Braaaaainsss...

Not dead, yet. Like I told y'all before if I'm going to abandon this thing I will give you all proper warning before it happens! (Which it likely won't, I've come too far to give up now)

To be honest I can't make any more excuses about such a late update. Do I feel bad about hanging you all out to dry on such a cliffhanger? Well... Yes and no. I sorta like making you squirm if you haven't noticed. But I do feel bad about having to wait for so long, I'll try to be a touch faster but there's no real promising. I've come back home since school ended and my attention is split between DnD DMing (Which I've put 50k words into!), normal gaming, work and other stuffs.

Anywho, I appreciate all of the reviews you have left asking for more and commenting. Every review, no matter how big or small means so much and if I'm being totally transparent it was one of the largest driving forces into getting/guilting me to start forcing myself to write again and get this chapter done. The last chapter got a lot more reviews than the other recent ones so I'm pretty happy with that :)
Talndir is sorta AWOL again, which is unfortunate but the guy is busy and my sporadic, rapidly-becoming-unpredictable update times might just be too much for him. Even without his eyes on it, I figured it was high time that I got this chapter out to y'all.

ALSO, this is INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT: This fic finally got some custom cover art! Please go look for "SUIKAZURA ASAGO" and tell them how much you like their work, I know they'll appreciate it even though they weren't able to finish the art fully.

I did get this looked at by my other beta, BERIX, however, so make sure to give him a shoutout if you write a review! (Which you better do!)


It was a world of death and loneliness. The eye-straining sun above bathed oppressive, unending sunlight onto the ground below. Each ray felt nearly melting as it touched bare skin and the cells it touched began to perspire almost instantly.

The ground, wherever it was, crunched under each footfall but was impossible to be seen due to a dense layer of powdery ash like in the wake of a great wildfire or a volcanic eruption. At least two inches deep, even the slightest movement brought up a plume of soft ash. It was odd though, as it refused to cling to the skin almost like cold snow.

The world was so different from Archer's. There was no sense of pain, wisdom or regret. There was no solitary mound upon which the most treasured blades reside. There weren't even gears churning eternally against one another in the sky. Nothing more than a burning ball of flame dominated the sky.

It was barren, vacant and isolated with an odd sense of lingering hostility.

At least that was what Shirou felt himself, standing amidst the barren ash, peering toward the legion of Assassin copies. They were varied in all ways. Height, width, physique, hair and clothing. Some had human proportions and clothed themselves decently. Others were naked, but their bodies didn't hold anything that could make their nudity appear crude. Their entire bodies were impossible for human anatomy, and that twisted physiology was reflected in their twitching, jittery movements.

There were only three dozen of them if he counted generously, though he was certain his tracing in the cave had revealed more than that. What sort of tricks Assassin used was beyond him, but he was certain the number ahead of him was every version. He didn't entirely understand where that information came from, but it came to him regardless.

In fact, a plethora of information had been opened up to him and it felt like his mind was running on hyperdrive. Even though he was only tracing with his eyes, he could see the full blueprint of each and every individual Assassin as if he were touching them. Their respiratory rate, the flow of blood through veins beneath crystalline, magically reinforced skin and the molecular makeup of their entire beings. They might have been varied on the outside, but their insides remained near-identical spare one.

The large one at the front, the one which seemed to command the others, was the only version that had genuine organs Shirou could sense.

In the bitter light of the unyielding sun above, many of the Assassins cowed and sought shelter, though none existed in the flat, coverless plain.

Behind him, the rest of his friends looked on in awe; the ones who were conscious to do so at least. "This is-"

"A Reality Marble," Lancer finished for Saber, though he seemed equally as stunned.

"Tend to Rin and Gray, I'll handle Assassin." Shirou's orders were unwavering as he continued glaring at the perpetrators before him.

"Even with this power, you cannot expect to handle them on your own, it's impossible!" Saber protested, but Lancer was quick to assure and guide her into following his orders.

Assassin spoke from a short distance away. "The champion realizes his potential and quells the brewing storm. It was an outcome we hardly expected given history." The true Assassin took a step forward and outstretched both arms. "Though if you believe sunlight will be able to halt us, you believe wrong."

Their parameters had changed. Even as a master, Shirou could never get a very definitive read on Assassin but glimpses of the main leader gave him enough insight. They were nothing impressive, with an A in agility and their noble phantasm, their other stats were negligible.

In the sun of his Reality Marble, however, their abilities had been diminished. Their agility and endurance had degraded by a single letter rank and it was obvious they were discomforted.

Shirou refocused on the matter at hand. An enemy stood ahead of him with aims at killing everyone he wanted to protect. A voice, or an entire personality, seemed to speak on his behalf. "If you believe sunlight is the worst you'll receive here, you need to re-evaluate the situation."

