EDIT: Our fates are predetermined, at least that's what a fortune-teller told me. What do you guys all think? Is she crazy or not?
When have I ever been nice to you?
Well, responding with "today" would be fitting, don't you think!? I said I was on hiatus, I told you I was going away to recuperate from my writer's block but it was surprisingly short-lasting!
In its stead, a new problem has bloomed though: Lack of time. School is getting a little heavy in terms of workload. I hope you really enjoyed Illya's little adventure, but we're back on track with more canon good stuff.
I appreciate all your reviews and feedback, but hopefully, this chapter will inspire you all to propose more theories and try to determine just who that very obscure servant might be, or why they know so much.
Surprisingly, Shirou hadn't had one of his trademark nightmares. It was the first time in an extremely long time and the timing couldn't have been any better if he'd planned for it. Waking up well-rested and refreshed, Shirou prepared breakfast for the three remaining members within the household. While there was a reduced number of people at the house, Shirou was cooking enough food for six people and at the end of each meal, not a single scrap remained. Saber and Lancer ate an astounding amount and the two knights seemed to challenge one another on who could eat more than the other.
Shirou merely took what he could while the ravenous servants battled one another. After inhaling most of his meal, Lancer was first to speak. "With each new day, my position on you is solidified further. I'm absolutely certain you would have had a place amidst the Round were you alive during the time."
Saber made a soft snort through her nose. "If Camelot's kitchen counted as the Round Table, I would agree."
Lancer offered Shirou a small smirk. "That's as close as you're going to get, I'm afraid. The king hardly ever changes her mind on things, especially topics of this nature."
Shirou forced a receptive smile. "That's fine by me. Being honest, I couldn't see myself seated at the Round Table anyway, so a confirmation of the fact isn't too insulting."
Both servants replied to the comment with visible shock. Obviously, they hadn't expected him to decline any chance at joining what was undoubtedly a position of extreme honour - to them at least. "An interesting point of view," Lancer stated, tilting his head in confusion.
The boy shrugged, lifted his plate and shuffled a large amount of rice into his mouth. "Would you care to explain that outlook?" Saber questioned. Lowering his plate, his eyes were met by two blazing emerald ones, glaring straight through him.
Unnerved by the sight, the boy shuddered once before composing himself. "It's just my personal belief, do I need to explain myself for that?" Awkwardly, the boy took his freshly emptied plate and moved toward the kitchen. While it was good housekeeping to clean up after one's self while the stains were fresh and easy to remove, it also gave Shirou an excuse to leave the table and conversation entirely.
At least, that's what would have happened in a perfect world. Seeing as how the kitchen and dining room weren't even fully separated and were only ten feet apart at most, Saber continued prying. "Is there something you are not telling us, Shirou? Has your father's methodology corrupted you as well?"
Keeping his head down on his plate as he prepared one side of the sink to wash, Shirou grit his teeth and took a deep breath to let the scalding comment wash over him without harm. "My father, Kiritsugu Emiya, has no corruptive methodology."
"Then what do you call-"
Shirou snapped his head upright to glare scaldingly at the King of Knights, silencing her in place with his cold glare. "The Magus Killer, the man he was and the man he could have become. That's the one you're looking for. As long as Kiritsugu Emiya has been my father, the Magus Killer has been dead." There was much more venom in his voice than he intended but the deed was done and he was set on seeing it through. "There's only one thing keeping Kiritsugu Emiya alive and he's with her right now." Continuing to bore through Saber's skull, Shirou opened his mouth to speak but a doorbell cut him off before he could finish.
Clenching his jaw, the two servants remained silent. They had been told that all door-answering would be done by a normal human, by Lancer in disguise in a worst-case scenario. With repressed anger, Shirou halted the flow of water into the basin, dried his hands and proceeded to the front door. He was typically happy to receive guests or visitors, but with times so tense, it was difficult to feel that way now. The person at his door was likely Taiga, searching for breakfast or returning to redouble her efforts in chewing him out for missing school.
Rounding the corner to the entry hallway, Shirou immediately realized by the silhouette on the sliding door that the visitor was certifiably not Taiga. Based on the hair, the culprit was more likely to be Sakura or Lectra if anyone. Furrowing his brow, the boy approached the door and slid it open calmly. Even if it was a rival master, they would have to be stupid to attack him in broad daylight.
With the door open, Shirou blinked in surprise as a familiar friendly face came into view: It was Mitsuzuri, beaming brightly as she produced a casual half-wave. She was wearing a soft pink zip-up sweater that looked to be as comfortable as the colour. Hanging open, he was able to see the logo on the white shirt she wore, which happened to be a club shirt from when they had won the district Kyudo tournament together. Her legs were covered by jeans folded up once at the bottom to keep the lowest hem from dragging on the ground, an act which revealed her casual slip-on shoes as if that was anything of concern. "Hiya, Shirou," she greeted, cocking her head to the side as he stared at her, appalled. "Is there something on my face?"
Shirou blinked and his mental functionality returned all at once. "No, no that's not it. I'm just surprised to see you here is all." Calling it mere surprise was an understatement. Mitsuzuri was the least likely person he expected to visit him, but it wasn't entirely out of the question. He had been absent from school for some time and hadn't contacted anyone beyond Taiga to explain why.
Couple that with the fact that Mitsuzuri was a close friend who typically made sure he was keeping straight and that it was a weekend - and her appearance might as well have been prophecy.
The girl returned to brightly smiling. "I figured I would show up and see what's been keeping you from school. Taiga says you just didn't want to show up and I can see that you're not sick so what's going on?"
Shirou scratched the back of his neck, trying to think of how he could explain everything while still telling enough truth not to have his lie be seen through. He opened his mouth to speak but Mitsuzuri beat him to it. "It's alright if you don't want to tell me, life is complicated I get it. Could I just come in for a cup of tea though?" The girl's sharpened competitive features softened dramatically into an expression Shirou had never seen: concern. "Just so I can prove to myself that you're alright."
Knowing his answer in advance, Shirou made a link in his mind to his servant. "Saber, a non-magus is visiting. Please clean up the dining room and make yourself scarce." Not expecting an answer, the boy agreed to the proposition and moved aside to let her enter.
Stepping within and removing her shoes, the girl looked around the genkan several times as if making a count of the shoes present. "It's been years since I last visited, but everything is still the same. It's sort of nice to see when everything around us has been changing so quickly."
Shirou found himself laughing, nostalgia striking at full force. "The last time you were here was for my fourteenth birthday. I think Rin invited you and your younger brother, right?"
"Tohsaka was just trying to rub it in my face that she got an invite from you first," the girl giggled while respectfully waiting for Shirou to lead the way to the dining room.
Acting on blind faith that Saber had done as asked, Shirou walked down the hall with his guest in tow. When he reached the partly open dining-room door, he was relieved to see that the servants had managed to remove any trace of additional guests. Breathing a small sigh of relief, the boy entered and motioned for his friend to sit whenever she wanted while he made tea for both of them.
"Do you really think Tohsaka is that mean?" Shirou wondered, turning his back to her so he could fill an electric kettle with water.
"Tohsaka and I are friends, for sure, but she's still competitive with me. She never told you about the little competition we started, did she?" The odd questioning tone in her voice made him cast a glance over his shoulder. Mitsuzuri was leaning over the table with her chin resting playfully in her hand, a concerning look in her eyes. Even though he was still young, Shirou had seen that precise look in too many women. That look was dangerous and foretold nothing but misfortune for him specifically.
"What sort of competition?" the boy asked simply, opening a cupboard to prepare china and a kettle. He had pre-bagged tea for quick single cups for guests which wouldn't care either way. For special guests, he had loose bagged leaves and proper brewing equipment to make quality refreshments.
It would take a few moments for the water to begin boiling, which offered more than enough time to converse with Mitsuzuri. "It was stupid really. Probably every kid our age did it."
Rolling his eyes, Shirou leaned over the counter casually. "Mitsuzuri-"
"We're not at school, Shirou. And if you don't think we're close enough to use each other's first name then you must be denser than I thought."
Scowling, Shirou straightened and tried to defend himself only to get a quick laugh in response. Realizing how easily she could toy with him, Shirou felt himself starting to snicker at his own flippancy. "Ayako then," she nodded. "You still haven't told me what this competition was about. All I know is that it was made when you were younger and that it's probably stupid." As he finished speaking, the kettle started to burble ominously as the water within neared boiling.
"It was simple really. It was a competition to see who could get a boyfriend first." Halfway through turning around, Shirou was jarred but the sudden comment and his subsequently twitched elbow bumped the electric kettle, nearly spilling the entire container onto the floor and counter.
He didn't thankfully. After recovering, the boy transferred the hot water to a kettle that held a strainer loaded with leaves. It would need to steep for a while, but Shirou could use the time to figure out why they had such a strange competition. Opening his mouth to begin questioning why; Ayako started responding before he even finished.
"We were young and dumb like I said. Either way, Rin beat me by a mile. If I had known you two were already starting something I wouldn't have even tried. You and Sakura that is."
Carrying everything necessary to the table in one commendable trip, Shirou settled himself onto a zabuton after all the components were placed. "When you put it that way it sounds kinda bad. They know about one another, so th-" he paused, replaying his words through his mind. "You know, no matter how I word that it sounds bad so I'm going to stop while I'm ahead."
Giggling as the boy tried to hide his face in embarrassment, Ayako gently slid a cup and plate closer to her front, eagerly awaiting tea. "I'm not judging you for it. You're free to do what you want with who you want so long as everyone's aware."
Shirou reached forward, wrapping one hand around the handle of the teapot to fill Ayako's cup. She thanked him for it when he was finished. With a respectful nod, he moved to fill his own cup while Ayako moved on to a new conversation. "There is one problem though. As long as I've known you, you've always had a reason for your actions. Leaving the archery club, staying home from school, fixing things for anybody who asks," she trailed off, wrapping both hands around the cup ahead.
With her bangs concealing her eyes, Shirou couldn't quite determine what emotion she was intending to convey, but her voice was oddly monotonous when it made that list.
"So why were you never interested in me?"
… … …
… … …
"Do you think it's safe to go back home yet?" It was an innocent enough question, maybe it would be enough to stir her friend from her meticulous planning. "I've never lived in a mansion before this but after a whole year I've gotten a little too used to it."
Staring at her blonde friend upside down, Lectra kicked her feet to make loud thumping noises on the bed. The Edelfelt woman turned around from the window she had been staring out of, making a double-take as she spotted Lectra hanging off the edge of the bed. "I have absolutely no idea. It's probably safe during the day, but who knows at night? Can't you just be thankful that you're alright?"
