EDIT: Stained is an awful movie. 3.4/10 stars and a sad rendition of Macbeth all around. Take it from Berix, folks: Avoid it.

Contrary to popular belief, I'm not dead and I've just been really slow at producing another chapter, sorry. I really hadn't intended for things to take an entire month, but sometimes it just happens. Had some problems with flow and some of the ideas that I had were better off being in the next chapter. Don't waste time trying to guess what they are, because you have no idea.

Either way, I appreciate all of you for patiently waiting, but that crap is over! Give this chapter a read and show your love and appreciation!


"Eleven rounds, five seconds, one-inch grouping at seventy-five yards," Kiritsugu commented, looking over a used paper target. Dead center in the crosshairs, sat a large hole punched out by multiple bullets. The pistol in Missy's oddly steady hands was still smoking partly at the tip.

"Is that good?" she asked, looking between him and the warm weapon in her grasp. Even though she looked at it with uncertainty, her actions and performance told him otherwise. She was entirely confident holding and using a gun, she merely didn't want to admit it.

"It's better than any average person for sure. The spread might be coming solely from the gun itself, something that can't be helped." Setting the target down, Kiritsugu approached the girl and silently observed her for a moment. When he eventually got around to speaking, he asked if she remembered anything.

Missy scrunched up her face in thought, looking distantly toward the ground. "With every bullet, I get blurry glimpses into memories I can't place. Each glimpse is from a different point in time and none of them seem to line up."

"What are these glimpses showing you, can you place them anywhere or discern anything notable?" Kiritsugu pressed, taking the pistol calmly from her hands.

The girl gave a saddened shake of her head, squeezing her eyes shut in deep thought. "A basement," she eventually blurted out. "All I can remember is a dimly lit basement. I think there was an unmade bed there as well."

Kiritsugu sighed softly, tapping her hands with a new pistol, an indication that she was to take hold. While her eyes opened, both hands unconsciously wrapped tight around the grip of the pistol. Slim fingers contoured to the grip and went rigid with experienced steadiness. With ease, the girl levelled the weapon and proceeded to fire rounds downrange into another, previously blank paper target.

Seemingly without care, Kiritsugu lobbed the original, albeit reloaded, pistol in Missy's direction, watching as her eyes and body snapped to react. One hand left its place on her original pistol, seamlessly moving to snag the new weapon from the air. Using her other occupied wrist as a rest, Missy autonomously emptied the new pistol downrange, looking over her own unmoving hands with bewilderment shortly after.

"You react as if this is brand new while your body seems to think it's as natural as breathing." Kiritsugu placed one hand on the weapons in Missy's hands, lowering both to point downward. "I believe I know what occupation you had before losing your memory." The girl turned to look him in the eyes, features reminding him of a lost puppy.

No, there was more to it than that. It was like she had lost everything and with his next revelation, she would lose it again. He recognized it from experience, and a sense of familiarity tugged at his mind.

Just who was this woman?

… … …

… … …

For the first time, Shirou was thankful to have two Lord friends in the Clock Tower. Because of his connections, he had been spared from the worst treatment. According to Reines, without her influence, he would have been strapped down to a table in a small, cramped room and put through fierce questioning like in an early evening crime show on TV.

Instead, she had taken him back to the El-Melloi viewing quarters near the arena, a private place deemed neutral enough by the staff members organizing the Tournament. She had sworn on her honour that she would not allow him to leave, and she hadn't lied. Upon entering, he had practically been forced into a chair and instructed to wait until he was called for. Standing behind him, she held up conversation all while doing something that baffled him entirely, playing with his hair.

"Deaths in the Magus Tournament are taken very seriously. It's one thing for there to be a grievous injury or incapacitation, it's understandable for what sort of event is taking place." Reines lifted strands of his hair, looking through their roots curiously. "But death is an incredible loss, it's less about the person and more about the mystery they were capable of."

Shirou couldn't help but feel agitated about that comment. He knew magi were cold and heartless but was their death really only significant because of the loss of miracles? "It was never my intention to cause any deaths."

"Of course, you don't seem like the type." Reines' hands dove into his hair, thoroughly messing it up by spiking it high.

"What does that mean?" he asked, trying to look up at her with his eyes only.

"You're not a magus. Nobody else seems to notice, but I can see it plain as day." She paused, humming while tugging painfully at the silver tuft near the front of his head. "You're simple, painfully honest and you try your best to do what's right."

Shirou let the girl play with his hair as he mulled over the words in silence. "Those definitely sound like qualities that would be counter-intuitive to becoming a magus."

Reines mumbled the next few words, but Shirou was able to decipher it entirely. "But perfect to exploit and find pleasure in." Before Shirou could bring the comment up, the door behind him opened and a stern voice demanded him by his alias. Standing, he fixed his hair and turned to face a burly man who eclipsed the entire doorway.

"I apologize for the intrusion Miss Archisortie, but he's needed for interrogation now." The burly man nodded to one side before crossing his gorilla-like arms over his chest expectedly.

… … ...

A man in thick blue robes spread his arms wide. "It's quite easy to see that Kiera Eliphas merely overextended her magecraft and affected herself rather than her intended target, Haruto." The man defending Shirou's case was seventy-three, with deep, wise brown eyes between wispy, silver hair on both the top and bottom of his head. The hair missing from the top of his head had all gone directly to his beard, evidently. He looked around the room through glasses hanging off the very end of his nose. While his age might have been respectable alone, he also happened to be the lord of the Meluastea family, one of the three main political families of the Tower. While Shirou would have never expected such a person to stand up for him willingly, Elizar Meluastea had.

Several people immediately rose to anger at the declaration and the entire room lit up with various comments in differing volumes. Just as quickly as the room had started arguing, it fell silent when Lorelei Barthomeloi stood from her seat. All it took to silence a band of rowdy magi was for one woman to make her presence slightly more known.

The room they were in was a converted parliamentary area, where seats were spread around the edges. Like a theatre or auditorium, the seats gradually stepped down toward an open area near the bottom. In the middle of the room at this bottom plateau, resided a small desk which Shirou occupied. Across from him in the wall, was an area for the three political families. A three-tiered podium, like one might see placing victors in a competition, ominously gazed down.

Two of these seats were filled, with the third empty due to Meluastea being out in the open area. Lorelei Barthomeloi claimed the middle, highest seat which was just to the left of another magus, Nethandra Trambelio. With eyes of ice, the Vice Director panned the room to see if any would dare speak out against her silent demand for order. "Proceed with your statement, Meluastea," she calmly declared before gracefully seating herself.

Shirou felt infinitesimally small before the towering lords, not to mention the many eyes viewing him as a criminal from each side. It was as if he were a murderer attending a hearing. After thinking about it for a moment, that was exactly what he was. The old man in blue nodded respectfully toward the Vice Director, looking around the room as he cleared his throat. "Kiera was a C-tier magus, she was both inexperienced and overconfident as becoming magi often are." A mumbling agreement swept through the room. "As we witnessed during the beginning of the battle, she was able to disable Haruto with her normal ability and it was only when she attempted to use a new ability that an issue arose and Haruto was able to overpower her in some way."

Taking a second to swallow and breathe, the lord faced Shirou directly. "Unfortunately, only Haruto could see with more than his eyes. He was the only one in contact with her at the time, after all, and who knows what played between their minds due to the physical contact. Only he knows the true events and we can only judge what our eyes witness..." The man shrugged, continuing to glare at Shirou like it would break the issue wide open.

"What bullshit," came a violently upset voice from the judgement box. Nethandra had stood from her seat, glaring down at Meluastea and Shirou collectively. She was a significantly younger woman by thirty-nine years precisely, making her thirty-four, though she hardly looked a day over twenty. Her features were soft and rounded, exactly the opposite of what one would expect from a lord nearly on par with Lorelei Barthomeloi. She had bright, yellowish eyes which packed an extreme amount of hatred, and thin lips that reminded him of a snake. She wore a fine designer dress in piercing neon green. The material flowed over her olive skin, spreading at the right thigh to reveal a great portion of a stocking-covered leg. To tie the outfit together, golden jewelry sat perched from every place it could. Bracelets, rings, earrings and necklaces all gleamed in the artificial lighting.

"The boy was quivering on the ground like a worm, he could hardly lift an arm against Kiera but you mean to tell me that she still over-estimated him at that point?" She shook her head, scowling heavily. "There's something else at play here."

Meluastea hummed thoughtfully, raising a hand to scratch at his beard. "My, for the first time in over a decade you might be right, Nethandra. Have you ever indulged the possibility that she intended to kill him?"

Trambelio pointed a finger menacingly, snarling like an animal. For a woman who appeared so submissive and diminutive, she was incredibly aggressive. "You dare accuse a dead woman instead of this no-name miscreant?"

"I am not accusing anyone of anything as of yet, Nethandra. We must take into account the facts and make our decision based on what is known." Lowering the hand from his beard, Meluastea clasped both hands behind his back. "This miscreant, as you called him, has shown incredible mercy throughout the entire tournament. The only occasion in which he has drawn blood was during the first-year qualifier against team fifty-two and if he hadn't-" the old man paused, his bubble of comprehension snapping while he suddenly turned to face Shirou. "Well, why don't you explain yourself, boy? Tell us all exactly why you injured Ollia when every other competitor was eliminated from the fight in the most passive way you could manage."

A deathly silence descended on the room as every magus waited for Shirou to answer. The boy himself became acutely aware of his own heartbeat, pausing to listen and form his words while he stared at the old man. "Ollia was a special case," he began, placing both hands on the desk in front of him. "Her magecraft was powerful, even without a mystic code to support her. On her own power, she easily covered the entire arena in flames and smoke and seemed capable of sustaining it for some time. Instead of myself, I grew concerned over the three other people in the arena with me. The fire itself was damaging, but it was what the flames were doing to the air that was the more obvious issue. To fuel the blaze, most of the oxygen within the arena was consumed. If the fire continued burning, everyone present in the arena would suffocate and the risk of death would be high to both competitors and staff members aiming to perform a rescue." He paused to swallow and breathe. "I chose the outcome with the least risk of injury, aiming to stop Ollia with blades so she wouldn't cause undue harm to herself or others. Evidently, as we're all alive, I consider it a success."

Shirou pulled his hands back into his lap, looking around the room hesitantly to gauge the response. He had been honest while maintaining a disinterested tone to appear arrogantly innocent, as normal magi would be. A coursing wave of whispers travelled through the room while the old man simply chuckled, turned to the podium and spanned his arms. "Do I need to ask anything more?"

… … …

… … …

"This sucks," came a sudden outburst from the golden-haired Escardos.

Lectra lifted her head from the table, pulling hair away from her face. "Which part? That we have to wait here or that Blade has to fight for his innocence when it wasn't even his fault?" They were all seated around a simple white table outside of the hearing room. Two hours had gone by since Blade had entered and nobody had left since. Reines had been the only person from their group that was allowed in on account of her lordly status. The rest of them were forced to wait outside.

Flat made a small noise, leaned back in his chair and extending both arms in a stretch. He had been caught up in the event after Blade had come to him for healing. "Both, I guess. I don't think it's really fair for him to get treated like a criminal when he wasn't doing anything wrong."

Luvia swirled her fingers around the rim of a cup of water, contributing a thoughtful hum. "It is sort of strange that she died to her own magecraft. It's not like she was inexperienced or trying something new."

Lectra frowned, offering the blonde a look of disbelief. "So you're going against Blade on this?"

Luvia shook her head with exhaustion. "I'm on nobody's side but my own. It's just coincidental that it happened against him of all people." Narrowing her eyes, she rested an elbow on the table with one hand covering her mouth.

From the side, leaning against the wall, Svin contributed his own position on the matter. "I don't think it's a bad thing for you to be skeptical. Taking everything with a grain of salt lets us determine what truly happened."

