Hazzah! My beta finally arose from the dead and graced me with some editing!
I'm sorry for the long wait but he was very busy with things and just got some free time. When you leave a review (and you better) you can leave a nice comment to him for getting things finished up and to spur him on to do the next chapter.
I hope you enjoy this chapter, I've realized just how much I love writing Assassin and even though this isn't the most action-packed chapter, there's still quite a lot of tension from other mediums.
There was a moment.
A time when he had asked himself what his desires truly were. A time he'd examined what was available, and tried to determine a way he could reach his desires, and if they were what he truly wanted.
Countless times, he had been condemned by a force that was both familiar and foreign.
Countless times he had witnessed first-hand how foolish his desires were, and the type of man he would become if he followed them to their bloody end.
But…
It didn't matter.
No cost was too great.
Every confrontation ended the same way.
He was always too stubborn to give up his only wish and was drowned in responsibility as a consequence.
He had established his stubborn resolve willingly, fully understanding the cost and eager to bear the inevitable sins each time.
Even so, there had always been a line. A line he did not want to cross.
Something permanent and obvious, unmoving and whenever he got close to crossing, he consistently moved back to the start, unable to commit and slip into that preordained future that he understood so well.
…
That line was being blurred now.
How long did he have..?
… … …
… … ...
His arm had been severed, chopped off, amputated.
It was painful, but the pain was nothing compared to the psychological shock. It had all been so sudden, something had happened to his reactions and his body had just locked up for some reason. He was still able to protect Illya. He had been forced to drop her and his arm was missing, but she was alive.
Lancer had tried to kill him- No, that wasn't entirely correct. His blade positioning had been set to kill Illya first and then run him through afterwards. It was far worse than just trying to kill him but why a servant would try to kill their own master was a question he couldn't answer. It was illogical, though it had happened regardless.
Lancer took a step forward and flicked the blade around his wrist, pointing its sharpened tip down toward Illya's unconscious body. The act sent warnings through the boy's mind and flung his body into action. Without a care for his own personal safety, Shirou collided with Lancer shoulder first and barely managed to push him more than a few steps backward. It was enough to keep the threat away from Illya, but it wouldn't give him much time.
Like a flick switching off, the fuzziness in his mind was replaced with something new. The previous hazy sensation he had been under vanished and he experienced a brief flicker of ultimate clarity before an unbearable hot rage washed over his mind. It was frightening to himself as well, but only because it was so familiar.
"I am the bone of my sword."
Before he could stop himself, the sentence had made it out of his mouth. Searing pain from both the stump of his arm and the base of his spine struck at the same instant. He had simultaneously enacted his reality marble and converted a nerve circuit into a magic circuit and the effect forced him to gasp.
"Steel is my body and fire is my heart."
Immediately his nose filled with the scent of gunsmoke and hot steel and a distant pounding of a persistent forge echoed in his ears with the beat of his heart. The second line stabilized his reality marble by slowing the progression of his sword-flesh and reducing the constant drain of keeping it active, but it still greedily consumed whatever mana remained in his body. It would be overestimating his ability to say he was running on fumes, but a singular thought was driving him forward.
With enhanced efficiency, a sword projected into his last remaining hand and his anger drove him forward. With a sharp yell, his attempted strike slid off Lancer's weapon. Before Shirou could even recover, an armour-clad hand backhanded the side of his face and threw his unbalanced body onto the ground toward his severed arm.
His head throbbed in agony at the impact and his eyes weren't cooperating to produce a clear image, but the sight of his former limb as he pushed himself up stirred an idea into his aching brain. Without hesitation, the boy jammed his sword into the ground to assist in lifting himself up. Leaving the sword in place once he was stable, he collected his amputated arm and brought the detached limb to the severed socket of his shoulder.
"Try as you might, it won't work," a voice told him.
Something cracked. The sound echoed not within the main entrance, but within his own mind. His field of view expanded greatly before it contracted to focus entirely on the arm in his hand. His senses grew hyperactive and his hearing was dominated by the wheezing of his lungs and the flowing of his own blood. It felt like he was floating in space, departed from everything but connected at the same time.
He was on the edge, but he couldn't tell what sort of edge it was or what it meant if he were to cross it. "People have told me that too many times," he murmured. "But only from people who know nothing about me."
The two severed ends touched and a disgusting fleshy noise sounded as countless overlapping swords met flesh. Despite the noise, Shirou pressed further against the socket and all at once it felt as if he was bathed in flames.
Harsh grinding and wet bursting noises sounded from his arm before something painfully warm splattered against his face. It was unquestionably the most excruciating thing he had ever experienced, far exceeding when he converted his nerves into circuits and when his entire torso was destroyed by Leysritt. The agony stripped his breath and strength away and made him feel like passing out but sheer determination left him standing and conscious. He paused to look, but the sight was too horrific for him to gather more than a glance.
His arm had been converted in blades from fingertip to shoulder. Its entire surface had been remade into sword-flesh and that was only the surface of the issue. Sporadically at points within the limb, large sword-like protrusions had violently erupted through the surface. Rather than just rebuild and preserve his own body, the sudden violent inclusion had brought on abnormalities.
The situation only grew worse. The joints in his reattached arm had failed and he only had limited motion of his elbow and the shoulder itself. Try as he might, his fingers would not budge from their limp half-open place. He wouldn't be able to hold a sword, but with his arm in such a condition, would he even have to?
Lancer spoke from ahead, but his voice was distorted and in a different tone than before. "What are you?"
Shirou recollected the blade he had used to lift himself up and prepared to fight. Adrenalin diminished the pain to a borderline bearable level, but it was a constant struggle to stand. "Just a boy," he declared proudly. Despite his valiant response, he could feel the steady progression of sword-flesh moving from his shoulder up his neck. It would only be a minute before it started converting the side of his head.
"You're a monster."
Lifting up his dulled arm like a makeshift weapon, he found sharp stabbing pain throughout despite the fact that it was recently severed. How nice it was for his reality marble to keep the nerves active. "If that's what I have to be."
Lancer flourished his blade and pointed it forward, still holding on with only one hand. "I don't know whether to compliment your bravery or chastise you for your idiocy. I suppose it will depend on how well you fight." The servant snapped forward and Shirou let his reflexes take over entirely.
His eyes clamped shut involuntarily, and a sharp grinding noise reached his ears. When they reopened, the sight of an ivory blade caught against his own arm came into focus. It had managed to hold back Lancer's strength. But it was only just accomplishing that. The force had managed to pierce the external layer of sword-flesh and spray a fine layer of blood on Lancer's face and neck. Just like his arm, it was anything but normal. Rather than crimson red, it was a dull rust colour and it acted more like a viscous slime as it struggled to flow downwards. Despite the strange viscosity, it dripped down the servant's skin and actually forced the man to flinch as it soaked between his skin and armour.
Not wanting to take the opportunity for granted, Shirou stabbed forward with the blade in his other hand. Seamlessly, the servant snapped his open hand upward to grab the blade before it could cause any harm. Watching Lancer rear his head back, Shirou gasped and a sudden impact against his forehead blurred his vision and filled it with spots of flashing light.
Shirou registered that he'd hit the ground, but his body autonomously pushed himself back onto his feet. Subconsciously, he lifted a hand to his head, but a sharp pain upon contact made him recoil the limb away.
His good hand had been sliced open and the sword-flesh was spreading from a new point now. Pairing up what had happened, he concluded that his head had been converted to sword-flesh after the most recent attack.
Performing a trace of himself confirmed the fact, but it also revealed how rapid and deep it was running. Its rate of spread had grown exponentially since he first started his reality marble and it was consuming more of his body than he had ever seen it take before.
It was bad.
It was really bad.
But he had to persevere to protect Illya, to protect his family.
He didn't have any more time to waste, so instead of allowing Lancer to take the initiative, the boy took some of his own and launched into an attack with his sword. Expectedly, the knight blocked Shirou's simple thrust and both of their weapons collided to produce a small patch of sparks.
Unexpectedly, Shirou snapped his wrist to angle his blade so that it could slide down Lancer's. Closing the distance, Shirou negligently swung his arm in a feeble attack.
Lancer moved exactly as predicted. His free hand shot out to grip his sword-flesh wrist, gripping tight and crunching the metallic skin. Just as quickly as the servant gripped him, his hand released and flew back in surprise. Despite wearing full armour, the contact had somehow pierced or gotten under without leaving behind any mark of puncturing. The resistance of Lancer's blade wavered, a signal that it was Shirou's time to gain the upper hand.
Using his reality marble's efficiency to his advantage, two projections formed within the air behind Shirou's shoulders in the time it took to blink. Lancer's weapon was caught against Shirou's crossguard, his weaponized arm thrust forward toward Lancer's abdomen and the boy's created projectiles fired all in the same instance.
Even for a servant, there was no way to react to all of the attacks at once. Prioritizing, Lancer jumped backwards. He managed to avoid the attack made by Shirou's arm but had taken a blade to each shoulder for his efforts. The weapons caused little, if any, real damage, which made the move advantageous as it was obvious that sword-flesh did.
The servant continued to move back across the tile, pausing to remove the two weapons embedded in his body. Before they could even hit the ground, they dematerialized into thin air.
The crack resounded within his skull again, but this time it was accompanied by a sudden violent pulse that initiated a full-scale migraine. It came in rapid sharp pulses which were accompanied by ringing metallic noises common to a forge. It was a sound he remembered only after hearing it, an indication of his spiralling descent into his reality marble.