Lectra scowled, letting her upper body sink further and further off the edge of the bed until the top of her head contacted the ground. "I guess, but-" she paused, kicking her feet high and rolling her entire body over itself. She might have been able to transfer some of that momentum into standing as well, but her plan failed to take into account that there was simply not enough room.
Rolling onto her heels, the girl slammed headfirst into the wall. A hollow thud echoed through the hotel room, followed by a groaning noise of pain. "That looked like it hurt," Luvia supplied, trying not to laugh.
Rubbing the spot sorely, the girl pouted. "It did, a lot; thank you. As I was saying, I just want to sleep somewhere that wouldn't make me sick if I saw it under black light."
"I'd still say life is better than comfort. Besides, that damned enforcer destroyed quite a lot of the manor so it's probably not that comfortable anymore." Turning her back, the blonde peered out of her window at a spot unknown, fixating on it with a heavy squint.
"At least some of the bedrooms were spared," Lectra shrugged, pushing herself off the ground to stand. "I never got to eat last night, so I'm going out to get food. Did you want anything?"
The Edelfelt brought one hand to her face, producing a long hum. "I'll go with you, I could use the fresh air and we can take a look at the manor on the way." After donning their shoes, the pair set out to the streets, talking amongst themselves on where they wanted to eat.
Eventually, they reached the Edelfelt manor. It was in an even greater state of distress than either of the two had remembered. One side had been covered in thick black soot, though it thankfully wasn't burnt. The yard outside was significantly more devastated. Craters of varying sizes spanned in every direction, sometimes even overlapping one another. It reminded Luvia of the time she visited the battlefield of Verdun. The craters left by shelling had grown grass and flowers to create a beautiful but morbid vista.
While there was no grass in these craters, the devastation was similar. Whatever force had caused the destruction had been ruthless, trying to purge every inch and ensure no escape.
"I think you're right. The other place is definitely better than this right now." Luvia remained silent, resuming their walk. Lectra was slow to catch on but returned to her side with a small jog. "Sure am glad that we managed to leave when we did though, this looks like a real battleground," Lectra commented idly. A gust of wind blew through the area and in response, the brunette tugged the eared hood over her head. "What do you think about yakisoba?"
"That'll be fine," Luvia replied hollowly.
Blinking in surprise, Lectra narrowed her eyes and leaned forward to peer into her friend's own. "Are you upset about the manor? I thought you said you didn't really care about it since it was from an ancestor you couldn't even remember."
The blonde shook her drill curls around. "I don't care about it. It's an ancient relic from our family and we own another one in the surrounding forests, somewhere."
"Then what's got you upset?"
The Edelfelt held her silence, but Lectra could pick out a subtle teeth-grinding noise. "I was just thinking about Blade again."
"You mean Shirou," Lectra claimed dryly, feeling her own temper raise at the simple mention of his name. Unlike her friend, she could keep it under greater control.
Luvia produced an audible noise of exasperation. "Whatever. I just want to get to the bottom of things, figure out what's really going on and finally call him out on all his bullshit."
Lectra sighed and stood normally, trying to find the sign for the yakisoba place she had seen before. All of the private lessons between her and Shirou had taught her a considerable amount, enough to be competent on the Japanese streets.
"Well, hopefully, we can track him down again tonight and question him for real. I'm in decent condition, so we should be able to handle him if things take a turn for the worst." Unlike other times they had claimed something similar, this time wasn't a lie. It was just a gamble.
"Right there, yakisoba," Lectra pointed, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. Picking up the pace to stop right in front of Luvia's path, the brunette offered a bright smile that managed to work its way onto the Edelfelt's features as well. "I can't plan on an empty stomach and you dragged me out to this country so you get to feed me."
Luvia made a snorting laugh. "Fine, fine but after we eat we're immediately going to try tracking down and confronting Blade."
"Do you think he'll be in the same area as last time?"
"Only one way to find out."
After a not-so-healthy dinner, the two girls set out to search the general area they had met Shirou last night as the sun set over the ocean. If what he said was correct, there was a good chance they would meet him again and if not that day, the next day or the day after that for sure. The two went about tracking him carefully. First, they masked their signature as magi using some sort of spell Luvia knew. Second, Lectra laid small orbs of ether to act as a rudimentary detection system. While she didn't have a firm memory of his magic signature, she could set the clumps to inform her of any disturbance.
It took over an hour of patrolling before an ether clump ever picked up a signature. Even after finding out where he was, it was difficult to keep up. After the first signal, several more sounded in quick succession as if he were sprinting past them at a break-neck speed. At first, they tried to follow and catch up to him but realized that wouldn't work. Thankfully Luvia had surveyed the area and learned of a shortcut that put them on an intercept path with their target.
Maneuvering through the alleys, they finally caught sight of the boy's crimson coattails and sprinted to keep up. They were way too far away to shout his name and hope for a response, but close enough to see him round corners each and every time. It was a game of cat and mouse but the two girls felt more like the mouse than the cat. Lectra honestly considered that he was merely toying with them, or he was just really awful at outrunning a tail. Luvia was the one who confirmed that it was surprisingly like him, considering her last attempt at tracking the boy.
It took ten minutes of fast-paced tracking until they were close enough that a beckon would reach him.
"Shirou!" Lectra shouted, sprinting to the end of the alley. Rounding the corner, she spotted the man's back, oblivious to her shouting. He seemed taller than she remembered, and his motions were far more rigid too. Regardless, there was no denying that it was Shirou; only one of him existed after all. Calling out his name a second time was enough to garner his attention.
He appeared confused for a moment, but suddenly remembered who she was. "Lectra," he greeted. "It looks like you've caught me on the prowl again."
A few footfalls acted as a warning of Luvia's arrival. Within seconds the Edelfelt was behind the first girl, glaring daggers at their past friend. "We've been wanting to talk to you about something for a long time," Lectra began.
"We know you're Blade," Luvia blurted out from over her shoulder.
Lectra carried the spurred momentum. "And we know your father is the Magus Killer too, so you know why we're here."
Shirou blinked, appearing rather unaffected for having what had to be his biggest lie foiled in an instant. "You'll have to remind me again. My memory has been altered since then," he explained.
Luvia made a soft sound of surprise from behind. For a few awkward seconds, neither of the two would form a coherent response. Moving closer to whisper, the Edelfelt relayed her own take of the comment to her partner. "He must have been really committed, he likely purged his own memory of his time in Britain to keep his cover solid."
Lectra scowled and planted both hands on her hips defiantly. "Magic or not, you're going to remember everything sooner or later so if you're just lying you'd better come clean."
Shirou shifted on his feet, throwing his weight to one side. "That almost sounds like a threat."
"It is," Luvia answered, taking the forefront. "And we're prepared to use force to gather the information we're looking for." The Edelfelt shifted to stand partly in front of Lectra, jabbing her thigh as she did. Without directing her head, Lectra made note of a gleaming red gem resting squarely in Luvia's palm. That hand was behind her back and the gesture was an obvious signal for Lectra to prepare an ether clump should things turn to the worst.
Shuffling forward to nudge up against the shoulder of the Edelfelt, Lectra took hold of the gemstone from her friend's hand without being able to see. "So tell us why, tell us why you pretended to be Blade, our friend, if all you were going to do was leave."
Shirou grimaced like he didn't quite understand what he was being asked but the tone was annoying him regardless. "What makes the two of you think that you were the ultimate goal? Did either of you consider that you were mere obstacles?"
The scathing questions made both girls flinch. "So you didn't care about us at all?"
The man shrugged passively. "It's entirely possible. I care little about anyone anymore."
The Edelfelt made a strange noise like something didn't quite add up and her mind vocalized the error detection. "Then why hide your father from us? You must care about him," Luvia reasoned. In response to her words, the man's features soured instantly. With how visibly enraged he grew, it was almost as if she had spat in his mouth.
"My father is a vile man. I wish I knew where he was so I could kill him myself." The entire dichotomy between the three was dropped on its head. They had rapidly shifted from the aggressors of the conversation to the ones being accused.
Lectra laughed nervously to break the tension. "Well, it's interesting you say that because we kind of want to kill him too! Isn't that right Luvia?"
The man's eyes twitched and honed in entirely on Luvia. "Do you know where he's hiding? I'd be more than willing to assist in your goal if those are your intentions."
Pausing to give Lectra a nervous look, Luvia faced Shirou and shrugged passively. "I have a guess, but I think he's relocated. I thought you-" Luvia began, only to be cut off.
"I wouldn't worry about that," he passed off. How did he even know what she was going to say? Lectra certainly hadn't.
"Well if we discover something new, we'll contact you."
Almost as soon as she said it, the man shook his head, claiming, "That won't work at all. What if I visit you once every night and we can coordinate a strike from there?"
Luvia hesitated and the uncertainty was shared between them both. On one hand, this had been a massive unforeseen benefit to their situation, on the other - it was weird. It was entirely strange because it went against what they knew about Shirou. Just because he appeared cooperative did not reduce his potential to be an enemy. If he truly was an enemy, they would be working alongside someone who could easily sell them out to their ultimate target, not to mention that they would be giving their location to him as well. Between early warning and betrayal, the downsides nearly outweighed the possible benefit.
"How can we be certain that you won't betray us?"
Shirou paused, hummed and raised one hand to his chin. "I suppose that is a concern. Since words only go so far, would an item of mine that holds value be enough to place your trust in me?"
Luvia shrugged awkwardly. "I suppose so. Before you answer, let me guess; you don't have anything that isn't a projection that I could hold on to."
The man hesitated and was obviously taken aback by the comment. He recovered quickly if nothing else. "Unfortunately not. I only have one genuine possession, though it is quite important to me."
"Well then it will have to do," Lectra nonchalantly settled.
Furrowing his brow, Shirou produced a sigh and uncomfortably shuffled on the spot. "Then take this," he began, begrudgingly reaching into one pocket of his ridiculous outfit to deposit something into Luvia's cautiously extended hand: A brilliant crimson gemstone on a thin silver chain. It was significantly lighter than she expected, though, in the world of magecraft, appearances weren't always the best thing to base assumptions off of.
Turning the artifact over in her hands, the girl admired it but asked no questions as to why it was important to him. That moment didn't come across as the most opportune time for such a query. Clapping the relic in her hand, the Edelfelt nodded. "Our family owns a house in the forest surrounding Fuyuki, you can find us there."
"I believe I know the house, I'll meet you there tonight," the man claimed before quickly taking his leave.
