Howdy all. Talndir is still AWOL but I had this and figured you might want some reading material for the quarantine. Hope you're doing fine, I'm alright for now but online class sucks ass.
Thank you all for the very kind reviews. I appreciate them all very much and hope those who did leave something behind know they bring a smile to my face. I've got halfway through chapter 30 but I've got VR and since I'm home I can play games now so I wouldn't expect stuff very soon lol. Anyway, stay safe out there and enjoy this next chapter.
(Sorry for the odd notification earlier! I realized I posted the chapter without any author notes so I had to fix that!)
Gray fiddled with the thick black hood of her coat, tugging it down so it could better conceal her face. It wasn't as if there were many onlookers in the backseat of the small limousine but Reines had a way of making her feel insecure simply by existing. Whether it was intentional or otherwise she wasn't about to ask either.
Travelling might have been on her list of desires but certainly not with a woman even Lord El-Melloi the Second was frightened of. To make matters worse, this sort of travelling had a job associated with it; locate a magus formerly thought dead. It had been the simple explanation first given to her, but when it was revealed that the magus in question was Blade she had nearly slipped up and spilled everything.
Having to lie to the face of a woman who practically owned her mentor sounded easy in her mind but it had been one of the hardest tasks she had yet to face in reality.
"You appear uncomfortable, Gray." The voice of Reines disturbing her thoughts almost made her jump out of the seat. It was as if she had been nodding off into sleep and her brain had jolted her body awake.
Lifting her head enough to catch the bottom of Reines' eyes, Gray took note of the mischievous smile on her angular face. "No, I'm fine. I just get anxious when flying." Yet another lie, but she had to excuse her appearance without admitting that Reines' entire aura unsettled her greatly.
The Archisortie was a woman who could make the skin of bugs crawl. Children that saw her were likely to say they witnessed the boogeyman in the flesh with her unsettling stare that peered too deep. She had no idea how Blade could handle being around such a woman, but there were many other things she couldn't understand about him as well. "It won't be that bad, trust me. Typically, you and my brother fly with the normal humans but today we'll be using my personal jet."
'The normal humans,' how such a small word could make a woman seem so pretentious was astounding. Did all magi beyond her mentor really consider themselves vastly superior to normal humans? "You spare no expense," was all she responded with.
Reines giggled and sent a crawling shiver up her arms. "Of course not. What is the point in acquiring these things if not to use them? Besides, you and I have never had any personal girl time alone. This will be a special occasion."
The tone in the girl's voice was ominous and foreboding. It sent red flags up in her mind but she was helpless to do anything to distance herself. "How long is the flight to Japan again?"
If Gray listened hard enough she could have sworn to have heard the crackling of porcelain as Reines' smile split wider yet. "Only nine hours. We should arrive sometime tomorrow morning in Japan's time." The girl crossed her legs and laid both hands on her knees. "I had no idea you were anxious during flights. I'll be sure to keep nice and close so that you feel better."
Gray lowered her head. Nine hours in close proximity to such a woman had to be a violation of the Geneva convention, there was no feasible way it could be ethically sound. "I appreciate it," she mumbled, but her mind was dreading every incoming moment.
Turning her head, the girl peered out the window to watch the scenery outside race by at highway speed. She could talk to someone else, but Reines wasn't supposed to know she had brought him along. Gray couldn't help but feel that reporting the discovery back to her mentor was the least she could do. He had specifically told her not to bring Add along, but on an assignment like this, leaving him behind would be foolish.
She just had to make sure that Shirou didn't see him.
… … …
… … …
… … …
With glowing red eyes holding nothing but heartless contempt, the servant carelessly lobbed a prepackaged sandwich and a bottle of water at her feet. Flinching as the bottle bounced off the ground onto her legs, the girl hatefully glared between her captor and the provided nourishment.
"What's the point? If I starve myself to death you'll have to go through the inconvenience of killing another servant and forcing their master to join you."
The man wordlessly leered down at her and she could have sworn the glowing red of his mask's lenses intensified. "Whether you live or die does little to slow my plans. Consider working with me and I will consider sparing the members of your supposed false family."
Caren hesitated. Could she trust the word of a man who had time and time again disobeyed her in search of blood? "What sort of guarantee do I have?"
Berserker remained motionless, a rigid force unyielding to her attempts at persuasion. "I have nothing to offer beyond my word. You'll have to accept that or sit here and rot."
Caren weighed her options. If she worked with her servant, perhaps he would keep his word about sparing Shirou. That, and she could move freely rather than being chained to the Church like a wild animal. Pausing, the girl looked down at her bloodied hands and body. The rough chain had rubbed the skin beyond raw and each motion against the steel caused more and more pain. It was bound to leave permanent scarring in her neck, but sitting idly by was almost worse. "What are your conditions," she murmured hollowly, grasping at her own raw digits and squeezing both hands against her chest.
The servant kneeled slowly. "Consume your food, remain my master and stay safe within the Church. I will eliminate the other masters and servants spare one and then we will hold victory over the Grail War. You can claim your wish at that point."
It sounded good, too good to be true. A servant that would not yield to three command seals suddenly negotiating? It seemed too easy, people didn't just change so sporadically. Was her worth as his master really that great or was she just difficult to replace? Something about the deal was benefitting him though he wasn't making it apparent. "I don't believe you."
The servant huffed and a cloud of steam billowed from around the edges of his mask. "Then so be it: You will rot here and your family will die by my hand." The man abruptly stood, shocking Caren with the flip of emotions.
"N-no wait!" She cried, stunned once more as he obeyed and remained stationary. "Please, don't leave me chained up like this. I'll do what you want, just please-"
The servant yielded none to her pleading voice and eyes, but he did kneel in place again to stare closer to her level. "Are we in agreement? In exchange for keeping yourself alive, I will spare the master of Saber."
She wanted to, but couldn't, ask why he had a sudden change of heart. Another opportunity of him being so gracious wasn't bound to arrive anytime soon. Her best chance at freedom was to accept the ultimatum, but would he really keep Shirou safe?
"I accept."
… … …
… … …
Watching Illya assist Shirou with standing, Rin had to admit that the boy had improved remarkably in a few short hours. Where he had been unable to move without help while sitting on the couch, he was operating on his own limited capacity now. It came as no surprise considering he had overused his reality marble so much. She couldn't help but wonder what the extended use of an incomplete process could do, but he seemed mostly the same.
Maybe his eyes and expressions were a little colder, but they weren't on the level of Archer so perhaps it was just fatigue?
Illya's struggle with handling Shirou's larger size and weight was almost comical to watch. A soft flash of blue gave way to thin strings that quickly coiled around his body to operate him like a marionette, much to the boy's chagrin.
It felt nice. It was like the times before the War when they had all lived around one another as friends, as extended family really. Rin still didn't know how she felt about the looming threat that she would have to fight Shirou at some later point in order to achieve her wish.
"I have no desire to work alongside Shirou Emiya."
Rin rolled her eyes. "Then think of it like you're working with Saber and Lancer, you can handle those two right?"
The two servants in question watched their masters from the side of the room, commenting in soft whispers to one another with amused expressions.
"It is beside the point. If you continue to work with this inferior master, I'll have no choice but to take advantage of his wounded state."
Rin felt a glimmer of panic course through her mind. Archer typically did things without even telling her so he had obviously prepared much more if he was telling her all that. "Hey just wait a minute!" She had a low-blow, but perhaps it would be enough to dissuade her servant. "What do you think Illya will say if you kill her brother? Are you prepared to deal with that pain?"
There was a pause and for a moment Rin wondered if she had gotten through to him. "She will be thankful for the removal of such a foolish ideal."
"You can't honestly be serious, I would have thought you to know your own sister better than that."
"We aren't sisters." The response was so sudden and jagged that it admitted caught Rin off guard. "The only relationship we share is with a common father figure, one who abandoned us at an early age with crushing dreams and unattainable aspirations. At the very least, I can challenge this Shirou's conviction and deem whether he is different enough to break the cycle."
Rin felt a draw on her mana reserves and a wash of fear came over her. Thinking quickly, the girl threw caution to the wind and hurriedly moved to wrap one arm around Shirou's waist to support him. She chided Illya for operating him like a puppet and after dispelling Engel Note the boy's full weight nearly brought her to the floor.
An angry growl reached her mind, just as she had expected. "What are you doing? Rin, move out of the way!"
"I've made a contract with the current head of the Einzbern family. I'm not going to allow such a tarnishing betrayal strain the growing relationship between our families."
The servant made an audible noise with his mouth and the draw on her mana faded. "Continuing to prolong the inevitable. Eventually, you'll have to face facts."
The weight of Shirou on her body unexpectedly eased and looking across to his other side displayed Saber taking over with supporting the injured boy. "Are we recovering or acting tonight?" She asked, to which Shirou gave a nondescript answer.
"I don't really know. It depends on what Rin wants to do and how I feel by nightfall." Staying under his arm as minor support, Rin helped in escorting Shirou to the dining room where Archer was supposed to have made breakfast. One thing that persisted from servant Shirou to real Shirou was the love of quality cooking.
After breakfast, they could all collectively go over their plan of action and rest for whatever happened to follow. Hopefully, nothing would disturb them while Shirou rested the day away. If she hadn't helped him along with Illya's help, he might not have survived. Even with her assistance, he was in rough condition and a little relaxation would do him good.
… … …
"I'm sorry I couldn't make it last night. It wasn't my intention, I lost consciousness involuntarily."