The edges of Lancer's body seemed to melt and like a fading projector, the very image of him flickered between two different people. Through the door, a flash of white-blue light bathed the room in light for the barest moment. In a second, the sound of thunder echoed through the castle, a foreboding signal if he had ever heard one.
Giving his head a shake, the boy looked back toward Lancer to find some twisted mix of both Lancer and Berserker. It was as if the servant was in the midst of an identity crisis and couldn't decide who he was as half of his body flickered between the two servants.
The migraine only grew worse by the second. What started just behind his brain had spread to dominate his entire skull, pulsing and pounding in tune with the sound of metal forging. The agony was all he could focus on. Each attempt at forcing it away only brought it back with greater intensity.
The heat and pain coursing through his body were too much and his lungs struggled to keep up to the abuse. Desperate for a way to cool off and feel less constricted, he haphazardly tore at his outfit and stripped his upper body to bare his skin to the cool air. It was an uphill battle, though just as he felt that he could take no more, a sudden clarity struck him. The transition was jarring though for reasons he couldn't explain it felt natural. It was as if every pain receptor had shut down and his brain had started fresh.
Snapping his head back up to his former target, a new revelation hit him like a truck. It wasn't Lancer, but Berserker he had been fighting. It explained the servant's strange actions.
Looking toward Rin, he found none other than Rider with a disgustingly happy grin on her too-perfect features. Even Sakura wasn't who she seemed, replaced by Luvia who seemed equal parts confused and wary.
Trying to put things together, the boy scanned through his memories only to encounter a blank spot within one of the rooms in the castle. It took a little more investigation to realize that something had altered his view of reality. There was a high chance that it had been due to Rider's noble phantasm.
It was like his entire body had slammed the reset button, but there was an odd emptiness as well that he could describe. The pain had vanished, his worries and concerns had vanished. All that remained was absolute concentration and determination to defeat the target ahead of him. Eliminating Berserker was the highest priority, to protect Illya.
His rush forward seemed reckless, but a methodical plan had already formed in his mind. Berserker stood calmly, tracking his advance and preparing his blade to block as Shirou made a slash.
But rather than allow their weapons to collide, the weapon in Shirou's hand exploded into a simple cloud of mana. As his hand passed through Berserker's guard, a new identical weapon formed in his grasp and was thrust upward.
Unable to deflect the attack, Berserker shifted his footing to move out of range. It was exactly what Shirou had planned. Two projectiles formed within the air and his circuitry came to life across his upper body. He briefly recognized that his heavily abused circuits had ruptured the skin of his back, but moved past it to complete his attack. Striding forward, Shirou pressed his body against Berserker's blade, jammed his own weapon forward toward the servant in vain and felt his body be punctured by two familiar weapons.
He did not cry out in pain as his own projections punctured his body, but the servant that had been splattered in blood did, for once. Reeling back, the servant clutched at his face, trying to scratch beneath his full-face mask in vain. His ashen white hair had been stained a brownish red and the cyan glow from the eyeholes of his mask had been covered in a rusted red as well.
Shirou stood back, watching the servant struggle. His decision had been obvious after watching it so many times. His blades were always ineffective, his tactics were always seen through. The only thing that worked time and time again was his sword-flesh. It pierced through Berserker's armour, it always made him flinch and on top of that, it was the only option Shirou had that could be used with such a battered body with limited reserves.
Struggling to focus on the battle and not the strange pain spreading through his body, the servant growled out a question. "What the hell have you done to me?"
There was no point in answering such a foolish question, it was just a waste of time. Rearing up his weaponized arm and the weapon in his functional hand, the boy prepared to make another attack, one that would hopefully end the servant once and for all.
There was no telling what the after-effects would be. The first time he used it, it had sent him into a miniature coma and that was at near full reserves. It was entirely likely that doing the same move now would kill him. Though, at the very least, he would take Berserker down with him. "If that's what it takes."
His circuits screamed in unfelt agony and the visible circuitry across his body burst through his skin, leaving behind lines of matching sword-flesh. There wasn't an ounce of mana left in his entire body, but whatever energy he could gather would be used in a single strike.
The projectile formed at eye-level and the boy reached out to touch it with his last useful hand. "Time Alter-"
The entire castle erupted violently and a blast of heat bathed the entire room from somewhere behind him. It all precluded a brilliant flash of light that pained the eyes to witness as he turned to look. Shutting them tight, Shirou covered his face with his forearm to keep some of the heat away.
The light faded but the heat remained and the sound of crumbling stone infrastructure echoed through the main room. In the direction the light had originated, a large half-molten hole remained in the wall. If he looked a little further, beyond the initial hole, he could see the charred remains of what he could only assume was Lectra's ether construct.
Its body was twitching and sizzling from the heat but it did not reform as it had with the other strikes. In fact, it started to meltdown into a congealed mass of blackened goo. Beyond the deceased creature, stood Saber. Excalibur was gleaming brilliant yellow in her hands and its entire surface steamed in the chilly night air. Servant and master locked eyes and fear bloomed within Saber's face. Her mouth moved but he was too far to hear and unable to read lips.
Ignoring her, the boy refocused on his opponent. Unexpectedly, a blur of blue, white and yellow collided with Berserker and sent the servant sliding back toward the entrance. The boy blinked as Saber dominated his vision. She had moved from the courtyard to strike Berserker in a moment but she was more concerned with him. "Shirou, you must gain control of yourself!"
From the side, Rider's voice reached him. "Don't listen to her, kill her for me, Shirou!"
Facing the pink-haired servant, Shirou levelled a stern glare. "Why would I take orders from you?" Each syllable of his voice was accented with a sharp screeching as if a battle of multiple blades was going on within his throat. "There's no reason to obey an enemy servant."
Rider's eyes opened wide in blatant surprise, but the woman was quick to react. It was less than two steps, but she hovered over Illya and lowered both her body and riding crop to trail across the quilting ominously. "Breaking out of my spell is so rude. I'll have to pay you back by breaking something of yours."
Rider was a small target, any attack had the chance to be either too slow or deflect and strike Illya. Regardless, there was a moment that Shirou considered redirecting the attack intended for Berserker to hit Rider, even though it had the chance of outright killing his sister.
That thought alone held him back.
It scared him.
Why would he consider risking her life?
What was wrong with him?
There was a sharp cry of surprise and both Rider and Shirou threw their heads to look higher up the staircase. It came from Luvia, who was being grabbed by someone from behind. The fact that someone was there was less concerning than the gleaming blade pressed up against the side of her neck. The pressure against her skin was threatening to pierce it, but the man wielding it was skilled enough to keep it from doing so.
Of course it had been the Magus Killer, and he shot a steely gaze toward the pink servant below him. "Step away from her or your master dies," he spoke calmly.
Even to someone like Rider, it was obvious that he wasn't joking. Standing upright, the servant sighed. "Well, your threat isn't entirely baseless at least. But even without a master, I could still kill this girl and then you." Despite her cheery disposition, her words were colder than ice and the threat was very real. "Thankfully for you, I like my master and would rather keep her around."
A clank turned Shirou's attention back to Saber. "Berserker-"
"Hold your tongue, you poor excuse for a knight." The comment made Saber growl in blatant anger. The grip upon her blade tightened, her body clenched to snap forward to initiate combat. "I have lost interest in continuing this pitiful excuse of a battle." The servant extended his crimson blade to point at Shirou, who held a disinterested glare. "I do not wish to kill you yet. Horribly inefficient and self-destructive as it may be, I have gained an interest in your combat style."
Saber flinched, but the tension in her body eased up. She understood the advantage of having Berserker leave on his own will. Everyone except Luvia and Rider were battered and broken and each moment spent fighting only exacerbated their miserable conditions.
"Well, I guess that's all for tonight then." Rider sighed, peered back toward Luvia and smiled at the man holding her hostage. "I don't know how strong warriors of this time are, but that boy down there looks like he's at the end of his limit. If you'd rather he stay alive, you'd better decide whether you want to kill my master's friend or let her go with us."
Kiritsugu shuffled, lifted his free hand high and flashed three fingers to someone unseen. "Sharp eyes," he murmured while withdrawing the weapon from Luvia's throat.
Rider giggled and offered a smile though the voice she spoke with was full of ice. "Let's just say that I know how men like you work."
Shirou watched silently, preparing to strike Rider when she was most vulnerable with her guard down. Before he could organize a proper plan, the world twisted, shifted and his vision rapidly collapsed to a white pinprick before fading out entirely. He registered that he had hit the floor, but beyond that, he was at a loss.
It felt as if he were floating within empty space, dissociated from his former self. In the darkness, all of his senses were rendered vacant. Breathing out slowly, he realized how cold the air was and just how slow his thoughts were. More concerning was a pervasive feeling of emptiness.
Before long, the light returned. It was soft and distant at first, but gradually it grew larger, brighter and closer. Instead of the Einzbern castle, a new scene was played out before him.
It was familiar, it felt natural. It was the only real place he could feel at home. An empty, sun-baked plane of monotonous clay. The only companions to comfort him were blades of cold, unrelenting steel.
But that was fine.
They were the only things he could rely on.
They were the only friends he deserved.
… … …
… … …
Sakura opened her eyes slowly to the dim pink light of her room. Exhaustion beckoned she keep them closed, but for some odd reason, she was unable to get comfortable. Opening her eyes again, she tried to gauge the time based on the light of the sun against her curtains. It was odd, but she didn't remember closing them before she went to bed last night.
Turning over in her bed, the girl settled into a comfortable state and let out a relaxed sigh to return to her dream. It had started as a strange nightmare with her servant and odd phrases she couldn't understand. She had woken up in the middle of the night once that dream ended but quickly returned to sleep into something much more pleasant where she and Shirou were living together peacefully.