The two girls looked at one another as they stood alone in the afternoon dusk. "Well that didn't go quite like I expected," Lectra claimed, stuffing both hands into her hoodie.
"You said it," Luvia agreed, looking off in the direction that Shirou left. "I'm just trying to figure out why he would willingly wipe his own memories. Maybe there's something more to this than we thought."
Lectra made a soft sigh. "I couldn't tell you. He had to have known he was the Magus Killer's son from the start otherwise he wouldn't have worn a disguise. Maybe his cover was close to getting blown and he had to get out?"
Luvia snapped one finger, snapping her head around to glare at her now surprised friend with unhidden excitement. "That's it! Someone in the Clock Tower was getting close to finding out who he really was so he bailed before they could! The only way they wouldn't be able to track him down would be if he disappeared permanently, so he staged his death in the middle of a public space to prevent anyone from following him."
"Who do you think it was?"
"It had to be Reines. She was all over him and a girl like that doesn't let the whole anonymous thing go untouched."
Lectra recoiled her head like she had been slapped. "Well, we definitely can't ask her for help."
"Or could we?" Luvia quickly questioned, getting her shorter friend to blink rapidly.
"You want to try questioning the powerful head of the Archisortie family? Let me know when you do so I can get nice flowers for your funeral at least."
Luvia shook her head, throwing blonde drill curls in every direction. "Reines is a twisted person. She likes watching people suffer a little too much to be considered healthy. She was only so close to Blade because she wanted to see him break and if she finds out that her favourite plaything is actually alive," the girl led on, hoping Lectra would catch onto her plan.
Thankfully, she did. "Then she'll show up immediately and try to toy with him again."
"If Trimmau comes with her, she'll definitely be strong enough to put Shirou in his place too."
Lectra twitched. "So we don't even get to do the hard work? Then what are we waiting for? Let's call her up as soon as we can!"
… … …
Closing the door, Shirou turned on his heels and released a deep sigh. Of all the conversations he'd had in his life, that one had been the most awkward. He had never expected Ayako to be that interested in him, but apparently her rivalry had been some strange flirtation tactic.
"She was not a master," a voice spoke to him and before his eyes, the figure of Lancer wearing a suit came into view.
"You were listening to our conversation?" Shirou shouted, feeling his face grow red with embarrassment. He had admitted some things he would have preferred to remain a secret.
"Of course," Saber's voice chimed in while her head poked out from around the corner down the hall. "We were ensuring that she was not a master or a puppet of the enemy designed to strike while your guard was lowered."
Groaning, Shirou let himself slide down the door onto his rear. "Can both of you just forget I said all of that?"
Shirou could practically hear the grin spread across Lancer's face. "The part where you admitted to having feelings for her when you were younger but neglected to say anything because you thought she didn't like you?"
Shooting the servant a glare that could kill, Shirou furrowed his brow and scowled heavily. "I almost took your arm off before; don't tempt me to take it off for real."
Lifting his hands in surrender, Lancer quickly stepped back with a nervous look on his face. "Looks like I stepped on a nerve, time to leave." As if he had been made of dust, the servant's body faded into nothingness, leaving Saber's bright face behind.
"Did you have plans for tonight, Shirou?" the servant asked, stepping into full view.
Considering the question, the boy awkwardly shrugged before lifting himself off the floor. "There is one thing I wanted to do, but the chances of it actually ending how I want are pretty slim."
… … …
As it had the day before, night fell all too quickly, bringing about all the danger Shirou had been worried about.
Shirou had little desire to scour Fuyuki for fights like he had essentially done yesterday, but his original goal was still unfinished: He had to speak with Sakura and see if she was interested in establishing an alliance of sorts or flat out calling off the war. The worst thing she would do is say no, so he didn't have much to worry about with her.
His concern lied entirely with Zouken Matou - or Zolgen Makiri if his father's findings were to be believed. The man was a literal worm with the personality to match. If Zouken happened to be the Matou master or had control over the servant, things would be significantly worse.
Seeing as how his suit had been destroyed the previous night, Shirou threw on a much more casual black and white windbreaker and wrapped a scarf around his neck to keep the cold winter wind from chilling his body too much. He could have gone the extra mile and projected a copy of his suit but that would have been a needless waste of precious mana. It was precious considering Saber used an appalling amount when in combat. Nearly half of his reserves had been expended merely supporting the servant. That cut his combat effectiveness down drastically and revamped his tactics as a whole.
For example - and just as a precaution - Shirou set a mental limit to keep his mana reserves above half. If Saber was to get into a fight, she would need all he could offer and possibly more.
Something else concerned him as well, something he hadn't considered until the problem was glaringly obvious. With Illya in the Einzbern castle, he couldn't implant Avalon into her to keep her healthy. She was missing out on the enhanced healing effect and the plain squandered opportunity was what hurt Shirou. The last copy he embedded within her the day before she left was still active in her body, but the projection was crumbling away exponentially. It was unlikely to last the rest of the night.
Perhaps if he had given her the genuine copy, things would have been different. There was a problem with that though. Both his father and his own mind always told him to be greedy with the sheath. It was a relic which offered immortality, why would a master in his position not hold on to such a thing?
Because he valued his sister's life more than his own, plain and simple. Adjusting the scarf around his neck, Shirou stared up at the Matou manor, absorbing its grim, dreary appearance. He always hated the smell associated with this place: rotten flesh. It even permeated the grounds through the walls of the building like the whole architecture was developed upon decay. It was sickening but appeared that only he could detect such a thing as Lancer made no comment at all during their approach.
As he had done before, the servant disguised himself as Missy. Shirou was becoming increasingly more envious of her sister's servant. Not only was he a better swordsman than Saber, but his adaptability also went hand in hand with Shirou's. The only thing holding back true cooperation was the lack of a seamless medium for communication. Like rubbing the matter in his face, Lancelot also had three separate Noble Phantasms. Although Saber had the same number, one - Avalon - was locked away inside his own body. One of Lancer's phantasms had already been used a half-dozen times and continued to prove its usefulness - For Someone Else's Glory, an ability which allowed the servant to assume whatever identity he desired on a whim, even fabricated ones. Finding a difference between the facade and the genuine person was impossible. By all means of detection, they were the exact same person.
The range of applications such a seamless disguise had were limitless. Its only limit came from Lancer's chivalric code. He mandated that he would not battle in disguise, regardless of the scenario and that he would not use any disguise for evil deeds or to besmirch another person's image.
Breaking and entering into a rival magus' home wasn't really an evil deed, was it? With a sharp jab of a reinforced elbow, Shirou bent the latch of the Matou main gate enough to gain entry. Apologizing to no one specifically for the broken entrance, Shirou casually stepped inside only to have his senses truly assaulted by a myriad number of projected emotions. The weather seemed to agree, rumbling ominously as the darkened sky threatened to break into rain.
Shirou held still to tighten the distance between himself and Lancer, who was being quite an actor with his frightened Missy display. Hardly a dozen steps from the main entrance, a voice reached him from every direction simultaneously. "Hold it right there," it claimed. Shirou was all too familiar with the owner of that voice, Zouken Matou.
"I've come to talk about an alliance," Shirou began, immediately feeling stupid before the man responded. There was something about Zouken that gave off an unshakeable feeling of inadequacy.
"You slaughter my grandson, ask every other master for help, then crawl to Sakura as your last option? And you call me a worm," the old man spat back mercilessly. There was an absence of humour in his tone, absolute sincerity from his cold blackened heart dominating the message.
Shirou grit his teeth and shook his head. "Sakura wasn't my last choice. I didn't really want things to turn out this way, I had expected-"
"A happy fairy-tale ending," the man finished. "Unfortunately life is far crueller than we anticipate, though you're too young and naive to truly comprehend that." A swirling, chitinous noise developed out of nowhere, originating from every direction without a visible source.
"I didn't intend for anyone to get hurt."
"Merely another testament to your inability to view the bigger picture," the man claimed and the chattering grew louder.
"So you won't even let me speak to her then?"
There was a short chuckle. "If you keep this rate of revelations up you might be able to graduate from kindergarten within the year. Unfortunately for you, you won't even make it that far. Entering a rival master's home without a servant was a foolish mistake."
A cry echoed his name, but Shirou's mind was already on top of things. He was already aware of incoming danger and his body leapt back of its own volition. Lancer moved to cover him as well, but something strange happened.
His mind had warned him of incoming projectiles but the number of projectiles was very limited, on top of being slow and far from dangerous: A throwing dagger, a rusted shuriken, a handful of strange bent arrows and even a fork. It was like someone had emptied a junk drawer and thrown all the contents collectively rather than used a weapon with any killing purpose. The objects that did reach his body were easily swatted away with a reinforced hand.
Shirou thought he heard a distant laughing sound, but he wasn't quite sure with the monotonous chattering going on around him already. Keeping his eyes open for further threats, Shirou gripped at Lancer's shoulder to tug the disguised servant back. "There's no point in trying here, we might as well leave."
Taking a few fleeting steps back, another fork was thrown in his direction with a bit more force than the other objects. "We're leaving, calm down," Shirou shouted to the servant he couldn't see.
Doubling their efforts to leave, the two exited the Matou property with even less hope than they started with. Shirou's face was tight in anger as he strode to where Saber was waiting for them. She didn't even have to ask how it went to understand the outcome, something he was thankful for.
If Zouken was able to make orders like that, he was more or less keeping Sakura bound within the manor, her only goal to power whichever servant she summoned. If she never left the house, the plan he made with Caren and his father would never be possible. Could he find a way to force her out?
"If a servant was present, I couldn't detect them," Lancer claimed to his king, popping the boy's concentration partially. "That would place them as Assassin, however stranger things are possible."
"A Berserker with presence concealment?" Saber asked with obvious doubt in her tone. "And to think I almost allowed you to be my tactical advisor."
"Assassin then. Regardless, we have nearly seen every servant this War has to offer. So far, not one will be able to handle us."
Shirou quickly interjected, forcing aside his brooding thoughts about Sakura. "That servant was toying with us, with his own master. I don't think we should discount them, whatever class they might be."
"As you wish," Lancer nodded.
Saber made a loud clang as she bounced one armoured gauntlet off her breastplate. "Many assassins have tried for my head in the past. I assure you on my honour as a knight that this one will not succeed where others have failed."
"Very complicated way of saying you'll win but I get the sentiment," Shirou blinked. Saber, on the other hand, seemed taken aback, stiffening for a moment before allowing her brow to twitch.