The crackling voice of Shirou's father returned to him. "What's happened has happened. We've organized a new base to operate from, somewhere nobody would think to look. I'll assume you're in no condition to return to the house?"
Shirou raised a free hand to his forehead "Unfortunately-"
"Then we will come the following morning. We need to get Illya away from Fuyuki before a servant dies and is absorbed. Missy will be there at eight sharp, make sure to let Illya know."
Shirou opened his mouth to speak but a soft tone notified him that the call had been disconnected. Lowering the phone with a frustrated noise, Shirou placed it upon the nearby night table. That phone call had been unnaturally short and to the point. His father typically wasn't so brash but with what was going on it hardly came as a surprise.
The Magus Killer had returned and it looked as if he wasn't going to leave until the War was over. Sighing to himself, Shirou scanned his room for something to do. Illya had decided to sleep in her own room rather than with him. For once, he actually would have preferred her to sleep in his bed. A conversation might have pulled his mind from the old man.
Kiritsugu, and his reality marble. He couldn't help but grow paranoid over his magecraft. Something within him had changed during that battle with Berserker. He knew it was an effect of overusing his reality marble but wasn't entirely certain what the total effects were. The memories were still hazy as well, making any effort at reflecting futile.
He definitely remembered considering an injury to Illya as acceptable though, and that was more than enough to scare him.
As long as he had lived, there had never been a time where he had determined any effect against Illya as acceptable. No injury, no matter how small, was worth something else.
So why had that changed in the Einzbern castle against Rider? Illya had been in danger, certainly, but the risk of inadvertently killing her himself to save her from another was idiotic.
Placing a palm upon his forehead, Shirou struggled to remember. What had happened to him? What had his reality marble done? Would its effects be greater the next time he tried to use it? His reality marble altered damaged flesh into blades, it rewrote bone into solid steel, but could it really overwrite his personality? Did it somehow affect the brain?
Analyzing the blurred memories of that night, he tried to piece together the broken fragments he could recall. He remembered an injury to his skull, had that caused some sort of brain injury?
If it had, had something else beyond the thoughts in that moment changed? Maybe his personality had been altered somehow. Those around him who knew his personality perfectly had admitted to seeing some recent change. It was a thought he didn't want to linger on, and he wouldn't vocalize it to anyone if only to keep them from worrying about him.
All the thoughts were starting to give him a headache, he needed something to distract himself. The inside of Shirou's room was dark inside but he preferred it that way. Using electricity when he could just let his eyes adapt to the darkness seemed needlessly wasteful. His eyes landed on an ornate wooden chest seated upon a small table. It's existence and placement within the room was jarring. Being a short step away from the foot of the bed without any other piece to compliment it. Pushing himself from the cushioned mattress with some moderate effort, the boy carefully stepped over to crack the container open.
Inside was a collection of various pieces of jewelry. Rings, bracelets, pendants, brooches and earrings made in various precious metals without any sort of order or definite grouping. None held any significant value. While expensive in a monetary sense, there was no magical attribute to any, even from the ones that held large gemstones.
Something did catch his eye though. It was a small silver necklace with a miniature figurine in the design of a sword. It was delicate and not entirely his taste but the intricacy was alluring and familiar.
Searching his memories for where he might have seen such a thing before, images of the countless sword-shaped gems he had crafted for Rin skittered through his mind. Had she gone through the trouble of getting something like that made into jewelry? For what reason?
Setting the keepsake back in its place, the boy gently shut the box and scanned the room for potential onlookers. His eyes stopped at the window, catching a glimpse of moonlight on the otherwise dark windowsill.
He hadn't kept up to date on the lunar cycle recently so he didn't know whether it was a full moon or something in-between. It certainly didn't seem bright enough to be full but maybe the easiest way to certify either way was to go outside and look. The breath of fresh air might have also been enough to clear his mind. He had intended to get some sleep, so he only wore sweatpants. Still, he was used to the night's chill from spending so much time in the stone shed and he would only be outside for a moment. Not bothering to grab a coat, the boy hauled himself out of his room, down the stairs toward a reading room that held a door to the backyard. Having stayed at the Tohsaka manor before he had grown quite familiar with the layout so navigating was trivial.
The backyard of the Tohsaka manor was far more pleasing than the interior. Even with parts of the foliage destroyed, it lacked the oppressive, extravagant furnishing and was far more natural and pure. If he looked past the naturally aggressive bounded field, that was.
Staring up at the night sky like a child full of wanderlust, the boy tried to locate the moon. Determining it was behind the Tohsaka manor, Shirou stumbled further into the backyard until the moon peeked out from above the roof of the manor.
A half-moon, but quite bright regardless. Gazing up at it fondly, Shirou squinted his eyes and started naming off the visible craters. It was tranquil to gaze upon something so natural but so permanent in the night sky. How many people before him had watched the subtle, lasting changes to its surface and wondered how it would shift in the future?
When he was younger, Kiritsugu used to often sit at the edge of their backyard and peer up at the moon with such a wistful expression. Sipping his tea, he used to smile wide, close his eyes and say the same corny line no matter what it looked like:
"It really is a nice moon tonight."
Shirou snapped his attention to the strange but familiar voice behind him. It was a man dressed all in white, likely his height if he accounted for the slight difference the hood concealing his face added. A visual trace revealed that his attire was made up of mana, was it a servant? The boy prepared himself, keeping his eyes locked on the man's limbs, he watched for any sudden movements. How did he know that phrase? How had he said it in the exact same way that Kiritsugu would have? Narrowing his eyes, Shirou hypothesized a thousand questions he could have asked. "Are you Archer?"
The servant chuckled emptily. "And I thought you would have asked who I was, not tried to guess it right away."
Seamlessly, Shirou responded with, "someone who conceals their face isn't going to answer that sort of question. The only servant I haven't seen besides Archer is Assassin and since you revealed yourself and didn't kill me right away, it was a process of elimination."
The servant crossed their arms, lifting the white cloak concealing their form to reveal something crimson and black at the bottom of their legs. "Smarter than I expected."
"Sorry I exceed your expectations," Shirou grimaced, furrowing his brow as he tried to get a read on the stranger. He had met cold people in his life and typically he would respond in a much warmer fashion, but something was off about this person or servant, whichever they might have been.
"Allegedly you exceed them all but so far I've been thoroughly disappointed."
Shirou shuffled to find a comfortable stance in his injured state. "I haven't even been here for a whole day. Sounds like you've been watching me for a few days."
"Rin has been watching my every move for some time so I've been unable to spectate as much as I would like. With you so close and her asleep, there's no need to hide anymore." Something about the servant's voice was familiar but Shirou couldn't quite place where that familiarity originated.
He had to address a question that had gnawed at him since it happened. "The first time you saw me you tried to kill me, want to try and explain that?"
The servant made another odd noise. "Perhaps it's better to show you." On command, the white cloak dematerialized into blue sparks which quickly blew away into the soft night's breeze. Attire was revealed first. Bright crimson, vacant black and brushed steel. His face came next and the sight brought forth a sickening sensation to his stomach. A pained visual trace confirmed his eyes.
It was impossible. It was all a mistake or a dream. Nightmares weren't uncommon to him, that's what it had to have been.
As the cloak fully disappeared and his face was revealed, reality settled in. It was no dream.
Shirou's brain struggled to form an answer. Such a thing was impossible, wasn't it? "You're me?" The servant narrowed his eyes but nodded slowly regardless. "How-"
Before he could finish, Archer launched into an explanation. "Your hypocritical aspirations and an unattainable dream. You became a machine concerned only with saving as many lives as possible. There was no chance that your friends could keep up, so you threw them away along with your life to devote your entire being to your conceited cause." The servant's face grew angrier and more spiteful with each confusing sentence. "Once your life was cut short, you gave away your afterlife as well."
Dread settled in Shirou's stomach. Servants never admitted themselves into the Throne. They were unwittingly placed there for their great deeds in life. Only one specific sort of being actively chose to become a spirit. The words tumbled out of his mouth. "A counter guardian."
"The worst mistake possible. You thought it would help you in your pursuit to save more lives and make everyone happy; that it would allow you to save people long after your death. In a way, it had. You were able to become the Hero of Justice you always sought out to be, but you never once witnessed the faces of those whose lives you had saved. Only ordered to kill, you slaughtered hundreds, thousands. You never once looked back, but instead, the notion that your murders were saving someone drove you forward."
The servant grew increasingly venomous and it was clear his anger grew by the moment. There was so much information to handle and it brought on a sharp headache. Rin's servant was a future version of himself? Had she known all along? Why would he ever agree to become a counter guardian? Why would the servant try to kill the younger version of himself? Was it spite? Perhaps it was out of anger over his own past mistakes.
The complex, innumerable questions, the implications and the thought of being condemned to kill endlessly without ever seeing the ones he saved were horrifying. It was only the subtle inaccuracies and doubts that kept him from breaking down completely. "But I-"
"Always meet the same fate. Chasing ideals and dreams that are not your own but are too inspiring to forfeit." The boy shook his head, softly at first. "Being given the burdens of a man you thought to be your saviour, he only doomed you to repeated failure."
"You're wrong," he murmured.
"Unable to live with the guilt of surviving, there was only one way to repay the loss of all those lives on that day: Become a Hero of Justice, it was the only thing you could hold onto to form an identity." The servant threw out his arms as if gesturing to himself. "This is the outcome of the path you will ultimately choose. The pitiful remains of a man who sought to save everyone while he couldn't save himself. Witness the blood of a thousand innocent lives and the man who will continue to slaughter for all eternity. Look into this mirror."