His mind was racing. Moving, calculating and planning faster than he ever had before, a list of weapons and their blueprints instantly snapped to mind and formed within the air above his shoulders.

In the time it took to wave his hand passively, a hundred blades appeared above him with a truly pitiful amount of mana. It was unbelievable to think how much power he had within this world, but he wondered for a moment what it would inevitably cost him.

"Zabaniya-"

A blade practically exploded from its stuck place in the sky. In less than a blink, it pierced the face-mask of the Assassin that had begun speaking and dropped them dead to the floor as what formerly was their face became a large hole.

Some of the Assassin iterations turned to look but the original at the front maintained eye contact.

"We've re-evaluated. Have you ever heard of the story of the tortoise and the hare?"

"Are you supposed to be the tortoise?"

"That is still yet to be determined. Zabaniya-" a sword was launched but the servant shifted out the way. Doing so did little to stop the injury, however, as the blade stopped in mid-air, turned ninety degrees and embedded itself in the servant's side. "-Febrile Inspiration." Despite being stabbed, he was able to finish casting his noble phantasm. The sword jammed into the servant's body ejected itself with a sharp crackle and disappeared in the ash layer below.

A handful of the smaller Assassin's split from the group and darted forward, producing weapons from various places. "Shirou, not even Excalibur could cut through them while they were like that!"

Saber's warning from his side would have been helpful, but he had already accounted for their increased defences.

From the ground, like vines from soil, chains coiled around the feet and legs of the moving servants to hold them in place while weapons hovering above his head were fired. These stragglers from the pack raised their arms and tried to conceal vital parts, but the weapons Shirou had chosen were from, Archer's library. They were specific, high-ranking ones each with a penchant for piercing the hardest magic shell.

With a cacophonous shriek that was more like grinding metal than a sword in flesh, the Assassins made howling shrieks of pain before collapsing into the ash with weapons impaled through their skulls.

There were thirty remaining, but in a moment there would only be one.

Shirou moved both hands toward his front and the swords which hovered above him disappeared. The Assassins below stiffened and some shot forward, spreading out to attack.

It was too late. Though it had been too late from the moment Shirou had created swords in the ground earlier. That had been a test, a question posed to see how his new world worked. Now that he knew, he could repeat it on a larger scale.

"Zabani-"

Shirou lifted both hands sharply upward and a sea of weaponry burst forth from the ground, skewering, impaling, goring and crushing the Assassins in a mass of metal that instantly became a graveyard amidst the ashen land.

The scant few who survived were trapped between blades and each movement sank the weapons deeper in their bodies or wedged themselves deeper. Those who perished vanished in a cloud of inky black that wisped away into nothing.

The one who stood before his former army, the one with organs, had been pinned against the graveyard, with a sword jammed beneath the bottom of his mask where his mouth would be and another puncturing his chest.

The battle was over in a moment and he hadn't even started to dip into Illya's reserves. He was hot, boiling from the inside, but all that power had been something he could accomplish on his own power.

Letting out a steaming breath, the boy stared at the flickering orbs of flames in the last remaining Assassin. The servant's haunting, raspy voice began to speak but Shirou refused to listen. A thought jammed two blades forward, impaling the servant's skull and chest before any incessant ramblings could even be uttered.

As the main Assassin exploded into a cloud of inky black smog, the others struggling to disentangle themselves within the blade graveyard burst into smoke as well. All that remained was a field of weapons and the bloodshed by the impaled victims that had formerly been upon them.

With the threat gone, it became rapidly apparent that his body was struggling to breathe. Chest heaving, Shirou gripped at his heart as a full-body wave of pain washed over him. The only explanation was that he had used too much mana in too short a time, but a little pain wasn't going to slow him down any.

A voice edged with fear reached him from the side. "Shirou, is that still you?"

Turning, he locked onto a set of concerned emerald eyes locked onto a part of his face that wasn't his eyes.

Reaching up and touching his cheek, he scraped off a piece of sword flesh that had grown beneath his eye. Fluttering weightlessly to the ground, he could feel warm blood dripping down his face. It had never separated from him before, had he finally fixed his body by activating his marble fully?

Running a quick trace of his brain, he could see the sword flesh retreating slowly, leaving behind a semi-coherent mass that was being healed by Avalon.

"I think so?" He didn't rightly know himself. If sword flesh had been taking over parts of his brain, maybe the person he thought he was wasn't the same as the person he actually was.

"I'm just surprised he really did it," Lancer commented, grunting in pain as he lowered himself to Gray's level so he could tend to her.

"I had to," was all he could murmur in response. With the threat removed, Shirou could focus on the condition of his friends and comrades. It was clear to see that they were all in rough shape. Saber had a handful of blood-leaking cuts on her face and unarmoured arms, along with a dagger embedded in her shoulder which she was in the process of removing. Lancer had received a number of blows powerful enough to dent or even crack his armour, and, like his king, he had suffered a number of minor cuts to the face.