"Is there a problem with the way I speak?" The knight panned her gaze from Shirou to Lancer who merely pretended not to exist.
Shirou took the pause to move onto a new topic. "Since that happened, I don't really know what to do anymore." Running a hand through his short silver hair to set it upright, the boy looked distantly toward the faint stars above. "I don't want to fight anyone. If we could all work together then ending the Grail Wars permanently would be easy."
"Shirou," Saber began, waiting until he offered his entire attention to her. "You've never explained how exactly you intend to put an end to the Wars."
Shirou clenched his jaw tightly, relaxing as he held his servant's gaze. "I know what took place at the end of the last War. I know every detail, including your role in its end." The servant flinched, something even Lancer was surprised by. "But you never destroyed the true grail," Shirou continued, reaching into the memories stored within Kiritsugu's journal. "The object you destroyed is known as the lesser grail, a fake derivative of the true wish-granting device known as the greater grail. Both have been corrupted, but only the destruction of one will bring down the entire system."
"Master, how do you know all of this?" Lancer interrupted, face set in deadly seriousness.
"My father used to work for one of the families responsible for the formation of the Holy Grail War. During his time there, he collected all the knowledge he could and passed it down to me."
"This is how you know the grail is corrupted?" Flashbacks of the beginning of his life ran through his eyes, sending a twitch to his eyebrow and the visceral scene took control of his senses.
Even now, a decade after the event, he could smell the cursed burning flesh and hear the endless wails of those unable to die, suspended torturously on the brink of death in full consciousness. Blinking to clear away the visions, Shirou returned to himself and gestured for the two servants to follow as he walked back toward the house. "You don't have to look any further than Central Park to see that the grail was cursed. Even ten years after the explosion that killed hundreds, the land still holds curses."
"So where is this greater grail located?"
"Underground," the boy supplied simply. "It's located in a cave beneath Fuyuki where it can fully connect to the leylines. Although, that's just a guess considering my father and I have never seen it."
"And how do you plan on stopping it?" Lancer questioned, still maintaining his image as Missy.
Shirou shrugged partly, considering the question for a moment. "The same way Saber ended the last War. Before you ask, I have no idea whether it will work or not, but it's the best chance we have."
Saber took a few large steps to walk at his side. "What prevents us from doing that right now?"
"Supposedly, the greater grail requires the death of five servants to make an appearance. Though that might not be true since this War itself is an abnormality. With all the stored residual energy, it might only take one."
Saber's tone grew somewhat irritated. "And you expect every other master and servant to accept the fact that their dreams and wishes are nothing but fool's gold?"
Shaking his head, Shirou focused his attention forward, keeping his voice cold and level. "Not at all. Some are bound to resist, either because of greed or simple stubbornness. In the end, the other servants don't matter. You both have agreed to put an end to this system to prevent humanity's extinction."
"You're certain the grail can enact that level of devastation?"
Nodding to himself, Shirou further explained his father's peculiar past: His predictive dreams, visions of the future and hints of his destiny. The old man had watched himself experience visions from whatever dark demonic entity inhabited that coveted cup and wanted nothing to do with it.
Expectedly, Saber wondered why - If he had visions of the future - he did not attempt to stop the war during his time.
Shirou quickly explained that the future his old man saw was entirely different to the one he had made by reacting to his visions. That was on top of the fact that his visions were limited to specific times in specific places he happened to be in during another life. "For example, one major difference in your War and the War he saw was Caster."
The servant of the sword twitched at the mention of that man. "So his visions are useless in the current times."
"Exactly, which is why neither of us know what's next or what to do."
"If your father knew all of this, why did he not stop the War on his own?"
Shirou made an uncertain hum. "From what I know, there was too much opposition. That and, well, Caster told him that I would be the only one who could do it."
"You?"
"I don't really believe it myself, but that's what he was told." Rounding the corner of a building, Shirou continued his determined march back home. He really should have explained all of this to the servants previously but Kiritsugu decided to leave the information on a need-to-know basis. "Either way, that's why Kiritsugu has taken a backseat to this War. We agreed before the start of this War that he would be better off protecting Illya."
"Disregarding your father's tactical wisdom?" Lancer asked, getting a sharp glare from Saber that even Shirou felt.
"Shirou's father is not someone to take orders from. The best decision is the one which places Kiritsugu as far from the battlefield as possible."
Lancer produced a dry cough, still unnaturally acting as Missy. "You must have had some different opinions during your time with him as your master."
Before Saber could respond, Shirou took the reigns of the conversation and steered his servants back on track. "I wanted the old man to stay away so he wouldn't kill my friends, but," he paused. All at once, flickering images of a dark-haired man standing overtop many familiar, twisted corpses ran through the boy's mind. It was his greatest fear, it was their last option. The two of them might survive, but Shirou would be broken. "If something happens or if my plan doesn't get some results, he'll be forced to assist."
"Shirou-" Saber began, chiding remarks incoming immediately.
"I know," the boy interrupted just as fast. "I want it as much as you do, but what other choice do I have?" The two knights had no response, letting the sound of three sets of footsteps dominate the night. "That's exactly what I thought," the boy murmured, tightening the scarf around the lower half of his face.
… … …
… … …
A soft bluish-white glow dominated the room, originating from a large basin of water that revealed something far from the interior of the room. Beneath the surface, the wavering image of a man and two women walking down the street. "The question is, should we jump on them now or later?"
There was a soft creak as the man leaned back in his chair, unnatural weight straining the aged wood. Deeper within the room, a woman much too involved with a brown glass bottle shot him a sly look. An overly long silence followed a "tsk" and the clatter of two beer bottles. "Let him be, that soiree with your little girly friend used enough of my mana. You handling two servants would be enough of a drain, but their master happens to be a tough little bastard." With the thrust of one arm, one of the bottles in her grasp was put in his direction.
The man raised one eyebrow, snorted and took hold of the offered beverage. "As much as I love drinking beer and doing nothing, when there's fighting to do I get pretty restless, master."
"One day isn't going to kill you. Besides," the woman paused to open the bottle, taking a jovial sip before resuming, "you'll get plenty of chances to fight later."
The man made a sharp hum, drinking his beer in the dimly-lit room until a thought came to him.
"You know master, you haven't told me much about yourself; why don't we change that?" A teasing smile spread across his face, sharp incisors visible despite the low visibility.
"What did you want to know?" She knew the servant would only be present for a few weeks at best, so telling him the information was inconsequential.
Maintaining his sharp smile, the man navigated to settle on the couch beside his master. "About you. We were kept separate during my summoning and you were quiet the entire plane ride. Never got to learn anything about my master until we were drinking at the only bar to open before five." With methodical grace, the robe-clad servant propped both feet upon the coffee table.
Mimicking the servant, Bazett relaxed into the couch and nested her beer within both hands. "I'm the first enforcer from a long line of recluse mercenaries. My immediate family was nice enough but it was my ancestors and outside influence that really pushed me out, especially after my mother died."
"Sounds tragic," the servant mumbled, leaning his head over the back of the couch and closing his eyes.
Making another "tsk", the woman continued. "It was what it was. Sick of the family and desperate for answers I went to the Mage's Association and trained to become an enforcer."
"Why?"
The woman blinked, took a sip of her beer and answered. "I wanted to find out how and why my mother died. One day, she just disappeared and never returned from her mission."
"Mission?"
"She was a mercenary type like I said. She didn't take many contracts after I was born but sometimes the money was too good to pass up. Anyway, she took one, ended up completing it and got paid only before vanishing like a ghost." Bazett had long since come to terms with her mother's disappearance. It still bothered her, but not nearly as much as it had then.
"Foul play from the contract maker?"
"Looked into it. They didn't say a thing even after all the torture." Pausing to take another drink, the servant chuckled at her ominous reply.
"Alright so now I've got some backstory, but something else has been bugging me. You seem to know that kid we ran into last night, how'd that come around?"
"Believe it or not that has ties to my mother as well. Twelve years ago, my mother left to complete a contract training some magus. It would take months but we needed the money and it didn't seem too difficult. Long story short, she trained that kid's father and I came back here to see if he knew anything about her disappearance. I guess I repeated the cycle because I ended up training that kid like my mother trained his father."
The servant suddenly broke out into laughter. "So you trained a kid to be even better than you?"
Growling and baring her teeth, Bazett shot her servant a vicious glare. "I can kick his ass if I want, it just takes some effort since he knows what I'm capable of - to a point."
"Alright, alright, so go on; you trained the kid and talked to his old man. Did you two," the servant wiggled an eyebrow, smirk growing larger as he did.
"Caster, he was sixteen."
"So what? I had my first son when I was sixteen."
With obvious disgust, the woman shook her head. "I'm not doing that, times have changed."
Rolling his eyes, the servant threw out both his arms across the back of the couch before producing a great sigh. "Yes, so much for the better. At least you have ale without having to visit a tavern."
"Among other things: No plagues, lower infant mortality, higher life expectancy and ultimately greater convenience through all aspects of life."
"It's also taken all the challenge out of life, though whether you believe that's a problem or not is up to debate."
"Pros and cons," the woman decided, letting her head fall back into the servant's hand. "So, from one rune-maker to another, how would you rate my work?"
Lifting one of her own gloved hands into view, the servant shifted and used the hand not under his master's head to look the article over. "I don't have much to compare it to, but it's not bad for something of my age. It's decent work in the Age of Man for sure."
"Would it be possible for you to enhance them somehow?"
The servant released her hand and returned to his comfortable position. "I could, though I've got no idea if they'll work the same. Can't hurt to try though, right?" Making a humming agreement, the woman continued gazing at his face while the servant rested his eyes. "Quit staring at me unless you plan on making a move." Caster didn't even bother to open his eyes, scolding her without sight.
Shifting her head immediately, Bazett ran over the conflict of being challenged but dissuaded at the same time. A wave of heat struck her face and the meagre amount of beer she drank came at her all too quickly.
"What an idiot," she murmured, turning her head to stare back at the roof. "I'm all at insulted that you think I'm that easy."
"Surprise to me. Take it from the Hound himself; you smell pretty desperate for the attention."
She knew what he was doing, but it wasn't going to work. He was trying to get her to make a move by continually testing her, the dirtiest but most effective trick in the book. "We're done talking about this," the enforcer decided.
"Whatever you say, master. Either way, it would be an interesting way to pass the time while you recover." A sly grin and sleazy look gradually formed on his face.
There was a soft thump as a throw pillow smashed into his face. "If you're that goddamn energized then either grab your staff and kick both Saber and Lancer's asses or get your pants off."