Shirou shook his head indignantly. He was wrong, he wasn't anything like that, was he?
"Your only ambition was to chase a hopeless ideal forfeited upon you. You succeeded, but that ideal was all you would ever save." Archer continued speaking, but the words became a blur of disjointed history, condescending insults and philosophical paradoxes. Trying to follow his reasoning only exacerbated his headache.
"Enough!" Shirou barked abruptly, silencing the servant. Huffing an angry breath, the boy gripped at his chest. "You're wrong," he repeated with more emotion. "I'm not interested in becoming a Hero of Justice," the boy admitted. He had said it aloud to himself but to hear his voice speak with such conviction on the matter was almost relieving.
Archer himself was taken aback. "You what?"
"I have no interest in becoming a Hero of Justice," Shirou affirmed. He paused, deliberating on what he truly wanted in life.
Archer's gaze tightened to accusing slits. "To become a Hero of Justice is the wish of all Shirou Emiya's. It is the single absolute identifier we share."
There was trepidation in his thoughts. He had killed, he would kill readily to protect those close to him. He would put his life and everything within it on the line for their sake. He had regrets, he lacked confidence in himself that he could make the right decisions and there was paranoia that he would slip and injure someone close like he almost had last night. Simultaneously, he had no desire at all to become a Hero of Justice and nobody had ever forced an ideal like that upon him. "If that's the case, I'm not like any other Shirou Emiya."
Archer made an ignorant tsk while continuing to glare. The servant's eyes analyzed the boy for some time as if searching for an answer that wasn't there. "You are all the same. We were found amidst the Great Fire of Fuyuki by Kiritsugu Emiya. To save our life he gifted us the sheath of Avalon. He told us of his dreams but refused to teach us magecraft-"
"You're wrong again," Shirou interrupted, growing more confident as the inaccuracies separated them further and further. "Kiritsugu taught Illya and I magecraft willingly. With Rin, we learned together."
Archer's eye twitched. "He forced his ideals upon you."
Shirou shook his head again. "If that ideal was to be a Hero of Justice, Kiritsugu taught me that such an unattainable goal was hopeless." Archer's eyes widened. The reaction emboldened the boy. They were different, the path that led to each of their existences had differed from the start.
Archer appeared visibly conflicted. His jaw clenched and his eyes pried for an answer that wasn't there. "Such an existence is impossible. To think a Shirou Emiya would have renounced their most engrained ideal is preposterous!"
They were the same person, it was obvious. Staring at Archer was like staring into a colder mirror. At the same time, they were polar opposites. Archer was a man filled with regret and hatred for a decision he himself had made earlier in his life. A decision Shirou would never make himself simply because he didn't believe in it.
Their interaction was growing heated and Shirou knew what sort of outcome lied around the corner. Archer had tried to kill him at their first meeting before Rin could hold him back and he was here now to finish the job. He would have to be blind to miss it.
A gun fired in his head but rather than the warmth of his circuits crackling to life, a sharp electric pain coursed through his back like something had shorted out upon his skin. Twitching from the aggravating pain, Shirou held back a sharp gasp. It was wrong, but it was familiar as well. He had experienced something similar back during his time at the Clock Tower. A strange man had been there to fix him then, would someone need to fix him again this time?
What if he had burnt himself out somehow? There were rumours of magi scorching their circuits from overuse and ruining their careers in magecraft but those were just rumours. Such a thing wasn't possible, was it?
Tightening his hands into fists, Shirou realized how dire the situation was. Without mana he couldn't form blades, he couldn't even reinforce his body. Even though the enemy was himself, a servant still outclassed a human and Archer was at full strength.
"There's an outlier in every variable. Each path has offsets and we're no exception." Shirou could tell based on Archer's expression and his overall body language that any attempts at convincing would end in failure. Archer was going to kill him, but what could he do? Use a command seal and summon Saber to his side? He felt that if he did, he would lose something important. This was a literal battle against himself that felt shockingly familiar.
It was deja vu, as if he had stood ahead of Archer in this exact situation dozens of times. But he remembered something about a hill and a harsh baking warmth without a sun. "I have seen every possibility, trust me when I say outliers do not exist." The man uncrossed his arms and let his hand drop to his sides. They were set partway open, something Shirou did himself to prepare for traced swords.
"Even so, stopping a mistake wherever I can is better than sitting idly by." Without saying a single word, two blades appeared in his hand and a pained visual trace sent their data straight to his brain.
Kanshou and Bakuya, blades of polar opposites but married at the same time. They were sublime quality, exceeding anything Shirou had ever seen that wasn't a noble phantasm of course. At the same time, they held no notable quality and they weren't burdened by any sort of emotion. Despite the fact that those very same swords would be used against him, Shirou found them beautiful all the same. Something about the precise craftsmanship and offsetting designs made a peacefully neutral appeal.
It was unlike the other servant's weapons. Berserker's sword, Gram, was filled with an unholy thirst for blood and victory. Excalibur also sought victory though it was as if it were being reserved for special occasions. A sword with purpose was nice, but to be so finely made without one at all was respectable to say the least.
"Even if what you're doing spilled more innocent blood?"
Archer scoffed. "Innocent blood? Don't make me laugh. I can see it in your eyes. You've already killed haven't you?" Shirou flinched before he could stop himself. Was it that obvious? "Your reaction confirms it. You already have regrets and have taken the first step into this pitiful mold."
Shirou opened his mouth to speak but nothing exited. Archer had been wrong about history, but he was spot on now. Innocence was a distant memory and every other night he was haunted by the faces of those he had killed in cold blood.
"You know as well as I do that your face - our face - is an open book. Say I do believe you, perhaps you really are different. Have you ever considered that you might be something far worse?"
The thought made Shirou pause and reflect. Archer had been mistaken at the beginning but he was making too much sense now. A pain blossomed at the very front of his head before rapidly spreading throughout his entire skull. It felt as if he had remembered something but it was still too distant to comprehend completely. It was so familiar to where he was right now, but why was his body telling him to jump away?
His eyes couldn't even see the movement. Rather, a gunshot-like blast of displaced air struck his ears and flared off every instinct in his mind. His mind screamed at him through the pain to move otherwise he would undoubtedly be killed.
Unable to reinforce himself to speed up his escape, Shirou resorted to using every ounce of strength in his legs to throw himself backwards. Landing on his back upon the ground, nagging pain spawned at the point of impact and on his stomach. Peering down and touching the site, Shirou looked at his hand to see fresh blood. Would he die here to himself, wearing sweatpants without a blade in his hand?
Trailing upward toward his assailant, Shirou made note of a similar crimson dripping off the surface of the white blade, Bakuya. Progressing further to stare into an identical set of his own gray eyes, Shirou found an empty pit. There was no compassion, no mercy, no care. All Archer was concerned about was completing this one ultimate goal.
His sword raised and Shirou raised one arm to act as a defence while the other tried to mobilize his body along the cold ground. "Why even bother fighting," Archer growled. "The outcome of your life is ahead of you and yet you still deny it."
There was merit in Archer's words.
A man like him; cold, heartless and covered in innocent blood could see every flaw in someone similar. Would Shirou walk the same identical path and meet the very same fate?
He had murdered innocent people, he had regrets about those killed and he was bound to kill more. Maybe becoming Archer was just a certified point in his life.
But…
There was something more.
A hot core of anger spawned in his stomach and quickly spread throughout his body. No, he hadn't killed any innocent lives. Every death had been to keep his friends and family safe. Every person murdered had been guilty of threatening those close to him.
Shirou regretted having to kill them, but to preserve the lives of others it was necessary. He wasn't like Archer at all, they fought for different reasons, different ideals. "I'm not like you, you're still wrong." Snapping his head toward the Tohsaka manor as if someone would be there to help, Shirou spotted something useful at the edge of his vision.
"Then you'll die being ignorant to the end!" With pure violence, the servant raised his sword and prepared to make a final strike. Shirou's hand snapped out to grab onto a broken stick from destroyed foliage surrounding the area. Rearing it up to the path of the incoming weapon, Shirou forcefully created a magic circuit and fought through the resulting pain to reinforce the object in his hand. He didn't even care that the branch still held leaves and minor shoots, it just needed to deflect the attack.
Archer's blade struck reinforced leaves and wood and rather than bounce off due to dissimilar magecraft, something else happened entirely. A tingling coursed through the hand holding his pseudo-shield through his whole body and a hundred flickering images coursed through his brain.
The flood of information - while brief - was absolutely overwhelming. There was so much that his eyes had seen and trying to decompile it from the beginning doubled the pain of his headache.
The branch in his hand exploded into a thousand splinters that harmlessly scattered throughout the yard, leaving two surprised people following its destruction.
Archer's grimace grew more feral and upset. "This won't happen again!" The black sword was raised high and Archer's body prepared to put everything into a final strike. With the moonlight glinting off its surface, Shirou could see thin lines of crimson outlining the black hexagons of the weapon's surface.
Shirou couldn't help but get lost in the appearance. Memories that weren't his own flickered through his brain on repeat, details of a weapon used countless times to kill endlessly locked his body into place.
It was a beautiful sword.
… … …
… … …
"You son of a bitch!" The shout was lashed out at nobody in particular as the woman span on her heel, leaned forward and delivered a sharp kick backwards to the chest of whatever sort of creature had attacked her.
The impact didn't send the being flying though; instead, it merely exploded into a cloud of black dust that rapidly dispersed without proper form. Fluidly swinging her leg back underneath her body, the enforcer threw her fist upward with the momentum of her body to slam into the chin of another creature.