"Oh, so you both think he did it," Lectra huffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. With a soft thump, her head was gently replaced on the table top.

"There, there," Flat consoled, patting the girl's back. "I don't think Blade did anything bad. Even if he did, he couldn't have done it on purpose. When Svin and I fought against him, he did everything he could to win without causing any harm."

There was a monotonous hum of agreement from around the table as an awkward silence fell on all of them. It was hardly two seconds later that the door to the hearing room opened and magi began filing out with varied emotions on their faces. It was easy to spot Reines, identifiable features standing out immediately. Besides her looks, she was the only one walking straight toward their table rather than toward the exit.

When she neared, the girl merely looked between those present with a neutral face. After waiting a moment that was far from comfortable, Lectra grew impatient and kindly asked what had happened. "You wanted me to tell you?" the girl replied innocently. The corners of her lips twitched as four people around her collectively groaned. "Haruto Takahashi has been found innocent in the death of Keira Eliphas. There is no evidence that he was a direct cause and his history speaks against such an action."

Collectively, the eyes of everyone besides Reines locked onto the sight of Blade shuffling right behind the girl. "Rei, be nice. You agreed that you wouldn't mess with my friends."

The lord looked straight upward to look at him without turning her head as if she could see through the back of her skull. "I did, although I didn't promise." She closed her eyes, smirking to herself.

Rolling his eyes, Blade quickly looked toward a clock. "Since my trial is over, I'll need to get back to the Tournament so I won't be able to stay and talk."

"Wait a minute, that's it? You were in there for hours and now you're going back to fight?" Lectra asked, looking up at him with astonishment.

He scratched the back of his neck. "What can I say? The Clock Tower never sleeps."

… … …

… … …

Shirou couldn't help but feel that fighting Ayaan Turner after killing his girlfriend was a particularly bad idea. It wasn't that he was scared he'd be unable to defeat him, fighting was the easy part. He was actually concerned about Ayaan's mental state. He could go one of two ways, but Shirou would only be able to tell once he saw the man.

Sitting in his dressing room was lonely as usual. Not only was he unable to leave, nobody else was permitted to enter it either. Lectra had only been able to sit in here with him during the end of the first-year qualifiers because she had been his teammate. While unable to participate in the battles themselves, the two could at least strategize between rounds. Or so, that was how it was explained to Shirou anyway.

Luvia was in the tournament, but he had known that since the beginning after her declaration of his involvement in a bet at the start of the year. Thankfully, she was already a B-tier magus so there was no chance of them fighting until the semi-finals, if either of them made it there. Shirou would have occupied his time talking with her, but she never left her dressing room to watch the other fights. Even when he had brought the matter up with her outside of the arena, she acted standoffish and aloof. It was like she was actively avoiding him during the Tournament.

Tugging at the cuff on his outfit, Shirou idly projected swords, creating a house of cards with hardened steel. After finishing that simple build, he took up a bottle of water, drained half of it in a few gulps and relaxed into the couch. Casually, he created a blade with an extended forming period, nonchalantly placing his bottle on its flat surface.

Shirou closed his eyes but rapidly opened them when he heard a thunk and splash. Looking to his side, he saw absolutely nothing when there was supposed to be a blade there. Peering over the arm of the couch rewarded him with the sight of a spilled water bottle. Scowling, he wondered what had gone wrong. Deciding to see if it was simply an error on his part, he projected another horizontal blade directly ahead, extending its formation time in the exact same way as he remembered.

A skeletonized blade formed out of blue-gold mana, external layer filling in with translucent steel. Taking nothing more than his own hand, he moved his arm to press down on the sword itself. Just applying a slight force shattered the entire projection into rapidly dissipating sparks, sending his hand falling through. In the past, he had been able to do pull-ups from steel rods using this technique, so a simple push shouldn't have broken it in the slightest.

Going over the process several times revealed no problems and for once, Shirou was completely at a loss. The only explanation was that he was doing something wrong, wasn't it? The house of blades ahead of him dematerialized into gold and blue sparks, a colour which clicked something in his mind. His projection magecraft had changed colours following the activation of his reality marble, so was this merely an effect of that? At least he had learned of the change before he attempted to use it in combat.

His train of thought was disrupted as the announcer beckoned his name to the arena. Autonomously, he stood and travelled from his dressing room to the harshly lit ring of the arena itself. The announcer carried on throughout his journey, trying to amp up the crowd with over-enthusiastic comments about his streak from the qualifiers to B-tier. Shirou himself couldn't be bothered to listen, focusing on the man walking out to the other side of the arena instead. He appeared confident, with raging fire behind his eyes and obvious hatred written on his features.

Like he had during the qualifiers, Shirou had watched every battle between each potential competitor when they appeared. As such, he had collected a considerable number of plain weapons with a handful of mystic codes to boot. Very few were actually useful, however, and most merely amplified a specific sort of magecraft. In Rin's hands, they would likely prove to be deadly weapons, but in his, they were absolutely useless. He could honestly cause more damage by throwing them or using the codes as blunt weapons.

Returning to the main thought at hand, he had watched everyone fight and as such, he knew that Ayaan Turner used nothing more than his own two fists. With the noble element wind, the man brutalized his opponents by compressing waves of air around his own body. Standing across from him, Shirou could practically feel the heat of anger flowing off the man. Shirou lifted both fists and narrowed his eyes in anticipation, waiting for the announcer to commence the fight.

When the booming voice began speaking, Ayaan did something unthinkable: He raised both arms in surrender. With no idea how to react, Shirou locked up, staring at his opponent with a questioning look. When neither of the two moved for a dozen seconds, Ayaan slowly began walking.

Hesitating, Shirou maintained his guard as the man approached, nearing a few feet before slowly lowering his hands and closing the distance to a few inches. Shirou maintained the reinforcement in his body but allowed the man to get closer still. Cautiously, as indicating he meant no harm, Ayaan leaned toward his ear and began whispering. "I knew what Kiera had planned and I have a decent understanding of what she was capable of," he started, moving one hand to grip onto Shirou as he tried to move away. "I know her limits, and I'm confident that you killed her while your minds were linked together, somehow."

He paused and the hand around Shirou's arm squeezed painfully. "If you managed that, then you're more of a monster than any of us had thought." Ayaan released his arm, forcefully pushing Shirou back by the chest. He shouted loudly now, making his words known. "So you win. I don't want to fight and even if I did, I don't really have a chance against you." The man turned and looked upward toward the ceiling. "I, Ayaan Turner, formally forfeit the Magus Tournament."

Nothing but silence responded, but the giant of a man faced Shirou once more. "I hope you're happy, monster."

… … …

Reines made a surprised hum, watching the two men below leave the arena without so much as a bruise. From the side, her brother contributed his thoughts. "It was to be expected. An enemy cannot fight without enough morale to support them, it's simple strategy."

The platinum blonde set her brow, placing both hands gracefully over the middle of her legs. "I believe you are confusing morale and insight."

There was a large breath before a smooth exhale billowed smoke into the room. "You mean, Ayaan understood the situation - both during Kiera's fight and his own."

Reines nodded, watching the large man, Ayaan, pan his gaze around the arena scornfully. "Precisely so. I believe Ayaan understood what really happened in Blade's last fight. What baffles me is why he chose not to voice it during the trial."

Another puff of smoke. "Fear, most likely. Kiera Eliphas was a special individual who could invade the minds of other magi through contact. Perhaps what she saw ended up killing her and Ayaan simply doesn't want to be next."

Archisortie contemplated his thoughts for a moment, before smiling wide. "Another interesting addition to his appeal. Brother, you might have to deal with your recommendation whether he makes it into the top three or not." The man beside her offered a quizzical look, leading Reines to explain. "If you don't accept him as a student under your guidance, I'll claim him myself as my own apprentice, an assistant."

The drain of emotion on the Second Lord El-Melloi's face was incredibly amusing, as was the outburst that followed shortly afterward. Reines herself hardly minded, watching the boy below leave while her mind wandered.

If his mind really was that broken, could she break him even more? How hard would she have to push until he shattered and became the monster Ayaan believed him to be?

… … …

Shirou opened his door to Reines sitting on his desk; pausing as he looked her over, he decided that this was just how things would be around her. If it was inevitable, the best thing to do was go along with it. "Good evening, Rei." Closing the door behind himself, he let loose a lengthy sigh. "What might I have the pleasure of helping you with today?"

The girl gingerly dismounted from the desk, plodding up to him and motioning for him to get down on her level. Hesitantly obeying, he kneeled and was surprised when she pulled back his hood and starting toying with his hair. Her fascination with his hair confused him, but so long as it placated her he didn't really mind. "There's a problem with your friend, Lectra."

"What sort of problem?" he asked, narrowing his eyes to appear menacing, though since he was allowing her to play with his hair, how menacing could he really be?

"You would look so much better if you got your hair cut like this" she mumbled, setting her brow and scowling partly. Just as he was about to ask his question again, she answered. "Lectra's up for expulsion from the Clock Tower once more. Even without Flake pressing the matter, the other lords want to see her punished."

Shirou frowned, considering the implications. Asking why wouldn't get him any decent answers. The reason could have been "it was merely something to do", or any other explanation that was equally as arbitrary. Instead, he asked, "Is there any way to change their minds?"

She nodded, tugging upward on the front part of his hair, pulling his bangs away from his forehead. "I could use the El-Melloi influence to sway their decision, but in order for me to utilize my resources, I will need you to do a few things for me."

He suddenly felt as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff, with wolves at his back and certain death below. Like he was out of options and he was merely deciding how he wanted to die. "What did you have in mind?"

The edges of Reines' lips twitched upward in a smile. "First things first, you're going for a haircut."

"You're willing to deal with magi politics just to change how my hair looks?"

The blonde scowled, gripped his hair and forcefully yanked back to direct his head painfully downward. "I wasn't done yet, you shouldn't interrupt me." Apologizing meekly, her scowl softened marginally. "Besides a haircut, I'll need you to tie up some loose ends." Expecting his question, she continued. All at once, the demure woman he knew faded away, replaced with a cold, calculating aristocrat. "These loose ends pertain to my brother. A couple of the other minor lord families have tried attacking his position as the Second Lord El-Melloi, digging up his history in an attempt at finding something they can abuse." The hand in his hair pulled free, slipping under his chin to direct his eyes into her own bright red ones. Shirou couldn't find anything but heartless business within. "This is a problem. Even allegations alone could force him from his position, something undesirable. If he were removed, I would be forced into his place and at this current time, I lack his political finesse."

Worry spread through his body at a rapid pace. His instincts were screaming at him, claiming something was wrong. "Sounds like a real problem. I'm guessing these families found something?" He didn't want to move his chin much to disturb her hand, so his words were mumbled partly.

She nodded curtly. "Unfortunately, he never had the foresight to cover his tracks in his younger years and they've discovered his involvement in a petty game between magi known as the Holy Grail War." Withdrawing the hand from his chin, she took a step back and clasped both hands behind her back. "From what my our own spies have been able to gather, these families hold incredibly sensitive, dangerous information." Her eyes sharpened ominously. "They intend to state his direct involvement in the murder of the first Lord El-Melloi and his wife, whose name I can't be bothered to remember." Fanning her hand in exasperation, she took a breath before continuing. "My brother has already admitted his involvement in their deaths to me personally and we have privately established a recompense."

Reines closed her eyes and paused for some time. The pit in his stomach grew heavier. While the Holy Grail War itself wasn't particularly hidden knowledge, its events and details typically were. This was mainly due to the fact that most magi deemed it ineffective and impractical. Shirou was more interested in how other individuals discovered this information than the information itself. "If it's already been handled, I fail to see the issue," he admitted, hoping this was as far as the rabbit hole went.

