I wanted to release this on Christmas.
I wanted it to be a gift but I wasn't fast enough, unfortunately. I tried to get it finished but ended up finishing on like the 22nd and by then, Talndir my wonderful beta didn't have the time/didn't want to proof it over Christmas. It's much less his fault as I can understand his unwillingness and it's far more my fault for being so slow - Sorry guys!
But it's here regardless and I do hope you enjoy. Just for your troubles, I've made this chapter the longest chapter yet, just a smidge over 30,000 words with ANs!
Hardly more than a day prior, Shirou had wanted Saber to slow down so that they wouldn't wind up dead before reaching their destination. Now, with a looming threat on his mind, Saber couldn't drive fast enough. Both servants had re-collected their bikes and Shirou latched on as a passenger on the back of Saber's once more. Even though the bike was being pushed to its limit, Shirou still felt that it was too slow, that each second was one moment closer to hurting his family.
It took four hours to travel to the castle by walking through the thick forest. Driving to a road that came close cut that down to two and a magically enhanced all-out sprint would trim it further to twenty minutes or less, a time which still felt excessive. They would have been able to drive the entire way to the castle, but the pavement off the main road dropped off and turned into a thin dirt path that was practically impassable for high-performance motorbikes.
At the dirt path, the two servants hid their motorbikes while Shirou got a head start on running toward his destination. He had been to the Einzbern castle before, twice in fact. It hadn't been for any reason other than personal. Kiritsugu's journal had scorched the location into his mind, but the boy had visited the site on his own if only to see where his father had once fought for his life. As far as Shirou knew, it was long abandoned by the Einzberns and had been left in a state of total disrepair since the Fourth War.
As the castle came into view, Shirou confirmed that little had changed since his last visit. Beyond the overgrown vegetation and dusty exterior, the castle was in admittedly alright shape when considered that it survived a battle between servants and masters. Portions of the halls - especially those around the central courtyard - were the only areas in a state of disrepair. Several holes had been made as if something had exploded outwards from within. It was easy to tell since each gaping hole scattered debris out into the forest.
While he had visited twice, Shirou neglected to actually enter and examine the interior. For some inexplicable reason, the mere sight of what most would call ruins gave him strange nightmares he couldn't remember.
"Shirou, if your sister is in trouble, it would be best to locate her immediately," Saber interrupted.
Blinking back into reality, Shirou scanned the perimeter once and continued forward toward the main doors. "Secure the exterior, then find a way inside. I'll go through the front and find where Illya and the old man have gone," he ordered. Obeying his demands, the two servants diligently set out to their objective. Lancer was still wounded, but he had certified before they left the house that he was more than capable of handling another servant again, let alone a human. Not wanting to pass up additional help and lacking the time to argue, Shirou let him join.
Moving toward the main entrance, Shirou paused just outside to examine the door comprehensively. Built of solid, dense wood, it was built to survive quite a siege if required. That durability only applied when a bounded field was supporting it, however. Before touching the handle, he paused to look down at his own glove-covered hands. They were nostalgic in a way, harkening back to arguably easier times just a few years back. If either Lectra or Luvia saw him in this outfit, they'd know he was Blade in an instant. It was an unfortunately necessary risk. His customized suit was the only combat-ready outfit he had that also offered some defensive capabilities. Anything was better than wearing a simple jacket but the runed outfit was the best option by far.
Forming fists, the boy shoved his body shoulder-first against the door, finding it would not give so much as an inch. Expression souring, the boy reared back a reinforced leg and planted a booted foot dead center between the door. Eliciting an incredible cracking noise, the large doors were violently forced open with a loud cracking noise. The doors had been barred from the inside. Kiritsugu wouldn't do something like that, so who had?
The double doors created an echoing bang as they collided with the walls on either side, but the sight that met Shirou on the other end was what really concerned him. There were more than a half dozen people within, all mostly identical to one another. Each one wore flowing ivory dresses and strange concealing hats of conversely cheap material. They all had glaring crimson eyes and sharp, elegant features that glared at him in collective monotony. The differences between them all were minor: hip and bust size, thickness and width of the lips and length of eyelashes just to name a few. As if someone had tried half-heartedly to break up the uniformity, each dress had small patches of colour at the bust, forehead and beneath the ivory dress itself. The attempt was clearly half-hearted because the colours only varied from navy blue to black.
Uncanny appearance and similarities to a fully-grown Illya aside, Shirou couldn't help but notice the massive array of weaponry suddenly being pointed in his direction. Halberds, spears, swords and other types of medieval weaponry all of which were much too large for a normal human to wield competently.
If he hadn't been able to realize that they were all homunculi, Rin would have been right to call him an idiot all the time. Stumbling on his feet, Shirou chanted his two simple words so that he could summon decent weaponry into his hands; Elizabeth's blades as usual. There had been a moment of hesitation as he considered killing them all. That brief question of morality faded away once he reminded himself that they weren't human, they weren't like his sister. They were hollow shells without personalities to speak of and there was no consequence in killing them.
He knew enough about homunculi to understand that those designed for combat were incredibly simple in the mind. Emotions and complex rational thought were discarded, deemed unnecessary to make them perfect to act as grunts for mindless war or protection. Disgusting as such a condition was, it happened and there was nothing Shirou could do to stop it.
Like a well-oiled machine, the homunculi advanced in unison to force him from the main entrance. Three bladed weapons were swung at him simultaneously. Rather than try to defend, Shirou leapt backwards into the chilling evening air outside.
Huffing out a cloud of breath, he made a mental note of how many streamed from the door, preparing to take him on as a combined unit. The total count was eight, far more people than he had ever taken on at once. With trained efficiency, the eight formed a tight circle around him. He was at a blatant disadvantage and it wasn't merely in number. Their long polearm weapons were able to keep him at a distance. In order to make a strike against one, he would need to advance through a guard and that brought with it the risk of being piled upon by the others.
Trying to keep his eyes on all of his enemies at once, Shirou formed weapons in his mind. Leaving them dormant but ready meant he could react with projectiles when needed but didn't have to expend any unnecessary mana. He had to make each projection count or else he ran the risk of draining his mana reserves. As a master, a large portion of his mana reserves were constantly being devoted to keeping Saber within the world. When she started fighting, the hungry servant used even more. Wasting so much as a single projectile had a chance to spell his death later on.
There was a soft noise from over his right shoulder that demanded a quick snap of the head. A homunculus wielding a large sword was making a sharp chop, already swinging her weapon downward to cleave him in two. Shuffling out of range of the attack, Shirou focused on the closest homunculus who was preparing to gorge him with a spear. Using the blade in his right hand, he deftly caught the shaft of the weapon between his guard. Abusing the fulcrum he created, the boy trapped her weapon against his hip, projected a blade above his head and fired it at the homunculi within the same instance. Without a weapon to defend herself, the best she could do was lift her hands up and shield her vital organs - but her reflexes neglected to do even that properly. The blade struck diagonally, entering at her collarbone and skewering whatever internal organs the Einzberns had decided to form within.
Alarms went off in Shirou's mind and bounded off the inside of his skull. Twisting on the spot, the glint of a halberd caught his eye and his body reacted to move out of the way on its own. Halfway through the maneuver, Shirou realized that the homunculi were much faster than he had expected. The weighted blade jarred his entire upper body as it grazed his shoulder at an acute angle. Thanks to the rune-protected suit from Bazett, his arm wasn't removed from its socket, but he did receive a nasty slice that almost skimmed a chunk clear off. Hissing audibly, the boy had no time to collect himself as a rush of air snapped his head upward.
Both blades were brought up to stop a glaive from splitting his head like a melon. Straining to deal with the surprisingly powerful blow, Shirou bent at the legs and forced the weapon off his guard, ducking low to avoid a stabbing spear that aimed to pierce his good shoulder. He had many options, but the very first that came to mind was tossed out immediately due to Saber.
Had he no worry of his reserves, he could have projected the bō gained during his time from the Magus Tournament. There was a theory that he had wanted to test for some time but if it worked as intended, the mana draw would be too much to be practical in this exact situation.
On to the second option then: There was another mystic code he had access to that would work and unlike the bō, it would have a minimal mana cost associated with it. Dematerializing the blade in his right hand, a new weapon took its place in almost the same instance. It was long, manipulatable and composed of interlocking steel segments.
With a rising spin from his position near the ground, the weapon - a steel whip - was flung around within the circle of homunculi. As it gained speed, the entire surface of the weapon spontaneously erupted in bright red flame. The first woman in its path was caught off guard by the surprise tactic and was unable to stop it from colliding with her face. The impact alone was enough to crack her skull if not break her neck completely. Coming out of his spin with the whip, the boy let it fly from his grasp, flinging the weapon haphazardly toward the remaining homunculi. Not expecting him to forfeit his weapon so easily, two women were caught up and sent sprawling by the deceivingly heavy weapon.
With two dead and two out of the fight for a moment, the eight-homunculus circle became remarkably more manageable. It did little to ease the difficulty of the battle, however, as two homunculi launched another attack in tandem from opposite sides. Rather than try to avoid them both and stay within the middle, the boy leapt from the center toward one of the women whose long weapon was out of position and in the midst of being readied.
Colliding with the homunculus shoulder-first, Shirou was surprised to find that she was much more solid than she appeared. Despite the impact from his large frame, she hardly moved more than a half meter before both of their feet had both dug into the ground. Reinforcing his legs with another brief burst of mana, the boy put all his strength into throwing the sturdy woman onto her back. Only barely managing to stumble her into a trip, Shirou took advantage of the opening and leapt over her toward the castle entrance.
Spending the residual mana in his legs to enhance his sprint through the doors, Shirou slid to a quick halt on the stone tiling within. The homunculi were in hot pursuit, but he had the advantage for a hopeful moment. Slamming both doors closed, he quickly slid the projected blade in his left hand into the slot intended for - and formerly filled with - a wooden bar. It had fit loosely, but an immediate impact against the other side set it on tension and made it immovable. Not bothering to waste time confirming whether it would hold, the boy turned tail and bolted up the main stairway, disregarding the fine layer of dust and the somewhat decayed interior that smelt of mould and gunsmoke.
Bounding up the stairway as fast as his legs could carry him, a loud metal snap echoed throughout the main entrance area. Thankfully, he had already rounded the corner out of sight into the upper hallways. Even if he had been seen, it was unlikely that the homunculi would all follow him deeper into the castle. Shirou didn't even need to be a tactician to see that they had been instructed to guard the main entrance to prevent any escapees. At least, that's what Shirou would have ordered them to do if the roles were reversed.
Reaching the second floor, Shirou was met with the sight of dozens of bodies. While it wasn't something new to him in the slightest it was enough to slow him somewhat. Of course, that slowing wasn't mental. In fact, the boy hardly batted an eye while struggling physically to traverse so many mangled corpses. Rounding the next corner and slowing to a jog, he quickly came to the conclusion that he had absolutely no idea as to where Illya actually was. He had been left out of Kiritsugu's plans once it was assured that he and Illya would play their own parts separate from one another. With so much area to cover, it was likely to take a long time if he were to simply go door-to-door. Absently, the boy maneuvered over a collection of bodies in the middle of the hall. Based on the scorched hole in the floor and the marks upon their bodies, Shirou concluded they had been killed by an explosion of some type or another.
Rounding a corner, Shirou spotted several more bodies piled at the very far end of the hall. Unlike the ones from earlier, they were efficiently killed with a single bullet. It revealed a difference in efficiency between killers. If Shirou had to guess, Missy had killed the homunculi at the entrance and Kiritsugu had taken these ones personally.
He could have asked Lancer where Illya's general location was, but he hadn't quite had the forethought for such a question. Silently cursing himself, Shirou continued jogging down the hall in the hope that a sign of some sort would point him in the right direction. He could always trace the entire castle, but doing so would cost more mana than he was comfortable spending and would bring about pain as large scale traces always did.
His signal came in the form of a gunshot, several in fact, and they sent him sprinting down the hall with reckless abandon. Where there were gunshots, Missy or Kiritsugu would be nearby and by extension - Illya.
Another two gunshots precluded a sharp womanly cry of pain from one of the rooms up ahead. With a target in mind, Shirou set his eyes forward and made note of a large blood splatter on the wall just before a doorway. With the room that had made noise just ahead, Shirou was met with the sight of a door rendered to splinters by some type of concussive blast. Prepared to leap straight inside, a strange female voice he had never heard before stopped him short.
"Neither of you two are the homunculus we were ordered to find. Tell us her location now or we will attempt a more persuasive method." There was a chilling silence as whomever the first voice spoke to held their tongue. Even after a threatening metal clank echoed from within, the other voices still refused to speak. Peeking in through the remains of the doorway, Shirou spotted at least eight homunculi standing menacingly around two familiar faces: Missy and his father. Thankfully nobody inside saw his peek.
Reconfirming his count of eight, he absently made note of two more bodies lying close to Missy, who appeared to be struggling to remain conscious. Blood trickled from the top of her head to completely coat her left eye. Her left arm was visibly out of place and the same shoulder featured a large bloodied patch that dripped fresh blood from her fingertips. She had obviously put up a struggle, but they were more concerned with the Magus Killer if their perimeter around him was any indication.
The man wore his tested duster from his time as a proper assassin. While singed and scarred from his battles, it was still trustworthy nonetheless. Visually he appeared to be in much better shape than his accomplice, but the man was having difficulty breathing and a low audible wheeze poured from his mouth with each exhale. A closer examination revealed a haphazardly bandaged wound on his abdomen. It was deep and still bleeding but it wasn't extremely life-threatening.
Two of the homunculi stood out among the others by a difference that was simple but noteworthy. Unlike the others who wore maid outfits with alternating accent colours, these two had entirely white outfits. The first held her weapon at Kiritsugu's throat, though it was far from sharp enough to be truly intimidating. A red and silver halberd unlike any of the other weapons he had seen the other homunculi use. A visual trace revealed it to be made entirely of rhenium, a metal Shirou had never witnessed in person. The weapon was shocking to him personally. Not because it was finely crafted or gorgeous in design - which it was - but because it weighed more than than a literal tonne and was being held at arm's length by a woman roughly Missy's size. To support that weight meant the homunculus was on the level of a servant in terms of strength, though the vacant look in her eyes told Shirou that combat was all she was useful for. At least she had given his mental armoury another unique weapon.
"I'll extend my hospitality to offer thirty more seconds before you will both be executed." The voice originated from the other homunculus wearing all white. Her voice held pure contempt and what he could only call disgust. With hands placed cordially at her front, she beamed angrily at the two hostages ahead of her. Unlike her sisters, she actually had emotion and spoke with a detectable level of sentience.
Focusing on his enemies, the boy worked to determine the best way to eliminate them all without risking either of the two hostages. So many in such a cramped space would add complications to any direct tactic, and firing projections freely had a chance to run him dry or injure his family.
"Saber, I've found Kiritsugu and Missy," he informed, hoping for reinforcements or at least a guarantee that help was on the way.
"Lancer and I are working our way inside from the central courtyard. Resistance is greater than we expected," was the excuse he got back. How could servants be so slow against mere homunculi? Were their numbers so great that they were overwhelmed or was their strength in combat equal to weaker servants?
"Leysritt," the intelligent homunculus motioned with one hand toward the one wielding the halberd. On command, the homunculus reared back the ridiculously heavy weapon as if it were a cardboard tube.
"I'll tell you," Missy blurted out, squeezing her blood-shut eye tight while taking a shaky breath. Shirou doubted her for an instant, then remembered her devotion to Kiritsugu.
Pausing for too long, the speaking homunculus grew impatient and coaxed her hostage along with a questioning statement. "Illya is-" Missy paused again. It was deliberate, she was buying time for the two of them in hopes that either they would come up with an escape plan or they would be rescued. As the speaking homunculus cleared her throat, Missy finally noticed Shirou peeking from the doorway.
The motion of her eyes was enough to make both of the unique homunculi turn in his direction. Moving into the room as the unique homunculi started to react, Shirou projected two blades over his shoulders. Both weapons fired at the lesser homunculi and both struck their targets. With a weapon impaled in each of their torsos, the two that were struck failed to die on account of bad positioning, but they were unbalanced from the momentum and that would give him breathing room.
Eight more blades were created within his mind, each with a purpose. The homunculi who were able were already moving to attack. All except one, the unarmed, unique one, who quickly darted toward the back of the room out of harm's way. One of the weapons in Shirou's mind formed just ahead to nestle squarely in one outstretched hand. With a weapon of his own, the boy parried an incoming blow and darted straight through the woman's guard. With the long weapon too unwieldy to handle him at such a tight range, making a decisive strike was child's play.