Their head separated from their shoulders but before it could collapse onto the ground their body vanished in a similar fashion to the former. How many had she already killed? How many more were swarming her like flies to a carcass?
Panning her head to scour her immediate surroundings. Countless shifting shapes caught the edges of her vision but nothing was definite. It was as if she were searching for the ripples of fish beneath a still lake. Considering she was looking for shadows in a dark room, it made sense. Connecting to her servant, the woman made a request while keeping an eye on potential attacks. Her enemy was a servant of course, but it seemed unable to withstand her most basic attacks.
A large shape ahead dominated her instincts. Rearing back, the enforcer released a sharp cross toward center mass. Her fist stopped upon impact and a moment of confusion washed over her as she investigated the point of contact.
It looked vacant and empty as if she had struck solid nothing. Looking upward, a pair of flaming blue orbs loomed overhead. Before Bazett could get out any sort of expletive, a hand that was much too large to be human wrapped around her arm and lifted her off the ground like a weightless doll. The enforcer was unable to even comprehend that she was flying through the air before her body collided with a wall and fell to the ground.
Forcing herself back onto her feet, the woman looked back to try locating those odd spheres of flame. Had that been the servant? Or had it been just a stronger imitation like the others she had killed? The collision with the wall had been far more annoying than painful, but as a positive, it had given her a point to defend herself from. Lifting her fists and pressing her back against the wall, Bazett considered the futility of her position. Connecting to her servant mentally, the woman narrowed her eyes and watched her near vicinity for those orbs of flame. "Think I could get a little help?"
"What a demanding master I have. Finally grown scared of your own shadow?"
"You idiot, stop joking around." They had been drawn out of their home by the shadows. The two had divided to take on a greater number after realizing how weak the enemy was but it had obviously been a mistake. "The real servant is here, look for blue fire, that's our target."
A soft rustling noise sounded from overhead and something blue landed ahead of her. It was Caster and something and a sudden burst of heat and light spawned from the end of his wooden staff. Swinging the weapon in a large horizontal arc, a gout of flame bathed the area and persisted on the concrete after passing as if it were napalm.
As the light bathed every figure in the darkness, multiple howls spewed from the unseen mouths of the shadow beings. They disappeared one by one into particles just as they had after being struck by Bazett. "Guess we found their weakness."
Every shadowy form vanished in the soft light and the fire remained in their place. Bazett was about to comment on the lack of a figure with blue flame before a humanoid stepped into view. They were as large as a small house, towering over the already tall Caster by several measures. Their skin was an unnatural black and uncannily uniform as if they wore no clothes but were robed in shadow. The only point that stood out was an ivory mask imitating a half-skull. As if her eyes had been a lighter, two orbs of flame flickered to life within the eye-holes.
It was similar to the other shadowy figures she had killed but, beyond the size, its right arm was extremely different. It was disgustingly long with an extra joint to accommodate its inhuman length. Even though they were more than twenty feet away, Bazett estimated that the servant would still be able to reach at full extension.
Despite making his appearance known, the servant didn't move or speak and stood motionless despite the flames clawing at his lower body. "Guess you weren't kidding. One of those distant silent type servants that strikes from the shadows." When the servant failed to move or even speak a response, Caster shifted his weight onto one leg. "Wonder if this one is Berserker, he doesn't seem like the insane type but to stand in fire like that you'd have to be."
"The question of our sanity is misplaced," the servant spoke abruptly. "Wasting time pondering such trivial matters only accelerates your oncoming death."
Caster twirled his staff before landing its base upon the ground. "The philosophically insane then." With a tired sigh, the man his fingers along the side of his head. "Guys like you give me a real headache, probably because you're so damn hard to understand."
Bazett blinked and glared at the back of her servant's head. Why did he always waste time trying to talk to his opponent? Was there any sort of reason to try conversing when the end goal was just to kill each other?
The servant of black emitted no humour. Instead, the twisted being began extending his arm to the sound of cracking joints and straining leather. "You are a redundant variable. Your continued existence or the extrication of such contributes nothing to the overall image. You believe yourself to be an important character amidst a string of needless nobodies when in fac-"
"Fucking hell," Caster groaned unceremoniously before the other servant could finish. "My master said I spoke a lot of shit but you're really spewing it."
Like a gun, the extended arm shot forward with a grabbing motion. Bazett, even with all her experience in combat, could hardly catch the motion. When Caster snapped his staff to the side to deflect the grabbing appendage, Bazett understood just how overpowered servants really were.
The hand snapped back tight to its owner before Caster could inflict any sort of injury. "You appear surprised. We had thought you disliked senseless conversation." The servant chuckled, but rather than one single voice, a haunting rasp of a laugh echoed around the area as if they were being watched by a hundred spectators.
Something tickled the back of her neck and a quick look to her right let her spot another pair of flaming blue orbs watching her from the darkness. Moving quickly, the woman turned and pressed her back against Caster and used one arm to wrap around his waist.
Upon contact, the man jerked suddenly and twisted his head to look back at her. "I don't think right now is the best time to get hands-on!"
Bazett squinted to peer through the darkness, how many were there just waiting for them to slip up? "Shut up you pervert, we're surrounded. I don't feel like getting grabbed by one of these things."
Making note of the same pair of eyes she had seen, Caster made a noise of thought. "So this was all part of their plan. They've pushed us into a corner and surrounded us while we focused ahead." An echoing empty laugh swirled around them, confirming Caster's suspicions. Rather than appearance downtrodden, the man actually smirked with a short chuckle. "That just makes it easier to take you all down with a single attack."
With a sharp thrust of his arm, Caster pointed the head of his staff toward the first target and a bright red rune hovered just off its surface. Rather than fire off an attack, the man darted his weapon straight down toward the ground, forming an entire line of runes that grew brighter as their number increased. With the head of his staff hovering downwards, Caster made another cheeky chuckle before tapping it against the ground.
… … …
A distant rumbling rattled the windows of the Edelfelt manor, catching the attention of two women inside. "Sounds like there's a party starting without us," Lectra mumbled.
The living room was fully furnished in crunchy, recently dusted fine thread material Lectra couldn't even name. Dim candlelight illuminated most of the room but left the corners and other rooms pitch black. Personally she would have preferred electricity and running water but that was quite a lot to ask for in a manor so old and remote.
It was obvious that it had been quite royal in its time, at least the ground floor central area was. With three stories and two living quarters wings on either side of a central area that held common rooms for both to use. The furnishing had likely been quite something in its day but humidity and dust had taken its toll and rendered nearly every piece a moulding, rotting mess. The roof of one wing had caved in, meaning it was entirely unusable and unrepairable. The wing that remained was in fixable condition thankfully, which meant they had been able to stay in moderate comfort.
Even being abandoned and run down, it was still far nicer than anything Lectra owned or lived in for any length of time. Tarnished and stained, the gold trim and lavish precious stone floors might have been nice in their prime but it had more character with its deterioration.
"I hadn't really intended on being in that last battle and while it hardly took any mana, I'd rather be at peak condition before fighting whatever caused that explosion." The blonde Edelfelt used one hand to throw back some of her curls while a second explosion rumbled through the floor.
The house of cards they had been working on quivered and collapsed onto itself in a mess upon the small table ahead.
Lectra pouted and slapped her hands upon her knees. "Dammit, I spent so long trying to set it up."
A chilling breeze blew through the room and the sight of bright pink caught the edge of Lectra's eye. "I guess I had the wrong idea." Without bothering to bend her legs, Rider bent over the top of the couch and playfully toyed with Luvia's hair. "I thought you were so determined on winning the War but it seems like," she paused to twirl her fingers around in the curls of Luvia's hair. "You're just as scared as the other masters."
"I am not scared," the woman defied, pulling her head free of Rider's twisting fingers. "I'm just ensuring the maximum possible chance of a positive outcome."
Rider's smile grew wider as her body inched further across the couch and her hand traced upwards along the curls of Luvia's hair. Lectra had never really been interested in women, but she had to admit that Rider had a very alluring figure and wasn't afraid to display it prominently. Peering down at her own baggy, concealing clothes and remembering Blade's surprise when he found out she was a woman brought conflicted emotions.
"Maybe you're just making excuses because you don't think I'm strong enough." Most of Rider's body was leaned over the couch. She was peering at Luvia's resending face with a sort of carnal enjoyment.
"I am confident in your abilities against men," the Edelfelt claimed far more stiff than usual. "But what if the next servant we see is a woman?"
Rider made a small giggle. "Some women are just as attracted to me as men, you know." Rider shifted her head to stare straight at Lectra with a predatory smile.
The girl quickly hid her face and tried not to let her cheeks reveal her embarrassment. Was she really attracted? Was Rider what men wanted in women? If that was the case, was she really enough for Flat?
Luvia grew agitated. "If you're so prepared to fight servants then where do you intend to go? Straight toward the source of those explosions?"
"Wherever I have to go to find Cú. I promised that I would make him submit to me and I'm going to see that through no matter what." The icy conviction being proclaimed behind such an innocent smile was concerning. Lectra was just thankful that she wasn't a part of Rider's obsession. "Where there are explosions, there's bound to be servants so it just happens to be the best place to look."
Luvia abruptly stood from the couch and sighed to herself. "If I say no, you'll probably just head off on your own and that's even worse." Accenting her point, Rider nodded her head and made an affirming noise. "By the time we get there, whatever was causing those explosions will probably be gone anyway."
