer luck, then absolutely." Offering a glance toward the mantle, the shape of her mystic code stood out. Designed into the very stone was a cage holding a small cube with intricate artwork of an undecipherable origin. Both were faintly glowing in a dull lime green which pulsed in tune with its spoken syllables.

"We're all still here, are we not?"

When her mystic code and Waver got into these verbal battles, they carried on for hours at a time. Deciding that they would continue back and forth for a while, she rolled her eyes and turned to leave his office.

"Before you leave, take this with you!" At the sound of Waver shouting, she turned to watch him take hold of the envelope on his desk. With the simple flick of his wrist, it was frisbee'd toward her with stellar accuracy. Snagging the piece out of midair, she looked over the blank face before offering one last glance into the room.

"What sort of evidence do you have that this student is good enough to protect my carrier?" The mantle grew more accusatory with each question, seemingly gauging the ability of this supposed student before even laying eyes on them.

"The evidence lies in the requirements for their placement as my pupil. They must claim one of the top three positions in this year's Magus Tournament." Her curiosity piqued, the girl carefully tore the flap of the envelope up, taking out the first thing her fingers found - a picture.

He was like her, concealing much of his figure beneath thick clothing and hoods. With his appearance recorded in her mind, she turned the picture over to see a word written in black sharpie, underlined twice to indicate its importance. Her face scrunched, and her lips parted to test the name written down.

"Blade."


Hah! Gotcha, all of you who thought it was going to be Lorelei that Shirou meets were wrong. It was the enigmatic Reines El-Melloi Archisorte!

For those of you looking for a certain Saber-Face, you got her as well. While the details regarding much of El-Melloi's students are absent, I'm going to try and do my best to make the characters as fleshed out and intriguing as I can. Since little is known about the El-Melloi Case Files, I can't even place it very well on a timeline. I'm more or less creating all the characters with nothing more than their appearances and subtle hints.

If any of you know details regarding the El-Melloi Case Files I would be more than interested to talk with you about the matter, so send me a message and we'll have a chat!

As always, favourite, follow and leave a review! Also, remember to check out the discord which I've linked in the notes at the top!