The two girls, Rin and Gray, were in the worst condition. Both of them had a great number of cuts, bites and scratches on their extremities as if they had been thrown into a hungry animal's pen. Before there had been too much blood for him to determine the extent of their injuries. However, in the world of his Reality Marble, he could tell each intricate detail and could judge the severity.

It was a huge relief to know for certain that nothing was permanently damaged and that they would all recover safely now. Standing in the heat of his own fabricated world, he took a step forward and all sense of balance left him.

In the time it took to blink, he was face-down in the ashen ground struggling to lift himself up. Hauling his head up, the sky seemed to shudder and crackle as if it were a poor TV broadcast.

After a clatter of metal and a shout of his name, a cold gauntleted hand landed on his shoulder to give him a rough, steadying shake. Gradually, the brightly-lit, ashen world behind Saber gave way to the darkened, damp cave. The world he created was falling apart and he wasn't certain whether it was because he lost the memory which created it or he couldn't keep up the trance itself.

He wasn't certain whether he was welcome for the cold embrace of the chilled underground air, or desperate to move back to that unbearably hot and lifeless plane.

In the quiet of the cavern, it was easy to hear Saber's voice dragging him back to reality. "Your eyes," Saber pointed out. "They've changed colour. They're silver, just like Archer's."

The comment made him think. The hair change, the eye change, the differences in their magic and how the colour of it had gradually changed over time. Had they all been markers of his gradual shift to Archer's method of casting?

"We should get moving," she interrupted again, grabbing hold of his shoulder to assist him in the journey. Standing upright, she moved to help Lancer with lifting Rin and Gray onto his shoulders. Shirou was about to question why he was carrying both when he was fit to walk until Saber gripped onto one of his arms.

It was only when she stabilized him that he realized he had been wobbling heavily like his legs were made of jello. Dragging him along, he was compelled to walk forward but he couldn't help but send a glance backwards in Sakura's direction. What was smarter? To go back and rescue her while he was still unable to fix the damage done by Zouken, or leave with the two injured girls he entered with to help them first.

Hauled away by the King of Knights, it wasn't as if he had a choice, but he honestly didn't know which option he would have picked had he been able to.

… … …

With the car backed up to the safehouse door, Kiritsugu exited and typed a code into the first gated door. With an electronic chirp, the locks disengaged. Before opening it, he also disarmed a magic trap that would have otherwise beheaded him. With those two annoyances out of the way, he opened the door and climbed down a worn stone staircase to the basement.

Another, much sturdier door lied at the far end of the hall but before that were three mechanical traps he would need to step around. Taking careful steps to the door, the Magus Killer input an eight-digit code on the nearby keypad and with a rough clank, the door popped open. Inside laid his entire armoury, with more weapons stockpiled than some private militaries.

It was difficult to prepare enough so that he was confident, but without knowing the enemy or the true situation he would be put up against, there was no way he could. The best he could do was prepare himself for a general situation, which meant he needed a little of everything. Triggering mechanisms, explosives, a short-range weapon and a long-range weapon. He could keep the bulky equipment in his car and move with the lighter gear on foot. What was important was having what he might need on hand and accessible.

Typically Maiya, now Missy, would have handled the set-up process. Handling it on his own, he realized just how foreign the movements seemed to be.

Or was it age? He was far older than he had been during his solo years. It was entirely possible the age-old enemy named time was finally getting to him.

Hauling a stuffed duffle bag and a rifle sling onto one shoulder, the man retraced his steps out of the armoury back to the car. Jamming everything into the trunk, he passed to the driver's side and stopped as he noticed something in the back.

There was an oddly misshapen blanket laying across the seat. He had told Missy to clean out the car entirely when they arrived at their second safe house and it wasn't like her to leave a request unfulfilled.

Opening the back door, the man took a firm grip of the blanket and yanked it upward, revealing a blatantly guilty little girl with regrettably familiar white hair.

Watching her lie motionless for a moment, he could only blink as she huffed out an upset, "darnit."

"What do you think you're doing here? I told you to stay back at the house where you would be safe." He couldn't believe his eyes. If she were here, she was in danger of not only absorbing the soul of a heroic spirit but being killed by a servant that detected her status as a master. Why would she put herself at such risk?