As if whoever was causing them wanted to make Luvia look foolish, another distant explosion brought a rattle to the windows. "I don't really know how magus of your age fight but servants take a little more than two explosions to put down." Straightening into a perfect pose with one hand on her hip, Rider held out her right hand. Balanced on the center of her palm, a black riding crop appeared from nothing. An eerie crimson shrouded its exterior as it was completed and Lectra couldn't help but wonder if it were somehow cursed.
"It depends on the magus but some of us can even survive death." The subtle jab at Blade didn't go over Lectra's head, though it certainly did for Rider. "I just hope I won't have to use any more gems. I could only get so many shipped over before the start of the War."
If their last count was accurate, after using those three the other night, they had nine high-range and ten mid-range gems remaining. With that much mana, Luvia gauged that they could take down a servant if they planned it right.
A hand that was just too cold slid around her neck from behind and sent a jolting shiver through her body. Seeing Luvia ahead, Lectra knew that only one person could be responsible and the sultry voice in her ear confirmed it.
"Daydreaming like that will get you killed."
… … …
Smoke rolled off the knuckles of Bazett's gloves. After Caster's first attack, things had gone straight into the proverbial creek. There was a bright explosion and the severity of their situation had been drilled into their minds. There were hundreds of figures surrounding them. Their numbers were intimidating but only a handful wore masks.
Concerned about their odds, Bazett pressed her back against Caster, adjusted her footing and asked, "how many have you taken out?"
Caster made an aggravated growl. "No clue. Every time I try to hit one they move out of the way like they were never even there. At this point, I might just be wasting mana."
Managing the enemy by staying back-to-back, Bazett had definitely had a harder time it seemed. Several hands had tried to rip her away or make direct strikes. Her punches and kicks seemed to be injuring them but it was too hard to say against an enemy she couldn't even see. "Got a plan?"
Several wooden thunks vibrated through Caster into her back and the clatter of thrown steel sounded quickly afterwards. Maybe protection from arrows wasn't such a useless skill. "I might, but using my noble phantasm is going to attract one hell of a lot of attention."
"You can cast something like that so quickly?" A shifting pair of blue eyes attracted her attention. What were those eyes doing beyond the edge of vision?
A soft etching noise was being made behind her at ground level. "I've been preparing to use it since this fight started, but it takes a good moment to complete after summoning and it's not the best for group targets."
"Better than whatever the hell we're doing now." A clawed hand from the darkness was in her sight for barely an instant. Twisting her body, the enforcer threw a straight cross to meet it head-on. Striking with a large meaty thwack, the offending appendage recoiled back into the inky darkness around them.
"You'd be surprised. It's not really precise."
Clenching her jaw, the enforcer pushed aside growing anger. "If you've got other options I'm more than willing to listen."
A beast-like shadow lunged at her from the darkness. Scrambling with her footing, Bazett channelled mana into the runes on her legs to increase her speed so she could deliver a spinning kick and knock the enemy away.
As her foot touched the creature, it phased away without any of the resistance she was expecting. Realizing her mistake far later than she could recover, Bazett tried to bring her foot down and return to Caster's back. She knew it was too late when a sharp hand gripped her shoulder and squeezed hard enough to lock the joint in place.
She might have been able to twist out of its grasp, but another hand around her extended wrist finalized her fate. The arms tugged back on her, yanking her off her last grounded foot along the pavement and through the darkened veil that had surrounded her and Caster. It had been impossible to see through from the inside and it seemed as if there was no difference looking in from the outside either.
Her senses were being clouded out one by one. It had started with her sight in the inky darkness. Her sense of touch faded and it felt as if she were being flown through the air an incredible distance away. Even her sense of hearing was fading away. A hollow, echoing laughter swirled around her skull from every direction. Squirming and trying to break free of the servant's grasp only dug the clawed fingers through her suit. Even with the material of her suit reinforced beyond any possible limit, magically or otherwise, the servant was able to slice through so easily?
Something slashed at the side of her face, leaving behind a stinging pain upon her cheek. Using her one free arm to swing wildly and trash for escape, she was suddenly dropped only to land with extreme disorientation in senseless darkness. Finding purchase on what she could only assume was pavement below, the enforcer set her head on a swivel to try and locate potential threats.
It had been difficult to see anything before, but trying to locate anyone in wherever she had been taken to was unnaturally impossible. She could have sworn something shifted behind her, but a quick jab found absolutely nothing. Snickering, sadistic laughter swirled around her skull and made her dizzy. Was the effect some sort of magecraft or was the lack of her senses getting to her?
"It's over."
A voice from directly behind incited another strike and this time her fist did contact something solid. Instead of rebounding as she would have expected, her fist was gripped by a hand that was far too large to be human. The pressure of their hand threatened to break every bone through her glove and her attempts at freeing the limb proved fruitless.
Even delivering a precise strike to her opponent's wrist did absolutely nothing but get her other hand caught. Making a strained noise of pain as her wrist was bent and squeezed at an awkward angle, Bazett looked onward to find an eerie mask staring back at her.
It was different to the other one she had seen somehow, but she couldn't quite discern how beyond a simple hunch. As her eyes landed on the surface of their ivory mask, two orbs of blue flame appeared within the eye sockets, glaring back at her unflinchingly. "Your end is nigh." Bazett didn't even bother responding, choosing to narrow her eyes and struggle further against her captor. "Your struggle is in vain, forfeit your servant now to retain some of your dignity."
"Fuck you."
The servant sighed and the pressure on her hands tightened further. There was a soft popping sound as her index finger was forcibly dislocated. "No need to be crass. In a few moments, your servant will use their noble phantasm and their life will end. After that point, the query is what to do with you."
Bazett wasted no time at all. "Caster do not use your noble phantasm. It's part of their plan!"
"A valid attempt, however, you are unable to communicate with your servant in this place. Within the darkness, we hear, see and feel all. Each minute within this space, your sins are revealed to us, your every thought decoded for our use." Something told Bazett that he was right, those damn blue orbs burned into her very soul.
Unable to speak with Caster, unable to help herself, she was out of options. "What the hell do you want with me?"
The servant chuckled, but it was far more malicious than the others she heard. "You are an enemy, this is the War you joined. Enemies must be exterminated, especially contractors."
Bazett tried jarring her arm loose but the servant was far stronger. "If you're going to kill me get it over with you twisted piece of shit."
The servant squeezed tighter still. Two more fingers were dislocated and she could tell her wrist was about to break. "How can someone so vulgar consider themselves a lady?"
"What sort of bullshit chauvinistic garbage is that? Going to tell me how to act?" Bazett's anger got the better of her and using the servant as an anchor, she fueled mana into the legs of her suit. Dropping and using her arms to get her leg high enough, the enforcer slammed her flaming ankle into the side of their face. Surprisingly, the mask it wore failed to fly off, how was it attached?
Grunting in annoyed pain, the blackened servant recoiled and dropped her hands so he could grip at his face. "Insolent whelp, you will pay dearly for that. It will be your final mistake."
Scrambling up to her feet, Bazett gripped her fingers and set each one painfully back in place with a soft pop. "Just shut up and fight already."
Lifting her fists, Bazett focused on the ivory mask shifting in the darkness. It was her only reference point in the consuming darkness. Recovering from the blow, the servant stared directly at her and balls of flame sharpened to minuscule dots. "Zabaniya: Infinite-urk!"
Before the servant could finish, something slammed into them and carried the mask briskly out of sight. Blinking in confusion, the dense haze that had stripped away her senses gradually faded away, leaving her in front of one of the various industrial warehouses on the docks.
Shaking her wrist to try and rid it of the lingering pain, Bazett could have sworn she saw wooden wheel and hoof marks on the concrete. Her memory clicked at once and she connected to Caster through their link. "Don't activate your noble phantasm, it's a trap."
There was a bit of delay, but it was to be expected. "I think we've got bigger problems, missy."
"What's the matter?"
"That old friend I told you about is back. She's helping for now, but I guarantee she'll want to kill us after."
Cursing, Bazett scanned her area for a landmark she could use to reference her own location. There was a large yellow shipping container crane she remembered from the start of their engagement. It was much closer and in a different direction with relation to the waterfront.
The enforcer started moving to where she believed her original location to be. "I'll be there in a minute, I'll get rid of her master and-"
"Where do you think you're going, running off like that?" Spinning on her heels to face the voice that beckoned to her, two highschool-aged girls stared back at her.
"Scratch that, they're right here."
The one with ridiculous hair produced a pompous smile before flashing several sparkling gemstones. The other stood in the back, raising one outstretched hand. Pools of black started to bubble around the enforcer and shapes were already crawling out of them.
Something told her it was going to be a rough night.
… … …
… … …
A shout of his name brought his attention to the manor. The cry had been shrill, panicked and downright terrified. The amount of emotion contained within a single word seemed to halt even Archer, who copied the boy to peer at the small figure standing outside in the cool night.
"Illya," both servant and boy murmured in unison. Shirou was able to compose himself. "Get back, Rin's servant is insane!"
Ignoring how strange it was to call himself insane, the boy struggled to twist upon the ground and lift himself into his feet. Witnessing the two of them, the sheer perplexity of the entire situation struck her full force.
"You're a servant?" Unable to hear from the distance, he had to read her lips to understand the words.
Archer neglected to respond but based on his expression, guilt had claimed the use of his voice. Managing to get back up on his feet, Shirou watched as Archer dematerialized his weapons and took a step toward Illya. "I'm sorry you had to see this," he claimed. What sort of apology blamed the innocent party?