… … …
… … …
"Only dying flowers lose their petals," a hollow voice rasped, clinging to her ears as it echoed around her from every direction simultaneously. The area wasn't merely dark, it was void of everything, including darkness itself. The emptiness was suffocating, entirely encapsulating and held with it an intense weight that made breathing harder than it already was.
A different, slightly higher pitched voice responded. "Dying flowers return with rain."
"But the rain only falls when it's unwanted," another voice claimed, coming from a different direction. Turning within the space did nothing. It was almost as if direction didn't exist either, but how could that be possible?
"If you are the flower, we are the rain: Unwanted and expired."
"Just like you, just like us." The voices whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her spine. It was inviting but dangerous, a juxtaposing cacophony of emotions. "We're the same if you peel away the first layer." A slimy black finger slid across her shoulder, crawling further across her body before clamping down and peeling back the first layer of skin. Underneath was not muscle or sinew as she expected, but an inky black void nearly as oppressive as the room around her.
"We are the rain, we are the fallen petals. We are unwanted." A masked figure moved into view. Its burning blue eyes bore straight through her skull. It was difficult to tell in the inky darkness, but she could have sworn that the figure was smiling. "We are the same, identical." Inky black fingers moved in front of her face, tapping at a spot on the figure's chest to reveal an identical void space.
"But-"
"There's more, yes." Turning with a gesture, the figure pointed to someone standing beneath a distant spotlight. It was an unmistakable boy with silver hair. "Him: the idealist, the false prophet, maleficent martyr."
"I-"
"We know that too. Your thoughts and emotions are a stream." The figure slid both of its hands up her arms before resting them softly on her cheeks. "Your aspirations are ours, we must hold mutual goals if we hope to succeed." Lost in the flaming blue eyes, the woman failed to notice several other masks sliding into view.
They varied in height, but each one had an identical mask and glowing blue eyes. They were constantly in motion, swirling around her seamlessly but always fixated on her as if she was their entire reason for being. "So what will you do?"
A laugh originated from somewhere far away, swirling around like the various masks before flying past like a moving vehicle. "Romeo and Juliet, Adam and Eve. The others are as Icarus to the sun. Fly too close- well."
Through various places in the darkness, kindling fires began. The upstarts turned to blazes which revealed stationary figures detailing people she knew and cared for. There was sadness, but it was incredibly fleeting - hollow.
Her eyes automatically focused on the spotlit boy smiling at her. Without moving his mouth, he offered her kind compassionate words that made the oppressive darkness of the room seem like a secondary thought.
"We do this for the unwanted, for all of us. To prevent the end, the void." Like an approaching tsunami, a wave of blackish, crimson mist washed over the boy in the distance, dissolving him into nothing more than red paste. It took less time than it did for her to even react and before she could, the masked figures formed a blockade to halt the strange flow - and another copy of the silver-haired boy appeared.
The figure in front of her moved to take up her entire field of view with its ivory mask and piercing blue eyes. "The play will begin, it is time to rise. Let us see whether this act is writ by Sophocles or Aristophanes."
… … …
… … ...
Sliding the door shut, Shirou produced a soft sigh. "Seems really quiet today," he mumbled, dejectedly removing his shoes.
"Perhaps they're still scarred from last night," Lancer concluded, body shifting to take on its normal male form.
Saber's face was tight in deep thought. "It's odd. It's as if the other masters are purposefully hiding and playing a passive role."
"There are still two other servants we haven't seen yet. It might be that they don't know where the other masters are and they don't want to risk a repeat of last night." With shoes removed, Shirou slowly walked back to the dining room. Looking toward the kitchen brought a rumbling to his stomach and a longing sensation for dinner.
Following close behind, Saber provided her own insight. "We should shift our tactics to become the aggressor, we have the power to take down the other parties easily."
Irritation sent the boy's brow into a furrow. "Who would we attack? We only know where two masters live: Rin and Sakura. We have a ceasefire with one and the second would be like trying to kill a cockroach."
"We can locate Caster's master."
Shirou blanched, blinked and scrunched up his face. "Bazett? Besides being one hell of a fighter, if she has Caster as a servant her home base will be incredibly fortified. Territory Creation is an innate skill of any Caster."
Glaring sharply at her master, Saber softly positioned her armour-clad self over a zabuton. "Shirou, I appreciate your reluctance to bring harm to your friends, but this is not the time to play the pacifist. This is a magical war between servants and their masters to the death. At one point you will need to overcome your fears if you hope to win."
Shaking his head, Shirou ran a hand through his hair. "This isn't about winning. All we need to do is form the Greater Grail and destroy it, after that, nothing matters."
Lancer added his own voice to the conversation, attempting to be moderate in the heated exchange. "And all we need to do is kill one servant, right?" Shirou agreed and the servant nodded in response. "Then I believe it would be a good idea to return to searching for a servant - any servant."
"Now we've come full circle to the initial problem. None of us know where any of the other servants are."
Saber produced a small smirk. "The solution is simple. In order to find the missing servants, we need only bring them to us."
"I thought you said that in the last War, a servant tried the same thing and brought on five servants in total for some sort of epic battle."
"Correct," the servant nodded. "Just yesterday, the first day of the War, we had a battle between four servants. You weren't awake to witness the battle, but both of our enemies utilized a great amount of energy. Their masters are bound to be exhausted after such an expense."
Coming to the same conclusion Saber undoubtedly had, Shirou snapped his fingers and beamed at the woman in understanding. "That means those masters are likely to spend tonight recuperating, so we have an opportunity to handle one of the two remaining, unknown servants."
"Precisely. Which means either Berserker or Assassin, servants the two of us can undoubtedly handle."
… … …
… … …
Something like this couldn't be happening, it just couldn't - she wouldn't allow it. There had been a wave of power, a pulse that had no doubt been felt by every master within Fuyuki.
As soon as her servant felt that energy, he had stormed into the distance with righteous purpose, not even bothering to inform her of his leave. Or perhaps that was intentional. He had left to prevent any attempts from her end to stop him.
She had done enough to hold him back before, she could do it again - he knew that as well as she did.
Now?
It was unavoidable. The best she could hope to do would be to warn Shirou before it was too late before her servant decimated all three of them: Saber, Lancer and Shirou. Rounding the corner as fast as her legs would carry her, the woman bolted down the sidewalk in the direction of her servant. If only she had been more proactive; if only the command seals had worked.
Sliding around another corner, the traction between her shoes and the concrete gave way. The girl fell hard into her side but neglected to make a noise of pain, instead deciding to stand and continue running before she was too late.
If her servant continued at this pace, he would reach the origin point of the mana pulse within three minutes. It would take her six minutes to run there. Those numbers were already mortifying. In three minutes, her servant could easily slaughter them all.
He was ruthless, he was emotionless, he was efficient. That servant terrified her to no end and she outright believed he could handle every other servant without breaking a sweat. Based on stats alone, anyone would.
There were less than sixty seconds until he made it to the wave's origin.
Would praying for Shirou's salvation do anything? Would God even bother to protect him at this point? Shaking her head, the woman condemned herself for such foolish thoughts. Of course it would. If Shirou was deserving of salvation, and he undoubtedly was, he would be spared if she prayed for him.
Two minutes until she reached her destination, and she could already hear the clashing of swords. The noise was so deafening and frequent that it nearly became an unbroken string of noise.
A minute later, the girl realized that there were, in fact, two separate noises blending together. Her servant was handling both Lancer and Saber, but how well he was doing was unknown.
She was close, a few seconds out. It was a straight shot from her position to the servants' battleground. It was somewhere far to the west, surrounded by trees out of the city. For the size of battle that was likely to take place, it couldn't have been in a better place. Away from prying eyes and free of potential casualties, she wouldn't have to perform any damage control if either servant released their noble phantasm.
The pavement had since given way to grass and dirt and while traction was more difficult to find, her speed wasn't affected all that much. There were bright sparks as two weapons collided, but they weren't sparks of metal. They were bright white and each one sparkled, fizzled and popped. It was odd, but far from a matter of concern as she leapt straight through the brush into the clearing.
There were three people fighting: A female knight in blue and silver, wielding an invisible weapon; a knight in white and gold, using a two-handed blade of similar design to his armour; and her own servant, the one clad in thin black fibers and spiked silver steel holding an ominous, radiating crimson blade. Behind the two servants, holding his own two weapons of choice, was the one she was hoping to save: Shirou.
The three had separated from their engagement for the moment, gauging one another with deadly intent. The lax in combat brought on an opportunity for all three to stare at the sudden intruder with trepidation. It wasn't the first time she had been stared at by powerful beings and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
A younger voice shouted out to her. "What are you doing here?" it asked, concerned for her rather than himself - just like he always was. "This servant is unstoppable, you need to run!"
Just as he finished speaking, the unstoppable servant in question re-engaged with his targets. Without a sound, her servant made an attack, making a wicked slash that collided with Saber's reflexively blocking sword. The contact produced a wild spray of white sparks and sent the smaller woman skidding backwards as the force rattled her entire frame.
Seamlessly, the servant moved on to handle Lancer, swinging his scarlet blade high to slam down upon the ivory blade. Unlike with Saber's weapon, the contact produced minimal, yellow-orange sparks as she would have expected. As the overhead attack rebounded off, her servant merely redoubled the strike two more times, pounding Lancer further back and straining his weapon with each brutal blow.
On the fourth attack, his weapon shattered in his hands, and the man was forced to leap back to avoid being cleaved into halves. Stumbling over the uneven ground, the servant in black made a lunging kick that slammed his heel square into Lancer's metal chest plate. There was a visceral screeching noise that was barely audible above the clanking of a knight being flung backward.
Saber cried out her master's name in worry before producing a sharp grunt and re-engaging in the fight. The rate of combat was so rapid that merely understanding what was transpiring was a challenge. The two knights were battling assuredly, but beyond that brief description, she couldn't comprehend what was taking place before her eyes.
The battle halted suddenly with the two blades locking at the hilt. The prolonged contact of their weapons produced continual, unending white sparks, almost as if each weapon was grinding constantly against the other. Gritting her teeth, the resolved Saber struggled to hold herself up against her opponent. Even as he took a slow step forward, she was unable to slow his progress. "Shirou-run! This is an opponent we cannot defeat!"
Saber held their clash as she was slowly forced further and further back. It was a tactical blunder, but as more time passed, its purpose was revealed.