She opened one eye, biting her lip to reveal a sharpened upper canine. "Involving the other families introduces complications, however, it fails to end there. They are going to fabricate allegations that he worked alongside the dreaded Magus Killer. If that happens to be made public, both of us will be removed from any position of power until the truth, whatever that might be, is discovered."

All at once, he realized the source of his dread. It was a threat to his family leering its ugly head into the picture. Shirou felt his jaw clench reflexively and the words came spilling from his mouth autonomously. "What do you need me to do?" Speaking the words felt like he was signing a contract with the devil.

Reines only smiled, face splitting open with twisted pleasure. One hand patted the top of his head like he was a dog, ruffling his hair affectionately. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

… … …

… … …

Rolling along the ground, Shirou grit his teeth and popped onto his feet. As fast as he could raise his arms, three arrows were fired off in rapid succession, multiplying in mid-air to cover a large area. As the heads of each arrow struck the clumping masses of bugs, they exploded violently and engulfed the area in smoke.

Rapidly, a sword was projected and additional mana was forced into the bow, reinforcing its construction to peak performance. With a slight alteration in his mind, the sword was altered to become more streamlined and balanced, with a notch added in the pommel. The sharpened tip was rounded, edges removed to keep it non-lethal. Notching the sword like he would an arrow, Shirou offered a silent prayer for success and prepared to fire it toward where he knew the A-tier magus would be. As Shirou had expected, a new wave of flying bugs swarmed through the smog, each one staring at him with mindless violence.

This magus was powerful, able to supports hundreds of fist-sized bug familiars. Rather than have their main offence be pincers or teeth - though they definitely had those - they used speed to their advantage, dive bombing a target only to explode and cover the area in acidic fluid.

Releasing his fingers from the bowstring, a loud groan sounded from the bow itself as it strained to fire a projectile more than ten times heavier than what was normally launched. Rocketing forward, the sword left the influence of his bow and punched straight through the swarm of bugs. The recoil from the attack was intense. Almost as soon as Shirou had released the string, a crack formed within the center of the yew. The crack acted as a weak point and as the string snapped into its resting position, the entire thing exploded violently. All at once, magically enhanced shards of drawstring and sharpened splinters coated his front and blew out across the entire arena like a grenade.

Before Shirou could really see if his plan worked, the announcer joyously boomed, "Nick Vile has been eliminated from the Magus Tournament!"

Without a leader to consciously guide them, the bugs slowly vanished into wisps of mana. Releasing a controlled breath, Shirou looked over himself. Parts of his outfit had been burnt away by the acid blood and other parts had been chewed or sliced off. Adding to the carnage, bits of his own projection had embedded themselves in his skin.

While painful, his injuries were superfluous and he had nailed another victory in the Tournament, his first A-tier victory specifically. If the rest of his A-tier battles were against magi as strong as this, he would need to consistently put in his all to come out on top.

Each of these magi were easily as powerful as Rin, though none would be able to compete against Bazett. Holding Bazett at a distance was the only way to survive and how long these magi would last would have depended entirely on making space.

Dematerializing the remains of his shattered bow, the holes left behind began to bleed. The old man medic who usually approached after his fights didn't even come close anymore, merely nodding his head upward toward him in a silent question. As usual, Shirou shook his head and casually walked off toward the arena exit.

The other magi seated in the competitor viewing booth offered an extremely rigid, unenthusiastic congratulations for his victory. It was almost condescending in how little they actually cared. Assuming it was just "the magus way," Shirou carried on through the hall back to his dressing room.

While the competing magi of the Tournament looked at him in disgust, the general populace couldn't help but be enamoured with him. Instructors and students alike crowded his way out of the screening area, shouting his many nicknames in a vain attempt at getting his attention. It wasn't just Blade anymore. His range of nicknames had expanded significantly. Faker, Photocopier, and The Imitation Man were just the nice ones. Dozens of other, less than decent names existed, but he tried not to focus on them as much.

After disrobing and putting on some normal clothes, Shirou projected his outfit and headed off toward the screening arena. Tomorrow would be the last day of the Tournament, where the best of A-tier went into the Tournament finals. As far as he knew, Luvia was still a competitor, which meant there was still a chance that he would end up fighting her.

That thought brought up conflict in his mind. Luvia was a good friend of his and reminded him too much of Rin. One large difference between the two girls was that Luvia's competitive side was at least eight times as worse as Tohsaka. Shirou could guess that beating her in a battle would cost her as a friend, but forfeiting had the possibility to make it worse. If he forfeited and she ended up winning, she might see it as being given a victory, something she would despise. The best outcome would be if he forfeited his fight and she lost to the last magus in the final battle, but relying so much on someone else seemed stupid.

Groaning and placing his forehead in his hand, he continued walking down the long, monotonous hallway toward the screening arena. Pushing open the door, he was assaulted by dozens of screaming voices. Squinting his eyes and grimacing heavily, he looked on to the crowd of people ahead who held a wide variety of emotions. From anger to excitement and everything in between, all because of his victory in another battle. Shirou tugged on his hood to keep his face better concealed.

People were screaming at him, calling him a monster and a villain for killing an innocent girl, others were chanting his many names and praising him for another victory. Some reached out to try and touch him, whether it was just to have contact or because they wanted to try and beat him wasn't something he wanted to find out, so he avoided those people at all costs.

He hated fame, and this was just another reason for him to despise it more.

… … …

… … ….

"You don't have baseball in China?" Svin asked, slapping Shirou on the back while offering a warm smile.

Shirou frowned, pulling back the hooded cape to feel the sun on his face. "I'm from Japan, and of course we have baseball." Rather than get angry, the boy smirked, "That's the one where you hit the tiny white ball with drivers and irons, right?"

Svin looked stunned, drawing a laugh from Shirou as he moved toward the ball diamond. It was early in the morning and classes had been cancelled for reasons undisclosed to any of the students. If he had to guess, it was due to the recent accidental death. Shirou, Lectra, Luvia and even Reines had been looking for something to do when they stumbled across Flat, Svin and a strange-looking woman who seemed to be actively avoiding eye contact. After counting how many they had, Flat immediately suggested they go off to play baseball for the morning, claiming that he had wanted to for months but had been unable to get enough people to form a decent team.

Smiling like an absolute madman, Flat had hardly been able to stand still, excitedly claiming, "There's a team of other magi that go out to this field north of the Clock Tower. It's secluded and well maintained for being public access!"

After such an enthusiastic display, Shirou couldn't say no. It also didn't help that both Lectra and Luvia were as interested as Flat himself. Pressing the large button in the center of his chest, the cape disconnected from his vest and fell to the ground with a whump.

"I've deployed a bounded field, it should keep the normal humans from noticing your game and will keep the ball somewhere nearby," Reines commented from beside him, startling the boy significantly. How was such a thing even possible? She had been behind Flat off in the distance a little while ago and they were on gravel! How had he been unable to hear her approach?

"Alright, I've had it!" Shirou shouted, looking down at her ankles. As he had mentally pictured, bell-laden anklets appeared attached to Reines' small legs. With each step forward, a jingle followed and it definitely let him know where she was.

Looking down at her feet with something akin to confusion, she merely shrugged and continued on her way. With that handled, Shirou looked around and gathered his bearings on the area. Lectra, Luvia, Flat and Svin were near the bench which was sat behind the backstop, chatting and getting prepared. At the other bench on the other side, seven other magi were doing precisely the same.

Reddish-brown clay with crisp white lines making up the diamond, all surrounded by neatly trimmed green grass. The area itself was shrouded with tall oak trees burdened with leaves, keeping out the noise of the nearby city as well as prying eyes.

Something clicked in Shirou's mind. "Why would we need a bounded field?" Turning to face Reines, he was amazed to find her absent. What was more concerning, was that the jingle-bells were still making noise. Looking down, he found his own projected anklets on himself.

In the midst of his wonderment, he looked up to find Reines straight ahead with the barest hint of a smile on her face. "I have a feeling that this will be more than a simple baseball game."

Something bubbling on the ground beside Reines caught Shirou's attention. He was surprised to see a silvery substance steadily forming on the ground. Shirou realized that the air was being pulled toward its location. A brief but incredibly painful trace of the atmosphere revealed an extraordinary amount of mercury suspended within the air.

Over a few seconds, the full form of Reines' metallic maid formed from absolutely nothing. "Trimmau will be taking my place in the game, I hope that won't be a problem." At the mention of its name, the metallic maid bowed, keeping its hands folded at the hips.

"I will do my master well by eliminating possible threats," it menaced, striding toward the benches with obvious confidence. Shirou gave Reines a look of concern, but a brief nod seemed to be all he would get as reassurance.

"What kind of magecraft are you?" Shirou asked, looking the liquid metal maid over once more.

The being's entire body twitched. "Cyberdyne systems model one-oh-one," it replied in an ominously dull tone.

Reines spared one glance in the constructs direction. "She's an autonomous construct made of mercury, you don't need to know any more."

Raising his eyebrows in a strange motion, he turned and stumbled halfheartedly toward his friends. Each one gave him bright smiles that worked their way onto his own face. They were all here, dressed for the occasion no less. Lectra had thrown on a ballcap, wearing it backwards and allowing a tuft of brownish hair to stick out the front. She even had on an oversized jersey, though which team it was for he couldn't quite tell. Flat and Svin had both put on more outdoor-focused apparel, wearing shorts and thin shirts to try and counter the hot day. Luvia, on the other hand, had merely ripped the sleeves off of her dress, something Shirou didn't know was possible.

The smiles faded as they caught onto the maid approaching behind him. Like Shirou himself, the other members of their group were giving wary glances, uncertain on what they were to take away from it all. Rather awkwardly, the being stood at a distance from the others and observed. Shirou scratched the back of his neck, looking over the others. "Reines doesn't want to play, so Trimmau will be taking her place."

A few seconds of silence ensued before the rest of his group agreed with various levels of enthusiasm. "Is she any good?"

The maid nodded, taking a step closer. "That's one of my mission parameters."

Immediately, Lectra perked up, tilting her head as if questioning what she heard. "Is it quoting…" she mumbled, scrunching up her face accusingly.

Shirou decided to get things on track before the situation got out of hand. "Sounds good enough to me. So are we all ready to play?" Shirou asked with a smile, although it couldn't even be seen with his scarf in the way.

With more enthusiasm than he had expected, everyone shouted "yes" in near unison. "But Blade, how can you play if you don't have a glove?" Lectra asked, pointing toward his empty hand.

Looking down at his left hand, he snorted. "After all this time I would have thought you knew me better." Sparing a quick glance around himself to make sure normal people weren't watching, he projected a baseball glove onto his hand. It was identical to the one Svin had and the boy took notice immediately, looking at his own glove and comparing it visually to the fake with interest.

"What can't you make?" Lectra asked, gripping onto the projected glove and running her fingers over the mana-made leather. Shirou hummed in thought. He opened his mouth to speak, but Rin's words suddenly came to mind.

"Never allow any other magus to know how your mystery works. Magi only want to know so that they can abuse the knowledge to defeat you at some point later. You never should have told me how it works, but what's done is done. Just make sure to be careful, alright?"

Smooth as could be, his mind switched tracks to guide him into avoiding the question. "Never tried everything, can't say what I can or can't make." The items he could project outside of blades was incredibly small. If it wasn't a weapon of some sort, it took nearly an eighth of his mana to project, though that depended on familiarity and other factors of course.

The glint in Luvia's eyes was dangerous. "What about magecraft-spec gemstones? Our family's been buying boatloads from a Japanese supplier but they're so expensive that it would be nice to have them in surplus from somewhere cheaper."