Landing the tip of blade beneath her ribs, the boy struggled to fully lodge the sword in her body. Using both hands and a sharp jerk, the weapon was embedded to the hilt where it sat firm. With a final sharp push, the woman and blade were forced backwards. She hadn't died, but the weapon had skewered her vital organs and she would soon. Three of the seven weapons still primed in his mind were fired toward the homunculus named Leysritt, distracting her greatly and forcing her weapon to withdraw from his father's neck to protect herself.
The remaining pre-primed swords were distributed equally to each remaining homunculus, aiming to distract them all collectively rather than actually kill or injure outright. By the time those four reached their targets, the three he had sent prior had already been deflected. The distraction offered enough time to get both Kiritsugu and Missy moving to assist in the very least. Like mirrored images, both shot upright and reached for weapons hidden on their person. Missy was faster to the draw and managed to fire two rounds in quick succession into a homunculus. Their assistance allowed Shirou to focus on the higher priority target, the one named Leysritt, who had blocked his fired swords.
Letting the pounding indoor gunshots drown out all sound in his mind, Shirou projected two green blades into his grasp and moved to take down the halberd-wielding homunculus. With a resounding clang, the woman caught both of his weapons on her staff and easily threw them away. Sliding his feet against the floor to space his stance, Shirou redoubled his efforts and feinted into another attack.
As if predicting the move, the homunculus easily reflected his true attack as well only to reverse the weapon in her hands and jab the base at his chest sharply. Crossing both weapons to block, the boy was roughly shunted backwards as her weapon contacted his. The extreme weight and speed of the blow meant that every strike was bone-shattering. After such a mere blow, not even from the head of the weapon, hairline fractures began to spread through the bones in his forearms.
Gathering himself, he was forced to leap further back as the homunculus made a wide horizontal swing. His back almost struck the corner of a large dresser but collided with the wall closest to the door instead. Thankfully he was still out of range regardless, if only barely. As the weapon passed in front of him, it collided with a small section of the wall and continued on unimpeded despite striking stone. Shards of rock were sprayed liberally throughout the room and while he would have had a chance to attack with a lesser combatant, Leysritt was able to rear her weapon back for another strike faster than Shirou could ever hope to move.
There was no way that she was an ordinary homunculus. Was this why Saber and Lancer were having trouble? Was it because the entire castle was filled with homunculi like this?
The head of the halberd shot high in preparation for an overhead attack. Realizing his position, panic set in. The path on his left out the door to the hallway was blocked with debris and too difficult to pass seamlessly. He could try, but doing so would likely cost an arm or a leg to the crushing halberd head. Behind him and to his other side lay the wall and a dresser respectively. The only way he could move was forward and that was obviously out of the question. His only option was to defend, but nothing he had would withstand the power in a strike from that weapon. Making matters worse, there was no time to prepare a defence beyond the two weapons in his hands either.
He was out of time and outmatched in strength. One mistake in positioning had spelt the end of his life and there was little he could do to prevent it. Reinforcing his body and weapons as much as he could in a split second, the boy forced both weapons out to lessen the blow, but he knew it wouldn't work in the end regardless. Once his blades shattered, the only thing he could do was push himself against the wall to avoid his head being crushed by the weapon.
He had one final chance. A theoretical use of one of his treasured possessions that would keep him alive at the very least. In his mind, a chant echoed as the weapon neared his chest. Four words leapt to his mind: "Time Alter: Triple Accel!" The crest was powered and the world outside of his own body slowed dramatically until it was moving at one-third of its normal speed. Velocity was a coefficient of momentum. If the former was decreased by two thirds, the latter was as well. He would be injured regardless, but slowing the weapon by three times might just prevent him from being pulverized into red mist. He would have tried knocking the weapon away or forcing it back but there was simply no time even in Triple Accel.
The halberd produced a visceral full-body crack as it rebounded off his chest. Instant, searing, unbearable pain washed over him and Time Alter fell apart with his concentration. Sharp blinding white struck at his eyes before every shape in view blurred and darkened drastically. Even with one-third of the force, Bazett's suit could only handle so much damage and the halberd vastly overwhelmed the attire. His body suffered an incredible amount of damage, undeniably the most he had ever received. After bouncing off the wall from the force, his body collapsed limply to the floor. Each one of his ribs had been pulverized and several of his organs had suffered the same fate. He should have died and if he was anything close to normal, he would have.
Avalon was the only thing keeping his body functioning, but even that was an endeavour. Regenerating his heart took highest priority: It needed to transport the last oxygen-rich blood in his body to his brain. It gave the relic some greatly needed time to restore a portion of his lungs. Together with his brain, they were the only organs required for him to live, though living was far from an accurate description of his state.
Making gasping, guttural, and wet breaths of air, his body worked like a machine attempting to reboot, forfeiting every noncritical system just to preserve itself. Even when he tried to activate his magic circuits and project blades, nothing happened and his body remained inactive. It was as if his body had been disconnected from his soul. There wasn't a single muscle beyond his heart that would move, but he was acutely aware of his surroundings nonetheless. His vision was directed at the feet of those present in the room and his ears worked, but there was nothing he could do to really appear alive. He had become a vegetable in a single strike.
His holdout ability remained, but he would need to wait until Avalon repaired enough to engage his mouth and even then, there was no telling what it would do to him. In such a distraught condition, would his entire body be mutated? Before he could answer his own question, he would have to wait and see if he would survive the next few seconds.
From his motionless position on the floor, he could see a handful of interest points. Kiritsugu and Missy had been subdued once more, though not without taking down three more homunculi as a reward for their efforts.
What really concerned Shirou, was the looming shadow of a halberd being lifted high over his head. The homunculus was finishing him off, eliminating a loose end. There was nothing he could do to stop it either, as his body still wasn't functioning beyond a vegetative state.
The point was pulled back, the killing blow already in motion. Unable to even close his eyes, the boy's mind held a conflict over whether to just give up and accept his end or try something, anything to survive. In the end, there was no time and he had nothing he could do. His death was in motion. He couldn't even breathe properly, let alone retaliate. He regretted being unable to save his sister, he could only imagine what awaited her after these women were done with him. Maybe if he had been less frugal with his projected swords, if he had been more aware of his surroundings - it wouldn't have ended this way.
Illya would have to finish the Grail War on her own. That was if Kiritsugu could somehow get them out of this mess. A sudden paralyzing fear washed over him. What if he couldn't? What if the homunculi won and killed them all? What would happen to Illya then? Would they force her to become the Grail's vessel? Despite how much he tried to move even a hair, his body still refused to obey. It was hopeless, there was nothing he could do.
"Stop!" A cry echoed, and everyone in the entire room went as stiff as Shirou. With a clamouring noise, a small girl shuffled out from beneath the bed, sobbing as she did. "Don't kill him, I'll go with you. I-I'll do whatever you want." With both eyes and ears, he could tell that it was Illya. Tears rolled down crimson eyes that were locked into his own.
Kiritsugu and Missy both knew it was too late to tell the girl that such a decision was a mistake, but the look in their eyes regretted the reveal on her behalf.
In the time it took for the remaining four homunculi to collect themselves and focus on Illya, Shirou regained the use of his eyes and one of his lungs. While less of as struggle to breathe, it was anything but easy. Each cycle of breath transported thick gobs of various fluids along his throat. Blinking several times to wet his eyes, the boy watched helplessly as the unarmed homunculus approached his sister and peered down as if gazing upon a piece of discarded refuse.
The unarmed homunculus raised one hand limply. "Leysritt, let us grant the vessel's last request."
Both Shirou and Illya's eyes went wide, but only one set remained open for more than a moment. The unarmed homunculus quickly extended one hand to land on top of Illya's head and without so much as a word, the girl collapsed onto the ground unconsciously.
Shirou's freshly reformed heart threatened to beat out of his demolished chest. The temperature of the blood coursing through his veins leapt ten degrees in an instant. Even though he ordered his body to move, it remained motionless. He couldn't do a thing to protect his sibling. Was he going to lose her here? The homunculus wielding the halberd, Leysritt, approached Illya and bent to yank her upward by the hair.
A raging inferno erupted within his body at the sight. She had laid her hands on Illya, she had hurt his little sister. Shirou felt his body activate one inch at a time. Her actions were inexcusable and he would make that homunculus pay tenfold. His hands steadily tightened into fists, his arms slid across the ground and his mouth spoke a phrase which would either get him killed or save everyone at once: "I am the bone of my sword."
The reality marble enveloped his body from the inside out and a torturous agony washed over his entire already wracked body. As it rooted itself in reality, his gurgling breaths suddenly became edged with the sound of grinding, scraping metal. Each painful beat of his heart sent shooting pains throughout his entire body, but functionality across his entire body restored itself at double the rate. Running a continuous trace on his body, he carefully monitored the percentage of his body that was made of steel. It was a disturbing number, especially when it was climbing so rapidly beyond thirty percent. One palm pressed on the ground to lift his battered body off the floor and another forced his upper body into the vertical. From there it was a short shuffle of the feet to bring himself to a stand. Each heave of his chest, each breath and each pump of his heart made grating, grinding noises as small blades passed over one another.
Turning at the peculiar sounds behind her, the unarmed homunculus offered the boy an appreciative glare. "A resilient master, indeed. The vessel has offered up her last request for your freedom, you should leave before we change our minds." Shirou's face twitched involuntarily. They were treating Illya like some worthless object, they called her a vessel. She was a human being goddammit, she was his sister. She had every right to be called a human.
The homunculi turned their back on him to focus on his sister, a motion which infuriated Shirou even more. The unarmed homunculus gripped Illya's face between her two hands, turning the girl's head side to side as if appraising an artifact. Through the pain, Shirou willed his concentration into forming one last blade. Hardly waiting for it to fully form within his grasp, the boy threw what little caution he had left to the wind and mentally spoke another phrase: "Time Alter: Triple Accel." With a burst of speed far beyond human capability, Shirou lunged forward only to find an incredible amount of pain awaiting him.
Just clearing the distance between himself and the two homunculi felt like he had slammed into a wall at Mach one, but with Illya's life on the line, his only concern was getting their hands off of her. Time Alter ended as he entered striking range, and his hand shot out to grip the top of the unarmed homunculus' head. Baring his teeth like an animal, Shirou reared back with a hand full of her concealed hair, lifting her throat to the air so that the blade in his other hand could slice the sensitive flesh wide open.
At the first blood-soaked gurgle, the boy threw the dying target by the head into her accomplice, Leysritt. As the body of one homunculus struck another, Shirou slammed his own charging weight into her their combined mass as well. The impact sent the homunculus and her weapon toppling to the floor. The former made a thud, while the latter produced an echoing slam that shook the very room as its extreme weight succumbed to gravity. During the fall, Shirou opted to release his weapon, rearing back one anger-filled fist to punch his former attacker in the face. With alternating strikes from both arms, her visage quickly became a bloodied pulp as the rapidly expanding sword flesh worked as a focused, point-impact blender.
One of three other homunculi had reacted in time, landing an attack with a greatsword that buried itself deep into his right shoulder. After piercing his flesh, the weapon rapidly halted to the sound of sharp grinding. The power in that blow would have split him in two had it not been for the sword-flesh stopping it early through friction alone. Growling in pain, Shirou grit his teeth and snapped his head upward, projecting two weapons that pierced the attacker's skull. Recoiling from the attack, her limp body collapsed to the floor but the heavy weapon embedded in his body remained stuck firm.
The final homunculus, one using a unique spear, made an approach. With one arm more or less disabled and his body weighed down by the sword stuck inside of him, he projected two blades behind her and fired them into her spine. Without her lower body for support, the homunculus collapsed onto the floor feebly. From there, it only took a stretch for Shirou to remove one of his impaled weapons so that he could sink it into the back of her skull.
Taking large, broken breaths, Shirou verified that his enemies were all dead. His father and Missy had done the same, though they were far more concerned with Shirou's condition. Illya's unconscious form was lying on the ground. The magecraft used against her was still in effect, no doubt.
Heavy clanking footfalls precluded the appearance of two well-armed knights who were both bathed in blood. "We apologize, while the resistance wasn't anything dangerous, the numbers were considerable."
Shirou turned to look at his servant and the woman visibly recoiled. "Shirou, your face," she gasped. Confused by her meaning, he raised one hand to his cheek, producing an ear-piercing grating noise as the two metal surfaces ground against one another. Looking down at his own fingers, he realized that his entire hand had been converted to sword-flesh. The tracing results revealed that as little over fifty percent of his body had been converted into blades. More concerning was the fact that it had started converting his bones into blades. Before he could worry about turning off his circuits or how he could revert the spreading growth, something impacted the side of his head and everything went dark.
… … …
… … …
There was a woman.
Rather, a girl barely old enough to be considered a teenager who stood in the middle of a tranquil grassy field. She was motionless, caught staring at the only object present for some distance:
A sword embedded in a stone.
A gleaming silvery-gold blade, a soft, simple blue hilt and crossguard all engraved lovingly in intricate detail with gold. Despite being out in the open air for an indeterminable amount of time, it appeared as if it had rolled straight from the forge ready to be framed upon the wall.
The weight of the world resided on the girl's shoulders with a single decision: Withdraw the blade and become inhuman, become king; or return to a simple life and be at peace with ignorance.
Setting her jaw, the woman took a few proud steps forward and wrapped one hand around the handle of the gleaming weapon. Holding herself short of drawing it, the girl deliberated once more.
"Consider that decision before you commit yourself to it," a voice spoke from behind, directing her gaze to a man that hadn't been there just seconds ago. "Once you have withdrawn that sword, you will cease to be human."
The man maintained an inviting smile and a warm voice, but her senses warned that he was a truly dangerous man. Something about his presence reminded her of old stories told by Sir Kay regarding demons and evil creatures. At the same time, she couldn't help but feel allured by that very same presence. "If I am to be King of Britain, so be it."
The man made a short, sharp and saddened laugh. "Know that the king must be prepared to kill everyone in order to protect everyone."
"If that is what it takes, I won't hesitate," the girl confirmed, stepping forward to wrap both hands around the weapon's grip. Despite yanking upwards, the sword was stuck fast and would not relent so much as an inch.
An amused snicker, a flourish of one arm that spread flower petals across the fresh grass. "Such determination. Let us see how far you are able to take such righteous spirit." Finishing his sentence, the sword smoothly slid free of the rock, producing a near-blinding flash of golden-white light as bright as the sun itself.
… … …
The looming sight of Camelot sat ahead. It was a representation of her life's work with its pristine white stone walls and its elegantly crafted towers spiked high into the heavens. Each time she witnessed it, the king couldn't help but feel a warming homely sensation. All of her efforts to unite Britain had culminated in the creation of Camelot and it stood as a testament to her success. Just outside its walls, where they were passing through, sat a well-protected and dense village; one of the most lavish across Britain. Around her revolved the murky swirling noises of assembling people and the soft rhythmic pacing of several horses. Despite her forward-set focus and the overwhelming number of voices, she heard snippets of conversation and whispers amidst the crowd.
She only dwelled on the most interesting pieces, however:
"Our king seems too perfect."
"It's rumoured that the king isn't human."
"At times it's hard to tell the difference between our king and the stone walls of his domain."
"Never losing a battle is almost inhuman, is it not?"
"Why has the king not produced an heir?"
Tightening her face, the king listened to the innumerable questions surrounding her humanity before a familiar voice caught her attention from the side. "My liege?" Turning, she was graced with the softly smiling visage of Sir Bedivere. "Since nearing Camelot you have been stricken with such a serious, wistful look. Might I know what is on your mind?"
The king shook her head immediately. "You need not be concerned. I was merely reflecting upon the battle." It was a lie of course, but there was no need for the knight to concern himself with her own insecurities.
The smile on his face grew sad, sadder than it typically was, but he allowed his mount to slip further back out of her sight. The distraction was far from unwelcome, but it was over regardless. At the very least her mind had moved on from the conversations of her people to the reuniting of her land once more.
… … …
A knight in silver and crimson approached her table. For as long as this knight had been in her employ, the king had never witnessed his face. While curious and intriguing, the young knight obeyed her orders and was a considerable force in battle. So long as he upheld the chivalric code, his appearance meant nothing.
Regardless, he was in her war room toward the tail end of the evening. Why had he not accompanied the other knights?