Feeling his blood pressure rise considerably, Shirou barked out a demand for Archer to leave her out of the picture. The man shot a scathing glare his way, but Shirou levelled one equally as intense. "If you harm a single hair in her I swear I'll," he trailed off. So many thoughts swirled around his head about precisely what he would do were Illya to get hurt that he couldn't decide to speak a single one. At the same time, if he ended up killing Archer, she would absorb his soul and that would hurt her far more than any physical injury. What sort of twisted dilemma had he gotten himself into?
Reeling back to the matter at hand, Shirou told Illya in the lightest voice he could manage to "go back inside."
The girl shook her head defiantly. "I won't, I won't leave you out here to fight on your own."
Archer made a harsh tsk with his mouth while Shirou gaped in shock. "But you could-"
"You aren't the only one who cares about others!" Illya shouted abruptly, glaring at him with stern, wet eyes. "How many times have you almost been killed trying to protect people? How many times have people had to worry about whether you were alive or dead?" Sniffling audibly, the girl wiped her face with the side of her arm. "You never think about how we would handle your death, did you always think we would be happy?"
Shirou couldn't respond. Illya's words were familiar, eerily so. Where had he heard such obvious yet overlooked facts before? Archer stared at him resentfully. "A painfully familiar verifier. Despite claiming to be different you're still the same."
"And you," Illya growled, gathering the attention of both Shirou-s. "You might look like Shirou, but I can tell you aren't anything alike." With as much resentment as a girl barely above four feet tall could muster, Illya narrowed her eyes and spat out, "you aren't my brother."
The statement actually managed to elicit a visible flinch, albeit minor, from Archer. "You may be right," he agreed with closed eyes. "I might not be your brother, but neither is he. We are both the same. The paths may differ but the end result is before your eyes."
Illya shook her head. "You're blinded by regret. Your differences are as plain as day to a magus." Shirou understood her words just about as well as Archer, which was to say he didn't. Looking at one another, it was clear that neither of the two could see what Illya claimed to have vision of. "Shirou, while you were unconscious, in order to keep you from dying, you needed to be given mana." The girl lifted her hand to her chest and soft blue light the same shade as Engel Note bloomed through her pyjamas.
A warmth spawned upon his own chest and a quick glance down confirmed a second identical symbol upon his own body. The warmth spread quickly and the pain stuck in every crevice of his body was replaced with it. Moving, thinking, even breathing came significantly easier. A gun fired within his mind and his magic circuitry ignited to life starting from the glowing symbol. "Rin transplanted my magic crest into your body so our reserves could be linked." Shirou felt the blood drain away from his face. If Illya gave him her magic crest, that meant- "You have access to all of my power just like Lancer."
As far as Shirou knew, Illya had a very special magic crest. It hadn't come from Kiritsugu or Irisviel, but it had created itself as an abnormality. Wish-Granter, the old man had called it. It was the reason Illya could execute magecraft without knowing a single concept or foundational skill.
Without it, "you won't be able to use magecraft," he murmured. Had Illya really sacrificed her life as a magus in order to save him? Why would she ever do such a thing?
"What a fool you are, Rin. Why are you the only piece I can never account for?" Archer's hollow question reignited the flame of anger within Shirou. Illya had sacrificed a part of her life to save him, she had done it to stop his suffering. There was no taking it back and he could ask why later so his only option was to make use of it while he could.
"Do you not have any sort of compassion? Do you only care about yourself?" Opening his hands, blue and gold sparks formed two familiar emerald blades and they trailed upward to recreate Bazett's custom-made outfit. If he was going to fight properly, he needed fitting attire as well. With access to a near-infinite supply of mana, he could spare no expense on the cost of his projections. They were as close to perfect as Shirou could possibly make.
Archer immediately took note of the weapons and an odd expression crossed his face. "A man who speaks of compassion holding weapons he tore from still-warm hands of someone he personally killed? You have no right to speak."
Gritting his teeth in frustration, the boy readied his weapons. "If you have such a problem with my life, then you should end it right here."
Archer made a derisive noise before turning to face him fully. With a wisp of pure blue, the two married blades reappeared within his grasp. "You shouldn't be so anxious."
In the time it took for Shirou to blink, Archer was on top of him. Two blades raised, ready to cleave both arms from his body. Mana flooded Shirou's body, filling every muscle and porous space to the point of overloading.
The speed of reinforcement was beyond anything he could have accomplished on his own and the fact was that it scared him with the suddenness. Remembering he was drawing from Illya's mana supply, it became much more satisfying.
Using the unique crossguards to his advantage, Shirou deftly caught and twisted Archer's blades outwards free from harm's way. It surprised the servant greatly if his face was any indication, but Shirou was in for something much larger.
Memories of actions he had never committed streamed through his mind far faster than his brain could keep up. A tingling, as if the flesh had fallen asleep, climbed up from the hilts of each weapon and a painful stabbing headache struck behind his eyes.
I am the bone of my sword.
Haunting words from a man who lives despite dying. A man who existed as a spectre between planes of existence.
Steel is my body and fire is my blood.
Those words weren't his own. They were entirely different. Beyond the literal words, their tone and meaning was nothing of his own.
I have created over a thousand blades.
Were the pieces of his reality marble aligning? Would Archer provide the key pieces missing for a full activation? How could it work for him if the incantation was different? Would it work regardless? Something hot and dry blew upon the back of Shirou's neck and a distant clanging of forging steel drummed within his ears.
A crackle of struggling steel threw him back into reality. An enemy stood ahead, a false identity that needed to be removed. With both hands full and legs working to counter Archer's struggling arms, Shirou used the last weapon available to him, his skull.
The two rebounded from the impact, but neither seemed more damaged than the other. The weight on the boy's left sword faded with the blow but a sharp movement of crimson sent his instincts on fire. His head darted to one side to avoid a punch, but the motion upset the held blade in his other hand. Feeling Archer's weapon slip free, Shirou tried flicking it away while distancing himself. It worked somewhat, but he still received a small stinging nick upon the outside of his thigh.
Glancing down at the superfluous injury, Shirou made an angered noise and leapt back into combat.
The echoing noise of battling blades was endless. For each clang came a clash of not only swords but will and muscle as well. Shirou had battled enforcers, freelancers, magi, magical beasts and even an executioner though it was nothing compared to the battle he had entered against himself. Never before had a fight been so fast-paced, so intense for so long. Every strike he tried to land was countered and each of Archer's counters was either avoided or re-countered into an endless string of battle. Swords formed, broke and were reformed autonomously as the two threw all of their ability into murdering the other.
Unknown to death.
It was an absolute mirror match and neither of the two seemed able to breach the defences of the other to claim a dedicated blow. Archer would land a scratch, Shirou would pay it right back. Each contact if their weapons brought insight to memories that weren't his own. A life he had never lives burned itself into his mind and the circuitry within his body burned with an unfamiliar feeling.
Nor known to life.
He needed to be stronger, he had to gain an edge to defeat Archer. Only activating his incomplete reality marble would do such a thing. But after what happened the last time; was he prepared to even go that far? Something had permanently affected him in his battle against Berserker and while he wasn't entirely sure what it was, he could claim without a doubt that it was far from good.
Sparks turned to shards as a powerful overhand strike from Archer shattered both of Elizabeth's blades. Relying on his martial arts experience, Shirou tucked both arms tightly in front of his body to handle the blow of a side kick.
Skidding along the ground, another set of blades appeared in his grasp and the clatter of raging steel continued. They were one and the same. Both of them dual-wielded short swords, both of them goaded the other into attacking points they expected for easy defence and both knew exactly what the other was planning. It was a mirror match and the only way to find success was to surprise the other with something unexpected.
Have withstood pain to create many weapons.
How many lines were left of the incantation? How many more memories did he have to endure before his mind could focus on combat? The white blade made a strong stab toward his abdomen. With quick footing and faster contortions, Shirou allowed the blade to skim past his side before making a quick slash of his own at the outstretched arm.
Trying to withdraw, Archer caught the edge of the emerald blade upon the silver medallion near his wrist. The force tore the sleeve off but did little beyond that because it had torn the clothing.
Damnit, could none of his attacks break through? Was his incomplete reality marble the only way? Popping up onto his feet, Shirou readied his weapons and prepared others within his mind. Able to throw as much mana as he desired at his magecraft, everything flowed at a much faster speed. Four projectile blades were finalized and ready-to-fire in the time it would have taken to form a single.
Clashing and locking weapons with Archer, two swords spawned over Shirou's shoulders. With Archer's hands held up defending, he was unable to counter the incoming blades and was forced to dodge. Shoving himself away, the blades in his hands vanished as well.
A bow materialized in his grasp and the breath in Shirou's throat hitched. How had he not expected such an attack? He himself was more suited to ranged combat, it made sense that Archer would be skilled with using a bow. There was too much distance for Shirou to close before Archer would have a bow ready. If his own skill was anything to base anything off of, he had less than a half-second from bow-completion to firing. With time so short, his options were limited, focusing on defence was his only chance.
It was expensive and had he been using his own mana he would have decided on another path, but with his timeframe, it was the only option left. Shields formed within his mind. They were antiquated museum pieces and likely weren't anywhere near the level of a noble phantasm, but they would suffice against arrows - probably.
Tower, kite and heater shields all made of metal were recalled from Shirou's mental armoury. Melding each one to an amalgamation of thickened steel, Shirou slid his foot back for support and wrapped his hand around the handle of a tower shield that didn't fully exist.