Sitting upright in the backseat, she offered an indignant pout; equal parts trying to appeal to his sense of paternity and assert her independence. "I'm Shirou's sister, and I should be able to protect him just as much as he tries to protect me. It's not right that I have to sit back and watch while he does all the work so I wanted to come back to Fuyuki and I knew-"

"Alright, alright!" The man held up both hands in defence, closed his eyes, and tried — but failed — to push away the thoughts of his little girl being hurt. Taking a deep breath, he levelled his emotions and reopened his eyes. "I'm not going to fight you. You're here and I have no time to drive you back even if I wanted to." Reaching into the car, the man hooked both arms under the girl's shoulders and pulled her out of the car into the alley. "Promise me you'll be careful, get to Lancer as soon as you can so he can protect you."

Was he really prepared to let her go off on her own? She was older than Shirou, but she wasn't anywhere near as powerful as he was. Her magic might have been impressive but she was never supposed to fight.

Landing a hand on top of her head, he offered the nearest facsimile to a smile he could manage. "Help Shirou when you find him, alright?"

Illya's face broke into a smile and Kiritsugu couldn't help but be reminded of Irisviel. Maybe it was time to stop thinking about her as his little girl and start thinking of her as a grown woman, appearances aside.

… … …

It had been a far longer walk to the entrance of the cave than Shirou would have thought. There wasn't much conversation between him or the two servants, they were all focused on merely escaping the hell they had been through and finding somewhere to lie down and rest.

All Shirou had done was follow Excalibur's radiance and think about what to do.

What to do about Sakura, what to tell Rin, what he would do to put an end to this War and if he even could, now that two servants had died.

Considering the stored energy of the last War, were two additional servants enough to form the Grail? Since Illya was away, who or what would be used as the vessel and where would it even materialize?

The cave entrance lied ahead, just a short distance ahead of a wider opening where the group collectively decided to rest before moving on.

It wasn't much brighter outside of the cave than the inside, but the moon definitely helped quite a bit. There were still remains of hail on the ground though an icy, drizzling rain was the only thing falling from the sky.

Resting most of his weight against one of the cave walls, Shirou tried to reason what the safest move would be. "Rin's manor is too large to defend with just two servants but going back home might leave us vulnerable, Luvia and Caren both know where I live," he thought aloud.

Testing his body, everything seemed to be working fine. He had felt weak after exiting his Reality Marble but it seemed to have passed. Even activating his circuits and making some weapon blueprints in his mind didn't seem to bother him. By all accounts, he was fit to fight if need be.

"I believe it would be best to go back to your home, Shirou. It's smaller and less fortified, but far easier to defend." Saber offered her input and Lancer agreed wordlessly. "We will make plans to deal with the remaining three servants then but only after we tend to the wounded."

Before they could step into the miserable weather, the noises of pain and uncomfortable shifting sounded from Lancer. Twisting his head, Shirou could see Rin moving and asking to be put down. Accepting her request, the man laid both girls against one of the walls and asked Rin how she felt.

"How do you think I'm feeling?" she shot back, doing her best not to move. Turning her head slowly to look at the others present, she let out a sigh of relief. "At least we all made it out alive." There was a pause, likely as she did a count of heads. "Did Archer go on ahead to secure the area?"

Shirou was expecting an awkward, damning silence but Lancer responded — almost too easily that, "Archer died while protecting you."

Even in the dark, Shirou could see Rin's features fall. A look at her own hand confirmed his words. "I see, so you two were never able to talk."

She spoke the last part with a strange sort of regret, but Shirou didn't understand it. He had gained all of Archer's memories regarding his life before becoming a servant. Each of their most intimate secrets was known by the other so what more could they speak about?

"Shirou protected us all with some sort of Reality Marble. He was the one to kill Assassin and it couldn't have been at a better time." Lancer's simplified recounting made Shirou seem far more heroic than he really was. Had he really saved them? Now that he thought about it, he couldn't really remember what he was thinking.

He had been a spectator in his own body before but summoning his Reality Marble hadn't been like that. At the same time, it wasn't as if he had consciously made rational decisions. He had been acting on a sort of guided instinct as if his body was working on its own with moments of guidance by someone else.

Rin's face dropped even further and the colour that had been in her face left immediately. It was as if a ghost had wandered right past her. "Shirou unlocked his Reality Marble?" She went quiet but blinked rapidly as if in deep thought.

Lancer noticed that his words caused the reaction and quickly asked what was wrong. Before he could get an answer, he and Saber both snapped their heads toward the outside of the cave.

Both servants stood and moved to defend the two masters, watching through the darkness as something approached. Shirou struggled to see what it was they were looking at even with reinforced eyes.

His ears were good enough to hear a single word uttered under Saber's breath though. "Berserker."

It was Shirou's turn to feel horrified. Why now? Why here of all places? They were at their weakest, most vulnerable state and the most dangerous servant in the entire war just so happened to stumble across them? Though maybe that was inaccurate. Berserker had always appeared for specific reasons. Servants fought, he was drawn. Perhaps the fighting in the caves had brought him out of hiding and led him straight to their location.