Stuffing her face into the pillow, the girl inhaled deeply and trailed one hand down the sides of her figure. The mere thought of her lover was enough to stir a warmth deep in her core. Moving to the source to indulge in her passion, the girl stopped short and remembered his guidance and the effects such an action on her part would cause.
Huffing in misery, Sakura held a mental conflict debating whether to just let loose or stick to Shirou's regime.
Despite the temptation, her affectionate dedication won and the girl withdrew her hand from beneath her blankets. Deciding to sleep in a little longer, the Matou nearly slipped off before something thin and cold crept across her cheek.
Reeling from the contact, the girl shifted her head to stare at the perpetrator. In case it had been grandfa- Zouken, she didn't dare scream. Thankfully it was someone else, but the sight of them wasn't any more consoling.
With her eyes on their form, the servant made a small gesture that led into a solemn, respectful bow. "We apologize, O master, but a developing situation is worthy of your intervention." Far from how it usually was, the servant's voice was soft, low and rather peaceful. The servant stood and their frightening visage burned itself into her mind once again. It was humanoid, but beyond that, there wasn't much she could really determine.
It was like a persistent shadow followed and concealed the servant's true form. All that was absolute, was the ivory mask upon their face. It was in the likeness of an upper skull, but round orbs of softly flickering blue flame sat in the otherwise hollow eye-holes.
Sakura knew little about her servant. In fact, she didn't even know if they were human, but their compassion toward her was admittedly nice. They hadn't even told her their true name, but that was hardly anything of importance. She wasn't anything like Rin or Shirou in terms of tactics, so she was reliant on Assassin's independent skill. One thing she did know, was that they were determined to protect Shirou - and that made them the best servant to her.
"What's the matter?"
"In the early morning before the rising sun, a situation out of our control arose. The Dragon of Blood managed to…" The servant trailed on then bowed their head sorrowly. "Your betrothed has…"
Sakura didn't understand the intended message immediately but after thinking about it she understood all too well. "Shirou? Where is he, is he alive?"
"For the former, we do not know. It is difficult for the servant of shadows to operate during the day." The servant paused. "As for the latter, such a question has a rather complicated answer, unfortunately."
Sakura struggled to sit up in bed before firing a confused glare at her servant. "How can it be complicated? Is he alive or dead?" It hurt to ask such a thing, but she needed to know.
"It is not whether he is alive or dead. The boy is still very much upon this earth. The question you should be asking is whether he is the same as you remember." The strange speech so early in the morning hurt her head. Knowing that this iteration of Assassin was the easiest to understand somehow made it worse.
"What do you mean?"
"You will see in time," the servant declared shortly. "For now we have a matter of greater importance." The servant raised one hand, an appendage with five thin, sharp digits like those from some sort of nightmare creature. Three fingers precariously held the top of a small bottle filled with thick crimson fluid. "Preventative maintenance."
Sakura sighed and reached out to take the bottle. After watching her drink Shirou's blood once, the servant had called the act "preventative maintenance" and had been an active reminder as if they could sense the activity of the worms inside her. The only prevention she could think of that drinking blood could offer was from death. If she didn't take in outside mana, the worms within her blood would consume her from the inside out.
But there was more than that in Assassin's words. Doing something to prevent death was obvious and natural: breathing, eating and staying away from danger. The tone in Assassin's voice beckoned to something more.
Complacently, the girl grasped, uncorked and downed the vial, trying not to mind the irony, coppery flavour. Reminding herself that it had been a fluid once a part of Shirou, it got significantly better.
The servant kneeled, but their height was still enough for their head to peak above the edge of the bed. In a partially hushed tone uncommon to Assassin, they spoke. "Master, our proximity to a contractor and their slave is concerning. We advise a swift migration to a new stronghold."
Before she could answer, the door to her room opened and a sickly looking man hobbled into view on a cane. "Your opinion is noted but disregarded, Assassin. The girl remains here where I can keep a close watch and continue her training."
Assassin didn't speak or move for some time. Instead, they merely stared at their master like a dog waiting to be given a treat. "So foolish is the one who makes threats without the power to make good on them."
The old man laughed, unperturbed by the ominous words. "I had thought you were more intelligent than that. You are aware that I hold the girl's life in my hands, correct?"
There was a soft noise as if a wind had breezed through a row of trees. Sakura's eyes widened as more than a dozen variations of Assassin appeared behind Zouken. They held no visible weapons, but it was clear they were prepared to attack at the slightest movement. "A wise tactician makes a plan for each letter of the alphabet," the one near her bed claimed. "The wise plan for no undue casualties, however, straying from the original plan may result in small errors along the way." The servant at her bedside rose to their feet. They were different than the other similar copies. For starters, they were the only person who could actually contact her in her mind. That, and they were the sole copy who didn't speak in mind-bending riddles. For that reason alone, she had started to call them the Original. "We have ways to kill the unkillable."
The group surrounding the wicked old man cackled hollowly in a disjointed choir, though they did not budge so much as an inch. All at once, a low sonorous chanting of the word "Zabaniya," echoed around the room.
The Original turned to face the old man and with a gentle raise of the hand, the chanting ceased immediately. "Your lives are conjoined, so by all means." Like a game show host revealing a showpiece, the Original took one twisting step to the side and extended his arms to gesture in Sakura's direction.
The old man and her started at one another for what felt like an hour. Eventually, the old man broke eye contact and calmly looked at the Assassins surrounding him. "Do with her what you will, but understand I have access regardless of distance."
The Original nodded slowly. "If that is all you intend to say, off with you."
The old man's expression soured and his throat produced a gritty growl but he acquiesced and exited the room regardless. After leaving, Sakura beamed up at her servant with incredulity. "Nobody-" besides Kiritsugu "-has ever stood up to grandfather like that."
"It is as we said: We have the means and your keeper is too scared to see if our word holds merit."
Sakura threw her legs over the edge of the bed. "Are you really that powerful?"
The servant softly laid their hand on top of her head. "Answers are better left unknown, O master. Get dressed, we will be moving as soon as you are ready."
"Where?"
"A large cavern beneath Fuyuki. We have been gathering supplies for relocation for some time now. It was one of our first acts after realizing the situation." The Original stepped away from her bed and motioned to the remaining Assassins with one hand. With a bow of their heads, they all vanished simultaneously in a plume of black smoke.
"I guess it's nice to have so many people working for you," Sakura murmured while kicking off her bed. She needed to get dressed before she could leave.
The Original chuckled in a shockingly human fashion. "They do not work for me. Each iteration is a part of me, though the use of such a singular word is imprecise. We are us, the group is whole and no individual exists but at the same time we are all individuals with our own senses."
The girl scrunched up her face while moving to her wardrobe. "I don't understand. If you're not individuals how can you all be a group? Is each Assassin a version of you or something?" Growing more curious about her servant as they spoke, the Original strode about the room and touched the sparse few things spread about.
The servant was totally infatuated with a crystal figurine Shirou had gotten her for Christmas from Britain. A fist-sized, delicate swan with bright purple making up the inside of its body. It was a very treasured gift that she kept at the Matou manor for inspiration during her moments of weakness. The girl almost chastised her servant for touching it but held her tongue after noticing how delicate they were being in their careful examination.
Waiting for an answer, the girl decided to get dressed for the day. She didn't even mind having to do it in her servant's presence. With how many eyes they had across the city and the fact that they were connected through their minds, there was nothing she could do to stop the servant from watching if he wanted. "It is impossible to explain, but the simplest explanation is a fracture within reality. We are an aberration, an abnormality that shouldn't exist but does despite the odds. Due to this fact, we have certain limitations that other servants do not, certain weaknesses that must go unsaid lest they be exploited."
With a soft clatter, the servant set the trinket back down and moved on to the next item. "So you're special," the girl surmised, pulling a few outfits out of her dresser. If she was moving she would have to pack some clothes for the stay. Did she need to prepare for a lengthy stay? She didn't have very much in the way of clothing. "On the first night, didn't you say that one of your parts died to a servant? Doesn't that mean you lost a part of yourself?"
"Correct," the servant replied simply. "It is far too complex to describe in the time we have. We beckon, prepare yourself O master as we must leave as soon as possible." The servant's head turned fully around to peer at her like an owl hunting prey. It was uncanny to witness and made the girl wonder if he had bones, but Assassin seemed unfazed. "We will await you outside."
Without another motion or word, the servant dematerialized into a black cloud of smog, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The first night, she had tried to watch Assassin, just to keep an eye on them and see what a servant was like in action.
It hadn't gone as expected. As soon as she connected with the servant, every one of her senses was overloaded. Her vision had flickered between dozens of different perspectives and each one was doing something in a new place. Since then, she had relied on word of mouth from the Original, who seemed to remain within earshot at all times.
She couldn't complain. They had promised not to hurt Shirou and if they could, they would even protect him. Taking a deep breath, Sakura focused on packing a bag and tried to push away thoughts of never seeing Shirou again.
… … …
… … …
Kiritsugu tapped the end of a pen once on the table, flipped it over his fingers and clicked the bottom. Repeating the monotonous act, his eyes stared blankly ahead. It had all gone so horribly wrong so quickly. The Einzberns, an enemy master, Berserker, Shirou and Illya.
At least they had all made it out alive. Shirou had repelled Berserker, Saber had defeated Lectra's creation and Rider had kept to her word and left without further issue.
The morning had come far faster than usual. Even so, neither of his children had yet to wake up and he was starting to grow worried. He wasn't a magus, so dispelling whatever affected Illya was out of the question.