As he closed his eyes and clenched his body to receive the brunt of the incoming attack, a large metal clang echoed through the air. An uncountable number followed. As if it were sustained machine-gun fire, the blows upon his shield didn't falter for a moment and with each passing moment, the condition of his projection deteriorated by several orders. He had to do something before it broke, otherwise he would be turned to swiss cheese.
Gritting his teeth and reinforcing his body beyond safe limits, his entire body strained to lift the amalgamated mass of solid steel he had made. Every muscle in his body quivered to hoist such an extreme mass but the boy willed himself to step forward through the attack.
With each step, the intensity of the arrows increased. Dents from repeated point strikes had begun to make their way through to Shirou's visible side but there was still so much distance to cover. Continuing the slow tumultuous march onward, the shards of his battered defence were ground into the dirt beneath his feet.
Yet, those hands will never hold anything.
The heat of so many impacts had worked its way through the steel. It had started to burn the arm strapped to the tower shield that supported all the weight, though he was unable to complain. The smell of hot steel and dust clouded Shirou's nose. If his reality marble was complete, if he could only activate it, it would have to give him the edge he needed to defeat Archer, it had to.
The arrows stopped abruptly and Shirou wondered if Archer had finally moved to attack directly. Before he could even look to confirm the thought, an ear-rending shriek of shredding metal echoed throughout the yard. A hot pain spawned at the edge of Shirou's stomach and a glance down revealed a gaping hole where a projectile had cut straight through.
He had been lucky enough that the arrow had only skimmed him, but if Archer had resorted to penetrating weapons, Shirou was close enough to make him worry. Dematerializing his defence, the boy equipped another pair of blades.
Rather than see Archer wielding blades, the servant still held onto his bow. "Foolish mistake," he claimed and the idiocy of Shirou's deeds struck at once. The two knew one another's tactics far better than any other opponent. In order to defeat the other, they had to consider how they themselves would think placed on the other end of the weapon but Archer had been far more efficient.
The arrow fired but Shirou couldn't even comprehend it due to the speed. Something struck his shoulder, but the resistance was so little he hardly noticed it at all until the pain struck. There was a soft noise of grass as the blade in his left arm fell to the ground and a large chunk of the same side went entirely numb in hot pain.
He was injured, down an arm, but he would live. If he could fight and survive for a few minutes, Avalon would restore the damage and return the limb to use. Sprinting forward despite the pain and his new disadvantage, Shirou put all of his strength into an overhead strike.
Archer couldn't form swords in time, instead, he decided to take on the attack with his bow alone. As expected, the bow didn't break or falter in the slightest. The unique composite from the future still transmitted memories as the swords had though, and the world Shirou inhabited faded away in a blur.
… … …
The fire crackled amidst the ruined buildings and rubble. So much had been destroyed that it was hard to think people had lived there moments ago. The wails and screams of the dead and dying swirled around with the noise of flame, a cacophony of pained suffering which sent the hairs on the back of his neck upright.
How many had died in the initial blast? How many would die trapped in the flames and rubble? How many orphans like him would be left to struggle through life without parents, without support?
Without a family.
There was a hand in the distance, reaching out to the sky in a desperate silent plea, begging for life. Shirou took a step forward to help, but a shape was already ahead of him. A man in black, a man he knew well. Like a signal had been crossed, the image before his eyes flickered and shifted in an instant.
There was no hand, there was no man, yet the destruction remained.
A woman screamed and Shirou span to face her. Covered in dust and small debris, her tattered clothes barely concealed numerous surface injuries. She was staring at him as if he were a demon prepared to slaughter her, and as he reached out a hand to ask what was wrong, she recoiled as if he were about to attack her.
As the woman scrambled to sprint away, Shirou wondered what he had done to cause such a reaction. Peering down at himself, he was greeted with the sight of blood in various states of age.
It wasn't his either, though whether that was for better or worse was up for debate. It explained the woman's reaction at least.
"There he is! The man who caused this!" A man's voice turned Shirou around again. He was in a similar state to the woman, but his eyes were packed with sheer rage.
Shirou pointed to himself. "I didn't do anything, why are you looking at me?"
"You bastard!" Another voice cried out. Looking toward the source, a woman struggling to support a larger man glared at him with even more hatred. "You cause this then deny being involved?"
"I haven't done anything!" Shirou defended, clueless as to what was going on.
The first man's voice barked back. "Liar! We all saw you use that weapon! You said it was the only option!"
The confusion depended further. What sort of weapon would cause such devastation as this? Was it the reason he was covered in blood? "Look at what you've done, how many lives you've taken and how many you've ruined!"
Slurs rained on him freely and as more and more people brought themselves from the rubble to the rancorous noise. With each person joining the crowd, more voices taunted him until it was the noise was a crowd-like roar.
A rock hit the side of his head and more soon followed. Before long, it was an onslaught of small debris. The rocks were annoying, not painful, but Shirou was more concerned with what they believed he had done. How could he have caused such destruction? Had he really done such a thing?
"Murderer!"
"You killed my family!"
"Villain!"
"Kill yourself!"
"Who do you think you are?"
The comments swirled around him but still, he couldn't determine why. A voice echoed out from within his skull rather than from around him. It was familiar, almost as if it were his own conscious speaking. "This is what you will have to face."
Narrowing his eyes and taking a large chunk of stone to the skull, Shirou asked a question to the voice within himself. "What are you talking about?"
"You still don't understand, do you? This is the life you are destined to live, this is your fate."
The words were confusing, what did the voice mean this was his fate? "For people to hate me?"
"To hate you for saving them," the voice corrected. "We are entirely different people, you are right in saying that much." Shirou felt relieved. The voice was from Archer, and he finally could see what Shirou had been saying. "However, you are an even worse existence." The reversal forced a gasp of shock from the boy. "You are a near carbon copy of the man you succeed, however, there is one exception. Kiritsugu Emiya believed lives were synonymous to weight upon scales. The heavier of the two sides was of greater importance, of greater value. Conversely, every iteration of Shirou Emiya I know has followed the ideal of the Hero of Justice, the ideal our father forced upon us due to his own inability."
"I know all of that," a rock rebounded off his cheek, leaving behind a small cut. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you are fundamentally different compared to each of us." The statement was like a slap in the face, hitting far harder than the rocks bouncing off his body. Archer claimed to know every version possible and the fragments of his memory Shirou could decipher, there was merit in his words. Could Shirou, the person he was, really be the only unique one out of an infinite number?
"How can that be possible?"
"You are the point between the two contrasting ideals. You hold a set of scales, but some lives weigh more than others, don't they?"
Shirou didn't even have to think about Archer's words to know what he meant. Illya, Rin, Kiritsugu; all of his friends and family mattered more to him than others. He was prepared to, and had, killed to protect them and he was ready to do it again whenever necessary.
"Precisely," Archer claimed as if reading his mind. "You do not wish to save everyone and your scales are unbalanced: One life does not weigh the same as another for you. It would be normal if you weren't prepared to kill everyone who threatened those upon one side of the scales."
Another rock collided with his face. Clenching his hands into fists, Shirou couldn't come up with an argument. He was right, he admitted it to himself but would he really admit it aloud?
"Regardless of the path you choose, you will always be viewed as an enemy: Following your father's example, the ten saved will always be furious about the one lost. Should you choose to save them all, all will be distant and upset with your own selflessness. Nobody can accept a man who considers his own life to be worthless, it is unnatural. With your own ideal… I don't believe I have to explain to you the outcome of that."
Something cold and sharp impacted his stomach and Shirou's attention flooded back from Archer's voice in his mind to what was transpiring around him. One of the people surrounding him, pelting him with rocks had grown enough courage to pick up a weapon, a weapon that was embedded in his own body.
It hurt, obviously, but it felt as if it were the only way out of this nightmare.
So as I pray.
… … …
"Unlimited Blade Works!"
The incantation was complete, but it wasn't Shirou commanding it. Somehow the two had put space between one another. How long had Shirou been trapped in that odd vision? A burst of flame spawned at Archer's feet before quickly spreading outward across the ground. Shirou worried about his feet but as it passed him, the boy found the flame produced no heat, but as it passed, clay remained. Was that all the reality marble did? Produce some harmless flame and turn the ground into clay?
A brilliant flash of blinding light bathed the area and a sudden violent wind nearly toppled Shirou over, but with a sudden shift of his weight, he remained on his feet. Still, he couldn't see a thing but it seemed as if the light were fading somewhat.
Closing his eyes to keep his retinas from burning out, Shirou re-opened them once the wind had died down only to find an entirely new world surrounding him. An entirely familiar world.
Sun-baked clay spanned across an infinite plane in every direction. Laden with innumerable foreign blades. A blast of oppressing uniform heat scorched his body from each direction and a stagnant lulling wind blew gritty particulate against his skin. Over every horizon a soft yellow light, almost as if it were the start of a sunset, bathed a sky full of misshapen, oddly textured clouds. The atmosphere was hardly the most surprising thing. Overhead were truly colossal, rusted iron gears that turned methodically with inching slowness.
It had all been familiar, but the gears were something new entirely. Searching for Archer, Shirou located the man where he expected him to already be - standing upon a mound of baked clay surrounded by blades.
As expected, the man glared down at him from his self-manufactured throne and the headache Shirou had been holding back returned at full force. He had been here, how many times had he stood in the exact place facing the exact same opponent?
It had been in his dreams, he could remember them all with perfect clarity now. The shadow he had been fighting for so long had been himself, had been Archer. The only problem was, in each of his dreams, he had always been the one who lost.