Eventually, the servant neared close enough that Shirou could see him and the ominous crimson blade held outward in one hand.

"I was starting to grow impatient waiting for the victor to leave this den but it seems to have finally paid off." The blade in his hand snapped forward and a second hand gripped beneath the first. "This will be trivial and after I'm finished with you, I'll slaughter the others and claim the Grail tonight."

Lancer, empty-handed from having to carry the two wounded people, looked toward Shirou expectantly. Reaching into his library of weapons, one fitting Lancer's specifications popped into mind and filled the space of the servant's extended hand.

He took a step forward to face the darkened foe, but Saber extended one hand without moving her eyes off the enemy to stop him short. "Perhaps Shirou is right, we may be strong but alone but we cannot fight a single foe together.

There was a moment of silence filled only with the patter of rain as she retightened her grasp on Excalibur. "Protect Shirou and the others, I'll deal with Berserker."

Saber stepped to the side and out of the mouth of the cave into the elements wordlessly. The rain which landed upon the sun-like surface of her weapon sizzled and snapped as the water instantly boiled on its surface.

Strangely, Shirou thought he could see little pinpricks of light forming around her feet and the ground behind Berserker. The two were wordless as they approached though it seemed as if neither disliked the silence.

Saber stopped out of Berserker's range and with a sharp motion, her weapon shot upright. Immediately, a blast of brilliant energy spewed from the tip and lit up even the cave as if it were in the middle of the day.

Even wearing a mask, Shirou could see Berserker's panic as he realized what was transpiring. Lifting his own blade, he couldn't even take a single step forward before Saber exclaimed the name of her holy sword and a blinding light enveloped the mouth of the cave.

The light and sound were blinding and deafening in that order. It was as if the sun had descended from the sky onto the ground and closing his eyes did nothing to stop the light from bleeding through. As quickly as it all appeared, it had vanished and Shirou was left staring at inky darkness while his eyes readjusted.

Only one thing stood out definitely in the darkness and it was anything but a good sign: Excalibur lied flat upon the ground rather than in the hands of Saber.

As his eyes acclimated to the darkness, he spotted a brightly glowing crimson blade stuck upright in the ground. Excalibur, still gleaming yellow, illuminated the form of Saber crawling upon the ground.

There was a gaping wound in her side which bled freely but the knight was still determined on trying to fight. One hand was being used in a vain attempt at staunching the flow of blood while the other dragged the rest of her body closer to her discarded weapon.

As for Berserker, he hadn't halted the holy blade without making a sacrifice. The metal armour on his right arm and a portion of his mask had been completely melted. Steaming liquid metal dripped off his body and sizzled on the ground but the man seemed unperturbed overall as he watched his opponent crawl.

Shirou was stunned stock still and all he could do was watch as his brain tried to rationalize how Saber could have lost while using her noble phantasm. Berserker had been caught off guard so what had he done that allowed him to stop such a powerful attack?

"What sort of knight would throw their weapon against Excalibur?"

Lancer's comment was the best explanation he would get but it had been a question in itself. Shirou's mind and body finally connected when Berserker took a step forward. In two steps, he stood upon Saber's outstretched hand, blocking her off from her weapon and eliciting a cry of pain from the servant.

Mind still searching for a weapon strong enough to battle such a monster, the boy's body lurched forward autonomously.

Saber had failed, even with her noble phantasm. Lancer had tried his hand at single combat but failed as well. Shirou had been the only one to drive Berserker away through fighting and he still couldn't remember a large portion of that entire night.

He would have to do it again, but he was outclassed in every sense of the word.

There was a weapon he had never tried, maybe it would be enough to distract or even injure the mad servant?

Berserker stepped off Saber's hand so he could move to collect his blade but Shirou was already on top of it, forming a weapon of his own in his mind. The servant snapped forward, likely planning on going through the boy to retrieve his blade.

If Shirou could take the servant by surprise, he would have an edge. The weapon in his mind was new, never seen or used and it required some extra magecraft to even make it effective.

Licks of silver and crimson formed within his hands. He hadn't made note of the name when he initially traced it, and at the time he had been too focused elsewhere, but its name flickered to mind as it actualized.

Riesensrm, the halberd formerly used by an Einzbern homunculus.

It was too heavy for human hands, so instead of trying to lift and swing it himself, he used magecraft to modify its velocity at two points, planning on using his body as an anchor and hoping, praying, that he could hold on.

Berserker was in striking range and the weapon finished forming. Gripping tight to the handle, every muscle in his body contracted in a fight to hold his ground. Slipping down the metal handle, he could feel the skin in his hands tearing away.

Berserker was fast enough to surmount a guard but it did little to dampen the impact especially when one hand was outstretched to try and grab Shirou. Slamming into the servant with a mighty clang, he was sent sprawling on the ground with a twisted arm for all his effort.