With a deep sigh, he continued fiddling with the pen and set one end of it into his mouth. Closing his eyes, he imitated the act of smoking in a desperate attempt at relieving some stress.
He knew exactly why things had gone wrong. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was entirely his fault. Shirou had relied on his plans, but he had no information - at least not as he did during his own war. Ten years ago, he had understood each master and their intimate motivations enough to write their biographies. In this war, his knowledge was almost nonexistent.
He couldn't form proper tactical strikes or even develop a plan on the fly without understanding his enemy and he had made the unfortunate decision to try exactly that while dragging Shirou into it as well.
The only information he had was specifically to aid his own goals, protecting Illya. The castle had been fortified and trapped, specific developments had been set in place to hide their signature and make their presence invisible to even servants.
And that lack of input had all been for a reason. Caster and his dreams had both told him that he had no role in ending the Grail War. Shirou was expected to handle it alone and he was supposed to remain on the sidelines as a spectator. At least, that was what he had been shown.
The man didn't even know if he was supposed to be guarding Illya as he was but it seemed to be the only thing he could do without interfering with the War as a whole. It had to be that way, unfortunately. His dreams, back when he still had them, had always detailed actions and parts about himself within the Fourth War. Toward the end, he had witnessed glimpses of the Fifth and each vision showed only Shirou.
Sighing as his mind worked harder, the man removed the pen from his mouth and returned to tapping it on the table while using his other hand to grip his forehead. Illya had been placed into a magically-induced coma and Shirou had quickly followed her by pushing himself beyond anything that could have been considered human.
Shirou had lost an arm, but somehow using his reality marble he had managed to re-attach it and fend off that knight servant in black, Berserker if Saber was to be believed. How a Berserker could be capable of rational thought and speech only added to the perplexity of the situation. While their minor victory had been welcomed, Kiritsugu couldn't help but feel as if it had cost his son something.
Both his son and daughter were out like a light, though they were healthy enough and would recover with time, it was a question of how long and what side effects they would awaken with.
He hated feeling useless, but what else was he supposed to do besides sit and wait for them to wake up? Carelessly, the man threw the pen in his hand across the table and watched as it slid across the surface.
As it rolled over the edge, the door to the room opened and a familiar face respectfully walked in. Pausing to stare at the dropped utensil, she looked back up to claim "both of your children have been tended to." The women then entered and bent to pick up the dropped pen. She stared at him in silence for some time before drawing a shaky breath. "Are we to remain here or shall I go get the car?"
The Magus Killer thought over his options for a considerable amount of time. Leaving put Illya at possibly greater risk and threatened to result in her conversion into the Grail. Staying kept her in danger, and the chance of Berserker or Rider's return was absolute.
Moving beyond threats, everyone beyond Saber was in a ragged state with their own injuries. Pausing from his thoughts for a moment, the man pulled back the sleeve on his left hand to examine a watch. Dawn was an hour away at best. Masters weren't supposed to fight in the day, but in a location as isolated as the Einzbern castle that rule could be skewed.
"Everyone needs to get some rest. We can move to a new location tomorrow."
Missy nodded and ran a hand through her hair. "Do we have another safe house?"
The man shook his head. "An Einzbern invasion was the last thing I had considered. Without Illya, I had expected Acht to wipe the entire family from existence but obviously he had planned one last-ditch effort."
There was no way Missy could understand what he was saying, but she nodded respectfully anyway. "Even masters aren't perfect," was all she claimed. "If those are your orders I'll get some rest. I assume you'll take watch over Mrs. Einzbern's quarters?"
The man nodded slowly, far too tired to put any effort into a response. Without a word more than "goodnight," Missy left him alone. He had been awake far longer than twenty-four hours, but in order to be vigilant one had to give up the pleasantry of sleep.
Making a noise of exertion, Kiritsugu stood from his chair and walked toward the room's exit. Without even having to think, he walked down the hallway to enter the room Shirou was resting in. Closing the door softly behind himself, the man made note of all the furniture and mentally decided on a sleeping area.
Pausing in the darkness, the man stepped up to Shirou's bedside and examined his comatose son. It wasn't uncommon to see him with injuries of various sorts, though the results of his reality marble were much rarer to witness. Shirou had pushed his body to the extreme twice in one night, and now it was finally catching up to him in more than one way. Underneath the bandages where the strange lattice-like skin had occupied, something equivalent to ground beef remained. The first time, it had healed relatively quickly considering the intensity of the damage.
Easily chalked up to Avalon, the speedy recovery had been a welcome blessing that was well-timed with Luvia and Lectra's arrival. This second time was different. The healing rate was significantly slower and it seemed to be actively struggling to incorporate the reattached arm. The visible line where the two portions joined appeared sickly and necrotic as if being constantly rejected. Even the smaller patches were healing far slower, and little to no progress had been made on his hand and forehead.
Peering over his face, the man noticed something odd. It might have been Kiritsugu's imagination or sheer exhaustion running his mind wild, but his son looked colder. It was difficult to describe, but something about Shirou's resting expression reminded the man of his own.
A soft click behind him spun the man around and had him reaching into his trench coat for a weapon. Just as he was about to draw, gleaming golden hair and emerald eyes held him short.
"Kiritsugu," she greeted with a tinge of surprise. "Has Shirou awoken?" Responding with a simple shake of the head, the servant released a soft breath. "His actions tonight were commendable and brave, though they were only so because of his success."
Kiritsugu stuffed both hands into his coat and shot the servant a bitter look. They hadn't gotten along ten years ago, there wasn't any reason to change. "The only reason Lancer is alive is because my son was able to repel a servant alone."
Saber's face stiffened and even in the dim light, he could see the beginning of agitation her features. "I am not dismissing the fact, but a master fighting a servant is foolish regardless of the circumstance."
The Magus Killer clenched his jaw tight. Nothing could satisfy the King of Knights, could it? If only Saber knew what he had, she would understand that Shirou wasn't anything like an ordinary master. "There's no need for both of us to watch over him."
"I agree completely," the servant nodded. "I will stay with Shirou and you can secure the halls."
Blinking in confusion, the man struggled to parse what he just heard. Not only was he planning on getting some sleep, but he had also intended to keep an eye on Shirou personally. Opening his mouth to complain, a murmuring voice from behind distracted him.
Turning, he watched Shirou shift and mutter incoherent ramblings in his sleep. It was difficult to follow, but the tone and fragments he caught were anything but pleasant. The man scowled but didn't do much more than that from experience. "It's expected that with all this stress, Shirou's nightmares have come back."
Saber seemingly forgot their recent spat and strode to the other side of the bed to examine her master in closer detail. "I was unaware that my master experienced such distress during the night. Has it always been a problem?"
Kiritsugu nodded, realized Saber wasn't looking at him and explained vocally instead. "For as long as I've known. When he was younger and they got particularly bad, either Illya, Taiga or myself would have to wake him up and calm him down. Unfortunately, in his current condition, that's not an option."
"I see," Saber murmured. For a moment, Kiritsugu thought he caught a flash of compassion in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced with her normal passive glare. "If that is the case, perhaps your proximity will have a soothing effect. I will take your former role in maintaining the perimeter." Casually, the servant walked out of the room and left him alone and confused.
Something about her sudden appearance had been deliberate. She hadn't just conveniently walked in, the timing had to have been premeditated. Strangely enough, Shirou had quieted down and his nightmares had seemingly disappeared along with her. Moving his gaze from his son to the door Saber had gone through, questions itched at the back of his mind.
None were as important as one: Was Saber trying to separate him from Shirou?
… … …
Opening the door to the central courtyard, the knight took in the mess she had left behind. Her battle with that unkillable giant had been destructive to say the least. Still smoking craters lined the ground and chunks of the building had been cleaved out to scatter stone across the courtyard. In the direction of the entrance, a large gaping hole splattered with coagulated black goo. Despite finally killing that monstrosity with a minor blast of Excalibur, its body still lingered and stained the entire area.
At least portions of the very center remained undisturbed. While the grass and plant life was wild and untamed, the fresh outdoor air was nice. Thankfully, the blast from Excalibur had levelled much of the foliage in the center, creating a soft bed to lay upon; something Lancer had taken to doing already.
Hearing the noise of her armour, the knight opened his eyes, spotted her and moved to take a very shaky knee. In battered armour and a face laden in wounds, he was a miserable sight indeed.
At the same time, the cause of the wounds was something to be admired. "My liege, I apologize for my failure in combat. I ho-"
"Why are you apologizing?" Saber's sudden interruption caught the knight off guard and inspired a flinch from him. He struggled to produce a response, seemingly caught in absolute confusion. "The foe you battled was beyond expectation and was to be truly respected. Lasting so long against such an experienced warrior is a feat in and of itself."
Lancer could only gape at her response. Slowly, he closed his mouth and donned a very sad smile. It was hard to tell, but all she could read from him was disappointment. "T-thank you my liege. Your words are very kind."
It was her turn to be stupefied. Why, despite her attempts at reinforcing her knight's pride, did he appear so sad and disheartened? "Is something the matter?"
Lancer struggled to move from a kneel to a comfortable spot lying down. Despite his supreme skill even above herself, he had failed to land so much as a single meagre strike against Berserker. It was unfortunate, she was not so proud as to ignore the fact that he was stronger than them both individually and, as it had been so blatantly laid out to her by her master, combined as well.
"Nothing beyond my physical injuries," the servant laughed, half-heartedly. It was a mistake, as his laughter turned into a hiss of pain. "It seems my master cannot supply me with very much mana while unconscious. While unfortunate, I suppose I cannot ask for too much considering she is otherwise perfect."