"Sire-" he began before shaking his head. It was as if he was holding a fierce battle back within his mind. "No, you must be shown before you can understand." Heavy clanks of shifting metal followed and gradually the helmet upon his head gave way to reveal a shockingly similar sight. Golden blonde hair, eerily identical features and blazing emerald eyes. The twisted mirror the king was forced to look into brought on an intense wave of nausea and a sense of dread that predicted something more was yet to come.
She would be a fool not to feel the kinship shared between them or understand it with her own eyes. Before he even explained their relation, she had already concluded something similar. The knight babbled in, but it was all useless noise to her ears. Mordred was her son, but admitting such a thing was impossible.
There was shame in that thought. So much so that it hurt her chest to dwell on. Having an illegitimate son was one thing, but keeping it secret from her people for so long when it was just under her nose was disgraceful. To an outsider looking in, the act was blatant deceit. Regardless of her explanation, it would always be believed to be intentional deception.
It wasn't fair to the people of Britain, it would destroy her credibility as king and it would cause disruption all throughout the round. They were nearing a civil war and he had thought to bring up such a sensitive matter?
Closing her eyes tight, the king took a deep breath and opened them during her exhale. "I have no son, you have been misinformed."
The knight ahead of her was struck full force by disbelieving grief, but the king paid no mind. "But- how?" the knight murmured.
Unable and unwilling to say anything more, the king turned to leave to the sound of various curses and claims. They were baseless and formed within a fit of rage, she took no offence to them. Though, as the knight continued his near delirious ranting, something foreboding struck at her chest. It was persistent and nagging with a warning that there was merit in his words. Perhaps just her nerves with her country on the brink of civil war, or maybe it was a premonition but something was warning her:
That knight, Mordred, would bring about the ruin of Britain.
… … …
"The king knows not of what it means to be human." The last words she had heard being proclaimed by her proudest, strongest and most loyal knight, Lancelot.
A week prior he had offered that smouldering message before running off with her queen to France. She had known he would run of course, but her hands were tied by the very laws she had established. None were exempt from its equal hand. It had not been her desire to execute Guinevere, but the people's.
That was why she allowed Lancelot to rescue her. Even after attempting to help by offering excess drink to the guards, Gawain's sons had perished after attempting to stop their attempt to abscond.
To defend a friend's honour and appease the people, a troop was deployed on Lancelot's heels with orders to bring the supposedly rogue knight to justice.
But she had known the truth.
The two had been holding a secret affair for years. Being honest and ignoring the shame it brought to admit such a fact, she had never loved Guinevere. The king had only made her queen out of simple necessity. A king required a queen, and Guinevere had been the only person capable of handling such responsibility.
And what a miserable responsibility that was.
The woman bore the weight of inescapable loneliness being married to a famous spouse who would not so much as touch her. That sequestered destructive loneliness was a greater burden than the king herself could ever imagine. And while Guinevere wept each night, there was nothing either one could do to help the other; they were both pitiful victims of circumstance.
Which was why the king paid no mind to the affair. She had known from the start about the affection shared between Lancelot and her queen. Knowing their burning love for one another, the king had allowed their mutual, inevitable indulgence while pretending to be ignorant.
The silent agreement had worked well until it was brought to light by Agravain. The air around all of Britain had been steadily growing tense ever since.
She would depart for France soon, leaving Mordred to guide Camelot in her stead. As one of the few remaining capable knights, it was her only option.
The king couldn't help but feel anxious and unnerved by the thought of that decision.
… … …
Dead men littered the ground in every direction for as far as the eye could see. Hardly a patch of cracked clay or grass could be seen between their mangled, bloody, corpses. The stench of voided intestinal contents and copper was overpowering to the point of disgust. It was a battlefield, but it was honourless. At one point they had been her friends, comrades and followers. Some still were but most had converted to assist in Mordred's rebellion against Camelot.
Mordred and the king had slaughtered the men of each opposing side, meaning they had been the last to remain standing. The last few forces of the king had been formidable men, but against the brutal odds it was inevitable that they would fall; the mental drain of battling their combating brothers-in-arms, the greater number of opponents and the dishonest, unchivalrous strategies of Mordred's insurrection ensured it was so.
In the end, the king herself handled the brunt of the resistance forces on her own and had suffered multiple mortal wounds as her reward. Despite the outward appearance of her inability to die, the king gravely understood that her fate had arrived and it was only a matter of time. All of the king's wounds paled in comparison to the last wound delivered to Mordred: A lance driven straight through the center of his chest.
Rhongomyniad, the pillar supporting the world. It had pierced Mordred's thick armour clean through both sides as if it hadn't existed in the first place. It was the final strike from both sides and it had locked the two in place as if time stopped. The sword in Mordred's hands, a familiar ceremonial weapon from the king's own storehouse, landed within the numerous bodies below. One crimson gauntlet-clad hand wrapped around the king's shoulders to force the pair closer together, further embedding the lance in Mordred's chest.
"Look around you, Father," he spat, blood pooling inside his venomous mouth. "It's over: Britain is in ruins and you've failed your country. Are you proud of me, Father? Do you recognize me as your rightful heir now?" The man swallowed thickly, speaking through clenched teeth. "Only a knight equal to you could ever hope to kill you."
Shutting her eyes and gritting her teeth, the king clenched both hands around the lance. He was right. Her kingdom had crumbled to pieces and as king, it was her fault. Perhaps if she had recognized Mordred as her son, if she had declined Guinevere as her bride of necessity and allowed her to wed Lancelot.
If she had never drawn the Sword of Selection in the first place.
Thrusting the lance forward, Mordred produced a pained noise and gripped haphazardly at the king's hair for support. Metal fingers ripped strands from her scalp, producing painful prices of sharp pain that almost went unnoticed alongside her more grievous injuries. "Your precious chivalry, your honour and knight's code," the knight continued to growl. "Look at all the good it did."
"I-"
"You call me a traitor, but you've been lying to your people from the very start." The pressure on her hair was faltering and the weight upon her lance grew increasingly heavier. "Who would believe someone heartless like you was ever human?" Mordred's body fell limp and his weight grew heavy on the king's arms. He had perished, there was no doubt of that. Unexpectedly, the hand jammed into her hair tightened and reared her head back. A sharp pain struck at her side beneath her left arm. The king opened her mouth to cry out in pain but gauntlet-clad digits had already dug themselves into an existing wound in an unarmoured portion of her body. She couldn't even do anything, as Mordred's weight and positioning had locked both arms in place. The cold shifting of sharp steel was excruciating as the deceased knight searched for something to injure within her body.
Clawing like a wild animal, the traitorous knight finally located his target. A sudden weakness struck her legs and shortness of breath struck the king in the same moment. It was a struggle to stand and breathe, but she wasn't prepared to kneel against the efforts of someone so foul.
Cementing the spear deeper within Mordred's chest, the king released her lance and allowed the body and weapon to roll down the hill into the innumerable bodies below.
A hand gripped at the freshly invaded wound. It was no use trying to staunch the flow of blood. It was over. Her life and the country she had worked so hard to protect, they were both over.
… … …
… … …
Something crimson chained by silver softly clattered as it left one set of hands to move into another. "I appreciate that you didn't attempt to experiment on it," Shirou admitted while carefully stuffing the artifact within his outfit. While his attire was strange, it was Shirou or Blade or whatever he wanted to call himself without a doubt. Nobody else had such uniformly tanned skin, pure silver hair and gray eyes. They might have been a little colder than she remembered but they were solid gray and unique.
"Trust me, I wanted to and I would have if you hadn't shown up tonight," Luvia assured, eyeing the man cautiously.
While the manor in Fuyuki had been a certifiable wreck, the spare manor out in the forest was nearly as bad. Littered with copious amounts of cobwebs, signs of wildlife and the universal killer: age. It was a decrepit squatting but it was known to few and would shelter their heads for the rest of the War, hopefully. It had taken then a few magic-assisted hours of cleaning to prepare two rooms but it was a decent enough place for sure.
"Just know that if you had, you wouldn't be breathing," Shirou menaced, voice edged with deadly seriousness.
Taken aback Lectra absently commented that the necklace must have been pretty important to get a reaction like that.
Focusing on the main goal, Luvia took the reigns of the conversation. "Threats aside, I'm going to take a wild guess and say you haven't discovered anything."
"On the contrary," he quickly replied to her genuine surprise. "I've learned a great deal. You were likely unaware, but the Magus Killer participated in something known as the Holy Grail War in this very city. If such a prospect wasn't off enough, he was participating as a master for the Einzbern family."
"The Grail War? Einzberns?" Luvia questioned with surprise. "I've heard of that family name, but I haven't heard of this Grail War," she claimed, narrowing her eyes. "The EInzberns were an ancient German magus family that disappeared from sight a little over a century ago."
Nodding, Shirou crossed both arms over his chest and leaned back on one leg. "And the Holy Grail War is just as it sounds: A War over the Holy Grail. Supposedly it grants wishes to whoever wins."
"So the Magus Killer must have won this thing, right? What happened to the Holy Grail?" Lectra asked, growing more curious as the plot deepened greatly.
"I'm not entirely sure," he shrugged. "But there might be some clues within their former base of operations."
Lectra was about to take the information in stride but Luvia rapidly noticed something about the way he worded his sentence. "You're going to give us information then let us investigate alone? That doesn't seem shady at all," she remarked dryly.
Rolling his eyes laboriously, Shirou shifted his weight from one leg to another. "You seem to forget that I could have killed you multiple times. Why would I need yet another occasion to lay traps for you?"
Even in the dark Luvia could tell there was a coldness in his eyes. It was something that unnerved Luvia greatly with its pure unfamiliarity. Through her time with him at the Clock Tower, he had never once looked at a single person with a gaze like that. It was nearly enough to make her question whether he was the same person she knew. "It's just," she paused, hesitating to get words forming within her mind. "It seems sketchy is all."
"Whether you go or not isn't important to me. You're confident enough to make your own decisions, I hope." Unfolding his arms, Shirou closed his eyes softly and raised one hand passively. "While I could go with you, I just don't want to. I have other places I need to be."
Before Lectra or Luvia could even argue with him, Shirou turned and strode off down the pathway through the trees without any intention of coming back. The two girls gave one another a wary glance before looking back at their home. "Well it's pretty late to be exploring old castles, why don't we wait until tomorrow morning?"
Blinking, the strawberry blonde suddenly broke out in a great yawn. "Yeah, I could go for a catnap right about now."
Throwing her arms over her head to languidly stretch, she was cut short by a distant snapping noise that carried on the wind. Turning her head to the believed source, Luvia narrowed her eyes and listened more intently. As if on command, several more echoed through the air.
"You hear that?"
Lectra strained to listen but merely shrugged. "Sounds like a woodpecker or something."
"They're gunshots," the blonde answered. "You know what gunshots mean, right?" Turning and realizing that her friend was clueless, the Edelfelt carried on. "Gunshots mean the Magus Killer."
"I don't see the correlation, couldn't it just be some gang member or something?" Lectra asked in confusion.
"If it's just some punk off the street, we can do a little community service and remove them anyway," the blonde shrugged.
Lectra made an indignant huff. "Can't it wait? What's the harm in getting a little sleep."
Luvia scowled. "Gunshots usually mean trouble. If it is the Magus Killer and he's shooting at someone, he's likely been found out. If we don't go after him now, he won't be there tomorrow and we'll have missed our chance."
Running one hand through her hair, Lectra produced a long groan. "We're going to have to run there aren't we?"
Rolling her eyes, Luvia quickly turned and started jogging in the direction of the gunshots. "It'll help build your stamina," she teased before setting her path directly toward the gunshots.
While the two ran off, one person remained to watch over the spot they had abandoned: A woman in crimson with bright blue eyes and black twin-tails. She was far from earshot but still within the forest. There was a soft shimmering noise as a servant appeared at her side, leaning against a tree. "Did you plan on following them?"
Rin softly shook her head. "Not at all. You didn't detect anything at the castle last night. It should be the same today which means they'll find nothing. This was merely to get them out of the way."
"It sounds like you have more plans in mind for tonight."
"Of course," the girl replied seriously. "We only know of three other masters and the identity of a single servant. We need more information if we're going to win so finding the remaining three masters is key.
The man produced a thoughtful sound. "An interesting decision. But such a simple goal is unlike you. What are your true intentions?"
A self-satisfied grin broke out on her face. "If Luvia and Lectra do find the Magus Killer, they're bound to attack. If they attack, he'll have no choice but to defend himself and kill them both. And if Kiritsugu is there, Shirou will be there as well. Those girls have no chance."
Archer furrowed his brow in agitation. "Even in a ceasefire, you'd set up something like that."
"I'm not trying to intentionally hurt Shirou," the girl defended. "I just hate that stupid blonde cow. Besides, she's been nothing but trouble ever since she arrived and Shirou's always been too reluctant to do anything about it."
"So you're driving him to take action," Archer summarized. "I fear your pushing may lead to something disastrous."
Rin let out a long breath that produced steam in the chilled night air. "We'll just have to wait and see. What's done is done."
The man shut his eyes. "You've still neglected to tell me your entire plan, master. How do you expect to both win the Grail War and keep Shirou Emiya alive?"
"It's simple, I'll make him surrender." As she finished, the servant produced a condescending snort. "What's so funny?"
"Believing you can make Shirou Emiya surrender. It's laughable."
Rin narrowed her eyes. "Maybe you think that because nobody in your world ever cared about you enough to try." Rin pulled some knowledge passed down from her mother, claiming, "half-baked efforts from uncaring people always fail." The seething comment must have hit a little close to home as the servant visibly twitched and fell silent. "Shirou has his sister to protect, he's not going to let anything endanger her. If he's given an ultimatum, it's obvious his choice will be her safety. In fact, it's probably his wish for the Grail."
"You're wrong."
Rin blinked and made a questioning noise. "About which part?"
"His wish," the man partly growled. So she had been right about his lack of close friends. "He'll wish to become a Hero of Justice. Every Shirou Emiya does."
Setting both hands on her hips, Rin gave him a sharp glare. "If that's what you think then you're more short-sighted than I thought." She paused, remembering Archer's circumstance. "Then again, you've never met this Shirou."
There was a soft noise of rushing air and moving foliage. Rin had taken it as some sort of animal, but a hand on her shoulder quickly reared her entire body backwards. A flash of white and crimson dominated her vision as Archer stepped in front of her. A half-second later, a small black object landed on the ground, a throwing knife. "An enemy servant," he declared simply.
Feeling something foreboding, Rin quickly picked herself up. "Why wasn't I able to sense their presence?"
Archer's head snapped around to peer through the dark trees, scanning for their enemy. "You did not establish a bounded field, but if you cannot sense them now, they're Assassin. Consider that a rule of thumb."
"For one crippled with self-doubt, you have sharp senses." The voice that taunted them was entirely foreign. It sounded empty in a way, echoing several times to produce a jarring discordant harmony as if harmonized with several other voices of different volumes. It was raspy, but clearly understandable regardless of the fact.
Trying to locate where the voice originated, Rin turned and caught a flash of metal flying straight toward her. Before she could even fully react to the threat, Archer made a sharp grunt and cut the blade out of the air into the ground. One hand tightly gripped her shoulder, pulling her back against the man's chest. "There's no way to tell where he's coming from," he murmured.
"Shall we make it easier then?" the taunting voice questioned, and two blue orbs appeared in the darkness between the trees. There was something deeply disturbing about them as if staring into them was to peer into a void-filled abyss of humanity's worst transgressions. The orbs had the appearance of a flickering blue flame, even producing small wisps of steam due to the temperature difference. Archer raised one arm to throw his weapon but halted when the orbs shifted in a strange way. They were stationary for only the briefest moment before they suddenly split into two sets - then four - then eight and they continued to multiply until Rin lost count and the entire circular perimeter around them was surrounded with multiple sets of moving, floating orbs.
Archer made a soft "tsk", keeping his head on a swivel for further threats. "Some sort of illusionist then. Add a Caster with presence concealment to the list of possibilities."
The voice returned, but it swirled around the area at impossible speeds. At one moment it was to the left and at the next syllable, it was to the right. At one point Rin wondered if the servant was above them in the sky and below within the earth despite the impossibility of either. "The false shadow claiming something to be disingenuous. Was a life of imitation not enough? Perhaps the afterlife is enough to satisfy you." There was a soft whistling that precluded more metal-on-metal. Two more thrown weapons had been deflected by Archer, who now held his usual two weapons.
"You speak about me like you know me," Archer merely responded, voice low and concentrated.
"We do, we do. All slaves and contractors are known to us. We are the only free body to see with absolute clarity."