Shirou's brain shut down for a moment, forced to restart. What were the odds that there was more than one gemstone supplier in Japan? That meant the Edelfelt family was buying the gems he was making from Rin. All this time, he thought she was using them for rituals or research when she was making money off of his effort.

When he got home, she would hear about this.

Blinking several times as his mind returned, Shirou shook his head both to clear his brain and disagree. "I have absolutely no idea."

While Luvia pouted, Flat took over the conversation. "Alright, we have a decent team and a good chance to win, and while fun is always nice to have, a win is what we're after!" Bumping his fist victoriously, Flat looked around at the smiling faces around. "Deciding roles will set us up for victory, so who wants to be the pitcher?"

Without hesitating, Luvia lifted her arm and shouted "me!" A confident smirk splayed across her face and she began rolling her shoulder in preparation for her position.

Flinching at the sudden response, the boy shrugged and threw a warm smile. "Cool, Svin will take outfield since he's the fastest out of all of us, which means we need people for bases, shortstop and the catcher."

"I'll handle catching," a soft voice piped up from behind Flat, and everyone's attention was directed to the small woman practically hiding behind him. She had been hiding so well, Shirou hadn't even seen her. She was barely five feet tall, with a thin body to match her petite height. She was dressed as a cliched school girl, only the colour was a very bland gray and black. A thin hooded pullover concealed the majority of her face and the direction of her head left her features up to the imagination.

"Oh right," Flat remarked, stepping aside so that the colour-drained girl could be in view. "Everyone, this is Gray, Gray, this is everyone! I'm pretty sure you know Blade, everyone seems to. But this is Lectra and that's Luvia," the boy introduced, pointing to each of them respectively when their name came up. The girl ducked her head down, lifting her hand in an emotionless wave.

Shirou narrowed his eyes, even he didn't hide that much of himself so what was her problem? "I'll take shortstop," he claimed confidently, flexing the glove in his hand.

"Then Lectra, Trimmau and I will take bases." Flat turned to direct a beaming smile toward Lectra herself. "Looks like you and I will be working together to hold up the team." The girl's eyes widened and blood rushed to her cheeks immediately. She opened her mouth to speak but struggled to make more than a sound. After failing to respond, she merely turned her head to look away.

Svin made a noise by slamming his fist into his palm. "Alright everyone, let's get into position and kick some but!"

Everyone, including Shirou himself, agreed with enthusiasm. He had to admit that Flat and Svin could really inspire people when they put their mind to it. Sparing a glance over at the other team, he received nothing but harsh glares. Shirou had never seen the people of the other team in his entire life, but it was obvious that they knew him. Or, they knew enough to hate him at least.

… … …

A game of roshambo decided who was up to bat first. When Shirou's team won, it was decided that the other team would bat first so that their own team could bat last. With everyone on the field set up in their positions, the game began rather quickly. A tall woman was up to bat, and while she prepared, Luvia pawed the ground to find traction like a professional pitcher. Setting herself up and standing tall, Shirou was amazed to see the extreme competitive flame burning in her eyes. Was this how she fought in the Tournament? It was no wonder she managed to make it into A-tier. Staring down the batter, Luvia paused one last time to verify that everyone on her team was prepared.

Following the brief verification, the girl returned to staring down her opponent. Shirou really should have been watching the batter to see when and where she would strike the ball, but he was personally more interested in Luvia. Was she always this competitive or did this side of her only reveal itself when she was playing sports? Lifting her glove and hiding the ball, Luvia stood upright and twisted her body slightly. After a brief moment, she was moving, leg kicking up as her whole body worked to propel the ball in her hand at an astonishing speed.

Even their own backstop, Gray, was surprised as she barely managed to catch the ball when it flew straight through the batter's box. Even from the strange angle, Shirou could see the animalistic smirk on Luvia's face. Withdrawing a smoking ball from her glove, the girl fanned her hand, likely to relieve some of the pain. "Strike one," she claimed casually, throwing the ball back before getting into position.

"Looks like we've got a good pitcher!" Flat shouted from first base, smiling with some astonishment. A couple of the magi from the other team were on their feet, pressed up against the wiring of the backstop to watch with more interest. As the second pitch was fired and missed by a poorly timed swing, most of the other magi were standing.

The third pitch was hit, but it was hit too low, sending a pop fly directly above Shirou. Casually, he raised his glove and tracked the ball so it could land easily in his palm.

"Batter out, next up to the plate," Gray directed, turning her head to look toward the other team.

As the tall woman moved back to the bench, she passed by an agitated-looking man with ashen white hair. Gripping the bat confidently in both hands, Luvia seemed to pause. From the angle Shirou was at, he could actively see her change the grip on the ball, positioning her fingers in a new way. Another pitch was made, but the ball curved downward sharply as it neared the plate. Unfortunately, the man had already made his swing and missed by a large margin.

That action got an outcry from the bench. From what little of the shouting Shirou could decipher, they thought Luvia was using magecraft to manipulate the ball somehow. Shirou, who had been actively tracing it through the air, could easily tell such a thing was untrue.

"I used to play baseball on the girls' team at Cheltenham, it's not my fault you just can't hit a good pitch." Scoffing righteously only made the other team angrier.

Flat took the time to walk forward, holding up his hands and shouting to get the attention of everyone. "We're all just here to have a fun time, there's no need to get upset."

Shirou merely rolled his eyes. While they had a right to be upset over being sharked this way, they certainly didn't have any right to claim foul play. An idea came to mind suddenly, and Shirou shouted over to Luvia. "To prove to them that you're not using magecraft, why don't you make a pitch using magecraft?"

The girl looked at him with confusion, then down at the ball before smirking wildly. "What a great idea, Blade. I'll show them what I can really do if they think that was hard to hit." Lining herself up on the mound again, she looked toward the batter and the other team with a competitive smirk. "Let me show you the difference with a minor demonstration."

The batter glared at her warily before hesitantly stepping up to the plate and raising his bat. Giving his head a light shake in exasperation, Shirou readied himself while watching Luvia tense up on the mound. In a second, her leg kicked up and the glove in her hand glowed with ominous blue energy.

This was something he absolutely had to witness, so Shirou rapidly activated Time Alter to slow things down so they could be visible. With things slowed down, he could watch Luvia pitch the ball in what appeared to be normal speed. A slowed down explosive noise reached his ears as the ball was thrown and a blue bolt of energy began streaming toward the batter.

With more time available, he could see the fine details. The ball Luvia had thrown was overcharged with mana, reinforced just as much as the user in an attempt at streamlining the overall design. Clocking in at a speed over two hundred miles per hour, there was little chance for the batter to actually make contact. He was still confident enough to attempt a swing and as the ball rapidly closed in, Shirou realized that it was timed perfectly. Even though the ball was ludicrous in speed, the batter would hit it dead on.

As the bat contacted the ball, an unstoppable force met a flimsy object and the bat violently exploded into splinters, hardly affecting the ball at all. Ending Time Alter, Shirou watched Gray take flight with a high jump to avoid the projectile in real time. Launching into the air, she narrowly avoided the blue-bolt as it flew past the batter, through the wire of the backstop and into the dirt behind. As the ball was buried in the earth, a huge spray of turf was thrown into the air.

Gray landed rather elegantly on her feet slightly ahead of the batter, but her hood had fallen from her head because of the act. Standing, she looked around the diamond before realizing what had happened. Time seemed to slow and surprisingly it wasn't because of Time Alter. Shirou's eyes were transfixed on the pale girl, and he couldn't help but gawk at her awkwardly.

She was gorgeous, with a face that was irresistibly unique. Soft, pale skin free of blemishes and blazing emerald eyes beneath glimmering silver hair which sparkled and seemed brighter than the midday sun. A single arching strand of gray hair sprouted from the top of her head, pointing off to the side like a wind sail. Her hair was very elaborate, with small braids surrounding a large bun at the back of her head. Strands of hair at the side of her head framed her face perfectly, contributing to her appeal.

Suddenly, an intense stabbing pressure exploded in his chest, making him suck air through his teeth as the painful sensation radiated throughout his entire body. Looking down at himself, he found absolutely no wound and a trace revealed no damage, so what was causing such unignorable agony?

Closing his eyes, he spotted the source immediately. If an inanimate object could scream, Avalon would be a banshee at that moment. Radiating expansive golden energy, the sheath wanted out of his body like nobody's business. Clenching both hands into fists, Shirou grit his teeth and tried using sheer force of will to push Avalon - and the agony - away. Needless to say, it didn't work and the pain failed to abate in the slightest.

"What is your problem?" he asked mentally, struggling to comprehend what an inanimate object would even want. Opening his eyes, Gray came into sight and an intensified pang of pain struck him. "That girl? She's why you're acting so strange?" As if agreeing with him, the archaic relic toned down the pressure and pulsed once. "I don't get it, what's so special about her?" The pressure faded, but a dull pulsing ache remained in his chest. The ache had a familiarity to it but he couldn't quite describe the sensation. He had felt it before, though not to this degree for sure. He had experienced it back in Fuyuki when he was leaving at the airport.

As suddenly as it appeared, Gray's face was hidden by the dark cloak hanging off her shoulders and with it, the pressure from Avalon. A dull throbbing sat in the center of his chest, and every time Gray entered his line of vision, it intensified. Shirou nearly asked her to reveal her face once more, both so he could gaze upon it and so he could determine what it was that Avalon desired. Blinking and shaking his head to clear his mind, he realized how out of place such a question was. With rationality returned to him, the brewing war between the two teams finally became apparent.

He had the feeling that this friendly little game of baseball wasn't going to be very friendly for much longer.

… … …

… … …

Every touch elicited a noise of pain from Lectra. Even when he tried to smooth the bandage out softly, she practically writhed in pain. "If you don't stop wiggling it's only going to hurt more," Shirou pointed out, pulling another bandage from the box. While he hardly used bandages like this, it was good to be prepared. Lectra had used all of his remaining stock but two although thankfully, the last two would be just enough.

Lectra moaned, pouted, and lowered her head in defeat. After watching Luvia flex her magical muscles, the other team opted for a "no holds barred" game with full use of magecraft. Everything exploded from then on and the ball diamond became more like a war zone. Every pitch, hit and throw had the speed of a bullet and Shirou had to put all of his effort into playing effectively.

Lectra had been on the unfortunate receiving end of a nasty ploy. One of the magi from the other team had trapped the bat and Shirou hadn't caught the manipulation until it was too late. When Lectra took a swing at a ball, despite the bat being heavily reinforced it exploded violently and showered her with sharpened splinters.

From that point on, Shirou projected every bat their team used, which actually proved to be beneficial since it could handle the magically enhanced pitches better.

"What a bunch of jerks. Using magic to enhance ability is one thing, but outright trapping the field is uncalled for." The girl winced as Shirou plucked out a small splinter with a pair of projected tweezers.

"I was surprised that Flat didn't help out more," Shirou mumbled, placing a small bandage over a wound on her shoulder. "He can stop projectiles and people with two words, he should have been able to catch anything." Shirou squinted, trying to get a better angle on another splinter. "Maybe he didn't want to make the game totally unfair." After all, they had won the game by fifteen points. Because Trimmau could manipulate its body, the metal maid proved to be an excellent catcher.

Shirou wouldn't say it outright, buy Lectra had actually been the least competitive member of their team. She was average in terms of fitness and her magecraft couldn't be used to sway the game in either direction. So long as Lectra enjoyed herself, her performance didn't matter.

"Hey, uh, speaking about Flat…" the girl mumbled, turning her head to look at him sheepishly. "Do you know him very well? Does he ever talk about me?"

Shirou furrowed his brow, setting a quizzical look on his face. "What do you mean? The only time I've seen him, you've been around as well."