From behind, the white and gold knight had moved to flank, holding a new white blade with obvious intent. For a knight in full plate mail, he was shockingly nimble and silent. The knight made eye contact with her, an enemy master and for a moment fear wracked her form. She was Berserker's master and she held his contract but that was where her ties to him ended. She gave him no mana, he sustained his form entirely independently of her.
Even if she wanted to kill him, there was no way she could. Thankfully, Lancer ignored her to put his focus entirely on her servant. Rearing his sword back, it looked as if he had the man beat. But rather than the sound of fleshy impact, another screech rang out over the trees.
Eerily, a dead silence fell onto the area. Only the sporadic continuous scraping of Berserker's and Saber's swords broke it apart. Slowly, she realized what happened. In one hand, Berserker was holding back Saber's invisible weapon. In the other, Berserker had caught Lancer's weapon with his hand. The white weapon shook with uncertainty as Berserker's grasp continued to tighten.
"What sort of vile creature are you?" Lancer growled, struggling to keep the weapon in his hands still.
"Talking in battle is superfluous," the man claimed flatly, and the blade shattered within his vice-like grip. Releasing the weapon as it shattered, Lancer prepared to make a strike but was slower than Berserker by a wide margin. Keeping their blades locked, Berserker used his greater weight and height to spin Saber around, flinging her straight into her comrade.
The angle and speed meant that there was no way for Lancer to catch the other servant and stand upright himself. With a clatter, the two landed on the ground in a small pile.
Just as she had been dreading. Berserker trained his sights on Shirou and walked toward him ominously. There was no doubt in her mind, her servant would slaughter him as if he were an insignificant gnat.
Shockingly, Shirou's face held no sign of fear. In fact, the boy appeared resolved, as if he understood his death was approaching and was entirely content with the outcome that awaited him. It came as a violent shock when the boy raised both weapons and deflected the first blow from Berserker.
Rather than try to absorb the impact and retaliate, Shirou hopped backward, using the force to create distance between the two. With the two emerald blades poised for the next strike, Berserker tensed, the perfect moment for her to act.
With a flick of the wrist, the scarf around her neck was unfurled, snapping idly as mana flowed through its fibres. Flinging the article forward, it elongated like a living whip, wrapping around Berserker's torso and tightening autonomously.
Like the man had been converted to stone, every minute motion stopped instantaneously. It was almost as if time itself had stopped for the servant.
As he was frozen, Saber and Lancer managed to recover themselves and were quickly on the move to take advantage of the situation. With a loud cry, Berserker's master gathered their ears.
Desperation evident in her voice, the girl explained. "Should you attack him, he'll be released from the shroud. I beg you, this is the best I can do to keep him from killing Shirou."
Stillness passed for a few seconds before Shirou told the two servants to hold on for the time being. "I know her, she would never lie about something like this."
Saber was far from accommodating. "Shirou, she is an enemy master, this has to be some type of deceit to let our guard down!"
Shirou shook his head, a relief to the girl holding back his sure death. "With this servant, I don't think deceit is necessary. Even though you can't see his stats as I can, you have to realize from the sheer power that this is a servant leagues above...wait a minute, enemy master?"
Nobody answered the boy and the two servants started their own conversation. "My liege, Berserkers aren't known to speak, are they?" The servant's brow tightened and Lancer quickly explained his question. "I do not know of any assassins that wield a sword, let alone one with dragon-slaying aspects." Lancer's comment made his supposed king twitch.
"Dragon-slaying aspect? So that is why…" she trailed off, latching her eyes onto the blood-red blade pointed in Shirou's direction.
The boy, still holding onto two emerald blades, focused on the enemy master. "So you're a master? Of all the people, I didn't expect it to be you, Caren."
… … …
Tree branches creaked and groaned softly under the shifting, dense weight. It was not isolated to one tree, but rather several across the entire grove.
A hollow voice as cracked and old as the very trees around them spoke. "Two dragons now."
A snicker, a soft scrape of metal on course stone. "Both ferocious in their own right, but one is lacking something treasured."
"A blade? One holds nothing but the wind."
The impact of flesh responded clearly over the wind. "Look closer, fool. See there? A hole."
A much lighter but equally raspy voice chimed in. "The contractor holds it on their behalf, right under their nose."
There was a group-wide grumble of anger before a voice claimed, "Vile. Even with a knight beside the Dragon of Wind, the Dragon of Blood is sure to win should the hole remain empty."
"A dragon which kills dragons," a voice commented, eliciting a wave of laughter from their compatriots. "We have sent a fool, the Dragon of Blood spared no expense in his defeat."
"Precisely why the Dragon of Wind and the contractor have equal chances of victory." Another wave of echoing laughter trickled through the trees.
"Resigned to watch, unable to act."
"Idle hands are the devil's playthings."
"Bold to assume we would allow the devil to play with us."
"We have seen all the opponents have to offer. There is no need to remain. Perhaps we can investigate or kill the maiden of crystals this night."
Several branches creaked simultaneously and blue eyes littered the darkened areas between the trees. "One can remain, the patient. Allow us to watch while we conduct ourselves elsewhere."
… … …
There was a nagging, tugging sensation that brought Shirou's eyes to the treeline. He didn't see anything immediately but was almost certain that he saw something blue flicker in the darkness. Blinking, the boy pushed aside the thoughts that told him he was being watched to focus on the threat at hand.
Even frozen on the spot, he was still an intimidating sight. While only five foot ten - three inches shorter than Shirou himself - the ominous appearance of his attire more than made up for his average stature. Shirou had always thought that servants were heroes of legend from years long past, but the servant before him wore incredibly modern-looking attire.
He wore all black, with silver segments bolted on and strapped together to provide additional armour plating and protection to various integral parts of his body. It started at the head, where his entire face was shielded from harm by a unique, ominous-looking mask that had both horns and illuminated blue lenses over the eyes. Both of his arms in their entirety, his shoulders, neck, portions of his chest and underarms along with his shins were covered. For pauldrons, the servant had wickedly spiked metal spires that jutted out at awkward angles. It was as protective as it was eye-gouging, but it served his menacing motif. Holsters for unknown objects were strapped to his thighs, but the only object attached to them was a mere scabbard for a short sword.
Speaking of swords, his main weapon was something incredible. Standing upright it was the same height as the man who used it, with a bladed end acting as the pommel. The material forming the blades portions was crimson, with an almost glass-like appearance. The surface glowed a pale light of the same colour. Shirou hardly needed to even trace the weapon to know that it was demonic, but that was what his trace revealed anyway. It was a weapon wielded by two separate people over two thousand years ago, which came as a blatant surprise in comparison to the armour the man wore. It was such a conflicting sight that Shirou had no clue as to what era he was from.
Gram, a demonic sword of glory and ruin. It was equal if not superior to the divine construct that was Excalibur, but it had also been bestowed with a dragon-slaying ability that both Saber and Lancer had picked up on. Considering Lancelot had a legend surrounding Lancer's dragon-slaying sword and Saber being part dragon herself, their familiarity was to be expected.
It also explained why Saber was trembling. While slight and imperceptible to most, it was readily apparent to him that her body just couldn't control itself. After looking into his stats as a servant, Shirou was amazed he could stand without shaking himself.
How could a servant have A double-plus stats? What sort of strength and endurance would parameters like that even result in? He could shatter a C-rank noble phantasm with his bare hands, but he had yet to even take a single strike to his body. Would projections even tickle?
The rest of his stats were more reminiscent of a Lancer than a Berserker. A rank agility, C rank mana and E rank luck. Most surprisingly was another A-plus-plus rank ability: his noble phantasm.
"I can't hold him forever, this shroud has its own mana drain and it's starting to wear out." The surprisingly emotional voice of a very familiar priestess brought the boy from his muses.
"If your goal is to avoid killing Shirou, why have you not used a command seal?" Saber was quick to ask. It was a good question, but Shirou had the feeling that if she could, Caren would have tried it already.
"This isn't a normal servant, I have no control as his master." The priestess was in an entirely different outfit that coincided with her changed personality. Instead of heavy robes, she wore tight black attire that was still refined and elegant looking while leaving little of her body shape to the imagination. It revealed no skin, making use of leggings and form-fitting clothing to preserve every ounce of her modesty.
Shirou furrowed his brow. Caren was being uncharacteristically emotive, entirely unlike how he knew her to be. "So you can't stop him from trying to kill me and you can't even order him to kill himself since command seals don't work," Shirou summarized. "Saber, use your noble phantasm-"
There was a sharp clank before an irate voice reached his ears. "Shirou, you cannot be serious. You would have me degrade myself in such a way in front of an enemy master?"
That comment had been a blunder. He had entirely forgotten a quintessential part of Saber's character: her honour. Unless the enemy was outwardly vile, Saber wouldn't unleash her blade on command to outright kill someone. She wanted a "fair fight" where her opponent was on equal footing. Shirou thought that it was incredibly stupid, but trying to fight her on the point wouldn't do much. "You might be right. This Berserker can speak, perhaps he's willing to fight you both squarely." Shirou already knew the answer to his hypothesis and it certainly wasn't that. "But I wasn't aware that knights battled their opponents two-on-one," Shirou accused.
Saber merely nodded. "If the enemy refuses to so much as introduce themselves, there is no possibility of a duel, but fighting with honour is still mandatory."
"Tactically, our master has pointed out the most sound decision. However, as knights, we will not deface ourselves again an opponent of such skill." Moving to Berserker's other side, Lancer maintained a ready position as if the servant would break free at any moment.
"You have to run," Caren murmured, staring at him with wide, serious eyes. "He'll kill you all, you need to get out of here while you still can."
Looking between her and her uncontrollable servant, Shirou made a decision. "We're leaving. We've gained enough information to make this worthwhile and we can regroup to try a new strategy next time.
The projected sword in Lancer's hands lowered partly. He watched Saber intently, waiting for guidance from his king. Rather than lower her weapon, the woman took a few steps backwards while still eyeing her former opponent.
They were prepared to leave; in fact, they were leaving. There was a sudden soft whistling before a loud metal grating and fleshy impact. Shirou had blinked and missed the entire action, but when his vision returned, he spotted a crimson blade embedded in Lancer's hip. Somehow, Berserker had broken free from the shroud without a single warning. Caren herself even seemed surprised since she looked over the fabric as if it had betrayed her.
Based on the angle of the blade, it had been deflected from its true target and had likely spared Lancer's life. Regardless, it was still a devastating wound and it had been entirely unprecedented.
Rather than try to remain and fight, Lancer grit his teeth and kicked away from the other servant, disappearing into spirit form when there was some distance between them. Realizing their situation, Shirou quickly turned and shifted his reinforcement to his legs. Not only were they unprepared to deal with such a force, but their forces had also been effectively halved with a single strike.