"You already know of this place, you already know of everything I could tell you due to our synergy. Just as you know me, I now know you and your existence is even more sickening than I could possibly believe." Archer slashed an open hand across his body with a face that couldn't hide his disgust.
If he had witnessed all of Archer's memories, Archer had seen all of his own. The two knew one another now, they knew the opponent they faced better than they knew themselves. There was no point in talking, their every flaw and reason of being was laid out as if written down. Searching his mind for a weapon, Shirou's eyes shot wide open.
There were just so many.
More than a million weapons lined his mental armoury and they were all neatly categorized in small easily understandable groupings. Only one section was left unorganized with contents he couldn't determine the use of; Noble Phantasms.
He could examine each of them and determine their uses based upon the weapon's history but such a thing took time, time he didn't have. Making note of his expanded armoury, Shirou projected two emerald blades into his hands and focused on Archer again.
"Then all we have left is to let our blades speak for us."
Archer smirked. "Maybe not exactly in the way you expected." Confused about the meaning, Shirou didn't have a chance to ask as more than a dozen blades appeared in the air over Archer's head. It was far more than Shirou could handle confidently and their speed of creation was stunning. In fact, it was practically instantaneous.
Maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew.
… … …
… … …
Rin pressed her forehead against the window of her room. From the angle, she could watch Illya stare at the former location of both boy and servant in blatant worry. Rin had witnessed the confrontation from the moment Shirou stepped outside but she had done absolutely nothing beyond spectating. She had fooled herself into thinking the best option was for them to speak to one another and work out their differences but the evidence was obviously against her.
"To think my master is a servant himself," Saber murmured from beside her. Upon first entering, Rin had thought Saber would kill her as a threat to her master or force her to stop Archer. Neither happened to be the case, she only wanted answers. Illya had witnessed the fight first and after realizing the two were the same person, she had informed Lancer to hold back who had then told Saber the same.
Obviously Rin hadn't been the only one to think that letting the two battle it out in their own way was the best option. "Imagine the shock I had summoning him," Rin responded absently.
Saber turned to face her, keeping one gloved hand resting upon the window sill. "You are his master, do you know the reason for Archer's animosity toward Shirou?"
Rin closed her eyes and wondered where to start. Maybe the best thing to do was start at the most difficult to swallow part of Archer's identity and work backwards. "Archer is a counter guardian." Waiting for a reaction, Saber didn't say a single thing. It was odd, she expected at least a gasp or something. "He also plans on killing Shirou for reasons I can only hypothesize. Perhaps he believes it will put an end to his very existence or maybe he has a grudge against his former self."
"Regardless of his actions, it will not affect his counter-guardian status. To be a servant is to be removed from time itself, the mould is already cast."
"I think he knows that already, but I don't think he cares. Maybe he's stopping himself from becoming the man he turned into?"
Saber produced a soft sigh. "I fail to see the reason why he would concern himself with such a trivial matter. If he truly desired to erase his own existence, wouldn't claiming the Grai-" Saber made a sharp noise as if in pain, closed her mouth and looked out of the window. Confused as to why she stopped herself, Rin questioned what was wrong only to get a stubborn shake of the head. "Nothing is wrong, I merely remembered something."
Unsure what that something was, Rin opened her mouth to ask but the servant continued. "I am uncertain how the flow of time operates within the bounds of a reality marble, but I assume we can expect their return shortly. My master's energy is fading quickly."
Without speaking another word, the servant turned from the window toward the door to leave. Saber was a very hard woman to read and her interactions so far had been clipped and cut short almost as if she was purposefully trying to keep anyone from gleaning anything about her personality.
Sighing as Saber closed the door behind her, Rin turned back to peer out of the window where she watched Lancer gently lay a gauntleted hand upon Illya's head. Another explosion echoed through the sky and quaked the manor. There had been so many of those in the past few hours, it was getting difficult to ignore. If her estimations were correct, they originated from the industrial area to the east at the docks.
Gritting her teeth, Rin wondered just how much damage was being caused. Something was wrong with the Grail War, and her suspicions started the other night after her fight against Bazett.
Rin had caused a massive amount of damage to the city with her attack and it had been far from subtle. The reports had hit the news the following morning but there was no attempt at repair or explanation. In fact, it had been left entirely up to interpretation. What was the overseer doing and why weren't they stepping in to explain things to the normal people?
Something wasn't right, but she couldn't go around flinging accusations anywhere until she was certain. If the explosions tonight weren't handled by tomorrow morning, she would need to have a chat with the overseer as Second Owner of Fuyuki.
With or without Archer at her side.
A muffled shouting broke Rin from her thoughts. Peering down, Rin watched Lancer support a limp Illya that was even paler than usual. Cursing, Rin quickly moved off the window toward her door.
How much mana was that idiot using?
… … …
… … …
Shirou couldn't even catch his breath. Archer didn't relent for a single moment. When the two were clashing blades head-to-head, the servant dominated him in every field. Speed, strength, ability all exceeded his own by a large magnitude. The only benefit Shirou had was his increased endurance thanks to Avalon, showcased by his already usable shoulder. At range, the speed of projection formation trumped anything Shirou could manage, even with limitless mana. The boy tried to keep up by increasing the overall number but Archer formed and fired weapons so much faster than he could manage. By the time Shirou finalized his projections, Archer's were already halfway to killing him. It was only because he could throw every ounce of mana at his creations carelessly that was letting him survive.
He was at his limit and it still wasn't enough. To make matters worse, it didn't even look like Archer was putting in half of his full strength. Was the servant just that much stronger than he was? But why when he has so much more of an advantage?
Archer had no magic crest, Archer lacked any formal training and hadn't been brought up as a pseudo-assassin under the Magus Killer so why was he so much greater than he was?
It was time to start using everything Archer couldn't. "Time Alter: Double Accel!" Spewing mana like a faulty fire hydrant, Shirou formed dozens of weapons while moving forward. The strain on his mind sent a stabbing pain through his skull but if he was going to defeat Archer, he had to do something unexpected.
Every step toward Archer sent searing pain coursing through his entire body. The servant was only just lifting his weapons to prepare for an attack, but his expression revealed how shaken he was from the increase in speed.
Blades formed over his shoulder, defeating Archer's already rapid projections in speed. Firing as soon as they were completed, machine-gun-like projectiles screamed through the hot sky toward their target.
Allowing Time Alter to fall apart, Shirou continued sprinting forward as the projectiles struck their target. The power behind their doubled speed broke apart the clay mound and threw up a cloud of grit that was difficult to see through. Still, the boy continued onward and raised two emerald blades to land the finishing blow.
"Overedge!" All of Shirou's instincts told him to jump away but there was no time to reverse his momentum. The best he could do was shift his blades to block his front. Something huge slashed through the cloud of dust, producing a hollow noise, the object collided with Shirou's blades and passed straight through with almost no resistance at all.
Dropping the remnants of his weapons, bending his body and throwing himself forward in a roll was the only thing he could do. Entering the cloud of dust, an oddly crystallized blade skimmed his abdomen and reopened the wound Archer had given him earlier. Flying through the cloud, Shirou hit the other side and tumbled down the hill back to the flat plain below.
Slowing to a kneel, Shirou touched his new injury and pulled back to find fresh blood. From what details Shirou could gather off the barest glimpse during its attack, 'overedge' was just a variation on Kanshou and Bakuya. Each blade was overloaded with more mana than the material could handle. Increasing the core components beyond any ordinary limit came at the cost of integrity and durability, but when each weapon was temporary to begin with, such a thing was superfluous.
So Archer had his own tricks just as he did, then. He was fighting a losing battle then. He had tricks, he had a greater arsenal and all the experience to use it perfectly and his projection speed was far greater than anything Shirou himself could manage.
But maybe he could even the playing field just a little, maybe along with Time Alter, that would be enough to beat Archer. "I am the bone of my sword."
The first line was familiar, natural. The second line had to be changed to match Archer's. It wasn't his own, but it was the only incantation that was completed. Standing and turning to face Archer, Shirou was forced to recreate blades on sheer reaction to protect himself. The servant was trying to stop him, but Shirou persisted. Countering the barrage with a delayed one of his own, Shirou was forced to use his own hands and projected blades to bat away incoming weapons. The third, fourth and fifth lines felt unnatural to speak and he certainly didn't feel any different, but the full marble only actualized after the last line.
"Do you truly believe you can defeat me with my own ability?" The voice was moving and Shirou only had a fraction of a second to lift his blades in defence before something collided with his body and sent him flying backwards.
Sliding on the ground, the shards of his weapons vanished into sparks of mana beside him. His body heaved in an exertion to capture oxygen as his diaphragm struggled to recover. Gasping, Shirou peered up to Archer as he projected a pair of his favoured blades. Metallic crystals bloomed near the hilt and both weapons elongated with odd crackling noises.
"Have withstood pain to create many weapons, yet, those hands will never hold anything." Pressing his fist into the clay below, Shirou lifted his body upright.
"You bastard!"
"So as I pray, Unlimited Blade Works!"
Shirou held his defiant expression for a moment, but nothing happened. Looking down, no flame bloomed at his feet, no change affected the reality marble itself. He didn't feel any different either.
What happened?
Why hadn't it worked?
With the odds against him how will he recover?
There's so much for Shirou to deal with, how will he cope with everything hitting all at once?
Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I don't have much to say here (as usual lol). remember to favourite, follow, review, wash your hands and stay safe!