Lectra turned, facing away from him as she fumbled with her words. "I know that, I was just wondering if he ever spoke to you in private or behind my back or something." Even though he was at an odd angle, Shirou could see the heat radiating from her cheeks. Immediately he chimed into what was going on and he couldn't stop a chuckle from coming out of his mouth. Obviously, it was the wrong thing to do, because her head whipped around to look at him as if he had stabbed her. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, I just thought it was cute. You two have the same kind of enthusiasm so you would make a good pair." Even though she couldn't see it, he smiled genuinely.

The shade of red that spread across her face almost made him think she was bleeding. "W-what are you saying? It's not like that at all, I mean, Flat is nice but yo-" her eyes widened and her voice turned into a squeak.

Before Shirou could react, she had already stood and was halfway to the door. "Where are you going, I'm not done yet!" He called out to her, but she didn't even hesitate for a moment in her flight from the room. He closed his eyes as the door was slammed shut as if it would lower the volume, releasing a sigh after a few moments of silence.

What did he say? Was it something wrong? Questioning himself and replaying the event over in his mind gave him nothing but a sense of annoyance. Scratching the top of his head to relieve an itch, he moved toward his bed and collapsed on top. Like all of the other magi after that game, he was dead tired. He had been putting on a brave face to appear normal but he could have really gone for a nap.

A couple of the catches he made had torn ligaments in his shoulder and Avalon was still working away at repairing them. He mainly didn't want anyone to worry, and he felt that bothering Flat over something so minor was plain rude.

Deciding that it was likely a good idea to see how severe the damage was, he summoned the strength to stand. Shirou sauntered through his room into the bathroom where he dematerialized his normal outfit to reveal his casual clothes. With strained effort, he pulled off his shirt and looked over his body.

Wincing as he saw the damage in its full glory, he carefully ran a finger along the purplish-black skin. A massive bruise was spread across his entire shoulder, ranging further to take up portions of his chest and back as well. Touch caused pain, obviously, but even rotating the limb was aggravating. Gripping the edges of the vanity, he stared into his own eyes in the mirror and focused on breathing. If he was done for the day, it would be a good idea to get the last of his training done.

"I am the bone of my sword," he murmured, shutting one eye as the intense searing pain of a freshly forged circuit hit him. Gritting his teeth, he bore with the agony until the circuit expended the mana it had and the initial stage of his reality marble faded away.

Letting out spotty, steaming breaths, Shirou turned on the cold water and splashed some onto his face to cool his skin down. Considering everything, it was astonishing how he wasn't inside a jar on a magus' shelf. Not only were his origin and element the same but he had three forbidden miracles underneath his belt - Tracing, Time Alter and his reality marble. Each one could easily get him designated. Thankfully, they could all be hidden in one way or another. Time Alter was too brief to be investigated closely, Tracing was impossible to accuse someone of and his reality marble had to be consciously activated.

After a few minutes, the pain had subsided and he looked the rest of his body over in the mirror. For what he could see, the rest of him was in decent shape. Deciding to check all that he could, he turned on his circuits with his favoured mental imagery, just to double-check.

As expected, blue ribbons lit up across his back, glowing ethereally in the dim bathroom. Turning to get a better look, he realized that the design had changed yet again, although only slightly. The curved segments near his shoulder blades had expanded, rising high before curling sharply downward as it neared the edge of his back. What was strange was the abnormal patchy appearance. It was as if only portions of the crest had formed and it wasn't quite done filling in. Contorting himself to touch the skin, he found the entire area hot, almost as if it were-

A knock echoed through his room from the front door. With his sharp hearing, he could hear the voice of Luvia mumble beneath her breath, "you better be in here, otherwise, I don't know where else to look."

Looking around for his discarded shirt, he prepared his outfit within his mind, holding back on projecting it for the time being until he got dressed. "Who is it?" he called out, disregarding the fact that he knew already.

Throwing his shirt over his head, an annoyed tone called back to him. "It's Luvia," she paused, then resumed in a much softer tone. "I wanted to see if you were hungry."

With his shirt on, Shirou projected his outfit and casually moved to the door. Gently opening it revealed the blonde and a dense wave of perfume. It was a mouth-wateringly sweet scent that reminded him of candy and gingerbread houses. It was unusual from Luvia, but she likely had her reasons.

Twitching as the scent hit his nose at full force, he tried to appear unphased. "A little, I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast." Now that he was breathing in the smell of candy, he felt significantly hungrier.

A strange glimmer appeared in her eyes. "That's great- I mean, it's not great that you went hungry but it's good for right now."

Shirou couldn't help but snort, and the snort turned into a full-blown laugh as he thought over how awkward she was. Watching her change from hopeful to disgruntled in an instant only made him laugh harder. Through his amusement, he managed to get out a response. "Let's go get some dinner, did you have anywhere in mind?"

… … …

… … …

Shirou's eyes snapped open in the night, but for once he felt no fear or anguish. Groaning, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the sand from their corners, he turned his head upon the pillow to look over his room. He half expected an old man to be sitting on his desk, again.

He'd had a dream, a normal dream that didn't leave him with a sense of confusion and vague, fading recollections. It had been something normal, something known. A dream where he was walking through the Great Fire of Fuyuki. Shirou was mostly happy that he could remember a dream for once.

Stretching in bed, he eventually sat up and looked over at the clock. Quarter to six, just before his alarm went off. Rubbing his eyes once more, the boy stood and prepared himself for the day. Today was the last day of the Tournament, the semi-finals and final rounds were all taking place this evening. After coming home from dinner, Octavia had kindly let him know that he would need to fight three battles to claim victory of this year's tournament. She also expressed the same sentiment to Luvia, although the tone used was different somehow. He took that as a blatant sign that Luvia was still a competitor, so his chances of fighting her in one of these battles happened to be regretfully high.

He was hoping and praying that she lost. While mean to want her to lose, he would have to fight her himself if she won and that was objectively worse. Luvia was his friend and she had fought harder than he had without a doubt.

Being able to make a weapon for every occasion made all of his battles beneath A-tier nothing more than formality. Most of his collection had never been seen, as he always utilized non-lethal weaponry to disable his opponents. After moving into A-tier, Shirou quickly realized that non-lethal weapons simply weren't cutting it anymore. Even going against a low-ranking A-tier magus like Nick Vile had strained his options. If the magus had moved around rather than standing in the same exact place, Shirou would have had to utilize less than safe tactics.

Standing in front of the door, he rubbed at his eyes and tried to push thoughts of the Tournament away. He had more important things to focus on and worry about than petty games between magi. More important things like the fact that his classes were cancelled. This gave him a chance to do something he had been intending to for some time: Visit museum's to expand his collection.

… … …

The British Museum's collection revolved around daggers and shortswords, which were nice to have as projectiles, but lacking in actual combat potential. During his visit, Shirou had been able to eavesdrop on other tourists who spoke of the "Tower of London" which was supposed to have a great quantity of weaponry - something which wasn't a lie in the slightest. Instead of a few scant swords or weapons to use, Shirou now had access to dozens of different weaponry to fuel his projections now and most of them were extremely well made, with respectable durability. The Tower of London featured everything a magic blacksmith like Shirou could ask for. Maces, mauls, halberds, axes and every other weapon designed to kill. Alongside these offensive tools were items to defend and protect like shields and armour as well.

Once he was finished perusing the museums, he returned to the Imperial College so he could have lunch with Luvia, Lectra, Flat and Svin. The group had an amicable chat for a while until both Flat and Svin had to leave to attend a class of their own. Sometime after, a hand slammed down on the table, creating a loud noise which raised everyone's attention and simultaneously silenced the entire room.

"I'm sick and tired of hearing endless rumours about you and your piddly little fights in the Tournament. I'm here to see how true they really are and put an end to all the unbeatable rumours." Standing tall, the girl peered over the table, practically snarling as her eyes reached Luvia. Shirou could recognize that burgundy suit and matching hair anywhere, but why was she approaching him here? Furthermore, what was with the strange look at Luvia?

Blinking a few times to verify that this was indeed reality, he leaned back in his chair and looked her up and down with as much stoicism as possible. "Do I know you?"

The Irish woman's head snapped down to look at him with fury. "We've met once before, twerp. Bazett McRemitz, Clock Tower enforcer."

Shirou paused for a minute, and he could hear the audible creak of chairs as everyone nearby turned to look in his direction. Casually, he shrugged. "Doesn't ring any bells, sorry." He briefly looked around, confused as to what was going on. "And I'm sorry but I can't really help with the rumours. People do and say what they want."

"The problem is you're the one who's inspiring all the talk. So I've devised a little plan of my own to silence it all. A little friendly competition between combat-ready magi, you and me, right here and now," the woman decided, glaring daggers as she awaited his answer.

"What's with everyone wanting to fight? Tournaments, duels, betting," Shirou shrugged and lifted both arms in defeat. "There's more to life than beating the crap out of each other." Regretfully, he found himself standing while Bazett strode to a more open area of the room. "I can't talk you out of this?"

The Irish woman frowned, glaring daggers at him while she cracked her knuckles. "The world is kill or be killed, kid. Magi like you might end up being next in line when people like me are dead and gone. It's good to make sure you can actually do the job and protect people, not just know how." Slowly, the girl raised her fists and slid her feet back to keep positioning.

Looking to the side, he saw nothing but eyes watching them both, whispering and pointing. This attention was anything but good and word about a duel between him - a nicknamed nobody - and a genuine enforcer would start a wildfire, regardless of the outcome.

Bazett had stupid ideas, but this really took the cake. Looking back at the two girls at his table, he found encouraging smiles that basically instructed him to fight.

Facing the Irish woman directly, he tried twitching his eyes to signal "no" but she only smiled. Deciding on another tactic, he grit his teeth and forced himself to remain as composed as possible. "This is a public place, I don't think we can have magic flying around with so many people, we'll both get in trouble."

"So long as both parties agree to duel, no third party is injured and the area remains intact, no punishment will be delivered. We'll keep things simple and exclude all magecraft besides reinforcement. A hand-to-hand spar that'll work up an appetite."

Clenching both hands at his side, he stared into her burgundy eyes for a while. Shaking his head slowly, he scrunched up his face and took a step back. "No, I'm not fighting. I have nothing to gain and everything to lose."

"Then I'll make it interesting and put five thousand pounds on whoever wins," Bazett claimed. Shirou deadpanned, realizing that she was betting the money his father paid her on him. In a backwards way, she would be handing his own money back were he to lose. Knowing Bazett and money, she probably would have wanted him to give it back as well.

"A wager? I'd be willing to chip in," came a cheer from Luvia. Snapping his head around, he shot a look that could kill but she barely even twitched.

A soft gasp from the crowd was all the warning he got before a regretfully familiar voice reached his ears. "As would I," Reines declared from his side. Turning and looking down at the small woman, she returned his gaze with a soft smile. "Though I'll have to double up if it isn't too much trouble. Twenty thousand pounds, quite a bounty and certain to be enough incentive." Turning on her heel, the platinum blonde strode off to leave just as quickly as she arrived, throwing one hand over her shoulder. "Unfortunately I have business to attend to, let me know where to send the money."

"You've got a whole gaggle of girls rooting for you, kid. You aren't going to let them down, are you?" Bazett smirked, appearing coy and confident to everyone else, but Shirou knew different. She was enjoying how much she was able to tease him and she was pressing every advantage she had.

"Fine, this will either be over in a minute or drag on long enough to make history in the Clock Tower." Lifting his hands to prepare himself, the crowd rapidly assembled and the whispers grew into a monotonous buzz.

Reinforcing his body brought out minute sounds and made him increasingly more aware of his surroundings. Putting some effort into listening, he could actively pick out bits and parts of conversations going on around him.

"He's good in the Tournament but could he really take on an enforcer?"