The halberd dissipated into blue sparks after it was used and the need for another weapon became apparent. For some reason, the married blades, Kanshou and Bakuya, leapt to the forefront of his mind though Shirou immediately passed them off. They were the blades of Archer, he had no connection to them. The emerald-green blades he used so often returned to him and within a moment they were gripped in each hand.

As if they did anything.

Berserker was the fastest servant he had encountered yet and by the time his weapons were ready, he had to use them to deflect an incoming blow that threatened to remove his left arm once again.

The pace of the resulting battle was explosive. Each action was only managed on reactions and instincts alone. Berserker was simply too fast to allow Shirou to think about what he was doing. Even the tiniest hesitation would get him killed because his instincts and reactions were just barely keeping him alive.

The boy could tell something had changed within himself. He felt more experienced like he knew what Berserker would do just from repetition.

It was a strange sensation, though not as strange as all of the minor cuts appearing on his body. He might have been able to avoid being cleaved in half, but Berserker was still far stronger and faster than Shirou was. Even deflecting blows sent hairline cracks throughout his swords' surface. After each blow, they needed to be replaced and the ground quickly became cluttered in scraps.

He was doing well, surprisingly well but he could feel his body straining to keep up with the break-neck pace. It was a war of attrition as Shirou's defence evenly matched Berserker's offence. Unfortunately, Shirou was definitely going to lose. He had great stamina but a servant could fight for as long as they desired without feeling the burn of fatigue, so long as they were supplied mana.

But when his stamina ran out, his mana could take over to give him some time to rest. Using Berserker's sword as a launchpad to move back, every weapon that he could access loaded up in his brain. Common weapons wouldn't do, they needed to be weapons powerful enough to make Berserker avoid them. Thankfully, Archer had also organized weapons by rank, so finding them was simple.

A searing pain coursed through his spine as the number rapidly climbed over a hundred in just over a second. He was surpassing all of his prior known limits and it seemed as if his body still had more to give. He briefly wondered if Archer had anything to do with it before focusing on the task at hand.

The array appeared over him, firing out haphazardly from various points at varying speeds to various destinations. The goal was to distract Berserker enough to give him a moment to breathe. His body steadily grew hotter as mana flowed from the link between him and Illya through his own circuits out into the world. Even keeping up that assault wouldn't give him much time.

His lungs were on fire and his body was close behind. Berserker was at range but he wouldn't be for long. It was perfect, the servant was right where Shirou needed him to be.

A bow he knew, but never used, leapt to the forefront of his mind. It had been Archer's weapon of choice and it had been specifically designed by the man to fire ammunition with extra heft at speeds beyond even normal Magus capability.

It was within his grasp in a blink and it felt far more natural than any bow he had ever wielded. Considering it was made by him for himself it hardly came as a surprise. Bow in hand he needed ammo to fire, something that would actually harm Berserker. Visions of a man firing a spiral sword that rent the very earth flickered in his brain but there wasn't enough time to properly release such a weapon.

All he needed was a blade that would not break to the extreme force and such a weapon lingered in his mind already.

The blueprint for Durandal, the peerless sword, was laid out before his eyes. It was supposedly indestructible, though the bow firing it was another story. After modifying the legendary blade to have a notch with a more streamlined design, he notched it within the bow and drew back with one fluid motion.

Continuing the barrage of weapons on Berserker, Shirou could watch the servant grow closer step-by-step. Lining up a shot, he could tell that Berserker was actively watching his every move despite the concentration it took to defend his fabricated barrage of weaponry.

It was a matter of predicting where or how Berserker would move in response to his arrow, but would Berserker even have the chance at all?

Archer had modified the velocity and direction of his weapons while they were moving both throughout his life and during their battle. Shirou had tried and failed to do the exact same before though the servant's memories revealed the cause. When he was a child, Rin had offered an attempt at guidance with Clock Tower projection magecraft books. Following those instructions had meant the weaving of mana within his projections differed on a structural level to Archer's.

His connection to his Reality Marble had tried to correct the problem unconsciously but he had always reverted to his ingrained method — even after unlocking his Reality Marble.

Restructuring his entire thought process, Durandal rewrote itself within the bow and a slip of the fingers let the string fly. The bow groaned under the weight as it launched the blade but it wasn't yet at the breaking point.

Adding velocity as it left the rest, the arrow broke the sound barrier with a loud snap.

The twitch of his left leg, Berserker would move left.

Shirou adjusted, accounting for the time between projectile and target along with Berserker's speed.

In a blink, the weapon collided with Berserker's mask dead center and released a ghastly screech. Watching his head and body recoil from the blow, the sword deflected off the hard metal and flew upwards into the sky.

Standing upright, the servant locked eyes with Shirou. Between his eyes laid a red-hot slice which threatened to split the headgear in two.