Mentally informing Saber to cover his retreat, the boy exploded from the clearing to dart between the trees heading back into Fuyuki. Once he got into the city, he could abuse his knowledge of the streets and hopefully dissuade the servant from causing undue harm to civilians.
Could this night get any worse?
… … …
… … …
A steaming teacup made the soft ceramic clatter as it settled onto its plate. Missy's hand uncoiled from the handle to grip the other side of an open book, offering her better handling. "Le Morte D'Arthur," or the "Death of Arthur." It was a blatantly fictitious rendition of King Arthur Pendragon's demise. While the historical accuracy was passable, they had gotten the king's very sex wrong.
She was alone, tasked with watching over the front door as well as the surrounding area. She had been given a sniper rifle and a small engraved flat rock for the job. The reason for the rifle was obvious, the rock less so. Kiritsugu had established a bounded field, one unique enough to be practically undetectable by normal magi. The only downside was the requirement of an external signal system, hence the engraved flat rock.
While Missy knew little of magecraft, she had a good memory for explanations. Kiritsugu had told her months ago that the reason typical bounded fields were so easy to detect was due to the definite link between the magus and their field. While providing an immediate warning of intruders, it also tied the magus directly to their craft. It was a small tradeoff, but an easily exploitable one.
Missy had no idea what that all meant, but if her mentor decided this was the best way to do something, she wasn't going to argue. She didn't argue when he gifted her with anti-magus weaponry, or when he provided her with a slim tactical rig and thigh holster for various forms of equipment, and she wasn't planning on arguing in the future either. Many occasions had revealed to her that Kiritsugu always worked three steps ahead of everyone. If he decided that she needed high explosive grenades, smoke canisters and thermal imaging scopes then she needed all three.
Turning a page in her book, the girl collected her tea for another sip while her hand was active. It might have been counterintuitive to read while supposedly on watch, though she had proven her ability to multitask before.
Her ears picked up a rustling on the wind from the trees below. It was subtle but definite and her eyes quickly latched onto the point of origin to search for an intruder. The rock hadn't done anything, so if someone had breached their defences, it was likely to be a servant capable of deception: Assassin.
After watching the spot for a moment, Missy realized that it was merely a squirrel leaping across some branches. Relaxing, the woman returned to her book and tea.
Her time with Kiritsugu had been interesting. It felt less like she was being trained and more like she was reacquiring forgotten skills. Shooting firearms, martial arts and taking lives all felt natural after the first time.
Setting aside her beverage and book, Missy carefully wrapped one hand around the handle of a deceivingly heavy rifle to scan the perimeter through the scope. Releasing a soft, chilled breath after finding nothing, the woman returned to her book.
She had defeated her mentor in a spar only twice. The first, when he was fighting as a normal human and underestimated her speed, and the second when he was using magecraft and she took advantage of his aged knees. She had never even gotten close to defeating Shirou. The boy surpassed her easily in all facets including cunning tactics. It was interesting and pleasing to see a boy develop to be stronger than his teacher, but disturbing and depressing to know that his life would inevitably mimic his father's. A life of loss and difficult dilemmas with no positive outcome.
Depending on the outcome of this war, it was possible that such an outcome would merely be accelerated tenfold. From what she knew, most of the enemy masters happened to be Shirou's friends. Killing his friends or saving the world. Many had made such a choice in the past and some of those very same were destroyed by it later in life.
A rustling sounded over the treetops again, though from a different direction than before. Leaning forward to listen closely, Missy made note of several other sounds: shifting gravel, crunching leaves, snapping twigs and soft rhythmic metal tapping. Setting down the book in her hand, the woman quickly moved the rifle to point in the general direction of the noise. Peering through the scope, she found nothing, but the noises continued.
Releasing a controlled breath, the woman rescanned the area and caught something white shuffling beneath the leafy canopy. Before she could determine what it was exactly, the flat stone near her began to vibrate and a strange symbol pulsed in red upon its surface.
Gritting her teeth, the woman refocused on her target at the end of the scope. That spot of white had been far behind the bounded field. Someone else had entered at the same time she spotted a new intruder.
Searching for a few more seconds got her an answer, but that answer also brought questions. There were two women out there, marching behind one another in righteous determination. The woman at the end of her weapon seemed too perfect not to be artificial. Porcelain white skin, sublime facial features and ominous crimson eyes that stood out from the darkness. Like their faces, each one wore outfits that reminded Missy of old World War nurses: Flat, simple and entirely devoid of personality.
They reminded Missy of Illya all too much and that brought a moment of hesitation to her next move. Tracking her target in the scope, the girl progressively squeezed the trigger until it surprised her by firing; just as she had been taught. As quickly as she could blink, a hole appeared in the center of the first's chest, but the woman did not fall. Behind the scope, Missy's eyes widened as the heartless being remained upright and started sprinting forward.
As the fledgling assassin prepared to take another shot, the woman's body collapsed in a twisted heap. So they required their heart to survive but not to function and they would fight through critical wounds.
The other woman had started running at the sound of gunfire and she had passed the point where Missy could accurately fire at her.
Unable to see any more, the girl leapt from her seat and through the tower doorway to get to Kiritsugu. As he had a detection stone of his own, he would already know of possible intruders. Her job would be to stand beside him and aid in the defence of the castle however she could.
Taking the stairs two at a time, the girl quickly made it to the second floor where she carried on down the hall toward Illya's room. Her first priority was to ensure her safety, in case Kiritsugu hadn't already. She was barely there halfway before the echoes of gunshots rang out from somewhere else within the castle. It was quickly followed by the rapid clanging of metal, though no cries of pain or struggle were heard.
The woman leapt overtop of an armed tripwire, saving her entire lower body from being blown off by an explosive trap. Almost on cue, an explosion shook the castle. Based on the sound, it was on the opposite side of the main entrance, meaning that whoever was attempting to break in knew the castle layout enough to note secondary entrances.
Reaching to her hip holster for a pistol, her fingers danced across the knife Kiritsugu had gifted her. The brief contact sent tingling jolts of electricity through her hand, forcing her attention to its surface. The steel held a faint blue aura that hovered partly above its surface. It was supposed to detect magecraft, mainly through the contact of blood; so why was it reacting to the air?
Snapping her head upright, the woman spotted another one of those white-haired nurses. The one in front had their hand extended in her direction and strange symbols were forming at her palm. Eyes widening, Missy quickly collapsed her legs so she could slide along the floor. She had done it just in time, as something brilliant in blue whizzed past her head and tickled her scalp. As soon as the projectile passed, the girl used her tucked leg and weight to pop back up onto her feet and continue running. She was only two doors down from Illya's room, but entering now would make the enemy aware as well.
Snapping both arms upright, Missy took aim and made note that the woman at the end of the hall didn't even appear surprised. In fact, her eyes and face held a hollow, vacant expression.
Even as the bullet left the barrel and struck her forehead, the woman - no, the creature, collapsed to the floor with an eerie emptiness. Reaching the door to Illya's room, Missy halted herself and checked the area to ensure she was alone. Thankfully only one of those things had managed to reach the second floor, but it was anyone's guess as to how many were crawling around.
Missy opened the door, quickly darted within and silently closed it behind her. Turning on her heels, the girl ensured that Illya was in fact inside and knelt at her front. "Miss Einzbern, you must hide yourself within this room. The castle is under attack by an unknown force."
"What about-"
"Your father is fine," Missy claimed, knowing Illya's question in advance. Placing her empty hand on the smaller girl's shoulder, the fledgling assassin restated her orders. "Please hide within this room, your safety is absolutely paramount."
Nodding with obvious worry, Missy refocused on the door. Would it be best to barricade it now, or defend the exterior and wait for Kiritsugu? Opening the door in answer to her own question, the woman stepped out into the hall and moved down to another door to deceive potential intruders. She had reached a sudden dilemma. Did she stand at a known location and wait for her mentor, or attempt to seek him out and provide aid where she could?
It was a difficult decision either way, but the gunshots would be difficult to follow in the echoing halls of the castle. She was sure to be discovered by Kiritsugu here and after killing that one thing, more were likely to appear. From behind, the direction she had initially come from, running footsteps echoed against the stone. Turning and raising her weapon in one motion, Missy spotted her mentor.
Both of his arms and large portions of his coat were splattered in fresh blood and he was heavily panting. It was good to see him, but the three albino figures on his tail were far less inviting. There was no way for her to get a shot off with him in the way, but he was quickly approaching a deadly tripwire. She was worried he had forgotten about it for a moment, but a cleverly placed stumble moved both his feet over it without giving it away.
He shouted at her to move and held no intention of stopping himself. Not bothering to argue, Missy turned on the spot and sprinted in the same direction as her mentor. As planned, an explosion sent a blast wave that struck her back and shook the entire hallway. She stumbled to recover her balance before turning to ensure that her mentor hadn't been caught in the blast.
He was safe, thankfully, though he was thoroughly exhausted. Giving him more than a cursory glance, she made a mental note of several cuts across his body and a particularly nasty-looking gash at hip level. He seemed to be trying extremely hard not to make a personal note of it, but it absolutely required immediate care.
He immediately asked if Illya was safe all while boring holes through her head with a dreading expression. "Miss Einzbern is safe within her room. Kiritsugu, exactly what sort of enemy is attacking? I've killed two of what I believe to be the same identical person."
"They're true Einzbern homunculi," he explained flatly. "Acht undoubtedly knows the Grail War is taking place and this just shows that he was planning on intervening from the very start." The man made a pained inhale while pressing one hand to the bleeding wound on his torso.
"Sir, you've been injured, you need to-"
"I'll be fine," he passed off, though his tone indicated anything but. "Looks like they've breached the rear door as well. Have you seen any others besides the two you killed?"
"I've seen three in total, two outside. How many can we expect?"
The man looked down both directions of the hall. "It's been a decade since I last diminished their supply, so anywhere from ten to two hundred depending on how determined they are."
Biting the inside of her lip, Missy cautiously checked the hallways again. "How long do we have to prepare?"
Acting as her answer, another explosion shook the castle from the opposite side. Grimacing, the Magus Killer pulled his hand from his wound and examined the blood as if it were special. "How long has it been since they entered the bounded field?"
Something shifted behind him and Missy snapped both arms upright. Missy didn't even hesitate, though her mentor did twist away from the pistol to avoid having his ears blown out from the gunfire. With a sharp snap, the bullet was fired to strike center-mass in her target. It had landed an inch off the mark, so she quickly let loose a second round that found its mark in the homunculus' heart.