"No way, he'll hit the ground before he can take one step. That's Bazett McRemitz, the best hand-to-hand fighter in the Tower. Blade shoots weapons from the air, he's out of his element." Tuning out the voices, he focused on the woman ahead.

Taking a step forward and closing the distance, he could pick up the sharp inhale from the Irish woman just before she moved to meet him. The first punch went as expected, but the force sent a blasting echo throughout the room that made him wince. They really weren't going to get in trouble for this? That slight hesitation was more than enough for her to take advantage of. Twisting out of the way and trying to defend himself proved useless, as a hooking punch slammed into his hip and sent him sprawling across the ground.

Sliding across the floor, a wave of "oohs" and sympathetic noises of pain carried through the audience. While it had been painful, it certainly hadn't been enough to put him out of the fight and as he stood the audience collectively gasped in surprise. "You manage to stand after a punch like that? I'm amazed, your hip should be shattered."

At the very least, she was partially correct. His hip contained numerous hairline fractures and another blow would pulverize the bone to dust. It was painful, but he could still fight with it. Lifting his fists, he took a deep breath and advanced into striking range. Almost on cue, strikes and grapple attempts were thrown at a speed he could hardly keep up with.

The pace of the battle was intense, but with his training a few days ago still fresh in his mind, he was used to Bazett putting in her all. Blocking and countering the flurry of strikes could only get him so far, he needed an edge otherwise they would continue battling a stalemate.

Time Alter-

He began, but a wave of nausea hit like a truck. The edges of his vision quivered and he barely managed to catch a punch aimed for his solar plexus. He felt like fainting and vomiting simultaneously but neither seemed to actually come. What really took him over, was a rapid sense of fatigue and the sensation of his stamina being drained away.

Keeping a tight grasp on the woman's fist, everything around them suddenly slowed to a near stop, except the two of them. Bazett seemed to notice something was off immediately and she paused to look at the almost stationary crowd. "What the hell just happened?" The woman tugged back her hand but Shirou maintained a tight grip. The full-body weakness coupled with the sudden motion sent him teetering forward onto his knees. "Let go of me, kid."

Panting heavily, Shirou looked up to her with the first hints of uncertainty. "I don't know what will happen if I do."

Narrowing her eyes, she looked him over accusingly. At the very least, she had stopped trying to break free. "What does that mean? If you know what's going on you'd better let me know."

Lowering his head, he took a few deep breaths to gather his strength before standing. Now on his feet, he could look into her eyes with seriousness. "Remember when I first used Time Alter and I was stuck out in the yard for hours?"

The realization bloomed in her eyes immediately. "So you and I are stuck here like this?" He nodded weakly and a scowl spread across her features. "And if you let go of me, I might be stuck here permanently. Good call to hold on, kid."

Breathily offering his thanks for the compliment, he shut his eyes tight to try and rid himself of the nausea. "I used Time Alter yesterday and it looks like Gaia got upset when I tried to use it again so soon." Swallowing as the sensations affecting him gradually abated, he looked at the people barely moving some distance away. "Looks like time in here is moving faster than out there. All they'll see is a bunch of blurs."

"So they can't see or hear us right now?" Bazett murmured. She suddenly turned to him and her lips turned to a menacing smile. "I had initially planned to let you win but with twenty grand on the line I'm going to have to take this one."

Huffing out a weak laugh, he shook his head. "In your dreams. While you've been gone, I've learned a few new tricks."

Raising one eyebrow, the woman looked rather annoyed. "With a few tricks, you think you're as tough as an enforcer now? Seems like the magi at the Tower have started to rub off on you."

"Guess we'll just have to see," he remarked ominously. After watching Luvia fight in the Tournament, Shirou had picked up a few techniques that could easily take Bazett by surprise.

After a moment of awkward silence, Bazett drummed up conversation. "So this is what you and your father see while using that spell?"

"I think so. There's another technique but I've never actually used it." The stagnate form of Time Alter was interesting to say the least and it could be used effectively in the right situation. Hiding from detection or playing dead as Kiritsugu had done when Bazett first arrived both leapt to mind.

But what else could it really do? Shirou hadn't thought of much but there were a few hypothetical uses he would need to try. "I was serious about those rumours pissing me off by the way. Didn't your father tell you not to make a name for yourself?"

Shirou pursed his lips behind his scarf, knowing full well that the old man had said exactly that. "Lord El-Melloi the Second told me to sign up because it would keep the other magi off my back. He was right, but I don't think he was expecting me to gather a following." He paused, blinked, then furrowed his brow. "And what do you think this is? Challenging me to a duel in the middle of the cafeteria?"

She snorted into a smirk. "I was just teasing. Even though you've attracted the attention of Reines, the Vice Director doesn't seem too interested. Whatever you've told her has put you on the bottom of her priorities which is a damn good thing in my mind."

"That doesn't answer my question. Why start a fight here and now?"

She shrugged, an awkward act considering one of her fists was being gripped tightly by Shirou. "Solidify your position with the other magi. If you can best an enforcer, you're well above any A-tier magi and that will demoralize the remaining competitors. But now it's for money and that money is mine."

Narrowing his eyes, he stood a little taller and couldn't help but smirk. Was this what his father felt when the two had their battles? He had to admit, a friendly competition seemed pretty entertaining. "Do your worst, McRemitz."

… … …

"What did you expect would happen after fighting a real enforcer?" Lectra sighed, huffing as she tied the sling around his arm. Bazett had broken it entirely with her elbow after catching his punch.

"I still won, didn't I?" he asked, keeping one eye shut so the blood dripping down the side of his face wouldn't cause irritation. It had been a long battle that far more intense than any training session. Each blow threatened to cause grievous injury and it was only through luck that he managed to win. In the last decisive move, Bazett had taken a step too far to the side and her foot caught the leg of a chair. In that stumbling motion, he had been able to overpower her. Had the area been clear, it was hard to say who might have won.

"It was incredible to watch and I can't believe you won, but you still have a tournament to fight in. How do you expect to win with all those wounds?" she asked, jabbing two fingers into his side playfully.

Hissing at the jolting pain, he gave her a harsh look. "Flat should be able to help but we'll need to find him first."

Lectra's eyes suddenly sparkled. "That's easy, it's one in the afternoon so he'll be in the common room on the east end."

The glare turned into a look of concern. "You've only known him for a couple days, how do you already know his routine?"

The girl blushed, turning to look away in the direction he assumed they would be going. "Well you know, I just pick up on things like that."

He hummed accusingly but eventually decided she was right. "You did seem to hook onto my schedule pretty quickly." Nodding as the girl made a squeaking noise, he stepped past her. "Alright, well let's go find him."

… … …

… … …

"Begin!" came the cry of the announcer and Shirou snapped forward like a bullet. The other magus, Kain, hardly had a moment to spare, quickly flourishing his hands and speaking a foreign language to produce a torrent of ice shards from both palms.

Throwing himself to the floor to avoid the icy spray, Shirou slid across the dirt beneath the attack, sliding right up to his opponent's feet. Unable to shift the attack so close due to splash back, the magus tried to leap backward but Shirou was much faster. Placing Kain's legs between his own, Shirou twisted on the floor and tripped the man onto his back.

From here, victory was easy. Scrambling to deliver a knockout blow and end the fight as quickly as possible, Shirou suddenly felt his muscles become unresponsive and tried to stand, but he ground to a halt before even getting out of a crouch. It wasn't as if he had held himself back or portions of his body had stopped working, it was almost like he had been frozen in time.

The other magus was panicked, frightened by how quickly he had almost lost, but now he appeared more confident and a smirk befell his gleaming eyes. Only able to move his eyes, Shirou tried to find the cause for his situation, spotting a pair of glasses lying on the dirt some distance away. They had likely fallen off when he hit his back. The barest trace revealed their magical construction and there was an immediate correlation between these glasses to the mystic eye killers the werewolf freelancers had worn.

While he hadn't thought of tracing the glasses, Shirou had definitely traced the man, so how had he missed his Mystic Eyes? Running another trace just to make sure, he repeated the process of comparing them to Illya's eyes and found the reason immediately. While both had Mystic Eyes of Binding, they were fundamentally different. Unlike this man, Illya could alter the strength of her binding effect by passing more mana through the circuitry. Because he didn't know what to look for, he had glazed over Kain's eyes entirely.

Unlike most magi, who would have confidently boasted their assured victory, the mage didn't hesitate in moving to end the battle. Large icicles were formed and fired into both of Shirou's shoulders, piercing the skin and immobilizing each of his arms. Hardly expecting the attack, but unable to scream, darkness clouded Shirou's eyes and all concentration was shattered.

The searing cold amplified the pain significantly until it was all he could think about. Only able to move his eyes, Shirou watched the magus approach, forming a hefty club of ice into both hands. Lifting the weapon high above his head, Shirou could see his defeat on the way. Without many options, he decided on something crazy that happened to be ridiculous enough to work.

Mana funnelled to create the blueprint and as the club was beginning its downward swing, the creation formed around him. Shirou had thought he had been too late, but when an explosive clang echoed through the arena, he knew otherwise.

Covering most of his half-crawling body was a steel kiteshield emblazoned with an ancient family crest. To absorb the impact, swords had been welded to three points, positioned so they could stab the ground and act as an impact-bearing tripod.

Still unable to move but with a moment to think, Shirou traced the ground of the arena, locating the magus through the pressure acting on the dirt since he was unable to see Kain directly. Instead of trying to move or defend himself, Shirou projected maces and small warhammers, rapidly firing them toward the magus' general location. The other magi had been expecting such a move evidently, as most of his weapons were deflected with icicles or frozen into dense cubes in the air.

On the second dozenth wave of projectiles, a meaty thwack preceded a visceral crack. Whatever had been struck had broken as well and if the scream was anything to go off of, it had been a painful experience. Tracing the ground to verify Kain's position, he located the magus' position once more. By the weight distribution, he was lying on the ground, an easy, immobile target.

The next wave of blunt instruments appeared over Shirou's motionless shoulders and all at once, they aimed toward the prone target. Before any could be fired, a cry stopped him short and an eerie silence descended across the arena. "For the love of God stop, please!" a man's voice cried. As unexpectedly as the cry to stop, motion returned to Shirou and a sense of confusion soon followed. Standing with obvious pain from the icicles embedded in each shoulder, he spotted the downed form of his opponent.

His eyes were shut and tears were streaming out of their corners. Looking further down, Shirou spotted the man's thigh, crushed by a high-velocity mace. His femur had been shattered by the impact and the pain was likely to be excruciating. "Don't kill me like that girl, I don't want to die!" the man cried, gripping his demolished leg in agony. "I saw what you did to her and that enforcer, just don't hurt me anymore please!" He continued pleading, bawling freely on the ground.

Furrowing his brow, he tried to move his arms and was rapidly reminded of their immobile state and the pain they caused. In the softest tone he could manage with the icy agony coursing through his body, he tried to placate the man. "I'm not going to kill you, I nev-"

"Please," the man shouted, cutting him off. "I forfeit the Magus Tournament, I don't want to fight anymore just let me go you murderer!" Shaking his head violently with closed eyes, the injured man tried to make as much distance as possible by crawling away. There was a few seconds' pause before the announcer boomed overhead and the door at the far end of the arena opened wide.

Shirou couldn't be bothered with either, however, and he continued looking at the downed man in bewilderment. He was genuinely scared for his life as if he was expecting it to end. Looking down at his own hands, Shirou tried to find the malice in them. Had he become that threatening on reputation alone?

People avoided him, but was it because they were scared of him? Did people think he would kill anyone who got in his way? Was this what Bazett and Waver had wanted to happen? Clenching his fists brought near-blinding pain as his but the sensation seemed to alleviate the stress brought on by the thought in his mind.