There was no time to think.

A nameless sword formed ahead of him and a string of words leapt to his tongue. "Time Alter-" gritting his teeth in preparation for what would come, the boy extended his fingertips to reach out to the pommel.

"-Triple Stagnate!" The mana and his stamina were drawn and his body felt as if he had suddenly been turned to lead. He collapsed, unable to even witness what had transpired, but a sickeningly snide remark told him all he needed to know.

"Have you finished with your pathetic tricks?"

Had he…

Missed?

… … …

She would need to be blind not to see and feel the power of that explosion. It had been a huge blast of light and heat outside of the city. Illya knew where Lancer was but the last time she had checked in with him, he had been fine, away from any potential danger and preparing to leave.

An earth-rumbling noble phantasm wasn't something she expected and the brief glimpse through Lancer's eyes confirmed that he was at the center of it.

She had started running when she first saw it, but it still took time to get close. Only one of those attacks had been made but whether that was good or bad was unknown. She couldn't waste time by trying to see through Lancer's eyes either. She was hoping that whatever they encountered had been dealt with.

The fact that there hadn't been more explosions was all she had to go off of, but Shirou's drain on her reserves was anything but reassuring. Forcing her way through the trees and brush directly rather than following the path, she came across her brother only not how she would have liked.

Saber and Shirou were lying on the ground, the former covered in blood and the latter with minor cuts. It seemed as if only Saber had been grievously wounded though the two struggled to even lift their upper halves off the ground all the same.

Lancer was all that stood between the force that practically crippled her brother and his servant. By the look on his face, he knew as well as anyone else that he was only delaying the inevitable.

Illya didn't know where to focus exactly but she couldn't take her eyes off Shirou. Gripping the handle of a green blade, he was still trying to stand up, still trying to protect everyone but himself.

Why was he such an idiot?

He always put himself below everyone, especially when it came to her. As soon as she was mentioned, he was standing ahead of her prepared to handle whatever might have come her way.

He protected her, even when he didn't need to and he had gotten himself hurt when the pain could have been avoided altogether.

It was her time to help now. He had never accepted it, but he couldn't refuse anymore.

Maybe she could pound it into that stubborn idiot's head that she wasn't a helpless doll he needed to protect.

Something with murderous intent — no doubt Berserker — was glaring directly at her, and she could see out of the corner of her eye that Lancer was also looking at her. Before he could speak through their connection, she was offering an order with a command seal.

Lancer had three noble phantasms, but he had only been able to use two. The third had been locked away, and it happened to be his trump card, the most powerful phantasm he had.

"I order you, Lancer, release Arondight and defeat Berserker!"

A rush of magic power flowed through her entire body and a wave of energy coursed through the very ground between master and servant. Striking the white knight, his body jerked upright and a look of surprised understanding crossed his face.

The blade he had been using was cast aside and both hands wrapped around an unseen handle. An inky black smoke spawned at his fingers, travelling quickly upward to form a gleaming, white sword with golden accents.

Fully realized, Berserker actually seemed hesitant. "Two dragonslayers, but which one of us is the strongest?" The weapon in Berserker's hand sizzled the rain and smoke actually trailed off from the tip.

Arondight, Excalibur's counterpart, could almost be heard humming above the rain. "I am a Knight of the Round and for both my king and master I will not lose to such a disgraced warrior!"

Illya blinked and she missed it all. By the time her eyes reopened there was a loud crash as metal met metal. Bright white sparks spewed from the clashing weapons as their conflicting alignments battled for supremacy but they were only locked for a moment.

The two battled with blades faster than Illya could comprehend. Even so, she could see that Berserker was taking steps backward, actively retreating.

Pushing herself forward, Illya stumbled partly as she exited the tree line on her way to Shirou. Gripping onto his arm to lift him upward, she couldn't help but notice the wounds on his body. Miraculously they were knitting themselves closed before her very eyes.

Mentally offering a silent thanks to Avalon for keeping her brother alive, Illya helped him stand all while he stared at her incredulously.

"Illya, what are you doing here? Don't you know how dangerous it is?"

Her own indomitable will and stubbornness appeared as she furrowed her brow. "I'm not some sort of useless doll. I can help just as much as Rin!"

Gritting his teeth in pain while he was assisted up into a half-standing position, he split his attention between Lancer and Illya herself. "But-"

"No buts," she defied with a shake of the head. "I'm tired of being behind you, I want to stand beside you so we can face things together." Mouth parted, the boy still seemed hesitant. "You always try to handle everything yourself when you don't have to. Just let someone else help you how they can for once!"

Telling him her true thoughts lifted a weight off her shoulders. It was incredibly relieving to finally let him know how she really felt and judging by the saddened look in his eyes, it had been enough to get through his thick skull.