Saber was silent as she approached and tried to locate a decent sitting place within the courtyard. Of the two opponents possible, she had battled one much easier but just as frustrating. An enemy that would not die whether cut or blown to pieces was annoying but to have the strength and speed to match a servant was downright infuriating.
Settling into place cross-legged on the grass, as she had done so recently in her mind in the last War, she considered her knight's comment. "It is very fortunate," was all she could say while not entirely meaning it. Shirou provided her with a bearable amount of mana and was easy to work with, but something concerned her.
Sitting as she once had, she couldn't help but reflect on the memories ingrained into her mind. None were as important as the ones Caster had given her. Feeling her eyes squint in concentration, every sentence she had ever exchanged with the man ran through her mind. Along with his words, his face appeared as well. Impossible as it was, Caster shared an identical visage to her current master.
It was as if they were the same person, but such a thought was preposterous. A man from the future being summoned to fight in the past? Not to mention that would make Shirou a hero worthy of the Throne, or something like her. The similarities were there, but she simply couldn't believe it. Were Shirou to follow Kiritsugu's ideals, his plans, the only ending he would receive would be a painful one, both mentally and physically. And what had that servant meant? She had misunderstood his meaning then, but now?
"... I knew her quite well in my life."
"I wish to save everyone."
"Maybe my human stubbornness drove me to accept the contract."
Was Caster really…? Could Shirou really be-
"You have that look in your eye, my liege."
Lancer's voice pulled her free from her thoughts. Looking at her own hands, she examined the inside of her gauntlets as if they held something. What was this feeling she was experiencing, was it unease or perhaps nervousness? Why did it feel so difficult to speak with an old friend? "I was unaware."
"The same look you get every time a difficult decision needs to be made. Sir Bedivere used to call it The King's Thoughtful Trance, as only something of equal importance could ever snap you out of it." Saber subconsciously felt her eye twitch at the mention of her most devoted knight. Lancer, with his head laid sideways on the grass, only grinned. "I wanted to see how important whatever you had on your mind was but I see it couldn't have been that bad…"
Saber blinked and paused to answer for the briefest moment. "I was reflecting on an important conversation long ago," she lied, hoping it would be enough to sate him.
Thankfully, it was. The servant turned his head to stare up and admire the dawning clouds in all their splendour. "It's a little bit late to deliberate upon the words of that damned Incubus, is it not?"
Hearing the agitation in his voice, Saber actually found herself smiling. "You always despised the man."
Lancer closed his eyes softly. "What can I say? I was told by my mother never to trust demons."
A heavy silence descended on the two as if both had collectively forgotten how a conversation was conducted at the same time. "Lancer, what do you think of Shirou's father, Kiritsugu?"
Through closed eyes, the servant scowled. "When I was alive, I shared similarities with him. He is, and I was, a man on the edge with only one thing left to lose. On that same line, neither one of us really understands what we would do were we to lose it, but we understand that it would be something far from pleasant."
Taking a long breath, he continued. "His intentions are pure, but his methods are vile and repulsive, though he appears to be taking an apathetic approach to the entire Grail War. He had no plans beyond doing what it takes to protect my master, something I can appreciate in a way."
A comment burned to release itself and seamlessly the girl let it slip free. "I had no idea you were interested in the man." Was this conversation? She had no time for such things in Briton, perhaps if she had...
Lancer laughed and gripped at the resulting stab of pain soon after. "Something else unique to my master is that she lacks an off switch. Every thought and every word she utters comes straight to me."
Saber's smile widened a touch more. "The good never comes without bad, as they say."
"You said it." The agreement brought on another tense silence. To occupy herself, she surveyed the damage made to the courtyard's walls. Something had to be said about the castle's architect. It could, and had survived a significant beating and stood the test of time. "My liege, is your master going to be alright?"
The comment struck her like a brick, forcing her to straighten and gawk at him with shock. Realizing her reaction, she took a moment to chastise herself before answering to the best of her ability. "My master has access to a reality marble," she began. Making note of Lancer's visible awe, she continued. "He has utilized it carelessly to defeat foes beyond his ability."
Lancer made a strange noise. "A reality marble in this day is quite rare, but I fail to see how this is an answer to my question."
Saber found Lancer's lack of knowledge odd. "A reality marble is a type of magecraft which creates an overlapping world upon the original, changing the laws and the environment to match the user's inner world. This only occurs when the reality marble is fully actualized. When incomplete, the reality marble is only able to inhabit and alter the user itself."
"So each time he uses it, he becomes whatever is in his mind?"
Saber tilted her head to one side and back again. "In a way, however typical usage of improper reality marbles should never be so profound as his is. Something is magnifying the effect to dangerous levels and it threatens to consume his entire body."
Lancer turned his head to look at her with respect. "I had no idea you were so well versed in magecraft."
With a chuckle, Saber explained. "I was trained daily by the best magus of our time. Had I dedicated some time to studying, I could have been a wizard. While I do know of magecraft, I lack the experience to properly use it."
"It only comes to me now that we never had any time to talk while we were alive. Perhaps we can make up for that now?"
... ... ...
... ... ...
Rin groaned in pain, shuffled on the couch in discomfort and struggled to find any place that was comfortable to rest on. After a few seconds, she realized it simply wasn't possible and tried to find the least painful position instead. Bazett's kick, the explosion and all the resulting debris had piled on and covered her body with bruises.
There was a soft noise of moving air that brought on the scent of hot steel and dust. "You do know you're still transmitting your voice through our link, right?"
She hadn't, but it wasn't all that bad. After all Archer had put her through, listening to her complain was the least punishment she could offer. "It's all your fault anyway." He scoffed, crossed his arms and looked at her for an explanation. "If you were strong enough to beat Caster, Bazett wouldn't have been able to do anything and I wouldn't have all these bruises to deal wit-" Interrupting herself as a pang of pain coursed through her body, the girl grabbed at her stomach.
Archer rolled his eyes and moved to kneel down to her level. "Caster was a formidable foe that was capable of both magic and physical attacks. I should have been able to defeat him, but something was wrong." Rin didn't understand, so she asked for further explanation. "It was as if he understood my fighting style. He was able to exploit it within minutes, something I have never experienced before."
Rin shuffled and lifted herself up into a sitting position on the couch. "Well, that would make sense. Bazett trained Shirou for a couple of years so she knows his style. She probably told Caster what to look out for and how to react to it."
Archer made a frustrated growl in his throat. "I refuse to believe we are the same person, but your explanation does make sense." Standing upright, the man casually strode across the room to prepare tea. "I recommend lying down and staying in for tonight. You have a broken rib and any movement right now has a chance of displacing it and preventing healing."
Rin looked down at herself and probed the area Archer claimed to be injured. Wincing at the contact, she concluded that he was probably right. "I'll rest for tonight, but there's something I have to do while the sun is up."
Struggling, the girl pulled herself onto her feet, doing little to silence the pain she was experiencing. "You said you had plans yesterday, but were foiled by Bazett and Caster. I'd hate to think what might happen today."
"Shut it," the girl snapped back, sucking in a sharp breath and flinching at the soreness it resulted in. "I've made a decision. Whether you like it or not, we need Shirou's help if we're going to take down some of the other servants." Knowing full well that the servant would violently disagree with her decision, she continued. "We can work with him to defeat Caster and Rider and then abandon our alliance and let him deal with Assassin and Berserker."
The servant coughed. "Might I remind you that we don't even know who or what Berserker even is."
"Berserkers are usually some of the most difficult servants to handle. Even low-ranking servants can be formidable opponents due to the boost in their stats from madness enhancement. If Berserker's master summoned even a decent servant, it could be as powerful as a high-class servant like Saber or Lancer." Struggling toward the entrance, the girl took an extraordinary amount of time trying to put on her shoes.
Archer sighed. "It's good to see you still lack any faith in me by excluding me from your high-class servant list. Here I thought that Bazett had knocked some decency into you."
"If you can't handle a simple Caster-class servant when they aren't even within their own domain, I simply cannot consider you on such a level," the girl claimed with extra forced pompousness. "Strive to do better and you might achieve that level of competency some day." With her shoes finally on, the girl turned to face her servant and giggled at his dejected expression. "That's what my Shirou Emiya would do."
Archer stared at her for a while before letting his head and the hands on his hips fall. "And you wonder why I went insane. Being around you is enough to compromise the mental state of any man."
Rin recoiled, then winced in pain at the sharp movement. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean!"
… … …
… … …
Casually, the girl pressed the doorbell in and took a deep breath as she waited for Shirou to answer. How stupid was it to walk into an enemy's stronghold, a known location that held two knight-class servants without Archer by her side?
Rin blinked and realized that Shirou had done exactly that in his approach to her home. She hadn't considered it before, but the threat was difficult to miss. He had done his best to put her at ease while placing himself in an extremely dangerous position.
What an idiot.
Shifting her weight while waiting, the girl rang the doorbell annoyingly several times. It was sometime in the early evening, had he decided to go to his part-time job in the middle of the Grail War? Sighing, Rin tugged at the door only to find it locked.
As long as she had ever known Shirou, the door had been wide open at all times. It wasn't because he was forgetful or underestimated crime rates, but because someone was always home. Kiritsugu, Missy, Illya, Shirou, Taiga or even Sakura was always there.
It was unnatural and it set a pit in the bottom of her stomach. "He's not home," she informed the servant.
"I'm not sure words can express how glad I am."