Just when the questioning voice in his head became unbearable, a snapping noise caught his attention and brought his head up. It was the kind old man once again, looking at him with more concern than he had ever had before. "You need help pulling those out or do you want them left there?" he asked, gesturing to the icicles still embedded in his shoulders.

Shirou opened his mouth to speak but his throat closed tight and he needed to clear his throat before he could. "If you wouldn't mind," he ended up mumbling. The old man reached up to gently grip the shards of ice.

"This might hurt but I'll try to take it out as gent-" the man interrupted himself by violently yanking upward to remove both simultaneously. The unexpected shock forced an outcry from his lips, made his vision blur and sent weakness to his knees. Shirou didn't fully collapse but only because the old man graciously hooked his shoulders to keep him upright. "It's not as painful if you don't expect it, sorry. You know, since you won't let me heal you, this is the first time I've been able to actually help you with something," he chuckled, straining to keep the two of them standing. "Feels nice to help someone, hell, that's why I got into this in the first place."

As the pain subsided and limited use of his arms returned, Shirou managed to stand on his own, clumsily thanking the old man for the assistance. Placing one hand on his shoulder, the attendant smiled. "I wouldn't worry about that other kid too much. He's never been injured so I think the shock and pain might have gotten to him." Patting his shoulder reassuringly, Shirou couldn't find any relief in his words. If anything, they were more troubling. "No matter what everyone says about you, I know you're not a monster."

… … …

Waver let out an exasperated sigh. "So it's decided then. Win or lose his next battles, I'm forced to accept Haruto Takahashi as one of my pupils." Taking a long drag on the last remnants of a cigar, his attention was stripped away by an out of character giggle from Reines.

Both eyes were practically glued on the masked man and an evil look was strewn across her face. "An interesting event for the Faker, I see my efforts have already had the intended effect."

Narrowing his eyes, Waver set down his cigar. "Did you have a hand in the outcome of this battle, Lady Archisortie?"

The girl only giggled more, abruptly standing from her chair to move closer to the glass. "I wouldn't look too far into the matter, dear brother."

"Even immobilized, this man is able to demonstrate overwhelming power. Without sight, he tracked the other magus and launched projectiles with surprising accuracy." The soft voice of Gray came from his other side.

Turning his head he spotted the other girl practically mirroring Reines, pressed up against the glass wall. "It sounds like you've taken an interest in him, remember my warning regarding Add."

All he received as response was a hum of agreement, a notion which frustrated him to no end. Narrowing his eyes and grumbling a moment, he crushed out his cigar. Shirou only needed to fight in two more battles, then he would become this year's champion, what would happen to him then?

"Lord El-Melloi?" came a question from Gray, popping the thought in his mind. Looking into her emerald eyes, he offered a quizzical look, an indication for her to continue. "Where is Flat? I haven't seen him in a while."

With a breathy nasal laugh, the Lord merely raised a finger, pointing down to the arena where a golden-haired boy was running out onto the field. He wore a bright white shirt that was at least two sizes too big for him, with a large red medical cross emblazoned on the back.

"He's acting as Blade's medical assistance for the Tournament. As the Clock Tower wouldn't want him to die to any injuries, and because Flat's technique of healing offers no advantage, it was allowed," the Lord explained.

"You're allowing contact between the two? Aren't you afraid of how Blade might influence him?" the girl asked, concern evident in her voice.

Confusion edged its way into his features. "What sort of influence? Blade is a skilled individual with sound morals and ethics. You can see clearly through the way he handles his opponents in the Tournament that he means no undue harm to any of the competitors. His use of lethal weaponry has been minimal even though he has access to such things."

Gray stared at him silently for a moment. "Then why would it cause the end of the world if he were to see Add? How could he end the world if he isn't an evil being?"

The Lord clenched his jaw, trying to think of a decent explanation. The possibility that Shirou could create a copy of Add was very high. With that possibility, came the additional possibility of him making use of the device. If Shirou happened to deem the situation dire enough to use Add at its full power…

Eventually, he decided on an excuse. It was flimsy and revealed he was avoiding the question to those perceptive enough, but it would work for now. "I would prefer your secrets go unreplicated. I have one of you and that is more than enough."

… … …

… … …

When Shirou's name was called again, a pit spawned in the very deepest point of his stomach. Luviagelita Edelfelt and Haruto Takahashi would fight for second place. It was Shirou's worst nightmare, having to decide over his own gain and someone else's. In his mind, he had decided, but was it really the correct choice?

Pinching the bridge of his nose as he walked, a sense of guilt stirred within. The competitor area was packed with eager magi but as soon as they spotted him, a deathly silence descended over each one.

Scowling with more sadness than anger, he stormed into the arena and was surprised to see Luvia already there, waiting for him. As they made eye contact, she spoke with a confidence he had never heard from her before.

"Fate has set you up against me, Blade." She pointed at him, then drew her hand back to rest on her chest dramatically. "When we first met, you said I would be able to see under your scarf if I won the Tournament and now you're one of the last two things standing between me and that goal!" she shouted as if such a goal was anything to be proud of.

The clapping they had entered into immediately died off at her comment, and a rush of second-hand embarrassment mixed with the complex emotions he was already experiencing. "Luvia, normal people don't say that kind of thing out loud in front of hundreds of people."

The sound of amusement echoed all around him, further fueling his embarrassment. Now, hundreds of people were laughing at them and Luvia hardly seemed phased, standing tall with supreme confidence. "It doesn't matter what you or the other magi think. This was my objective and I'll achieve it no matter what!"

Sighing, Shirou threw his head down. "I'm not going to fight you, I can't."

The girl furrowed her brow then scoffed. "Is it because I'm a girl?"

"No, it's because-"

The announcer boomed overtop of him. "I am in no way sorry for interrupting you, let the fight begin!" Without hesitating at the call to action, Luvia shot forward toward him like an arrow.

Eyes snapping open and hands raising to defend himself, he called out for her to wait but the words fell on deaf ears. The first punch thrown by Luvia was explosive, literally. He tried to grasp her incoming fist but as soon as she contacted him, a blast of mana fired his arm backward. With most of his chest open, the girl spread open her fist, pointing her fingers forward while speaking something in German.

Before he could even react, black and crimson orbs formed at the tip of each finger, firing once they rapidly grew to the size of baseballs. Attempting to twist out of the way, he managed to avoid two of the four projectiles, taking the other two in the chest and shoulder. Each one was like a hammer, forcing the wind from his chest and blowing him backward a short distance. Those were shots of gandr, something he was familiar with, but how was she able to fire multiple shots at once?

Sliding across the ground, he began wheezing and gasping for air, thankfully remaining on his feet. "Luvia-wait!" he managed to croak out, realizing that she had no intentions of stopping until the battle was over. Trying to wheeze in enough oxygen, he squeezed out a very raspy "trace on" and projected tower shields to float slightly in the air. With a heavy clang, they landed on the ground, acting as a wall between the two.

Heaving a breath, he managed to recover somewhat. But that respite didn't last long. Like a cannon had hit the other side, the tower shield wall exploded outward violently, flinging pieces of mana-based metal throughout the arena. Like an unstoppable force, she carried onward without a scratch and seamlessly flew forward with a fist reared back.

Gritting his teeth and using what little oxygen he had, he quickly projected the extending bo staff and used it to launch himself vertically. In the air, he gave a plea downward. "Can you hold on for just a second?" The blonde responding by opening her first and pointing her fingers in his direction. Realizing the intention, Shirou quickly flipped the staff in his hands and extended it toward the domed ceiling. The extension fired him sideways and gravity brought him back to earth some distance away. Stray shots of gundr exploded harmlessly against the roof, clumsily trying to trace his path.

Landing on his feet with some difficulty due to the speed, he rapidly projected swords and created a circular prison around the blonde. "Luvia, listen to me, I never wanted to fight you in the Tournament, this was never my plan."

The Edelfelt girl was stuck in her sword-made cage, looking around before gripping the blades themselves and pulling with her bare hands. "Whether it was your plan or not, this is what's happening and I'm not going to lie down and lose this bet!" She slammed one fist into the flat of a blade making up the prison. Like the tower shields, his creations exploded outward as if they were made of paper.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you!" he barked back, but before he could continue, she was in his face throwing fists. Thankfully, she was slower and not as efficient as Bazett. On top of that, Luvia was expectedly falling into his suicidal technique, so the battle wasn't quite as harrowing. He was able to "predict" her moves by making her next strike obvious.

Luvia wasn't quite a professional when it came to hand-to-hand. Her prowess was more in grappling than actual fist fighting. So long as she didn't get the advantage and take hold of him, he was relatively safe. He had to admire her resolve, as the torrent of attacks and attempted gandr strikes held strong for a minute.

Tiring herself out, Shirou caught a slight decrease of speed in her motion and quickly capitalized. As her arm shot forward to deliver another strike, he twisted and gripped onto her wrist, yanking the smaller woman forward while hooking his other arm beneath her shoulder. The speed of his movements allowed him to slip further behind her and immobilized her other arm in the same manner. With strength and height, he was able to lift the girl partly off the ground by her shoulders alone.

"If you don't want to listen, I'll just have to force you to." Luvia was struggling and trying to get free like a fish out of water, squirming and nearly causing him to lose his grip. "I'm not fighting you. If this is what it takes for second place then I don't want it."

"What are you saying?" the girl growled, futilely trying to kick at his reinforced legs. "Just finish this, end the fight and move on!"

Throwing his brow, a rush of anger flooded through him. "Fine then, you want me to end the fight, that's exactly what I'll do." Looking up toward the domed glass ceiling, he narrowed his eyes as if he could see behind it. "I, Haruto Takahashi-"

"Stop it, what are you doing you idiot!" Luvia cried, still trying to wriggle free. "You'll be throwing all your effort away!"

Growling himself, he lifted the girl higher until her feet were floating off the ground. "I've never cared about this stupid tournament, can't you see that? I only signed up for a joke and it's given me nothing but trouble! You're the one who's been fighting for years looking to win and I'm not going to take that away from you." The girl continued squirming, even as he looked back up to the ceiling and finished what he planned to announce:

"I forfeit the Tournament."

… … …

Storming out of his dressing room, he quickly threw the hood over his head and tugged the edges tight around his face. Continuing his tirade down the hall toward the screening area, he suddenly bumped into and nearly toppled a man wearing dark robes.

Looking up, he spotted an entirely stoic face leering at him with absolute neutrality. Behind the already familiar man were two other faces he recognized.

"Lord El-Melloi the Second?" he found himself asking.

"You must enjoy using my entire title to address me," he commented, brushing the front of his coat off.

Shirou looked between Reines, Waver and the strange woman Gray. Immediately upon noticing her, Avalon forced a pressure into his chest, an urging suggestion. "It's a matter of respect, your lordship."

The lord in question narrowed his eyes, allowing a hum to spawn in his throat. "Regardless, I've come to offer you something of value." With his interest piqued, the boy asked what it might be. "A position as one of my pupils. You would receive private tutoring in whichever fields you select and specific training for your unique ability."

Reines chimed in from the side, maintaining her usual chilly disposition. "Big brother has offered you this opportunity because you were able to place in this year's Tournament. You are the only one to ever be formally asked to be one of his students."

Shirou looked deep into Waver's eyes to determine his intentions. Finding absolutely nothing, he tried another way of weaselling out of this. "How will you have any time for me when you already have Flat, Svin," he paused, as the thought of Gray brought her face to his mind. The image interrupted his train of thought for the barest moment, though it likely came off as him forgetting her name, "and Gray."

"I've had more than four pupils at once. Besides, Flat and Svin are both experienced magi with a firm understanding of their abilities after my assistance. They hardly require any more guidance." The Lord continued beaming at him expectedly, as did the two girls on either side.