Another voice that could only barely be considered feminine resumed. "The Dragon of Wind and the White Knight, the Dragon of Blood, the Druid, the Queen of Lusting Wrath, and you; the Pitiful Imitation." It was obvious to the Tohsaka that the servant spoke in riddles and symbology. Each name referred to another servant, all of which she had yet to actually see. Had they already identified the true name of every other servant? Did they know everything about Archer?
"I had no idea we were on a nickname basis. What should I call you then?"
The voices laughed; a rancorous audience that found humour in ignorance. "We are the nameless, the profane and the all-knowing. You can call us whatever you desire."
"What about pain in my ass?"
Rin drowned out their words and struggled to focus on the innumerable sets of orbs floating around them in the darkness. She couldn't help but feel a crushing sense of dread, that they were outmatched, outnumbered and merely being toyed with. What could Archer do against an opponent like this? Firing arrows was great for single targets, but he had no wide area-affecting weapons.
Obviously, he had the same thought as a message beamed straight to her mind. "I won't be able to handle all of these foes with you here. We can either devise a plan for your escape or wait and see what this servant will do with us."
Two options, but which was best? The servant overwhelmed them in numbers. It would be impossible for Archer to handle that many at once. So why hadn't they attacked? If their goal was to kill them, wouldn't they have tried harder already? Relaying that very thought to Archer, the man stiffened. Another nearly undetectable movement of air and three noises grated within her ears. A total of six small throwing daggers littered the ground around her now, two of which were stained in something purple. "I think they're just playing with us. They could have killed me by overwhelming you but they haven't."
The voices continued their taunting. "From one imitation to another, how does it feel to realize your inadequacy? Disappointing? Relieving? Does it bring you a sense of inescapable futility?" The orbs produced a lingering, hollow laugh that echoed from every direction at once. It was as if they were surrounded by hecklers with identical senses of humour. One of the eyes darted forward, but as it entered the light of the clearing, it vanished and a hazy, shadow-figure took its place.
While humanoid in shape, it was too strange to be called human. It had four limbs, but each held far more joints than was normal and the spacing between each one was random and inefficient. It was a miracle that the thing could move, let alone so fast. It was already extending a hand to tear her face to ribbons, a hand with four elongated, sharpened digits.
After such a brief glimpse, Archer came to her rescue. In a move she couldn't really track, one of his weapons severed the figure in two halves. After fully separating, the creature popped and vanished into the night like a balloon. "Some sort of shadow?" Rin asked, keeping her eyes open for more. "Can it even hurt us?"
"I don't want to take a chance and find out," Archer declared, scanning the darkness with as much dedication as his master. There was a break laden with tension, but just like the knives earlier, things progressively grew in intensity. What started with one, became two, which became four and ended in a final wave of eight. Archer had struggled to keep all eight off Rin, but through the hasty use of additional projections, he managed to keep the figures at bay long enough to deal with them later.
With the eight shades defeated, Rin and Archer prepared to face sixteen, as the pattern would reveal. When-
"There!" Rin shouted, pointing at a shift in the perimeter of the darkness.
Archer turned to face the oncoming foe, but nothing came. It had been a small movement, but nothing had actually formed beyond that. A shared tension settled over both of them; what was this servant planning? "Contractor," the voices suddenly commanded, grabbing Rin's attention. Was she supposed to be the contractor? Would that make Archer her slave in their eyes? Not waiting for her to respond, the voice continued. "Your greatest fear is on the path to realization. The present time is nearly stained with crimson."
Rin couldn't think of a response as her brain worked to extrapolate the true message intended. Was that some sort of threat about their current position, or a message about another master or servant? Tightening her form to prepare for what was next, the swirling blue orbs vanished one by one.
"A man who worries too much about the cobra cannot see that he is trapped in quicksand." When only one set of eyes remained, they stopped with a sudden jerking motion, then slowly faded away with a sickening laugh.
Waiting a few seconds to ensure their safety, Archer took a step back and let the weapons in his hands fade away. "We'd better leave before they decide to come back."
Rin opened her mouth to agree, but an entirely different voice spoke on her behalf. "Gladiators are never without spectators." Even without being visible, it was clear that whoever the servant was could still see them and they were keeping a vigilant eye on them as well.
"We're leaving."
… … ...
Keeping her pace steady, Luvia waited until Lectra had managed to reach her side before speeding up so they could get to the gunshots faster. There had been a pause in their rate, but after a few minutes, the snaps returned, this time louder. A second set of gunshots followed the new set, however, they were noticeably quieter, as if two guns were being used.
"Why do you always run so damn fast!" Lectra shouted ahead, barely keeping track of blonde drill tails in the dim moonlight. It wasn't that she lacked in stamina. Back in the Clock Tower, she went to the gym to keep busy during her time between classes. It was just that Luvia reinforced her body with mana and blew past her with raw speed.
The mercenary was quick to comment back with a scathing glance. "Did you ever think that it's just you being too slow? Come on, those gunshots stopped a while ago!" Mounting a small ridge, Luvia made a confused outburst and planted both her hands on her hips.
Waiting for Lectra to stand beside her, the two took in the castle sights and looked at one another nervously. "I don't think there are any other castles in this forest so this must be it."
"You never know. Could be a dozen castles like this kicking around the forest." Noticing that Luvia wasn't buying her sarcasm, Lectra offered an apologetic smile. "Kind of weird to see a European castle in the middle of a Japanese forest though. Makes sense with them being German and all. Just kind of jarring."
Luvia's scowl deepened. "Are we really discussing ill-fitting architecture of a centuries-old castle in the middle of a forest that nobody seemed to know about?"
Lectra blinked then suddenly grew sheepish. "I mean, these things are important."
Rolling her eyes, Luvia stepped off the ridge toward the castle. "Let's just kill this old man and be done with it; if whoever is here hasn't killed him already that is." Mumbling the last part, Luvia continued her approach before she stumbled upon two dead bodies just outside of what she assumed to be the main entrance. She was no stranger to dead bodies personally, but she was perplexed as to why each body was identical. They were white women with white hair, wearing white outfits with identical faces. All of these similarities along with their lifeless crimson eyes were unnerving, to say the least. Something they also shared was the gruesomeness of their mortal injuries.
One, who still had her hat, had a gaping hole at her left collarbone. It was the only visible wound and judging by the pool of blood underneath her it was likely she bled out. The other woman was far more gruesome. An impact had taken her head and rotated it upon her neck several times over. The resulting tension on her skin had ripped and torn it viciously to leave behind raw muscle, sinew and fragments of shattered bone.
A thought came to Luvia far later than it should have. The girl quickly turned to her friend and raised both hands to hold her back and obscure the view. "Lectra don't-"
Of course, it had been too late. Lectra was already looking over her shoulder, absolutely transfixed by the corpses. Her eyes were wide with a complex blend of emotions that were too difficult to place. Her mouth slowly parted to produce a question in a voice far from normal. "What happened to them?"
Moving her head to block Lectra's line of sight, Luvia took hold of her friend's shoulders to direct her focus. "Don't worry about them, they're too far gone to waste our time here." Going after the Magus Killer, Luvia knew Lectra would inevitably see a dead body, but she hadn't wanted her first to be one so mangled and gruesome. She had intended to murder the Magus Killer on her own, peacefully, without Lectra ever having to directly witness the act either. Being a magus meant to walk with death, seeing wounds and injuries hurt on an empathetic level, but it was always corruptive to witness death for the first time.
"Who-"
"I don't know, but let's go inside and try and find out, alright?"
… … …
Shirou jolted awake violently, then felt an unbearable full-body pain that made him cry out. Thankfully his outburst hadn't startled anyone since he was in the room entirely alone. He was laid upon a large dining room in a dimly lit room he didn't recognize in the slightest. If he had to guess based on the walls and general appearance of the furniture, he was still in the Einzbern castle.
Going over recent events, he tried to reconfirm his assumption. He remembered saving Illya by killing those homunculi, then he was knocked unconscious somehow. After that, he was in some sort of dream, but he was in Saber's body around people he had never seen in a land he had never been to. It had seemed so real but if it had been, he would have been transported back in time - in her body.
Like a fully loaded train, the pain doubled down and sent a jolt straight to the base of his neck. While it was full-body, most of it seemed to be radiating from within. It was almost as if his veins were filled with acid. Squeezing his face to hold back the urge to scream and vomit simultaneously, the boy struggled to even comprehend that he was alive. The pain was pure agony, even worse than when he converted his nerve circuits though considering what he put himself through, it was no surprise.
With his mind on the same thought, rationality hit at once. His eyes opened to check over his own body starting at the feet. He was surprised to find that an overwhelming majority of his body had been bound tight in cotton gauze. It started at the knee of his right leg and carried upward to conceal the rest of his entire body to the neck. He was one and a half legs away from dressing up like a mummy.
What was concerning, was the amount of blood staining most of the material and the question of who undressed and bandaged his entire body. While he couldn't lift the bandages to see, it certainly didn't feel as if he was wearing anything else.
Moving one hand to squeeze at his forehead, he abruptly stopped after catching sight of his bloodied, fully bandaged hand. Shirou would never consider himself an expert on the human body, but he was almost certain that normal people didn't contain the amount of blood that stained his form.
But he wasn't exactly normal, thankfully. Moving the hand to touch his chest, the boy closed his eyes and gazed upon Avalon's glowing radiance. Shirou was thankful for a lot of things but was most thankful for the relic that prevented his untimely demise time and time again. Not to mention the fact that the relic seemed much more at ease with Saber's presence nearby.
The sound of an opening door brought him out of his internal reflection. He was greeted by the very same woman he had been thinking about, who appeared surprised at his state. In her arms, she awkwardly carried a surprising amount of gauze.
"Shirou, it is good to see you awake." The woman stepped into the room and closed the door behind herself with a gentle kick. "However, I believe it would be best if you lay down and got some rest."
"Saber-"
Without bothering to listen, the woman narrowed her eyes on her approach and claimed, "I will not answer your questions unless you lie down."
Begrudgingly, Shirou struggled to lie back down on the cool surface. "Where's Illya, is she alright?"
"Your father and Missy have taken her to another room. She is physically fine, however, she has not awoken from whatever spell she was put under." Methodically, the woman set down the bandages and laid them out around his entire body. Was she planning on replacing them?
"At least she's safe," he murmured, looking up to the ceiling. "How long have I been out?"
"A half-hour, in which you've made a remarkable recovery." The servant's curt, short responses were odd and spoken with notable distance. He wasn't inexperienced in dealing with women, she was holding something back from him.
Turning his head to look at her, Shirou watched as she lifted up his hand and began peeling away the end of gauze. "Is there something wrong?"
As the last syllable left his mouth, she responded. "I was unaware that my master had access to a reality marble." The jarring accusation hit hard and almost made him flinch. It would have too if he hadn't reminded himself how much pain that would have caused.
"I didn't think it was that big of a deal," he lied, something even Saber could see through evidently.
"That only makes me wonder how many more unimportant secrets are being hidden," she stated, working her way back from his fingertips to his elbow. Able to see his actual flesh, he was treated to a mixed blend of gore and pristine skin with no detectable pattern. Avalon had healed his body sporadically, replacing sections of strips of his body while leaving others to focus elsewhere. He had strained the artifact quite a lot. Regenerating most of his organs, combating the after-effects of sword-flesh and restoring his worrying blood loss simultaneously did seem like quite a lot.
Moving his eyes from his own body to Saber's face, he nearly bit his tongue. The intense stare she was giving him was filled with anger, accusation and disappointment of equal measures. "I-"
There wasn't a convenient interruption to draw him from the awkward situation, he was forced to answer the loaded question. "I've been taking advice from my father."
Wrapping his fingers in gauze, Saber scowled. "And here I thought my words to you earlier had stuck. Your father is not a man to be trusted, Shirou. His intentions may be pure, but the means he employs to reach them are wicked. Taking and saving lives is not an act of balancing scales."
Something clicked in Shirou's mind and memories that weren't his own went on replay. Before he could catch himself, he started reciting a comment halfway through. "Be prepared to kill everyone to protect everyone."
The servant visibly recoiled, words stirring something behind her eyes as her face shifted from shock to regret into annoyance. "Where did you hear that?"
"I don't really know," he admitted.
Clenching her jaw, the servant slowly resumed her work reapplying his bandages. "Repeating expressions mindlessly without knowing their source is unwise. The meaning can change depending on who is speaking it after all...and to whom."
He hadn't lied. Shirou wasn't even sure that those dreams were real. The man who said it was someone who he could only guess the identity of, but it was an educated guess at the very least. "Well, then what does it mean to you?"
Continuing to work on his arm, the servant paused for a moment. "It is not meant to be taken literally. If you wish to protect a group of people, you must be prepared to single-handedly kill an equal number of people."
Shirou furrowed his brow. "How is that any different than my father?"
Saber twitched again but continued working regardless. "It is vastly different. He is not the king of a country for starters."
"So all he would need is some stupid title?" ...was what he would have said anyway, had he not known that she would have killed him. Instead, the boy bit his tongue and tried to find the line between his father's reasoning and the oath Saber took as king.
"How long have you had access to a reality marble?" the servant asked, finishing his one arm and moving behind his head to work on the other.
"Three, four years or so?" he responded, not entirely certain with how much time had passed.
Saber continued with the prying questions. "Are you able to affect items outside your own body or is what I witnessed the full extent?"
"That's as far as I've gotten. I've never let it progress to that stage either."
Saber made a soft, stern hum. "Your father estimates more than forty-five percent of your body was transformed into that strange state. Based on the mere depth of conversion, I would be much more worried than you about allowing it to progress further."
Shirou didn't have the heart to let her know that it was far worse than just a surface transformation. Sword-flesh invaded every one of his living cells as they were damaged. Skin, muscle, bone and even his blood were all converted into blades of varying sizes. Considering that only one lung and his heart had been restored by Avalon before activation of his marble, the rest had likely been replaced with swords shortly after.
The door to the room opened and a slender frame slipped within. With her long hair tied up and a bandage attached to the side of her head, Missy had certainly looked better. "Mister Emiya," she greeted in relief. "We were worried that you wouldn't wake up. I assume Saber has filled you in on the details?"
"Just the basics," she assured, peeling the gauze from his body with a little more force than necessary.
"I see, well just for good measure: Illya and your father are safe, resting comfortably in another room. Saber and Lancer have cleared out the enemy and those that remained absconded some time ago." Offering a small thanks for the debriefing, Shirou remained still as the two women worked to replace the soiled bandages on his body.
After some time, the two women neared a rather sensitive region of his body that sent immediate red flags to his mind. Sitting up with a flash of pain, he abruptly moved their hands away. "I think I've healed enough to handle that area myself."
Missy was accommodating to the subtle request, but Saber was anything but. "Shirou, I assure you that I have seen it all. You need not worry."
In the middle of preparing to protest further, the door to the room opened again and a blessing in black strode in. "It's good that you're awake," Kiritsugu greeted. As his presence was acknowledged, Saber finally stopped trying to tend his wounds. While the old man walked closer to the table, he stuffed one hand into his coat and withdrew a flat stone that held a pulsing symbol from a foreign script.
Shirou had no idea what it meant, but Missy seemed to recognize it immediately. "Have they returned?"
He shook his head. "There are only two women who appear to be Shirou's age. One is blonde with strange curled hair-"
"Luvia and Lectra are here?" Shirou interrupted, just thankful to have something that could distract Saber. "Where are they?"
The man's brow was taut and his eyes were entirely vacant. Shirou had always considered that look the "Magus Killer Stare" and it certainly fit his legend. "I don't have an exact location, but I imagine they've entered the castle at the very least." The condescending answer hurt somewhat, but Kiritsugu likely expected him to trace the castle and determine their precise location. "They were conversing outside at the two dead bodies you left behind. It's good that you know them, it means my plan should work perfectly."
Catching on to his father's plan, Shirou struggled to swing his legs from the table, sending searing pain through his body as the half-healed flesh was disturbed. "You want me to talk to them and send them away."
Kiritsugu narrowed his eyes. "That's an option as well."
"Shirou I do not think you should be moving around. Your injuries are quite severe." Saber's concerns were well placed in anyone else, but for him, it was nothing but a fool's errand. He was too stubborn to listen and while he hadn't healed enough to fight a servant, he was more than capable of talking to someone. With his legs already over the edge of the table, the boy cautiously shuffled the rest of his body closer to the edge.
Avalon had regenerated quite a lot with Saber's unknowing help. The servant had no doubt been his medical attendant and the idea had likely come from Kiritsugu himself as an attempt at accelerating his healing. Still, even after Avalon's endeavours, it felt like he was full of pins and needles from head to toe.