Rolling her eyes, Rin turned around to walk down the path to the sidewalk. "There's something else we can do while we're here, but you'll need to materialize."
Within a moment there was a soft rush of air and Archer appeared walking at her side. He was wearing an outfit far more casual than his usual combat outfit, a black dress shirt and pants both in silk of all things. It was formal, casual and entirely basic at the same time. "What did you have in mind?"
Briefly acknowledging his appearance, Rin continued walking onto the sidewalk with a path laid out in her mind. "Everyone we've met has consistently confused you for Shirou, so we're going to trick Taiga into letting us into Shirou's house."
"Very clever, master. Though I believe that breaking and entering goes against our ceasefire agreement." Rin scowled. Why did Archer always have to point out minor flaws and exaggerate them all the time? At first it had been amusing to fight back and forth but with how jaded and sarcastic he had been getting, it was getting annoying. Before she could state her annoyance, he continued. "I've been wondering if this Taiga is the same as mine for some time now."
Biting her tongue to hold back a large scale rant, Rin quickly cooled herself by mentally repeating an old adage and taking a few deep breaths as her mother guided her. "Just get her to give us the spare key. Act normally, or as stupid as you possibly can, there's not much difference."
Scoffing, Archer elected to walk in silence during the short walk to Taiga's. Knocking on her door, Rin received a much more immediate response but the person who answered was not who she was expecting.
The door opened outwards only part ways, revealing a man about as tall and lean but not quite as muscular as Archer and Shirou. He had a sharp face and an even sharper glare that cut through her with vicious intention. It was rough, marred with blemishes from both blunt forces and minor cuts. Blatantly leering her from head to toe, the man leaned against the doorframe cooly. "Hey there sweetheart. What's a pretty thing like you doing here?"
Rin blinked, scowled fiercely and prepared to break the man's nose, but was ultimately over-ridden as Archer gripped the door and opened it further to reveal himself. Like he had been bitten by a spider, the man in the door snapped upright in surprise. "Shirou! I didn't know this was your girl!"
"Kitaro," Archer nodded, ignoring his outburst. "Is Taiga here?"
It was strange to see a man who looked so tough appear almost frightened under Archer's gaze. What had Shirou done to these men? "The Tiger? Yeah, she's with the boss. I'll go get her."
It only took a few seconds for Taiga to arrive and for Shirou to start conning his way into her spare key. Half-lying about forgetting his own set and claiming that everyone else was busy with their own things, he managed to convince the teacher into letting them borrow her spare set with strict orders to unlock the door and return the keys before going inside.
Knowing Taiga as she did, Rin made sure to follow the teacher's orders to the letter. Even Archer recommended doing the same, as he knew as well as she did that Taiga's fury was quick and painful.
When they both returned to the Emiya house, the two stepped inside to start their search. They were both careful to remove their shoes before walking further in. Leaving behind mud or dirt was a good way to make Shirou aware of their meddling. "I've been here a lot but I've never had any reason to examine every nook and cranny. Archer, you used to live here, are there any secret hiding places that we should search for first?"
The servant hummed. "A few, though you'll have to give me a moment to familiarize myself again."
Rin watched the man stride forward into the room. "You don't remember your own house?"
Archer carefully examined the entrance hall like it was the first time he had ever been there. With a voice far darker than she expected, he replied in a low tone, "It's been a long time."
Confused by the meaning behind such a comment, she was unable to ask for an explanation as he stepped around the corner out of reasonable earshot. Moving faster to keep up, she watched as he opened the door to each room and peeked inside, spending extra time on certain ones more than others.
He even stepped into one, in particular, spending extra time to shift around in books and within drawers. Rin knew it from experience to be Kiritsugu's room, so it was a good choice to start looking for information. It was too cramped for two people to maneuver inside comfortably, so she asked "find anything?" from the hall instead.
After a moment of shifting paper and shutting drawers, her servant replied in the negative and stepped out. "Trouble is I don't know if what's there is in some sort of code or not, or where any important documents might be stowed."
Rin would have thought that Archer would have a much better understanding of his father, but maybe that was yet another difference between her Shirou and him. "Anywhere else then?"
"I can only think of one," he replied before leading her through the halls and into the backyard toward the stone shed. Casually, he slid open the heavy door and stepped inside, pausing to look at various items strewn across the inside without any obvious order. Being honest, Rin had very seldom ever had the chance to explore the inside of Shirou's shed. The two of them often conducted non-destructive magical experiments inside, but it was usually something simple and they left without wasting time.
Archer paused at several key points as he explored, investigating some tools and weapons intimately by taking hold of and bringing them close to his eyes. He didn't make a noise as to whether what he was appreciating was good or bad. The servant paused even longer to examine a pair of emerald green blades.
Rin knew exactly where they had come from. Two years back, Shirou had been forced to fight two werewolves and an Enforcer from the Clock Tower. Her name had been Elizabeth Velum, and she had been the owner of those silver weapons. "I've never seen these before, odd."
Rin blinked at her servant's reaction but merely logged it down on her list and reminded herself they weren't the same person again. "Have you looked where you wanted to?"
Archer crouched down to peer at the underside of a workbench. "More or less. I never had a reason to hide anything from anyone so I didn't have any secret places."
Rin hummed in mild frustration before spotting something out of place. In the far back she saw a covered oblong shape. It was out of place because the quilt that acted as a cover was ghastly in every sense. Shirou lacked taste, but even he wasn't that bad in terms of decorating; only one man was.
Ignoring Archer as he launched into a boring explanation, Rin didn't even hesitate in ripping the quilt off. Underneath was an admittedly heavy duty safe. Slowly, Rin reached out to touch the dial but as she got close, foreign mana prickled at her fingertips.
Reeling back, the girl looked between her fingers and the safe itself. She hadn't detected any sort of bounded field, but obviously there was one present.
Rin looked back and motioned to her servant. "Archer, come have a look at this."
Humming thoughtfully, the man approached and investigated the safe. "Looks like something Kiritsugu would have set up. There's a complex bounded field around it that surpasses anything I know."
"So you can't break into it?"
Archer shook his head and moved to the front of the safe. "I didn't say that. I don't really know his style but the bounded field I had around my home was based on his design. It looks like there's some sort of biometric detector which might work to our advantage."
Understanding that, the Tohsaka watched Archer carefully touch the dial without any adverse side effects. Pausing for a moment, he looked toward her and asked with genuine uncertainty, "November is the eleventh month, right?" Confirming it for him, she watched as he input three numbers.
Twenty, eleven, eighty-five.
Expecting it to click open, Rin was surprised when it didn't do anything. Determined, Archer tried reversing the numbers but was met with failure again. The third time, he tried twenty, eighty-five, eleven and with a soft click, the mechanism unlocked. The man seemed as surprised as he did, but he carefully rotated the handle to open the door.
The inside was absolutely packed with things Rin could and couldn't identify. Passports, currency, documents, loose papers and books all stacked neatly to maximize the amount of storage. There was so much content inside, Rin didn't know where to start. Based off Archer's blank face, he didn't either. "How did you know the combination?"
Moving back to let her into the safe, he shrugged passively. "I didn't, it was just a lucky guess."
Knowing he was lying but unable to do anything about it, Rin let it slide for now so she could focus on the safe. Counting up stacks of money, Rin marvelled at just how much there was. "There must be over a hundred million yen in here, and what are all of these documents for?"
Taking hold of a loose piece of paper sticking out from a book, Rin turned and skimmed it over. For starters, it was written in English rather than Japanese but thankfully she knew both. It was difficult to follow as it started halfway through a previous line of thought, but she could determine that it was some sort of debriefing for a military operation.
It explained a squad's goal and how they accomplished it. A second, closer skim revealed that the squad was only composed of two people and that the operation was only one of many in a long list. Supposedly, more than three dozen high-value targets were supposed to be eliminated, but she didn't have the following page in order to confirm whether the outcome matched.
"Do you know what any of this means?" she asked, handing her servant the page.
Taking it from her hands, it only took him a second to form a response. "Not a clue. Kiritsugu died five years after adopting me. He was always so distant and silent so we didn't have much time to converse. It was almost as if there was something in life he was regretting." The servant's tone grew cold and clipped the more he had to speak about his father like each thought brought more and more repressed anger. "It seems he's contracted some sort of guerilla detachment to do his dirty work."
"Is that how he made all this money?"
"Unlikely. The bills have been sitting for nearly a decade and this writing was just made a few months ago." Of all the people she could have brought as an investigative aid, Shirou - or someone with his abilities - was probably the best. Tracing revealed more than any human could determine in a matter of seconds.
"So that old man's been loaded every since I knew him," Rin growled. And to think that he had made her pay for Shirou's updated kitchen. "What else can your eyes find out?"
"That there's a lot of information here." To accent the scope, he let out a stream of exasperated breath through his mouth. "If each page in those books are as detailed as this, we could be reading for the next few days."
Rin considered their next move. "Should we take any of it?"
"That depends on if you want to work with Shirou Emiya, or if you want to continue your cease-fire agreement. We've already broken into their home, but stealing sensitive information like this is an outright declaration of war. To make it worse, it wouldn't be Shirou that's after you, but the Magus Killer."
Rin shivered. While she had never watched Kiritsugu in action, she had heard enough from Illya to know it wasn't pretty. "Well then let's read what we can while we're here and set everything back in its place before we go."
"I've already got a mental image of how it was when we arrived, but it would be a good idea to star now and read quickly."