Considering his options, which were surprisingly sparse, he decided on what he believed to be the path of least resistance. "In that case, I accept your gracious offer."

The man nodded shortly. "I'm glad to hear it. If you aren't busy, I would like to see you tomorrow morning in the study room outside my office, are you familiar with its location?"

Shirou pulled up the map of the Clock Tower in his mind. Using the signatures of previous traces and comparing them to that of the man directly ahead of him, he narrowed the options down to two places. "I believe so. The first basement level on the north-east side, right?"

The man's face twitched, and surprise edged its way onto his face. "Yes, it is." The Lord cleared his throat, looking back toward Reines. "We should be going, the two of us have other business to handle."

"But-" Reines began.

"No buts, I've given you some extra freedom the past week but you've been falling behind in your studies." Turning halfway around, he offered one last glance toward his new student. "What you did with Luvia was very noble, I'm certain those close to you are proud." Turning around fully, he walked toward the exit.

Gray stayed behind, beaming at him for a few seconds before hastily turning and moving to catch up. Avalon sent a wave of extreme pressure to his chest. She was leaving, and the relic wanted him to speak up.

Gritting his teeth, the pressure grew worse as Gray moved closer to the exit. It felt like his lungs would explode out of his chest as she trailed out of the open door behind the second Lord El-Melloi. Only when she was gone did the pressure alleviate, but a pulsing sensation timed to his heartbeat continued to remind him of his error.

"I can't ask her anything in public, just give me a little time. When the time is right I'll talk to her and figure out whatever it is you want to know." He could tell by how the relic hesitated to ease the pain that its faith in him was waning. Whether he wanted to or not, he would be forced to talk with Gray.

Letting out a harsh sigh, he did his best to ignore the pressure. On the other side of that door would be a crowd that would mob him with questions, insults and everything under the sun. Out of all the recent events, a single thought brought a smile to his face. With his loss in the Tournament, the wealthy magi who happened to bet on him had likely lost a hefty sum.

… … ...

The heavy bag echoed through the empty gym with each punch. A solid thwap as flesh rebounded off rigid faux leather. Accompanying each noise was the rush of moving air and a huff of laboured breath, along with the much quieter patter of heated sweat dripping to the floor. He had left the lights to the room off, leaving the area dim enough to hide detailed features but bright enough so he could see what he was doing.

Shirou had been in the gym for hours, exercising the thoughts away and trying to forcefully eject them with punches. He was using the heaviest bag he could find, packed solid with dense sand that was still being dented with each powerful strike.

His mind was foggy, clouded and distant from the activity. The magus had called him a murderer, he had feared and grovelled for his life when there wasn't any threat of danger. So what was the real cause? Were the rumours surrounding him just that ominous or was something else at play?

Gritting his teeth and growling in anger, his right fist plowed into the bag, blast of mana snapping the chains suspending it from the ceiling. With a heavy thud from the wall on the opposite side of the gym, the bag slumped to the floor.

Huffing in exhaustion, Shirou looked down at his bleeding, smoking fists. He had killed five people with these hands and even now, he could see the blood of every single one. Regardless of the events leading up to their death, they were still people and they still deserved to live.

Didn't they?

But if they were allowed to live, each one would have harmed his friends and family, or both. Was one life truly worth more than the other? If every life was equal, if the old man and his ideals were right, then he was a monster, nothing more than a murderer.

But if each individual had a value, what then?

The questions continued piling up again and again. Each time the looping spiral into confusion made him feel trapped, confined. It felt like he was being crushed from all sides and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had been forcing these feelings down for so long, but they were all surfacing at once, he was hopeless, he was a monster, he was-

Footsteps brought him out of his self-reflection near instantly. Snapping his head upright, he spotted Lectra, staring at him like she had seen a ghost. "Blade? After what happened in the Tournament, you disappeared like a ghost!" She moved forward a few steps but stopped abruptly upon catching sight of his state. "Everyone has been worried about you," she mumbled, looking him up and down.

Growing self-conscious immediately, Shirou looked down to see his sweaty, blood-stained gear. The blood was all his, smeared across the fabric from his bleeding knuckles. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to make anyone worry."

A long, awkward silence followed that let Shirou realize just how cold the room was. "It's fine, as long as you're safe," Lectra eventually sighed, taking a few more cautious steps forward. "Have you been down here since the Tournament? It's almost midnight, and it was six when you left."

"It's really been that long? Guess I lost track of time," he laughed hollowly, turning his head down so he wouldn't have to look her in the eyes. Three more footsteps set her at an arm's length away. A shiver coursed through his body, making him wonder when the air got so cold.

"You sure you're alright? It isn't like you to isolate yourself-" she paused abruptly, noticing something. There was the sound of a minor struggle and the ruffling of heavy fabric. Before he could react, a hoodie was being thrust in his direction. Across the front was her trademark kittens-in-ramen design. "You're shivering, so here. It's too big for me so it should fit you."

Looking up hesitantly, he found her bubbly, smiling face staring back at him from above a thin black t-shirt with a bright yellow smiley face on the chest. His eyes flickered between the article being offered and his bloodied hands. "If you get blood on it, no biggie, can always get another."

His fingers twitched toward it for a moment, before his mind properly took control and he gave his head a shake. "No thanks, you've had it for years, I don't want to ruin it."

The smile softened partly and she pulled the hoodie back to deeply examine its cracked design. "So you really can see things like that. Can you tell who gave it to me?"

Shirou was confused for a moment, but he couldn't find a reason to decline. Because it wasn't a weapon, he would need to put in some effort to find any detailed facts. In the darkness of the gym, he mumbled "trace on", closed his eyes and delved into the history of the article.

It was made in Hong Kong by several Chinese children more than eight years ago. From there it was shipped to the UK, Glasgow specifically, where it was purchased within five days by a man named Peter Stross. It was delivered by mail to London, where it was then unboxed on Christmas day, 1994 by a girl named Landry Hammon, the same girl standing just ahead.

Opening his eyes, he furrowed his brow. It was a gift, so why didn't she know who had given it to her? Why was she so interested? " Peter Stross," he spoke before thinking, rapidly wondering if he would regret the statement.

Oddly enough, Lectra didn't speak a word. There was a moment of silence, then an uncharacteristically hollow chuckle as she clenched her hand into a fist around the garment. "Peter Stross," she mumbled thoughtfully. As he was about to say something, the girl returned her gaze to him with another bright smile. "It's late and you've got to wake up early tomorrow for class, right? You can crash in my room if you don't want to walk all the way back to yours."

"Before I go anywhere, can I clean up a little?" Shirou asked quietly, still conscious of his sweat-coated condition. She nodded and he turned to head toward the showers before she quickly called out his name.

A few steps away, Lectra's voice called out to him. "Your hands are still bleeding, I've never seen you bleed from such small wounds like that for more than a couple minutes," she pointed out, gesturing toward his knuckles. Bringing one hand to his face for a closer investigation he discovered Lectra was right.

His skin wasn't repairing itself like usual.

… … …

… … …

Waking up the next morning was far from anything joyful. Rather than being achy or tired, he awoke in pain. Sparing a glance at his hands, he found the source immediately. Underneath the bloodied bandages, his wounds pulsed with the beat of his heart. Avalon wasn't accelerating his healing and he had a very good indication as to why: The relic was punishing him for not speaking to Gray.

Sitting up in his bed he looked up to find the elegant form of Reines seated plainly on his desk. The stare she offered was unnaturally casual; blinking slowly once, she elegantly crossed her legs and settled both hands on her knees. "You talk in your sleep."

Rubbing his eyes to assure that he wasn't hallucinating, Shirou frowned and mumbled out a, "what do I say?"

The girl paused and the corners of her lips flickered upward for the barest moment. "You don't really talk much, but you ask why a lot and sound like you're in pain. What you do say, doesn't make any sense." The girl pushed herself off the desk, standing demurely in front of his desk. "Being honest, it's interesting to watch." He stared at her for a moment before glancing at the alarm clock on his night table. It was six in the morning, didn't she have anything better to do?

Standing, he tried to grab one of the shirts neatly folded on the edge of his desk, only managing to yank it off the edge to the ground before hissing in pain. With Avalon healing him all his life, he had nearly forgotten that scabs, blisters and other painful lesions existed. Every flex of his knuckles broke open the scabs, re-opened the wounds and sent burning pain through his arms. "Boundaries just don't exist for you, do they?" The question seemed to fly right over her head, as she held a vacant stare. "Breaking into someone's room and watching them sleep is kind of creepy."

Bending down, he picked up the shirt with more force, gritting his teeth through the pain. It was a labour to put it on, as both arms were sore from his overdone training last night. Shaking her head slowly to avoid throwing her perfectly straight hair around, she gave him a serious look. "That wasn't my goal. I've come to let you know that it is time for you to make good on our deal."

It took him a second, but he remembered what deal she referred to: Reines would get the other magi off Lectra's back, but he would need to do a few favours of his own for her. "You need me right now?"

"Right now is possibly the only time we have. I will give you ten minutes to prepare yourself, but you will accompany me after that." Turning casually on her heels, she strode through his small room to the door, opening and closing it behind herself.

Breathing out a heavy sigh, he let his shoulders collapse and his entire body relax. Closing his eyes tight, he reached out to find the golden glow of Avalon, surprised when darkness was all he could find. "I know you can hear me, so just work with me for now. There's nothing I can say or do to get out of this, so you'll have to wait."

He paused, expecting the light to appear and for his body to begin healing. When nothing of the sort happened, he grew irritated. "Look, you either help now for a little while longer or I might die and you'll never get to speak with her."

Nothing.

No, less than nothing.

He felt hollow, like a key component of who he was had been cut off and silenced. Grumbling angrily, he opened his eyes and resigned himself to the fact that Avalon simply wasn't going to help him out for now.

As fast as he could with his injured hands, he prepared himself for the day and stepped out of his room with his projected outfit. Reines didn't even speak a word, simply acknowledging him with her eyes before walking down the hall. He followed her throughout the Clock Tower to the first basement level. Their journey ended when they reached a large, clinical-looking room.

Positioned in the center, was a cushioned chair with clamps on the arm rests. Beneath the chair, was a square sheet of wrinkled heavy plastic. Upon analyzing the room, he looked toward Reines with great concern. "Barbaric in appearance, yes. However, I believe it will be necessary."

"You expect me to sit in that?" he asked with some astonishment.

"Of course, if you're willing to help Lectra of course."

Glancing between the platinum blonde and the strange chair, he considered how much he would go through to help Lectra. While asking the question in his mind, his body already decided to move forward.

Carefully seating himself in the chair, he shimmied himself into a comfortable position. With a synchronized clang, both clamps snapped down around his wrists, locking him into the chair. That had been expected, but the large clamp that snapped around his neck to keep his head in place hadn't. With some surprise, he began struggling futilely in his restrains.

Calmly from behind him, Reines began an explanation. "The first component of our deal was that you were to get a haircut. After seeing your reaction to such a prospect, I determined this was the only way you would allow it to happen."

At that moment, the clipping sound of scissors was scarier than anything else in his life. "You can't be serious, you're really going to cut my hair?" The girl merely hummed in the positive and without much more warning, he felt slim hands grip at his hair and scissors trimming them to length.

Despite his struggling and wriggling, the girl carried on and regardless of how much he shouted and pleaded for help, nobody came. Reines Archisortie had tricked him and he was trapped like a rat.

If only someone would have heard his cries for help.


The end of the "Tournament Arc". Unfortunate, but all good things need to come to an end - this arc especially. I've got some spicy stuff planned for the next chapter and I hope that writing it goes a little better than it did for this one.

Remember to shout out my beta Talndir for providing an extensive amount of help and for the timely editing!

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