The boy ran a quick trace of his body and compared it to the last one gathered before he was knocked unconscious. He discovered that twenty percent of the total injuries sustained still remained. Those that remained were mainly deep tissue regeneration; where the surface appeared fine but underneath lied something synonymous with ground beef. He couldn't be too upset with the outcome. He had strained his body to its limit twice, survived, and could even stand on his own feet. "Nothing to go off of then besides they're inside then?"
Kiritsugu glanced toward the door he had left wide open. "I'm certain they won't be hard to find. This castle is large but simple in layout. It's likely they took the staircase to the second floor, though from there it's a gamble."
"Then I'll start at one end and work my way down," Shirou decided. As he wouldn't be able to fight in his condition regardless, the boy took the time and effort to trace a copy of the suit and tie Kiritsugu had bought for him. While being somewhat fashionable it also was nonrestrictive, surprisingly.
Keeping himself held up while he slid off the edge of the table, his feet contacted the floor and shook in uncertainty as weight was applied. To say his legs felt like jello would have been an insult to the firmness of gelatine. After a few seconds of stabilization and preparation, he pushed off the table and put his entire weight on his legs. It didn't take long to notice that every movement of his muscles brought on an odd gritty soreness like the joints were packed with sand. He had taken his reality marble too far, but at the same time - he hadn't died. That meant, theoretically, he could push himself even more.
Of course, he was in agony, but it was far from unbearable. Saber made a soft noise of contempt. "If my suggestions are to be completely ignored, then it seems that I have no place here." Nothing more or less than casual, the woman walked out of the room with an unknown destination in mind.
Testing the mobility of his arms and fingers with simple gestures, the boy confirmed that he was in no shape to fight but could at least move and function on his own power. "I'll be fine, I don't see why she's so upset," he murmured.
"Perhaps it is because she cares about her master, or she does not want to see someone repeat her own mistakes," Missy analyzed. The woman's explanation was specific enough to make him wonder if she knew something he didn't.
Halfway to asking what she meant, he was stopped short by Kiritsugu reinforcing the need to get those two girls out of the castle. Dressed and as prepared as he could be, Shirou left the room in search of his friends from another life.
At least they wouldn't realize he was Blade, though how he would explain his presence in the castle was something he would have to conjure up while he searched. Placing his hand on the nearest wall, he hesitated to start tracing. Practice over the years had meant that such large-scale scans were getting less painful but the tingling shock that hit his brain never got any better. Taking in a deep breath, the boy closed his eyes softly and murmured "trace on" to the cold stone.
Following a sharp stabbing pain to the top of his neck, the wireframe of the castle came into view within his mind. As its entire construction was completed, he removed his hand to stop the flow of information and examined the stored image.
There was an immediate problem that would have been impossible to miss: A large portion of his mental map was entirely saturated with raw mana. While it was possible that it originated from the two servants, the more likely case was Illya. Being unconscious, her natural mana stores were leaching into her surrounding environment. The fact that it was merely two doors down reinforced the theory.
The mana signature was large enough that it obscured his own location and nearly the entire corner of the castle. Shirou could only tell where he was by differentiating his own magic signature from Illya's. With almost one-quarter of the castle entirely unreadable, keeping Luvia and Lectra away from the area was priority, lest they get lost.
Their signature was easy enough to spot for now at least: Two orbs, like cherries on a conjoined stem, sat across the courtyard in the other hall. Turning to orient himself, Shirou walked down the hall to his objective with purpose.
Rounding the first corner, he had to pass through a door before he could continue deeper into the castle. Stepping through, Shirou entered a room filled with at least two dozen bodies, killed through various means. Plenty died as he expected, with bullets, though several had died through relatively unconventional means with cuts or burns. Some had no marks at all but had died from sheer blunt force trauma.
If he had to guess, it was the work of his father. Only a mage or a servant could conjure the raw force to kill them and the variety of wounds discarded Saber or Lancer's involvement.
Moving through the room without getting excessive amounts of blood on his attire, Shirou exited into the hallway on the other side and carried onward. Rounding the corner, he found an entirely empty hall that honestly surprised him. His estimations on their movements put them in that spot so why weren't they there?
"Shirou?"
Turning around, he spotted two women tucked into the corner, glaring at him in pure confusion. Luvia had one hand extended in his direction, ready to blast him with gandr.
All three of them asked the same question at the same moment: "What are you doing here," and grew even more confused.
Luvia scowled deeply. "What am I doing here? You told us to come here. And why have you changed clothes again?"
Shirou looked down at himself. "What's wrong with my clothes?" Reconsidering Luvia's words, he wanted to hit himself for not focusing on the important segment.
"That's what you focused on?" Lectra gawked, repeating what his mind was already asking.
"Whatever, it doesn't matter." Before he could respond, Luvia waved away her comment with a motion of the hand. "Did you find anything about the Magus Killer?"
Shirou blinked and his mind shut down. They knew he had connections to the Magus Killer? That meant they knew he was a magus as well. What else did they know? Did they know he was Blade? Did they know the Magus Killer was his father and that he was there in the castle? What was he to do now? Would he be forced to kill them both to prevent harm to his father? Struggling to form words or even know what his next move would be, the boy locked up and only managed to get out: "What?"
Luvia planted both hands on her hips and looked at him as if he was stunted. "Are you normally this much of an eejit or is right now a special occasion?"
Shirou scowled, but Lectra took over the conversation from behind Luvia. "You told us to look around here but didn't want to follow. Did you end up changing your mind?"
Still entirely lost in what they were talking about, Shirou decided to run with whatever they believed to try and gather more information. "Yes, I sorted things out and wanted to see how your search went."
Luvia seemed to buy it, even though she produced a dissatisfied noise. "Well the more the merrier I suppose. Not that we need help to kill the old guy."
Shirou bit his tongue to keep from explaining that it was undoubtedly harder than they thought. Unable to lie he had to pick his words carefully. "I've gone through the other hallway. There were a few corpses but nothing of note."
"Speaking of corpses, do you know what the hell happened here? We keep seeing the same dead woman everywhere." Luvia seemed unmoved by the thought but Lectra visibly shivered behind her friend.
It was going to be difficult answering questions without knowing what they knew already, but as long as he could get them to leave he would be ecstatic. He could solve the problem of a supposed doppelganger some other time. "I'm not entirely sure. They might be the famed Einzbern homunculi."
Luvia snapped her fingers into a point. "You're right. I've heard of them but I didn't expect them all to be women. Guess I should have figured that one out by the red eyes."
Lectra was less knowledgeable. "What's a homunculi?"
Thankfully Luvia provided a brief summary. "Think of them like clones but connected to the world like a nature spirit. If trained properly, each one could be as powerful as a high-ranking magus."
"So there must have been some battle here," Lectra murmured, looking around cautiously.
Luvia shrugged and made a pompous noise. "It was probably the Magus Killer, right Shirou? You said he was the Einzbern master in the last war so maybe there was some bad blood afterwards."
Shirou blinked twice. Just how much did they know? Who had told them? Was it the work of Assassin? They were the only servant he hadn't witnessed and it was entirely within the realm of possibility for that servant to have some type of disguise like Lancer. "It's a good theory," he decided to reply.
Something nagging threatened to unravel the Assassin theory and it only brought dread into the pit of his stomach. Last night when he had attempted to partner with Rin, specific weapons from a servant had been used to try and kill him. They weren't just fabrications of mana like the other servant weapons, those specific ones were projections; projections that were made using tracing, his unique style.
It wasn't impossible for another magus to learn something similar, but to be so close to his own style? Maybe Rin had summoned himself as her servant? Did that mean he would become the Hero of Justice his father so despised? The mere thought of himself as a servant brought on fierce nausea and a pile of questions he had thought better left unanswered.
Until he had more information, denying the existence of a servant-version of himself was the best option. The ramifications associated with deep thought down that broken trail were undoubtedly severe and he needed the mental composure to prevent being found out by Luvia.
The Edelfelt smirked in self-satisfaction. "So he was here and somehow he got into a fight. His bodyguards must be pretty tough to take down so many homunculi." Still reeling from the initial shock, each new confusing comment was an additional slap to Shirou's face.
"Bodyguards?" he blurted out.
Luvia looked at him as if he were stupid. "Of course. This guy has been retired for twenty years and his record started long before then. He's bound to be geriatric and with all the money he's made from those contracts he can afford to have bodyguards."
Lectra contributed her own opinion. "That explains why there are so many dead bodies. One old guy couldn't do all that."
Ignoring the fact that one "old guy" had done precisely that, Shirou tried to wrap his head around a response. Without knowing what the two really knew, he was treading on thin ice in every direction. He decided to focus on his original objective and get them out of the castle. "I didn't see any guards on my way here."
"Then he must have left before he got here, damn it." Luvia turned and bit at her thumbnail. "Maybe if we had run a little faster we could have gotten here in time."
Doing his best to maintain a level face while his mind continued reeling from the new information, Shirou subconsciously registered Lectra's request to leave and Luvia's subsequent answer. He even offered to lead them to the front door and while they walked, Shirou contemplated everything that just transpired. There was another version of himself - no, an imitation that was spreading lies and messing with his friend.
He couldn't think of any explanation beyond Assassin before they reached the door where Luvia turned to state her goodbyes. In the midst of leaving, a sudden pulse of indescribable energy snapped Shirou from his exhaustion like a bucket of ice water.
His head twitched up to lock onto the source: An unfortunately familiar sight that drained the energy from his already tired limbs and filled him with despair, just a few dozen metres outside the front entrance.
A man with a crimson sword.
The hairs on Shirou's neck stood on end. What was he doing here? How did he track them down? Refocusing on the incoming threat, Shirou recognized that it was not the time for questions. Not even considering forcing Luvia and Lectra out to face that threat, Shirou barged past them and slammed the doors closed.
As the impact echoed through the main hall, he quickly connected with his servant and ordered her to retrieve Lancer and head to the main entrance. Even together they had failed to do so much as scratch Berserker. How could they be expected to kill him, exhausted, unprepared and lacking any element of surprise?
He didn't know what the girls knew about him, but at this point, it didn't really matter. If he didn't act, all of them would die to that monster. Activating his circuits, his back ignited with raw heat that felt like it was burning through his clothing. Gritting his teeth, the boy projected a greatsword and shoved it into the well-worn cradle. It was damaged and far from sturdy, but there wasn't a chance it would hold Berserker even if it was in perfect condition so it hardly mattered in the end.
There was no time to perfect his work and employing a bounded field to reinforce the door further was useless. Berserker would break through whatever blockade they could create with the same amount of effort.
Whipping around the face the two confused girls, he pointed deeper into the castle and levelled a commanding gaze. "Run, get as far away from the entrance as you can."
"What? Shirou why-"
"Just go! If you don't, you'll die!" His words shocked the two girls, but instead of fleeing as he expected, Luvia grew angry.
"Why should we? Do you think you're that much stronger than us or something?"
Bewildered, Shirou couldn't believe what he had just heard. "This isn't the time to argue, you're both in grave danger!" he explained, fully aware that their limited time was running short.
Luvia persisted and planted both hands on her hips. "If we're in such danger, why aren't you trying to run as well? Whatever this threat is, all three of us can handle it."
"I'm trying to buy you both some time to escape. Behind those doors is a battle none of us can win." His main goal was to protect Illya and Kiritsugu, saving the two girls recently became a secondary goal meaning his words weren't a lie.
"With all three of us here I'm certain whoever it is doesn't have a chance." Shirou had no time to argue, in moments Berserker would be upon them and Saber and Lancer were yet to be present.
"Trust us, we're stronger than we look." Moving to Luvia's side, Lectra joined the conversation and exchanged a glance with her friend. The two nodded, and Luvia quickly reached into pockets within her dress to transfer gemstones.
There was no more time to argue, they needed to prepare. Begrudgingly resigning himself to the fact that they planned on fighting alongside him regardless of what he said, Shirou shook his head and forced them back toward the base of the stairs. After reaching them, the soft clattering of metal plate. With Saber and Lancer close by, his fear was settled marginally. It meant they wouldn't die immediately upon Berserker's appearance, but they would shortly after he defeated both servants.
Almost reading Shirou's mind, a loud bang resounded through the main hall as the front entrance was blown open by a strong force. Following the repeated abuse, the hinges on one side gave out entirely, sending one door clattering to the stone floor. Standing ominously within the centre, Berserker stood glaring at them with disturbing emptiness.
The servant's slow steps into the hall produced echoing clanks that served to enforce his chilly, threatening aura. Reaching halfway into the room, the man slowly twisted his wrist to hold his crimson weapon out to the side from the hip. "You should feel honoured that you are able to meet me twice in such a short time. Unlike our first encounter, nobody is here to hold me back."
Shirou blinked, and the servant was hardly a foot away. The sudden change in distance snapped his eyes wide and his body struggled to react in time in its exhausted state.
Without even realizing it, his body twisted beneath an incoming slash and blades had formed within his hand to direct his opponent's weapon toward the ground. It was a valiant attempt and it would have worked had the servant not been so ludicrously strong. Still using a single arm, the servant allowed the weapon to twist in his grasp before yanking upward. The motion sent the spiked bottom through Shirou's forearm and lifted his body easily off the ground.
Shirou didn't even have enough time to cry in pain. Berserker's free hand shot out around his neck and in the same motion, the blade was withdrawn. The servant hadn't even started to squeeze but the force within his grasp already choked off his breathing. Not wasting a mere moment, Shirou lashed out with his good arm and tried to jam his fingers beneath Berserker's mask into his eyes. Before he could even get close, the servant moved his head away.
Two blades formed behind Berserker and within the same moment, they were completed and fired. Seamlessly, the servant flicked his blade and shattered both weapons in the air. Destabilized, the resulting shards erupted into particulate mana. All Berserker needed to do was clench his hand and his spine would snap under the immense strength.
A sharp clang resounded through the hall. All at once, he felt weightless, oxygen flow painfully returned to his body and the pressure on his throat vanished. One hand quickly clamped around the gaping hole on his arm and the other wrapped around his sore neck. Even though Avalon would repair it in a short amount of time, staunching the blood flow would mean the artifact had to work less. Still, his body didn't have the strength to keep his body standing and he collapsed onto the stairs.
"Remove your hands from my master and leave the fighting to servants!" It was Saber's voice, shouting at Berserker from behind. When Shirou's vision fully returned, the sight of an ivory servant standing before a blackened monster came to him.
Berserker had been forced down to the floor past the base of the stairs, where he was peering down at his left arm and flexing his fingers as a test. There was a thin cut in the material of his forearm but there was no injury of any sort. "At the time, there were no servants to fight, I made do with what was available. In the end, you only pose as an obstacle in the path toward the inevitable."
Berserker couldn't retaliate against Lancer however, as a bolt of blue and silver leapt over the ivory servant to collide with the monster himself. The force of the collision sent a rush of dust and ceramic shards through the air. Each collision of the servants' weapons sent waves of pressure and snapping white sparks in the air.
Lancer turned his head to face Luvia and Lectra, who had barely moved an inch in the confusion. "I leave the protection of our master in your hands, do not disappoint me." Without a second word, the servant jumped from the stairs straight into the fray.
The command was enough to snap Luvia from her confusion at the very least. Moving to Shirou's side, she helped the boy off his rear and glanced back at Lectra. "Use them all, let's see how powerful your Géant du Vide can really be."
Shirou watched the girl blink, peer down at the gems in her hand and formulate a plan in her mind all at the same time. Even in his half injured state, he had to admire Lectra's problem-solving skills. During their training in the Clock Tower and in the preliminary fights in the Mage's Tournament, he had made note of her expertise in tactics.
Extending her hands forward with palms out, Lectra began chanting sentences in French at a rushed pace. The gems that had been given to her began swirling within the air around a small, undulating black ball of goo. With each sentence spoken, a gem entered the steadily growing black blob. With each addition, the size increased and the undulations grew more wild and violent. As the gems were being prepared, the servants below continued their relentless battle. Despite fighting two master knights from the Arthurian era, Berserker was holding both servants off without taking so much as a scratch or putting a second hand on the grip of his sword.
Keeping one eye on Lectra and one on the servants fighting below, Shirou struggled to keep track of what was actually transpiring. From what he could tell, the battle was going about as well as it had in the forest, if only slightly better. Berserker was still shrugging off attacks but he was unable to land a strike on either of his two enemies either. Something about how Lancer and Saber were moving around one another seemed inefficient and almost clumsy, but he only had a brief look.