… … …
… … …
"You heartless demon," the girl murmured, glaring with nothing but resentment at her servant while he slowly approached down the central aisle. Caren herself shuffled back along the ground, trying to make distance regardless of how useless such an act was. With each small movement, the gentle clatter of heavy chain echoed through the open room. The partly rusted steel filled the room with a stale metallic scent that never left her nose. Though that was likely due to the chain's proximity to her face.
Instead of trying to go behind her back, Berserker had deemed it easier to just tie her up using heavy chain and padlocks around her neck. Where he had managed to gather either from was a mystery, but did it really matter when she had been shackled to the central altar like a wild dog. "Forcing me to reveal my personality, attacking the only friend I ever had and locking me in a cage within my own home!"
Inhaling a chest-shaking breath, the girl clutched at her heart, hiding her bleeding finger from sight. She had been trying in desperation to get out of her bindings all night but it had been in vain. Berserker had ensured that she wouldn't escape and she had been forced to watch as he battled Shirou and some other people through the night. At the very least she could thank God for allowing Shirou to live.
"It was necessary," the servant replied hollowly. "The enemy was wounded and with their blood fresh on my blade, it was necessary to track them down and finish the job. Had you not been restrained, you would have either halted or accompanied me and put yourself at risk of being kill-"
"If God wills it then so be it!" she cried before he could finish. She couldn't control the tremors of her own lungs. The tears streamed freely and her hyperventilation only grew worse. "If that is his plan for me, then I will follow his guidance willingly."
The servant made a condescending noise and planted his blade into the floor of the Church. "What a foolish master I have. You have no interest in winning the Grail and seemingly wish to commit suicide by involving yourself in a battle between servants."
Gritting her teeth and closing her eyes, Caren tried to stabilize her body. "You're wrong," she murmured.
Quizitively her servant approached. "Elaborate," was all he said.
Keeping her eyes pointed down toward the ground, "I have a wish, I do want to win the Grail War." There was something she desired. As sinful as it was, it rivalled her faith in the Church itself.
Berserker approached even closer and bent at the knee to lower himself to her position. His hair had been discoloured to a dull rusty shade from his recent battles. "If you have a wish, spill it so that I can know what it is I fight for."
Caren used one of her canines to bite sharply into the inside of her lower lip. "My wish is to become Shirou's true sister so that I can have a family; a real one that doesn't think about "
Berserker snorted from behind his mask. "A woman of the cloth that wishes to join another family, that's a first."
Caren felt her face flush and the beating of her heart flooded her ears. "It is not blasphemous to have simple wishes that cause no harm. It is a sin to covet thy neighbour's wife but nothing is said about wishing to be a part of another's family!"
Berserker stood and beamed down at her for a moment. "I refuse to help a master with such a foolish wish. You have no place at my side in this War," he spat. The man turned and strode calmly back toward his embedded blade. "I will claim the omnipotent cup for myself and enact my wish alone."
Caren paled. What was he saying? "That's impossible! You can't-"
"It is entirely within my ability to last within this world for over a month were I to be highly conservative with my current mana supply. Even if I were to liberally use my noble phantasm, a week is entirely within the realm of possibility. Having a master extends that time of course, but thankfully I don't have to worry about you."
Collecting his weapon from the ground, the servant turned on his heels to approach her with ominous intent. Eyes widening in fear, Caren could only mouth a silent prayer as she watched him approach. "As overseer of this War and abiding by your imposed rules, nobody will ever come searching for you and I may do as I please."
He was attacking with a far more effective weapon, cutting deep into her mind and embedding a sense of hopelessness and sheer dread. "How can you call yourself a heroic spirit," she murmured.
Berserker extended his hand to rear the tip of his blade up to her face. The end nearly sliced a line in her nose but a reactionary jerk backwards prevented it. "I don't and I never have. It would serve you well not to make assumptions about those you do not know." Shuffling away from the demonic crimson blade, his words suddenly clicked within her mind.
He was Berserker, a servant afflicted with madness enhancement. When he had first been summoned, she had believed the affliction to be negligible simply because he could form complex thoughts and actually speak like a normal person, but while the blade of insanity had missed one place, it had cut deep in another.
Was there no limit to how evil her servant could be?
… … …
Gritting his teeth and huffing out an exhausted breath, the boy collapsed to one knee and jammed one sword into the hot clay below. Blood coated his weapons, his arms and it had even splattered his face to coat his upper body.
He had killed. There had been so many he had been compelled to murder in the name of protecting what was his. None of them had names, but that only made it worse. To murder someone without knowing such basic information was terrifying. Did they have families? Loved ones who were waiting for their safe, timely arrival for dinner?
What were their goals, their aspirations? Did they have dreams? Why had they made the decision to end up in such a miserable resting place upon a nameless land so worthless as to only be for one single person?
Hands tightening on the grips of his weapons, the boy tried to force the thoughts from his mind. He wasn't innocent, he wasn't pure. He had murdered before and he was bound to do it again. He had convinced himself that it was necessary and the situation had been life or death.
But at the same time, had it been his only option?
The boy struggled to lift himself back up to his feet, glancing miserably toward the inky black figure standing above him on that dreaded hill of blades. Each gleaming piece of steel sat in its usual spot, as did the one before him so motionlessly, waiting for his inevitable place at the top.
There had been a time, a moment in his life years ago where it had seemed beautiful and peaceful, a moment it had been relaxing.
He knew better now.
The serial killer, Elizabeth Velum, the werewolf freelancers, Kiera Eliphas and his former friend, Shinji Matou. Blood stained his hands, and some stains were far more permanent than others. Elizabeth, the enforcer who had endangered his family and Kiera the aspiring magus who has simply learned too much couldn't hold a flame to Shinji's murder. It was murder, undoubtedly. Shirou had let himself slip and the consequence for even a minor lapse had been scarring.
Since that battle within his mind, his dreams had shifted, but he never had the time to fully realize the effects. Like some haunting ghost of a long-dead relative, her voice, her entire being berated him for his deeds.
She was a conscious he had never asked for, the outsider peering in to his approaching end. "How many do you plan on murdering in the name of protection?"
"As many as it takes," he growled back his usual response.
"Would you kill your own father to protect your sister?"
Grinding his teeth, he forced the dread of such a decision away and forced his body to stand. "Without a second thought."
"And if your sister commits suicide to escape the monster you've become?"
It was a new question, something he had never considered before. His mind emptied, his chest grew tight and his entire body shivered uncontrollably. He trailed off after repeating the first part of Kiera's haunting question, unable to fully wrap his mind around the scenario let alone create an answer.
His legs buckled beneath the stress of supporting his wracked form. The swords in his hands were too heavy to hold and it was a struggle just to inhale a wheezing breath. "You have killed, you've given yourself up to such a cause but you never once considered what such an action might do to the ones you've fought so hard to protect."
She was right.
"The suffering you experience is only reflected on the ones who love you most," the taunting continued, an unshaking rumbling within his ears that blurred his vision.
She was right.
"Each part of yourself you throw away is more happiness you have taken from others. You got away with my murder in cold blood, you imprisoned me within the twisted remnants of what you call your humanity and force me to watch as you neglect to think about yourself and descend into the unending abyss."
Shirou shut his eyes tight, unable to control the shaking in his hands. Why did she have to be right? Something cold pierced his abdomen and something hot coated the area around it.
There wasn't even pain anymore. The weight of his actions and failures was enough to make death seem like a welcome embrace. "I'm sorry," he murmured, opening his eyes to the blackened figure looming just ahead.
There had been a time; where that figure was something he was destined to defeat, something he strove toward conquering without looking back.
His realization was too late.
It was only his ideals that drove him to victory in this world.
It was the part of himself that had wished for good.
The part of him that knew the outcome was staring down at him from the top of that cursed hill.
The glint of steel flashed before his eyes and they automatically closed to accept yet another end.
And reopened to an unfamiliar room filled with soft sunlight.
To say every inch of his body ached was an understatement. It felt as if he was being roasted alive in an iron maiden being repeatedly opened and closed. His mouth snapped open to cry in pain, but the sound caught in his dry throat and failed to make any noise at all.
It hurt to breathe, it hurt to writhe and it even hurt to think. Merely trying to comprehend the room around him sent violent shooting pains from the top of his spine through his body.
His lungs heaved, his body panicked but there was nothing he could do beyond ride the agony and try to comprehend what was going on around him.
There were hands, one set that was rough and familiar. Following them, the boy found a twisted blackened shape that screamed incoherent noises in his ear. No more cognizant than a newborn, Shirou barely understood that he was being moved, that the sights ahead of his eyes were changing and solidifying.
There was floor, and it came all too quickly as it encompassed his entire view. Something, someone or maybe even himself pulled his face from the ground. Almost on command, something stinging above his full-body torment came flooding from within his stomach through his mouth.
Liberally coating the floor, Shirou was only aware of the various colours but even that seemed to be working his brain too much. Gold, red and shades of brown all mingled within one another in a swirling cacophony that hurt his head to witness.
The world shifted again and something cool was being applied to his face. The only reason he could tell, was because whatever it was had managed to combat the pain, however slight.
Trying to breathe was met with fierce resistance and he couldn't help but forcibly cough to try and clear the airway. Once more the world shifted and the cycle repeated, but this time more of his environment had made sense. Someone was holding him by the hair, keeping his face off the ground so he could vomit.
After vomiting, whoever was holding him was attempting to feed him water, but was using it more as a washing fluid than a beverage.
The third time, his vision cleared enough to understand, though each thought and comprehension still brought pain. With shaking hands and through heaving breaths, Shirou struggled to sit up and drink the water being provided, relieved that it could quench his dry mouth and throat.