"Are we holding positions here?"
"Negative. I'll remain here while you fortify the front end. Their main assault will be from there." He paused to make a pained noise and shift past her, replacing his hand on his injury. "Three doors down on the left I've left a rifle and sling with ammunition. I've put them behind the door in the corner, use them."
Nodding obediently, the woman followed orders by jogging down the hall, collecting the dropped rifle from the indicated room and setting up to defend the front entrance. At least, she would have, if she hadn't encountered an entire group of identical beings along the way. The majority of those she saw were using medieval-type weaponry of various styles she couldn't hope to name. There weren't any firearms, but projectiles were definitely being flung in her direction, some type of magecraft that she couldn't be bothered to describe more than labelling it as a threat.
Struggling to keep herself from injury, the woman used the spacious hallways to her advantage. Her dodging destabilized her aim and sent stray rounds into non-critical points. Although, wasting several bullets to save her own life was something she considered a necessary sacrifice. Holding the metaphorical line for five minutes, it became rapidly apparent that there was no end of reinforcements in sight. She had killed two dozen during that time but it hadn't even made a dent in their forces and she was on her last magazine in the rifle. Her dwindling stamina and the increasing number of fake humans meant she was using three shots to kill a single one.
With ten rounds left in her final magazine, the hot weapon jammed spontaneously. The shock between the lack of recoil and the failure to down an enemy sent a bolt of some type of magecraft into her shoulder.
Searing pain coursed through her form and her entire left arm felt as if it were simultaneously covered in flames and being crushed by a hydraulic press. Involuntarily, she released a sharp cry of pain. Reeling from the impact, Missy let the rifle fall loosely at her hips by the sling and focused on holding her balance. The line had fallen, she couldn't keep up with her enemy.
Darting to the side to avoid another bolt of energy, Missy turned on her heels and bolted back in the direction where she came. Her deadened left arm swayed limply at her side while her still functioning arm darted down to a cylindrical grenade tied to her rig. Without the use of her left arm, she had to get creative to pull the pin. A common myth was that it could be pulled easily using one's teeth. She happened to value and respect her teeth quite a lot, so that option was out. On the wall were hanging brass light fixtures that luckily featured curved jutting pieces. Darting her head back to ensure that she wasn't in danger, Missy narrowly avoided two more projectiles before she reached a fixture.
Holding the circular pin out with her fingers, the girl snagged a barb and yanked on the cylinder to dislodge the pin. The motion was silent, but the spoon dislodging from its seat was more than audible. Carelessly, the woman lobbed the canister behind her and made a sharp turn into the long stretch to Illya's room.
At the far end of the hall, six additional bodies were piled onto the one she had originally killed. Each of them held this perplexing, vacant gaze. There wasn't enough life in each shell originally to consider that look lifeless. A better description would be hollow as if there wasn't any sense of humanity in them to lose. Something equally as confusing was the lack of Kiritsugu. He was supposed to be defending the rear entrance by remaining in this hall, but he was nowhere to be found.
Trying not to let the thought bother her, a large explosion sounded from behind, blasting a wave of heat against her back and silencing the noise of dozens of footfalls on cold stone. It was almost a surprise that half the castle hadn't collapsed on account of how many explosives were being used. Passing one junction in the hall, Missy felt her body start screaming for oxygen. She had been running near non-stop since she left the top of her tower and it was getting to her rapidly. Her stamina would last until she reached Illya's room but no further. Her room was one junction away, a few seconds at her current rate.
Something hot and blue whizzed past her face, singing her cheek and startling her greatly. Snapping her head back to take note of her incoming opponents, she witnessed at least a dozen individuals trying to cram their way down a hall at once. Those in front had received particularly nasty burns and several shrapnel marks from her earlier attack. One was missing their entire arm and portions of their neck but was still sprinting forward with an empty expression.
Passing the junction, a soft clank diverted her attention to the side. Two of those creatures stood there, obviously waiting for her. One specifically stood out from the others. This one crossed their arms and held a look of disgust, more human than Missy had come to expect. The other maintained an oddly sorrowful expression but their eyes were still equally as empty as the others.
Their features were trivial to the weapon being jabbed at her. With more speed than she could even react to, something blunt but pointed slammed into her hips, blasting her off her feet.
There was a second where she comprehended what was transpiring, but the stone wall on the opposite side of the hall came quickly and her vision went dark once her head slammed into it.
… … …
"Trace on," he murmured to the night. Twitching as pain coursed through his body, the boy took a shaky inhale and calmed his muscles. The nerve conversion process never got any less painful regardless of how many times he did it. He had expected to gather a resistance after doing hundreds, but he wasn't so lucky. His body had learned to resist all pain except nerve-circuit making.
Reaching out to grasp the ephemeral blade of a weapon that existed in his mind, its shape moved from internalized wireframe to picture-perfect reality. Of course, it wasn't a perfect projection, but its appearance was indecipherable as usual. Compared to the original, the projection in his hand was barely eighty percent exact.
Sighing, the boy carelessly threw the weapon deeper into the shed. Before it could cause any damage, it vanished in a splash of blue-gold sparks. It seemed that the colours had reached equilibrium at least. They had been gradually becoming bluer with each attempt at unlocking his reality marble but now, nearly a perfect fifty-fifty split, the growth had stagnated.
Shutting his eyes tight to concentrate, Shirou projected something he would rather forget. Opening his eyes, he was greeted by a single bullet held firm between his fingers. 30-06 Springfield with an ivory-coloured tip.
Clenching the deadly weapon and his teeth, the boy watched his father murder countless magi with identical bullets. While each bullet was its own individual conceptual weapon, they all originated from a single point that tied them together.
Sympathizing with the experience of its growth.
Each time he brought up the blueprint for Origin Rounds, he was forced to relive his father's greatest transgressions vividly enough to have trouble differentiating his father's memories from his own. It was a visceral experience that likely came about due to his personal connection to the man himself.
Origin Rounds, along with the other favoured firearms used by his father, all produced similar visions but none were as gruesome as the Rounds themselves. Each magus they were used against suffered unspeakable agony until their execution shortly after. To think that a man he would honestly claim to look up to would harbour a power so vile was still gut-wrenching.
Violently throwing the bullet into the darkness, Shirou gripped at the sides of his head and forced the memories that weren't his own from his skull. Was he destined to become something like that? Did the ends truly justify the means?
Taking a shaky inhale, Shirou assured himself that no, no they didn't. Sacrificing one for the many meant little to him if the one being sacrificed was important. At the same time, he wanted, no, he needed to save as many as he could. The conflicting ideologies met headlong, clashing in his skull to bring about a pounding pain.
Hopefully, he would never have to make a choice like that, but something nagging in his mind told him to be prepared for it, to expect it.
Feeling mentally exhausted, the boy decided that his meagre training was enough for tonight. They had challenged Berserker and lost horribly two-on-one, Lancer had been gravely injured and Saber had taken a healthy chomp out of his mana during their retreat. It would be a miracle if they were ready by tomorrow night. By then, the other masters would be fully restored and prepared to fight. It was a nasty combination to be sure.
Stretching languidly with an excessive yawn, the boy absently scratched at an itch on his back. Their battle had been short, but Shirou could see that Berserker was their greatest threat. A servant like that had been the exact reason why he wanted to pair together with another master. With a third servant and a second master he would be a force strong enough to make everyone hear his words, a big stick ideology.
Trying to claim the Grail as some twisted anti-hero aiming for the destruction of humanity in his current state would come across as outright insane and laughable. If only he could convince one of his former friends.
Clenching both fists tight in frustration over his predicament, the boy stepped up into his darkened home, spotting Saber's brilliant emerald eyes gleaming at him through the night from the dining room.
"You haven't slept since last night. I do hope you plan on sleeping through the day." Saber's voice was much softer than he had expected, soft enough to make him feel guilty for not getting a decent night's rest.
Absently scratching a spontaneous itch on his arm, the boy shuffled awkwardly in place. "I don't think we'll be ready for a fight tomorrow."
The servant frowned, a sight that was visible despite the dim light. With how bright they were, her own eyes practically radiated light. "Speak for yourself. While Lancer may be forced to recover from his injuries, I was more than capable of fighting on my own."
"Saber, I don't know if I have the mana to support you in another fight," he admitted without a hint of embarrassment. He knew his reserves were pitiful, it was a fact he had come to accept over time. Unlike other magi, however, his could get better if he continued converting his nerves.
"That will not pose a problem." The statement brought nothing but confusion and Shirou let his face show as much while the king merely placed one hand on her chest. "My own reserves are more than capable of sustaining my form during combat. I can minimize the draw I have on you and join a possible battle without worry."
With her mana situation already handled, he had no reason to deny her from fighting. "Well in that case-"
The room was illuminated by a sudden spray of blue sparks that revealed the struggling form of Lancelot. The debilitating wound had been surprisingly less hazardous than Shirou would have guessed. Illya's absolutely ridiculous mana supply meant that his armour was renewed to be pristine as soon as it was damaged and the wound was mostly restored merely hours since the encounter. While still not fighting-fit, he could take on an opponent in a pinch.
"Shirou," the man directed with a voice full of panic. It immediately sent both Saber and Shirou on edge and the two awaited his message. "My master has sent a distress call asking for reinforcements."
Shirou's eyes widened partly. She was in trouble? If it was a force Kiritsugu and Missy couldn't deal with, it had to be a servant. "Which servant is it?"
"It's not a servant. I was given a message to tell you as well: The Einzbern's found us, though I am unsure as to what it means." Shirou's eyes couldn't have widened further and immediately the boy lunged down to the hall toward his room.
Sliding into his room, Shirou connected to Saber through their contract. "Saber, get the motorbikes and move them out front."
Receiving a simple agreement, the boy carelessly grabbed his coat and muddled over what else he might need. If the Einzbern's sent homunculi, they were definitely armed and he would likely be injured wearing nothing.
The suit that Kiritsugu had gotten him had been destroyed and while he could project a new one, that would take up more mana than he was prepared to part with. Looking up, the boy spotted a familiar dark outfit hanging on the back of his door.
He wasn't entirely out of options at least.
I love writing. The fact that, after writing thousands of words intimately describing and relating a character to the reader, I can take it all away in a single unexpected moment is so satisfying.
Who, you might ask?
Well that's part of the unexpected part, isn't it? Or will it even transpire in the first place? Aristophanes or Sophocles after all.
As always, favourite, follow and write a review: I enjoy each and every one of them.