When the third gem was absorbed by Lectra's creation, the woman finalized her spell and outstretched a hand to catch the basketball-sized, shifting sphere. As if it were weightless, the woman threw it above the battle raging below. Like some alien object, the orb levitated in the air until it was hovering high above the center of the conflict.
It only took a snap to release the creature from its bonds. The black orb exploded outward violently but uniformly. Still hovering in the air, its mass grew until the confines of the grand entrance hall threatened to be too small and even then it strained against the walls.
Its expansion had disturbed the servants in their battle, but just as quickly as the creature had grown, it suddenly shrank like a piece of taut string being strummed. In a mere moment, the room-encompassing shape became a humanoid figure. It was the height of three men with tree trunk sized limbs attached to a thick centre mass. It had no head or neck, simply a small rise from the body where one would have been. The only indication of a face were three coloured pieces assembled in an upside-down triangle on the body. At first, Shirou had thought them to be the gemstones likely supplying the creature with power but a trace revealed them to be mere imitations for aesthetics.
Unlike the traditional ether constructs Shirou remembered, which were a deep translucent violet, this creature was black. In fact, it was darker than any black he had ever seen. It was less a colour and more the absence of any light at all. It destroyed the floor and shook the entire room as it landed, but made no menacing sound of its own, being eerily silent in fact. The trio of servants all stopped to make a note of the new threat.
The beast raised both arms over its head, moving surprisingly quick for its size. Unfortunately, Berserker was far faster and a quick movement and slash of his blade had bisected the being horizontally.
The creature held motionless and the two separated portions slid away from one another for a moment. Then without warning, the portions returned to their original place and the construct slammed both arms onto the servant. It had been unable to land a direct hit, but the servant in black had finally been forced to use both arms to hold back the attack.
Shirou felt a sensation of deja-vu as Berserker bent at the knees and forced the ether construct off his weapon, but instead of throwing the creature onto its back and finishing it off as Bazett had, a sharp protrusion jabbed out and struck him in the chest. It was almost like some sort of fist-on-a-spring that had actually worked.
The servant practically exploded from the spot, flying backwards past Saber and Lancer to slam through a supporting pillar. The battered structure of the castle simply couldn't handle the abuse any longer and with several cracks, a large portion of the second floor collapsed on the servant's point of impact, burying the area in rubble. It was a stunning turn of events that put shock on the faces of Shirou and his servants. It was the first attack that had actually managed to strike and it hadn't even been from a servant. That thought alone was difficult to swallow.
Lectra pumped her fist in victory, enthused that her creation had accomplished what two servants had been unable to. Was she even aware that the three fighting below were epic heroes of legend?
Luvia made a soft noise. "I have a lot of questions for you, but wasn't that guy supposed to be our certain death or something?"
Shirou blinked, realized he was still being dragged up the stairs by Luvia and wriggled himself free. Ignoring her question, he forced strength into his legs and clumsily bounded to the edge of the stairwell to intently watch the spot Berserker landed at.
There was no way that blow had killed him. Hell, it probably hadn't even left a bruise. It had been the perfect distraction, however. "Saber, use it now!" he shouted, waiting for the pile of dusted rock to begin shifting.
With a sharp agreement, a gust of wind and brilliant yellow light dominated the room. At the same time, the pile of rubble shifted and a figure stood from within. The attack had done little damage if any at all. Not even the servant's attire had been scarred. He didn't even bother to dust himself off or waste any time wondering what Saber was doing before dashing forward to re-engage the servants. Saber was charging her attack to ensure it would kill Berserker in a single strike, but they didn't have the luxury of time to allow such a thing.
The servants had started moving so fast that Shirou couldn't comprehend it with his eyes. Spending a bit of mana and biting through the pain to reinforce his eyes helped, but it didn't do much. He watched Berserker bounce off a guard established by Lancer. His two servants were working together, with Lancer defending and Saber preparing her noble phantasm.
While a solid strategy, it was obvious that Lancer couldn't hold up to Berserker's unstoppable slough of strikes. After sustaining a dozen blows, the weapon in Lancer's grasp exploded into shards, stumbling the servant and giving Berserker an exploitable lead.
Berserker moved his foot and Lancer stumbled forward. At the same time, an elbow collided with the servant's shattered guard. The force behind the impact sent the swordsman sliding across the floor into his king, unbalancing them both and disrupting the channelling of Saber's noble phantasm.
"Your coordination is pitiful," the servant taunted. "Sharing a dragon aspect makes you even more pitiful. Simultaneously unable to complete your attack and revealing your identity was a mistake, Arthur Pendragon." At the sound of her name, the gleaming blade hid behind a layer of wind once again.
Both Lancer and Saber moved apart from one another, with the former preparing his spare blade. After watching and analyzing two-person combat in the Magus Tournament, it was clear to Shirou then that the two servants had no cohesion. Maybe it was more accurate to say that they didn't have any trust with one another, but something was off regardless. Each servant was a formidable force on their own but together they aided in the other's downfall. They were skilled at fighting alongside one another against many separate foes, not fighting against a single common enemy.
"Saber, hold back from the fight, let Lancer take Berserker alone."
"What?" The mental outburst was paired with a quick glance in his direction.
"Trust me for a minute," was all he explained. Closing his eyes, Shirou began chanting the aria to perfect his tracing. With each step, the composition of the blade within his mind grew more refined. It wasn't a perfect copy, but it was as close as he could get without activating his reality marble.
The blade formed within the air over his shoulder and with the last mental checkmark, it fired off toward the servant in white. "Lancer, use this!"
The servant cocked his head over, caught sight of the incoming weapon and carefully stepped back to give himself room. In a show of dexterity, the servant snatched the weapon out of the air to appreciate it closer. "Thank you, master, this weapon should work well."
Saber's voice returned to his mind. "Do you have no faith in me, master? Do you think so little of me that I am unable to face this foe?"
"It's not that. Both of you are strong but that weapon Berserker uses is designed to kill dragons. You felt it back when we fought Caster and Rider and you no doubt feel it now. That blade is dangerous, and it's too risky for you to get hurt by it."
Lancer gripped the handle and what was formerly a bright crimson weapon mirroring Berserker's own became enveloped in ivory and gold. The original sword-owner seemed unphased by the development, remaining motionless even when Lancer readied his new, converted weapon.
Berserker tilted his neck to each side, producing sick pops and cracks. "To wield Gram requires you to answer a question: Will your life end in glory or ruination? If you are unable to answer that, it might as well be made of glass."
With a flick of the wrist, the weapon in Lancer's hand slashed through the air with a wicked howl. "My life has already ended in ruin which means I've got nothing but glory to look forward to!"
Both hands gripped the converted blade and in a flash of speed, the servant in white and the servant in black collided to restart their battle. Both Shirou and Saber were confined to watching, but from what Shirou could see with his reinforced eyes, Lancer was doing better on his own. With a blade capable of withstanding combat and without having to worry about his partner's position, Lancer was able to hold himself relatively well against the mad servant, though whether it was enough to win was up for debate.
Turning, he refocused on Luvia and Lectra who were both staring at something over his shoulder. Following their eyes, he understood their surprise immediately.
At the corner watching the battle was Kiritsugu.
No, that wasn't the man standing there. The cold eyes and heartless gaze were both features of the Magus Killer, not his father.
Everything happened at once: Luvia snapped her left arm up and blackened crimson orbs formed at her fingertips, the Magus Killer raised one hand holding his favoured weapon - the calico - and Lectra turned her attention to Saber below, directing her creation to retake the offensive.
There was no time to move or calm either party, his best chance was to form a shield in front of Luvia and hope the bullet wouldn't pierce it. Halfway through forming within his mind, a sudden jerking pain reversed the progress entirely.
Checking his body, it was clear to see he was out of mana. Supporting Saber, using his reality marble and forming so many weapons had drained him. Trying to create something he wasn't proficient in had been the last straw. A sudden weakness came over his knees, but he forced them to lock so he could remain standing.
Simultaneously, the magic at Luvia's fingers and the bullet in Kiritsugu's weapon fired. Unexpectedly, Luvia shouted a single word.
"Rider!"
Her extended hand produced a sharp tone and flash of crimson, burning through a thin layer of makeup that had acted as a concealer. In a flurry of snowflakes and a twist of space itself, a woman in white with bright neon pink hair appeared just ahead of Luvia. Shirou knew exactly who it was: Rider.
It was obvious now. Of course, Luvia had been the last master. Rider at the Edelfelt manor, Bazett battling one of Lectra's constructs and even the strange knowledge Luvia seemed to possess. He should have known, he should have put the pieces together but foresight was always twenty-twenty. Maybe it had been his resistance to the thought of killing Lectra that clouded his judgement.
With a flick of Rider's wrist, the incoming bullets were deflected harmlessly using what appeared to be an ordinary black riding crop. The servant bounced on her feet as several more bullets of gandr were fired from over her shoulder. Luvia ignored Shirou entirely, placing shots at the man who was trying to make an escape behind cover.
Luvia's attacks were unlike any type of gandr Shirou had seen before. Not only could she form one shot for each of her fingers, each one flew much faster than any of Rin's and the impact each one made was more like a small cannon than a simple spell.
"You called, master?"
In a cold voice focused on a single goal, the woman gave her order. "Deal with Shirou. I'm going after the Magus Killer."
The girl cast him a glare that sent shivers down his spine. "He's no Cú, but at least he's something to play with in the meantime."
Saber made a shout but it was cut off partway through by a strained grunt. The servant was being forced away by the ether construct and her attempts at breaking through were poor at best. Each strike sliced the creature in half but did no real damage. The being launch a sharp jab and to defend herself, Saber slashed to chop the limb off.
Halfway through the creature's flesh, her weapon stopped jarringly as if it had struck a bone. With a jerk backwards, the sword was torn from her grasp entirely and within a second the weapon was absorbed into its body.
Saber appeared mildly shocked but she quickly overcame it and extended her hand. The ether construct shuddered and its entire surface quaked before a large eruption of gale-force wind tore it apart from the inside out. Disconnected from its body, portions that had been strewn across the room and ceiling had liquid properties, dripping and pooling across the room. With a clatter, the gleaming blade of Excalibur landed upon the ground before being collected by its rightful owner.
"If you wish to fight someone, I am right here, Rider."
The woman in white tilted her head and pouted heavily. "I'd love to play with you, but you've already got your hands full. Don't you think you should finish one enemy before moving on to the next?"
As if on command, the broken ether construct that had been motionless grew animated. The portions of itself scattered across the area rapidly collected into the central mass to reform it into perfect condition once again. Before it was even fully formed, one tree trunk-like arm was thrown forward to collide into the servant, forcing her back toward the doors.
With the minor distraction out of the way, Rider refocused on Shirou. "Are you going to run or fight? Or maybe you'll kneel and become a sweet little slave," the woman purred, snapping the riding crop on her gloved wrist.
Shirou couldn't answer, he was too focused on the servant's stats. At this range, it was impossible not to read her abilities. E rank strength and endurance, C rank mana, B rank agility and A+ in her noble phantasm. None of those were as concerning as her luck: EX-rank.
What that possibly entailed was hard to say, but Shirou wasn't interested in finding out any time soon. The boy hesitantly looked back over the railing of the stairs, determining whether the drop was worth a quick escape. When he turned to look back, something dense and metallic landed at his feet.
By the time he looked down, it had already exploded to release a dense cloud of smoke. As smoke clouded his vision and obscured his form, gunshots rang out through the room, further indicating who it was that had helped out.
Looking back over the railing, Shirou quickly vetoed the choice. It was predictable and the lower levels were unknown to him. At the very least, he understood the layout of the second floor and his father was somewhere there as well. Moving from his position, the boy leapt up the stairway and narrowly avoided a stray bullet for his efforts. Moving out of the smoke cloud, Shirou flew up the stairs toward where his father had been just moments prior.
Slipping around the corner of the hall, a rush of warm air and a small explosion sounded behind him. He wasn't going to take the time to look and verify, but he was willing to bet that Luvia was firing shots of gandr at him. Sucking in harsh breaths, Shirou focused on running forward and keeping his eyes open for Kiritsugu.
His entire body felt like it was on fire from the combined effects of being out of mana and so sore from his full-body restoration. Despite his fatigued state, he continued moving in search of his father.
And after passing the second T of the hallway, he did. There had been a gun pointed at his face and thankfully his father had the trigger discipline not to fire. Before Shirou could speak, a strong hand gripped him by the collar and yanked him into the crossing hallway.
"You were supposed to get those two out of here," he stated with mild agitation.
"Berserker arrived, I wasn't going to send them to their death," the boy defended. Whether he liked it or not, his father had died and the Magus Killer was alive and well once more.
"The pink-haired woman is Berserker?"
"That's Rider. Luvia is a master as well," Shirou clarified. His father produced a sourly upset expression before nodding his head for them to move deeper into the castle.
"Missy's distraction has likely run its course. We can't let them go further down this wing of the castle or else-"
"I know," Shirou cut him off. The further Luvia and Rider got, the greater the chance for Rider to detect Illya's immense mana signature.
The entire castle suddenly shook violently as if a bomb had gone off at the entrance. Trails of dust and less-than-sturdy fixtures fell from the walls at the jarring force. Two more sudden tremors followed, precluding a large bang and the sound of tumbling rock. Following its source, Shirou and Kiritsugu looked out of the nearby window into the central courtyard, where a battered-looking Saber faced an unseen enemy.
Tracking her eyes, Shirou spotted a large gaping hole in the far wall leading to the main foyer and the blackened amorphous shape that was attempting to squeeze through.
The knight looked at the blade in her hands, then at the construct still struggling to squeeze through the small gap. He could almost read her exact thoughts. She could kill the beast with her noble phantasm but doing so had the risk of injuring everyone in the main entrance area, including Lancer.
A shifting at his side drew his attention away from his servant. The old man spoke while walking away, expecting Shirou to follow. "We have no choice anymore, we have to kill her. If she lives, there is a possibility that she will kill me or report my location to the Clock Tower."
"Luvia wouldn't-"
The man abruptly stopped and span around on his heels. "Leaving her alive jeopardizes our entire family's safety. Are you going to willing allow Illya to be put in danger?" An accusing, angry finger was pointed in his direction.
Shirou didn't even need to think of an answer to such an obvious question. "No, I'm not. I promised I would protect her no matter what."
The Magus Killer turned again and resumed his pace in the original direction. "Then it's time to keep your word. Can you hold off Rider?"
The question was expected and Shirou knew the answer. Thankfully his father wasn't watching his face so he wouldn't be able to detect the lie he answered with. "I should be able to. She only uses a riding crop."
The chances he had against Rider were admittedly high. If he had any mana to use in the slightest and his body was in peak condition. At that moment, neither of the two were true so his chances were abysmally poor. But, if fighting Rider would protect Illya, win or lose, he didn't really care.
"If you can keep Rider out of the picture for a moment, I should be able to kill Luvia. Unfortunately, the best spot for an ambush happens to be outside Illya's room, so our margin of error is slim."
A voice called out through the halls behind them, Shirou's name in a sickly sweet voice that was anything but tempting. "Why have you run off, is it because you aren't fit to handle a woman like me? Of course you aren't, but wouldn't you like to try?"
Shivering at the thought, Shirou kept tight to his father's tail. "Whatever you have in mind let's do it quickly. I don't want to be near that woman any more than I have to be."
The man quickly and wordlessly led the way down the halls through a large sitting room, past where Shirou had first awoken less than an hour prior. When the man spoke again, they were within another open conference-type room that featured a fireplace, lavish chairs and bookshelves laden with reading material. About to ask what his father had in mind, the man explained with action by standing in the corner and withdrawing runes from his pockets.
"Move to the other side of the room and prepare to fight Rider. We need to wait for Luvia to enter for this to work." Carefully, the man stuck two runes on the two walls of the corner, then placed two more upon the floor perpendicular to the others.
Not bothering to ask anything more, Shirou followed his father's guidance and moved toward the far side of the room, placing a luxurious but dusty loveseat and coffee table between himself and the door. When he turned around to face where they entered, he was surprised to find his father had disappeared from thin air.
Assuming it was something intentional, Shirou quickly scanned the room for something he could use. A fire poker in a cast-iron stand caught his attention and with a small reach, the boy prepared his makeshift weapon for what was bound to come through the door.
Closing his eyes, he used what little mana had been regenerated to reinforce the weapon into something only slightly better. It wouldn't be able to go up against Berserker, but it wouldn't have trouble against a mere riding crop.