It helped to remove the sensation that he had swallowed nothing but razor blades during his time unconscious and it was alleviating a minor amount of pain. The formerly incoherent ramblings gradually turned into words.
With one hand on his shoulder and a slight shaking of the hand, Kiritsugu was calling his name and expecting a response. Struggling to keep oxygen in his lungs and his body from collapsing from the torturous agony, Shirou weakly nodded to at least let him know he was sane, somewhat.
There was so much to consider and he wasn't in any shape to analyze any of it. There had been a dream, but he had already forgotten every detail beyond it being a nightmare. What had happened after his loss of consciousness?
Most important of all, something felt absolutely, unquestionably wrong but he couldn't determine why or what. His father pulled him back with a question. "How are you feeling?"
Shirou drearily closed his eyes and struggled to keep the room from spinning. "Not waking up at all would have been better I think."
"Welcome to old age," Kiritsugu joked without any humour. "I meant it more in a physical sense. Your arm seems to be working, which is good news."
Opening his eyes wide in recognition, Shirou looked at his formerly removed appendage and examined it in detail. Covered in clean white bandages meant he couldn't discover much. Its functionality was the same, but it felt entirely different in a way he couldn't quite describe.
It was numb and hot, but he could still touch and feel with it. Trying to determine why was difficult. His memories of last night were hazy and blurred after a very specific point. His last clear memory was when he and his father were trying to ambush Luvia. After that, everything got muddy.
He knew there had been Rider, Lancer and Berserker but what each of them did or said wasn't clear. Even the fact that he lost his arm was clouded in a thick mental haze that made it feel as if it came from a dream.
But he usually forgot about everything about his dreams so the fact that he remembered something meant it had been real. A memory clicked and with a snap of the head the boy looked toward his father. "Is Illya alright? Has she woken up yet?"
"Yes and no, respectively. Whatever spell those homunculi put her under is stronger than I expected. It might be permanent for all I know." Bitterly, the old man looked off through the window at the bright sun. Had the times been different, it would have been a beautiful day.
Shirou attempted to move from an uncomfortable sitting position into a stand but he realized halfway through that the world was still spinning and supporting his own weight like that hurt too much. "How are we going to wake her up?"
"I have no idea," the man replied bluntly. "Only a magus could dispel something like this and we don't have any on call."
Shirou's mind worked like a rubber ball. He immediately thought of Rin, subsequently crushed the idea with the Grail War in mind, then realized that since they were in a ceasefire she would help him. "Do you think Rin could fix something like it?"
The old man shrugged and stood upright, leaving behind the half-empty bottle of water which Shirou greedily inhaled. "It's possible. I doubt she would be comfortable with helping two enemy masters in a war she's trained her whole life for."
Finishing the bottle of water, Kiritsugu rolled another across the floor in his direction. "She and I made a ceasefire on the first night. I was going to make an alliance but her servant had different ideas."
The old man scowled deeply. "You think working with other masters is really the best option? I thought we already had this conversation."
"I'm not trying to be a hero," he defended. "I just don't want any of my friends to die. If there's a way to keep them all safe I'll do it, even if it ends up being harder."
The old man sighed, knowing full well he would be unable to convince Shirou otherwise. "You're an adult, you can make your own decisions but know that there will be consequences for whatever path you choose."
Drinking another bottle of water, the two merely watched one another wordlessly. There was nothing more either of them could say with such an awkward division of opinions. Eventually, Missy entered and Kiritsugu explained how they would be relocating temporarily back to the Emiya household until Missy could ensure another location they had in mind was fit for living.
Missy had been transferring supplies to the car they originally arrived in so as soon as Shirou could move, he was moved to the back seat with his unconscious sister beside him.
Lancer had joined them in the car, and Kiritsugu had accompanied Saber to collect and drive the parked bikes home. While he wasn't licensed in motorbikes and his experience compared to the two Knights was minimal, the old man knew enough to get it home without killing himself.
The drive in the car was eerily silent. Everyone was either exhausted from past events or too unfamiliar with one another to talk in any open capacity. While dozing off against the side of the car door, it finally struck Shirou how different Missy was compared to how she acted when they'd first met.
She was always a softly spoken, graceful-looking woman, but she had always stimulated conversation at the table or when the room fell into an awkward silence. She always smiled as well, likely thankful for the simple fact of her life being saved.
None of that was the case anymore. She still held the appearance of a simple graceful woman, but there was no smile or joy on her face. Exhaustion and monotonous neutrality had taken its place. She no longer spoke aloud at the table without first being spoken to either. It was like her personality had been replaced with an unflinching machine.
Shirou didn't know what to feel about the discovery. He had told himself time and time again that Kiritsugu would never force someone to enter his line of work, that Missy could have left at any time if she so desired, and she would have been looked after regardless.
Now, he wasn't sure. Something was telling him that she stayed at Kiritsugu's side for a reason but disliked her position all the same.
With heavy eyes, the boy felt himself drift off to concerning thoughts about what could have been valuable enough to keep Missy around as Kiritsugu's assistant.
When his eyes reopened, he was being prodded by Lancer, who offered a mere saddened grin before exiting the car himself. Before Shirou could open his door, the one across from him opened to reveal Kiritsugu, who gently took Illya into his arms, carrying her as if she were the most delicate of glasswork.
Receiving no such treatment, Shirou worked to squeeze himself from the car, feeling like a senior with severe arthritis.
It became rapidly apparent that he shouldn't have slept in the car. His entire left arm felt like it was asleep and the barest involuntary movement sent stabbing pains through his body. Holding the elbow carefully with his other hand, the boy walked toward the house while Missy unloaded the car.
He would have loved to help, but in his condition, he almost needed help himself just to stand and walk.
Scoffing miserably at his perceived uselessness, he couldn't help but feel bad. It was unequivocally the most injured he had been and even Avalon was struggling.
Sliding the front door closed as he entered, Saber approached from the end of the hall with pure concern on her features. Sometime after her battle in the Einzbern castle, she had put on her suit. He couldn't help but feel conflicted to see a woman in men's clothing ask "how are you feeling" in such a soft tone.
"I'll be alright, I just need some time to recover," he lied.
The servant scowled and cautiously prodded his reattached arm to produce a sharp hiss from him. "You are a terrible liar. You know as well as I do that something is wrong."
Shamed by her words, he knew she was right. It wasn't just his arm and body that had been injured, something else was blatantly wrong.
It had been subtle when he woke up, but something was off with his own inner consciousness and thoughts and it only got worse the deeper he looked. There was one memory of his fight with Berserker that he could remember. A moment where he had thought that harming Illya was just an acceptable casualty. It was disgusting, it went against everything he knew and was trying to do.
Even now, thinking about his friends and family being harmed, it didn't seem so bad. He even felt more empty, like a part of him had simply failed to awaken with the rest of his body.
It had all been because of his reality marble, hadn't it? Was this all because he had gone too far? The memories were hazy, but he could recall a point where things became clearer than the rest. It had been after giving himself a head wound.
Could it be that his reality marble had started to affect his brain? If it had, wouldn't the damage have shredded his memories or other functions? What did the front part of his brain even control?
Recalling parts of his past as a test, the boy found everything to be in order. Giving his head a shake, he brought on a sharp headache and felt both regretful and thankful. The pain was unwanted but at the same time, it made him focus on something besides his disturbing thoughts.
"Shirou," Saber interrupted, gently placing one hand on his good shoulder. "You have been uncharacteristically distant. If it were someone else, I would understand the change due to pain, but you have never exhibited differences in the past even while heavily injured."
"I'm just a little tired is all," he continued, actually telling the truth with that one. "I'll be fine after I get some sleep, promise."
It was obvious that she didn't believe him, but there was little she could do if he was going to continue being difficult. Sighing in frustration, she removed her hand and walked past him. "If you require me, I will be monitoring the perimeter."
Before she could leave, Shirou whirled around on the spot and called out her name to stop her. "We need to do one thing, but I'll need both your and Lancer's help again."
… … …
With Saber carrying Illya and Shirou relying on a disguised Lancer for support in walking, the band of sorry states was back to a rather familiar place.
Shirou even got deja vu, though there was admittedly more pain this time. Missy, Lancer's disguise, forced open the front gate with one hand while still supporting Shirou. Like a disorderly train, the four followed one another onto the main pathway leading up to the Tohsaka manor.
It was nice to see that the path had been repaired since his last arrival. Rin was keeping up appearances, meaning she was still living there.
Unlike the first time, he did not wait for her to come out from the door but continued walking toward the manor with purpose.
"Do you really believe this to be a good idea?" Saber questioned from his side. "How can we be sure this woman won't betray us?"
Shirou made note of the descending sun. If they wanted to get off the streets before nightfall they would have to act fast. "I know Rin, she's a woman of her word. So long as she says we're in a cease-fire, she'll do what she can to preserve it."
Reaching the door, Lancer took care of knocking and within a few seconds it was flung open to reveal a familiar face. Shock was written on her features and her skin was pale as if she had seen a ghost. "Shirou?"
He had no pride to swallow, so his response came easy. "I need your help."
I'm almost done the next chapter (10k words) so it shouldn't be long before that comes out (should my beta not be busy as well). I hope to have some more content and I've also slapped on a new chapter for my side story Fate:EoE. If you haven't heard of it and want a little more of my writing style, you can go check that out too :)
As always, remember to favourite follow and review! We're getting close to the big 1000 milestone and I don't know what to do that might be a special occasion but I'll try to figure something out. Maybe I'll get a custom cover page drawn up by someone? If y'all have any suggestions (Maybe even another Omake?) then write a review and suggest it!