Within seconds, the servant casually stepped into the room and produced a haughty pout after spotting Shirou. "There you are. I almost thought you ran away on me but you were just moving to a more private area." The bright smile and gleaming wide eyes of the woman grew even more so. "How adorable."
He couldn't explain why, but a harrowing feeling was growing within the recesses of his mind. Something was fundamentally wrong with the woman and it went beyond her being a servant. His instincts told him to run, but he knew it wasn't an option being so close to Illya. "Just shut up and fight me."
The woman visibly shivered. "So forceful, quite brave; as a warrior should be. Are you certain you wouldn't like to entertain your other desires with me?" To accentuate her point, the woman fluidly ran both hands down the sides of her body with a gyration of the hips to form some twisted sensual display.
He wasn't about to lie and say it wasn't interesting to him in the slightest, but he could easily keep his body in check after all the "training" of a similar type that Rin and Sakura had put him through. "The only desire I have is to kick your ass."
The servant continued her sultry dance, unphased by his brusque response. "It's so much better when they refuse to give in to their primal urges. There's something arousing about a man who can defy expectations. Regardless, it's only a matter of time before you forfeit that stubborn will. Come forth, My Red Mead."
One arm trailed up the side of her body and extended outward. From the tips of her fingers, sparkles of glittering mana flowed down to create something corporeal. She was forming a weapon of some type, maybe even her noble phantasm. He could have stopped her from completing the process, but doing so had a possibility of disrupting his father's plans. Regardless of what he wanted to do, the best option was to wait and see.
The sparkles of mana solidified and steadily formed an admittedly large but rather plain, corked glass bottle. Was it a trick? What sort of attack could be made with a bottle from a distance beyond just throwing it? With deliberate, smooth movements the woman gripped the bottle and popped the cork. No liquid or drink of any sort flowed from its mouth, but a torrent of gaseous golden fibres that swirled around the room. In an instant, Shirou was enveloped by the vapours and an overpowering sweet smell invaded every crevice of his nose. Honey, warm spices and a soft bite of alcohol. At that moment the aroma dominated every other sense he had. The room around him swirled, his legs and eyes grew tired and heavier than they already were.
He nearly gagged at the intensity but rapidly grew accustomed. It was pleasant, it felt fulfilling, intoxicating. Most of all, he found himself desiring to get closer to the source and drink whatever fluid produced such an inviting scent. It was strong enough to make his face contort but sweet enough to entice him into getting another smell.
Weightlessness spread through his body as the first lungful reached his bloodstream. There was something wrong and pervasive about such a scent, though how could something so inviting be anything bad? With each inhale, his mind grew foggy and his vision focused on a single point: the bottle in Rider's hand. Soft words - the voice of an angel - beckoned him onward. "Please, come drink of my mead."
Before he could stop himself, his body began moving toward her on its own volition. Three steps forward, the sensation of wrongness grew ever more pervasive. It was abrupt, but his rational senses came reeling back in full force. With a shake of the head, Shirou stopped moving and gripped his makeshift weapon to make an attack.
Rider appeared genuinely surprised at the reaction, but her bright smile returned almost as quickly. "You're stronger than I expected, but it doesn't matter. No matter how hard you try, you've been mine since the bottle was opened."
Despite how fiercely he wanted to resist, a weight upon his body was returning and his ability to move on his own accord was fading at the same rate. The fire-poker in his hand clattered on the floor as his hand involuntarily opened and his legs returned to move toward Rider.
His body was moving again but it wasn't because he wanted it to. He was like a marionette being pulled by invisible strings. Despite how much he tried to fight against his own body, it had something entirely different in mind. The proximity to the source strengthened the aroma and the boy could actively feel his reluctance and sense of danger fading away.
His eyes blinked and reopened to the bottle being lifted to his lips and a hand pressing against the back of his head, coaxing him on. He opened his mouth to complain but it had been a mistake: sweet, stinging alcohol flooded his mouth, taking advantage of his blunder. The overwhelming flavour reflexively made him swallow and the haziness of his mind grew exponentially.
It felt as if he were rapidly slipping into a deep sleep. His body became dissociated and his senses ebbed away into uniform tranquillity. Then Shirou realized his limbs were moving fluidly without any command on his part. His own hands gripped the edges of the bottle to drink deep, and despite any signal from his brain to stop and think, his body refused to listen.
After two large mouthfuls of alcohol, the hand on the back of his head gripped tight at his hair and reared his head back. "I told you it was only a matter of time. You're mine now, whether you like it or not." The words were ominous, but nothing was as ominous as the subtle shifting of Rider's voice.
Blinking and turning toward the servant, someone else stood in her place.
"Tohsaka?"
Rin grinned wide with a soft blush on her cheeks. "Of course you big dummy. Who were you expecting?" Her soft, playful voice brought on an odd sensation. The last time he had heard her speak so affectionately to him was more than a year ago before Luvia ever appeared in Fuyuki and before the Grail War was ever more than a distant thought. It made him realize how much he missed her. It was a simple thing, being able to talk and be around one another, but it was a luxury he had been without for a long time.
Shirou blinked and his mind tried to vault this newly encountered hurdle. It was impossible for her to be here, but there she was. Someone else had been in her place, but for the strangest reason, he couldn't remember who. It was like his memories of the past ten minutes had almost been cut out entirely.
"Well, I-" he paused, examining her face. It was as he remembered just a few days ago, down to the last detail. With tentative hands, he reached out to run his fingers across her cheek. Her skin was soft, smooth and the girl softly yielded to his touch. Withdrawing, he trailed the same hand down one tail of her hair, running the end through his fingertips. Both were as he knew them to be, so why did it seem as if she wasn't real? "I don't really know."
The door behind her opened and someone else he knew stepped into view.
"Sakura?"
Her mouth moved, but a voice producing incongruous syllables reached his ears. "Rin and I have been cooperating. We've figured out a way for us to work together!"
The boy's mouth opened but couldn't form the words his brain wanted to. Instead, he looked down at his hands and verified that he was himself at the very least. Examining his open palms, he could find no obvious problems. Everything was real, it had to be, right?
Two soft hands slid overtop of his own, directing his attention back up to Rin. "We can work together now, all of us."
The boy paused for a moment before softly nodding in agreement and gripping her hands tight. "What about your servant?"
The girl stepped back, leading him through the door out of the room. "He won't be a problem. It's all been sorted out." It was hard to believe, but Tohsaka was a woman who routinely tied up all her loose ends.
Before Rin could lead him out of the room, she suddenly stopped and peered over his shoulder. Something within the room was interesting to her, but Shirou was unable to see it when he tried to look for himself. "Is Illya with you?"
A stabbing pain hit the front of his skull. He repeated his sister's name like it was foreign to him. "She's sleeping. Someone did something to her and she won't wake up."
Rin smiled warmly. Once again her mouth moved but the words he heard didn't quite line up. "Well, I should be able to help with that."
His confusion and sense of wrongness were replaced with a small sense of hope. Whether she was unconscious for a day or a minute hardly mattered. Her health was the only important thing. "If you think you can," he murmured.
"Show me where she is." Nodding in confirmation, Shirou released one of Rin's hands and carefully led her through the room into the next, entering a small room that appeared to have been recently cleared. Unlike the other areas within the Einzbern Castle that appeared dilapidated, were filled with rubble or antiquated furniture, nothing but a mattress laden with heavy quilting and two chairs furnished the room. On the mattress, covered with the quilting, was a peacefully sleeping Illya.
With haste, the boy dropped Rin's hand and moved to kneel at his sister's side. More than anything he wanted to ensure she was in good health with his own eyes.
A look told him little. A touch and trace showed minor dehydration but nothing to be concerned about. A hand in his shoulder brought him away. "It's too dangerous for me to wake her up here. Berserker or Rider could appear."
Despite how strange it sounded, Shirou couldn't help but agree. Carefully, the boy wrapped his sister in the blanketing and hoisted her up into his arms bridal style. Even after standing and adjusting both himself and Illya to be comfortable, the girl didn't stir. And while her limp form was somewhat unwieldy, she was light enough to render it manageable.
"Are we going back to your house then?"
The Tohsaka nodded. "Yes, I have the resources there to break whatever spell is affecting her. We just need to get past Berserker."
As far as Shirou knew, there was only one entrance and exit to the castle. They could waste time and search for another, safer route but there was no telling how long that would take. A soft whisper in his ears told him to follow Rin's plan and he quickly found himself agreeing.
Unable to guide him by the hand, Rin and Sakura settled for walking behind and in front of him respectively. With another blink, he was standing at the top of the stairs overlooking the main entrance area again. Below, Lancer and Berserker were still locked into battle.
When the two disengaged to take a small break, Shirou realized that Lancer was actually winning. While he was perfectly fine, Berserker was gasping heaving breaths, was covered in slowly bleeding wounds and seemed to be babying his right arm.
The two motionlessly stared at one another for a while. When Shirou expected them to launch into another bout of blows, Berserker collapsed on one knee. With a high-pitched click, the tip of his blade connected with the floor in an attempt to lift himself up.
Despite the effort, he was unable to coax his body into complying and with ominous intent, Lancer started to walk forward so he could finish the job.
The world grew hazy for a moment and the edges of his vision and everything within blurred. Like a record skipping over a corrupted portion, images flickered backwards and forwards before realigning themselves where they were supposed to be.
When things normalized, Lancer was looking directly at him. Before Shirou could congratulate his victory, a hand gripped at the back of his collar to hold him still. Wordlessly, Tohsaka moved past him but something new struck his nose.
Something sweet and spicy. An alluring aroma that he honestly could admit to wanting more of. It wasn't entirely the correct time for such thoughts, but he wondered if Rin had decided to use a new perfume.
While Rin moved down the stairs, Lancer migrated across the room to stand imposingly at the entrance of the castle, seemingly uncaring of Rin's approach. The two conversed, but for some reason - likely the distance - he was unable to hear what was said. Uncertain as to what he was watching, a set of hands gently pressed against his back to urge him onward. Following Sakura's guidance, he reached the base of the stairs. From the new vantage point, he was unable to see everything transpiring between Rin and Lancer, but their lack of movement meant it was anything but good.
In a flash that Shirou barely caught with his eyes, the blade in Lancer's hand was swung and Rin only barely managed to escape its length. In incredulity, Shirou shouted out, "Lancer what the hell are you doing?" As he did, the Tohsaka slid across the cracked floor and fell onto her back after stopping.
It was only after looking at her again that he discovered he had been wrong. Rin hadn't escaped the weapon, she had just avoided being severed in two. A thin red line appeared over her abdomen and blood trickled from the fresh wound.
Sakura's voice called out her sister's name and Shirou found himself doing the same. The boy stepped forward, but he was reluctant to set Illya down on the cold floor. "Lancer, it's Rin, what's wrong with you?"
Lancer spoke but his lips made no movement. "My master has given me strict instructions to guard her against all enemy masters. This includes Rin Tohsaka and Sakura Matou."
Shirou growled in anger. "Rin isn't an enemy, stand down!" The woman in question stood from the ground slowly, patting at the wound on her stomach while she moved back toward the staircase.
Lancer stood motionless at the entrance with his sword held out from his side. "My master gave me further instructions in the case she is rendered unconscious: Protect her at all costs. This includes deeming her own brother as an enemy if necessary."
Shirou struggled to understand the logic and even paused as whispers urged him to consider it in depth. Blinking, Shirou found himself a dozen steps closer. "Can't you see I'm just trying to help her? I'm ordering you as a master to get out of our way."
"That won't be happening."
By the time Shirou blinked, a blade of ivory and gold was being thrust in his direction. There was no time to ask how Lancer had closed the distance or why he was attacking in the first place but one thing was clear: The position of his attack would end up killing both himself and Illya.
Whispers told him to stand still, that the servant wouldn't commit to his attack and he would be fine but his instincts screamed the opposite. Even if his body had been reinforced and he had been expecting the attack, the shocking speed was more than he could handle.
There was only one option, only one chance at saving Illya.
Both arms simultaneously shot out from under her, letting her limp form fall to the cold ground. Keeping his arms out, the boy pushed himself back to try and spare his own life but was too slow.
The blade slipped under his shoulder and in one motion-
Burning agony struck his left arm from the shoulder to his fingertips and as the boy stumbled backward from the force of the attack, he intently watched Illya's form to ensure she was safe.
Lancer stood just before Illya with blade in hand. Something strange was the lack of blood: the pain in his appendage left no doubt that he had been injured. After certifying that Lancer wasn't going to harm his sister, the boy looked himself over starting with his hands.
Bringing both to his face, he only found one.
His eyes shifted from focusing on his hands to something in the distance, an eerily familiar limb severed at the shoulder.
… … …
Since they left the forest outside Fuyuki, she hadn't said a word.
Rin had been meticulously analyzing the encounter with Assassin the entire trip and based on the set expression upon her face, she wasn't even close to fully deciphering the information.
Producing an audible sigh, Archer closed his eyes. "You shouldn't think so hard, people might start to think Fuyuki is on fire."
The Magus didn't even turn back to scoff in his face. "If you're so smart then tell me what Assassin meant by all that."
"I've never been one for riddles, I would have thought you of all people would know that."
Rin nodded and her voice turned sickly sweet. "You're entirely right. Here I thought that age brings intelligence and wisdom when it only brings sarcasm and narcissism."
The insult was biting, but nothing he hadn't heard before. "Living around you for so long has a way of doing that."
That was enough to get her to stop and face him, just as he had intended. Despite being from an entirely different timeline, Rin would always be Rin and that meant she was always easy to tease. "You're supposed to be helping me, not just insulting me all day."
It wasn't the response he was expecting and it hit rather close to what little of his pride he retained. "Then find me something I can help with. You forget how this agreement is supposed to work."
Rin opened her mouth but another voice spoke on her behalf. "Why don't you remind me? Looks like I forgot." The voice was cocky, energetic and thankfully familiar. While Rin was still trying to isolate its point of origin, Archer himself locked onto the signature of a servant leaping from a nearby rooftop.
With a soft thud, two entwined figures landed off to the side. It was a master and servant, no doubt about it. The servant released a woman from his arms and the two quickly separated to take their own fighting stances. One, a man with bright blue hair, Archer recognized immediately while the other, a woman fully clad in burgundy, was someone brand new. Despite recognizing who the man was, he was fundamentally different. His hair was longer, his face sharper and his attire was shocking, to say the least. It was Cú Chulainn verifiably, though it wasn't at the same time.
Rin's voice made a grating statement of the obvious in his mind, nearly driving him to roll his eyes. It was a servant; normal people didn't usually come flying from the darkness so ominously. Acting as a servant, he stepped ahead of Rin and held out one arm as a signal for her to stay back. "And who are you supposed to be?"
The servant in blue produced a cocky smile and span the staff in his hand around to rest on his back. "You must have some pretty awful memory, kid. Would you believe that I'm an Archer?"
"Only if your projectile of choice happened to be feces," the servant shot back.
The servant scoffed but retained his predatory grin. "Still cocky even after I almost killed you, guess I'll have to do the job right this time."
The woman he had carried into battle raised both fists and spoke in a strong accent. "You deal with him, I'll take down his girlfriend."
The servant span his staff around to face forward and foreboding symbols appeared at the face of its large head. "As you wish, master. It was a stupid idea to wander the streets without your servants."
"We'll see how-"
"Hey!" A shout from the Irish woman garnered both the servant's attention. "Are you pansies going to kill each other or have an emotional dialogue over tea?" Scorned like puppies, the two servants focused on one another.
Opening his hands, two perfectly opposed weapons formed within. Archer knew how this opponent operated but only as a Lancer. All of his experience fighting the same servant time and time again was absolutely useless. In this war, however, that wasn't anything new.
The first attack was made by his opponent. A bullet-like fireball that aimed for his head. It was slow enough to sidestep entirely but halfway through the motion, Archer found that it tracked as well. Snapping one arm upwards, the fireball was struck in the air only to explode and bathe his body in hot flame.
While painful with the potential to cause harm, it dissipated too fast to be anything more than a minor annoyance that burnt off his bodily hair. If nothing else, it told him that those projectiles were best to be outright avoided.
"Caster then," the servant murmured to himself. Cú Chulainn taking such a peculiar role was enough to make Archer laugh. To see the former cocky spearman degrading his alternate identity by flinging balls of flame from his staff all while half-naked was incredibly amusing.
Caster's smile grew even wider. "And you're just some faker. Nothing but a kid trying to play servant!" With a small spin, the man launched his staff high into the air. Distracted by the strange move, Archer was slow to spot Caster's real move: forming several runic symbols in front of him with both hands.
Making a sharp inhale, Archer swiftly lobbed both weapons in his grasp toward the enemy. Leaping backward, a bow formed itself within his grasp and arrows queued up for production. Unsurprisingly, Caster was able to evade the two weapons thrown at him, but his attack had already been fired. Fireballs by the dozen were fired in Archer's direction and it hardly took more than a cursory visual trace to see how much mana each one contained. The initial attack didn't even hold a candle to the power contained in this volley.
With the bow drawn back, an arrow formed from within his mind. Releasing the string, the arrow was fired. Halfway to its target, the projectile split and multiplied several times over. Each one seemed to take on a mind of its own, tilting ever so slightly to fly directly into each fireball. The array of incoming projectiles erupted into a wall of flame that totally obscured the servant within.
Nocking another arrow to fire, Archer heard a loud clang as the staff that had been thrown into the air embedded itself in the ground a short distance ahead. A shape lunged straight through the wall of flame, but the distraction had already taken place. Before Archer could even react, Caster had reached and freed the staff from the ground.
The speed and unexpectedness coupled with Archer's poor choice of weaponry for the distance meant he was practically defenceless against a jabbing strike from the pointed end of the staff. Even after trying to block the strike with his forearms, the weapon slipped straight between his arms and struck his midsection. On contact, the innocuous blow exploded with a wave of mana-made pressure, blowing him backwards across the pavement into a nearby building back first.
Thankfully he hadn't gone through the wall, but the wind had been knocked out of his lungs entirely as his diaphragm struggled to recover. Battling a Caster that was skilled in physical attacks was unnatural, but that wasn't exactly what had caught him off guard. Caster's movements, his responses to attacks were too natural. It was almost as if he knew Archer's next move as if his tactics were an open book.
But that was impossible. There was no way another servant could understand his fighting style. "While I'm surprised you survived that attack, you're still no match for a servant. Better to just give up now and die peacefully."
The condescending words from the Hound of Ulster were an annoyance, but Archer was angrier at the fact that his movements were so easily read. Caster believed he was a human, so the cause was undeniably Shirou Emiya's doing. That boy was going to experience a painful death once Archer could get his hands on him.
It was time to switch things up. Pulling himself free from the wall, Kanshou and Bakuya appeared in his hands once again. Pausing a half-beat, Archer spoke three ominous words: "Watch your back."
Before Archer even spoke, Caster's eyes widened and his body twisted to look back at the sensed danger. The two weapons Archer had initially thrown were flying back toward their owner at a surprising speed. The servant was forced to use his staff to repel the incoming weapons, allowing Archer to lunge forward off the wall and make a brutal horizontal slash with both weapons.
Caster only just managed to manipulate his staff to block the attack. Where his speed prevailed, however, his strength faltered. Unable to fully stop the blow, Archer's swords collided with his chest and slid the servant back along the pavement. It was as powerful as Archer had expected. The staff Caster wielded was embedded with intricate runes hidden inside the grain structure of the wood. Archer knew little of rune magic but understood that it was extremely variable. Somehow, it had diminished the impact of Kanshou and Bakuya.
Regardless of how diminished the strength was, two parallel, identical cuts began to bleed on his chest. Nothing more than a scratch, but at least it was something.
Caster peered down at his body, then drew one symbol over the injured area. In an instant, the wound sealed itself closed and appeared as if it had never existed in the first place. A servant that could heal, use extraordinary magic and hold his own physically. It wasn't going to be an easy fight.
Hopefully, his master was having a better time with her opponent.
… … …
Her best chance was to hope Archer could handle Bazett's servant.
She was a genuine enforcer, a person even Shirou would struggle to take down. In comparison, Rin herself was no more threatening than a mosquito. Just like the proverbial mosquito, she was under the scrutiny of Bazett's striking palm. That exact palm had almost squashed her entirely. It was only due to a well-timed burst of reinforcement that spared her life, a technique taught to her by Shirou.
As lousy as he was at being a magus, he was an undeniable master in reinforcement and projection and she would take advantage of his knowledge where she could. Ducking underneath another straight punch, Rin used the edge of a curb to push herself away and put some breathing room between them.
Why the hell did Shirou have to get involved with one of the Clock Tower's most notorious enforcers anyway? Sure he got a little training but it was really coming back to bite them in the ass now.
"If you quit moving it will hurt a lot less." The enforcer's voice was clipped, controlled and entirely void of emotion. It was unlike how Rin remembered her to be.
Clenching her jaw, Rin's mind moved at a thousand miles an hour trying to create a path to victory. The only option she had at that moment was to toy with Bazett's psyche and pray that it diminished her guard. "Or do you want me to give up because you can't kill me if I don't?" The question made the woman's eyebrow twitch. If this plan worked, then she could…
"I have a plan to defeat the enemy master, but I need your help."
Archer took his time to respond, but Rin could listen to Bazett's response while waiting. The woman sighed, cracked both knuckles through her gloves and offered a chilling glare. "And here I was just trying to make it easier. I guess you really want to die painfully."
Rin nearly gulped. Her plan had been a little more than short-sighted as it turned out. At the very least, her other plan was still a possibility. "Do you think we're having tea over here?"
As if to accentuate his jaded retort, a fiery explosion illuminated the night street. Rin was about to reprimand her servant for possibly alerting normal people to magic, but their individual lives were much more important. She could handle damage control later. "All I need is a single arrow when I ask for it."
The Irish Enforcer raised her fists to return to the offensive. In the time it took to blink, she had cleared the distance between them and re-entered striking range.
It was on sheer reactions alone that Rin managed to twist her body and avoid a jab aimed straight at her nose. Her joints complained of the sudden motion by producing a soft, painful pop. She was a magus goddamnit, not some martial artist. A battle was supposed to be won using magecraft and finesse. Bazett used neither of those things, so it made sense that she could only be defeated by discarding them as well. Rin had managed to injure Bazett once years ago, who was to say that she couldn't do it again?
There were two more jabs thrown at her abdomen, each barely missed by skimming the sides of her body. The speed and force of even light contact were enough to form a bruise. Even taking glancing strikes, with all things considered she was going quite well.
Ducking beneath a hook, backing away from a short jab and reaching into her pocket all came next. Withdrawing a sword-shaped gem from within, Rin chanted a quick, simple spell in German before lobbing it between their feet toward the ground.
Like a smoke bomb on steroids, the entire city block was instantly engulfed in thick opaque smog. It was an escape tactic, but it was going to help her go on the offensive. Darting right from her last known position, Rin carefully took the long way round to circle behind her target.
Due to the smog being a construction of her mana, she was able to detect abnormalities within its space. Using that feature, she could locate Bazett without using her eyes.
As the enforcer struggled to see her and clear the smog, Rin reinforced her right arm and delivered a desperate jab to the base of Bazett's neck. Colliding with the woman's skull, Rin expected her to drop to the ground, paralyzed from the neck down.
Then a foot came flying out of nowhere. All Rin could do to defend herself was put her arms over her abdomen and even then, it was a paltry attempt. Her arms were forced into her stomach and the wind was forced from her lungs as the impact carried through the rest of her body.
Shock took over and left everything a muffled mess. It was only after seeing the ground upside down that she realized the attack had launched her into the air.
Bouncing off the pavement, her sense of touch and pain came flooding back. Unable to gasp in a breath, the girl grabbed at her torso and looked up at her opponent.
There were a couple of dozen feet between the two and Rin was in the perfect position for her next move. Fighting through her heaving lungs, the Tohsaka reached into her pocket to withdraw another gem.
"Archer, please tell me you can take a shot." Despite her pained cry for help, she only received silence. It was enough to cause panic, but she could feel the servant's steady drain on her mana supply so he was still alive.
Clutching the gem tight, Rin maneuvered her arm while keeping an eye on the enforcer. She was reaching for the back of her neck and patting tenderly. After withdrawing it from the spot, even Rin could see the bright crimson blood on her fingers. If an attack like that had barely made her bleed would her next one be effective at all?
She could ask questions later. For now, she had to hope it would be enough to scare Bazett off at least. "I can't wait for you anymore, I need you to make this shot." Rin channelled mana into the gem and activated it with a short incantation. As awkward as it was to throw from a prone position, Rin managed to lob the gem in her hand high and far toward Bazett. The glowing gemstone span randomly in the air, producing small beams of light like a miniature disco-ball.
Rightfully wary of the potential attack, Bazett raised both arms to defend herself. The gem reached the apex of its throw and began to fall toward Bazett's feet. Fear slowly settled in the pit of her stomach. Archer wasn't there, he wasn't able to shoot the gem. Rin had one last-ditch effort available, but it was supposed to be her ultimate holdout. Using it on her first opponent in the War seemed like a waste.
When nothing happened, the enforcer partly lowered her guard and as the gem landed on the ground harmlessly, the woman fully dropped her arms. "Didn't know magecraft could even have duds."
Archer had let her down.
Rin could only blink in shock. Shock from the unreliability. Archer and Shirou were different people, but she had expected them both to retain some characteristics at least. If Shirou was anything, he was reliable. He had been at her beck and call for years, always standing there beside her when she needed him - and she had been there when he needed her as well.
Like an admirer standing before a great work of art, comprehension came all at once. The two were never supposed to be apart. They needed one another to lean on, giving and taking to support and grow together. As much as he needed her to guide him away from becoming Archer, she needed him for protection and safety.
She was stupid to turn him away when he offered to work together, but what other choice did she have? He had walked away after his future self almost killed him on the spot. He had all rights to abandon her after such a near miss. She couldn't do anything but regret her servant's foolish mistake.
Now?
Now she was regretting more than that one mistake. That brazen, unprovoked attack should have been a sign of servant-Shirou's unreliability, but she had foolishly ignored it at the time. If he couldn't even listen to a simple order not to kill someone, how could he be expected to help her anywhere?
Bazett took a step forward before a soft fluttering caught the attention of both women. Before Rin or the enforcer could even comprehend what it was, a single crimson arrow pierced the motionless gemstone.
Rin had no time to be happy that Archer had come through. There was a soft crack, but it was instantly drowned out by a massive explosion that rattled the very earth. A wave of heat, a blast of breath-taking pressure and the hair-raising tingle of ambient static electricity. Everything struck simultaneously and all Rin could do was ride out the sensation with her head down and eyes closed.
Flying debris sporadically pelted her head and sides of her body for several seconds until the heat started to subside. With the coast believed to be clear, Rin hesitantly pulled her head up to see the resulting damage.
It was incredible, both in scale and intensity. The entire street block they had been fighting in was more like a demolished war zone. Craters lined the ground and chunks of destroyed infrastructure were scattered about. Some chunks were still falling from the sky and settling into piles.
The air was hot and filled with the ambient crackling of residual rogue mana. She knew from the test that it would discharge, but it was a question of where, when and for how long. That gem Shirou tested with her was one-tenth the power of the one just used; there was no telling what sort of discharge would come about.
It took a moment, but Rin eventually located Bazett, who despite all odds had survived the explosion in admittedly decent shape all things considered. Major portions of her suit had been blown away and blood coated the right side of her face, but she was breathing and semi-conscious. Embedded in a pile of rubble against a crumbling building, the woman was already hoisting herself onto her feet. With the threat of a mana discharge taking place at any moment, Rin remained lying on the ground. The enforcer managed to stand on her feet but every hair on Rin's body stood upright. The very roots within her scalp tingled from the residual energy in the air.
Just as her follicles had predicted, there was a bright flash of light and an ear-splitting clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning propagated within the street. The bright blue jagged beam dissipated slowly over several seconds, but the mere pressure from its release had thrown Bazett back into the pile of rubble.
Rin slowly lifted herself off the ground. Considering that another discharge could happen at any moment, it was a risky gamble. She was covered in a fine layer of concrete dust and dirt but a hasty brushing removed most of it.
Looking back to her enemy, she found her to be standing upright again. Judging by the expression on her face, she was less than ecstatic over the turn of events. "Why can't you kids just use the same damn attacks like every other magus."
It was meant to be an insult, but Rin took it as a compliment. The enforcer made a step in her direction but stumbled and steadily realized the state of herself. The blast had scarred the lower half of her body and somewhere between the epicentre and the wall, her shoulder had dislocated itself as well. Realizing these facts at the same time as Rin, the enforcer made a soft tsk with her mouth. "You haven't won, we're just going to regroup and rethink our strategy."
Just before Rin could ask what the enforcer meant by "we,'' a figure in blue leapt into view from the side. It didn't take more than a glance to note that it was her servant, and Rin cautiously stepped back.
The servant was focused on something else and it became readily apparent what it was when a crimson shape landed on the rubble-laden street in front of Rin. "I didn't think I had to tell you, but you should try to keep collateral damage to a minimum. I imagine every servant in all of Fuyuki saw that discharge."
His scolding words were annoying, but at least she could feel moderately defended with a servant at her side. "I'm surprised, kid. Most humans can't keep up to even the weakest servant."
Rin could hear the tightening of hands on blade grips. "If that's the case, you shouldn't speak so low about yourself."
The servant in blue made a sharp, insulting laugh. "Sharp blade and sharp mind. If I didn't hate your guts we might have been friends."
"Sorry, I don't associate with wild animals." The comment had been enough to stunt the servant into silence. Carefully, the man moved to pick up his injured master. Noticing Archer's lack of response, the man quickly hefted her into his arms and leapt to a nearby rooftop to escape.
Rin coughed out a lungful of dust. "You're letting him get away?"
Archer continued to watch the distance, as if uncertain that the servant was really gone. "Both of our masters were injured: fighting any further had the risk of killing you both. Mutually assured destruction is worse than nothing at all."
Considering his words, Rin actually agreed. Looking around the area again, the Tohsaka made note of the scale of destruction. It was unlike anything she had seen before. While the severity of devastation was extreme, its scope was clipped short. It was almost as if it had bounced off the boundaries of a forcefield, but the bounded field she had established at the start of the fight only prevented human sensory detection.
Rin could only hope that the civilians inside their houses hadn't been injured by the blast, but the War's mediator would handle any explanation and anyone that needed medical attention. "After Assassin and now whoever that servant was-"
"Caster," Archer supplanted.
"-and Caster, I think we're done for today. Can we ju-" The girl abruptly hesitated and looked down as a vibration struck her chest. Reaching down into her shirt, the girl withdrew a small teardrop-shaped pendant on a silver chain. It was incredibly dim but a shape within flickered like a candle in a soft breeze.
Archer turned, concerned over his master's spontaneous silence. "Is something the matter?" he asked, before noticing the stone in her hand. "Is something the matter?"
"It's that idiot, Shirou," she murmured, watching the shape within as if her life depended on it. A long time ago, as a precautionary measure, she had taken a sample of Shirou's blood and imbued it within a gemstone using formal craft. If she were someone with less honour or class, she could have devised a weapon that would have killed him instantaneously. Instead, she had made a rudimentary, voodoo tracking device that served as a type of life monitor as well.
Archer held his silence, watching the jewel in her grasp with interest. "Assassin is waiting for us in the forest, we can't go back for him." As the flickering within faded out entirely, Rin clenched her hand around it. "What the hell is he doing now," she whispered.
"Master, did you not want to win this War? To accomplish that, Shirou must die at some point."
Snapping her head up, Rin made note of Archer's odd expression. It was a mix of confusion and anticipation. "That's not true!" she shouted with more emotion than she intended. Clearing her throat, the girl refocused. "He doesn't have to die, only his servant does."
Archer rolled his eyes. "You are a Tohsaka magus. Of all people, you should understand more than anyone that the easiest way to accomplish that is by killing the master."
The heartlessness of her servant struck a chord deep in her mind and disturbed her more than she expected. Something deep in that servant's heart was broken and she could only see the cracks upon the surface. It provoked a thought: Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe Shirou and Archer were nothing alike. With each strange decision and uncharacteristic response, Rin grew increasingly wary of her servant. He seemed more committed to killing masters than she was. What if he succeeded? If he went behind her back and did the job before she could even react like he almost had to Shirou?
Rin bit her lip and considered her next move for a moment. "Let's just go home," she decided, turning and stumbling in the direction of her manor. "There's nothing we can do."
There's nothing anyone can do, Rin.
Shit has finally hit the fan and boy has it hit all at once. I won't detail what you've already read but I'll leave you with an interesting question: If Berserker is at the Einzbern castle... Why wasn't Caren there to stop him again?
Maybe that will drive up some speculation in the reviews because not having a single review in over a month really hurts the soul. :(
As always, remember to favourite, follow and leave those reviews!