The clashing of blades broke up his stammering attempts at apologizing; at least, that's what she believed he was trying to do. Rolling her eyes, she refrained from slapping him though she definitely wanted to. "We can worry about that later, let's just figure out a way to kill Berserker."

She had caught glimpses of the battle through her servant's eyes and it had been a war of attrition. For each scratch given, one was received. Something or someone needed to tip the balance. Sparing a glance sideways, she counted Saber out. She had only just recovered her weapon and was still in bad shape, using her blade as a crutch.

"We might be able to help with that." It was a man's voice that spoke, but one entirely unfamiliar. Even when she looked toward the source, she only recognized Rin, not the other woman beside her.

White hair with golden streaks, cold gray eyes and ash pale skin with a contrasting outfit of gray and black. Her face was eerily an identical copy to that of Saber's and for the briefest moment, Illya wondered how she had changed colour schemes so quickly.

Rin and the strange Saber-like woman, both obviously injured, limped out of the cave attached at the shoulder. They were leaning on one another, but it wasn't as if one was helping the other. Both were working at supporting one another and their combined strength and effort was just enough to hold both of them up.

Illya opened her mouth to ask who the strange gray woman was but the scythe in her hand, being used as a crutch much like Saber and her sword, spoke first.

"We'll need an opening, but it should be more than enough to get us out of here." The scythe continued to speak as they approached.

The sight of the two girls must have been enough to shake Shirou back into his right mind as a more composed look crossed his face. "What sort of opening did you need? What did you have in mind?"

"We have a contingency for times like these — where we're backed into a corner. The long and the short of it is that you need to keep him off us for fifteen seconds then get the hell away right afterwards." The scythe's voice had an obvious edge of concern in it. As it spoke, the weapon changed in her hands, shifting parts and panels of the blade to thicken the shaft.

Shirou scowled. "How can you expect to kill Berserker when Saber couldn't even do a thing with Excalibur?"

The scythe made one, short, brusque "heh" then dropped its tone. "I thought that old Lord said you'd bring about the end of the world if you so much as saw me. Guess he was wrong. Either way, you'll see soon enough."

While Shirou and the others spoke, Illya shut her eyes and connected to Lancer. Watching through his eyes, she noticed a clear difference in the battle compared to their last. Berserker seemed weaker and slower while Lancer was stronger and faster. On top of that, some of her servant's attacks were splitting the air at the tip, spewing blue energy from cuts which rapidly sealed shut.

"Lancer, will you be able to kill Berserker?"

The question was simple but weighted all the same. She could see in his hands that there was hesitation as he realized she was watching, but the immediate following strikes seemed filled with more force. "I can't break an order from my master, now can I?"

As he replied, Lancer's blade caught and redirected Berserker's, sending both of their weapon tips downward. Without missing a beat, Lancer moved one hand from his hilt to slam it straight into Berserker's face.

There was an audible crack she heard twice through both her and his ears as the mask on the servant's face fell apart to the ground. The man behind had bleached white hair on the sides of his head and purplish-gray hair on top, all of which was spiked impossibly sharp.

His eyes were a piercing azure blue but they were only that shade for a moment. Pupils dilated, sclera grew bloodshot and gray and the glowing colour of his eyes faded to appear dull and waxy.

Just as quickly as his appearance changed, everything about the servant's tactics did too. His weapon was discarded and a flurry of blows with gauntleted fists rained down on Lancer before he could even get his guard up. As soon as her servant was pressed back, Berserker reached backwards to collect his own sword by the blade, swinging it pommel-first and landing a crushing blow.

Opening her eyes to shake the sudden gripping panic, she gave her head a soft shake and tried to assure herself that Lancer would be fine.

Through her own eyes, she returned to Shirou helping Saber move toward the cave where she could sit against the wall. The servant was against the idea of sitting out and — despite the huge bleeding wound in her midsection — wanted to help.

Rin and the gray-haired girl were still working together to move closer to the noise of clashing blades. Before they could make it too far, Illya told them to wait. "Lancer can retreat and bring Berserker here. Just prepare whatever you need right here."

The order to her servant was made and Illya let the rest of her party know to prepare. Rin and her friend stood in place and whispered amongst one another, likely about what they were planning on doing.

Shirou, instead of finally taking a background role, was marching toward the two girls with a look of determination in his eyes. Leaping to action, Illya moved in front of him and splayed out both arms.

"Can't you just sit back and let other people handle things for once? They told you they'd handle it so just wait and see if they can before jumping in like an idiot."

Berating him once again seemed to finally be enough to get through as he stopped abruptly on the spot. His eyes flickered from her to the girls in uncertainty. "But—"

"No buts," she insisted with a warning finger. "If you need a reason, you're using my mana, so I get a say in how it's being used." Seeing on his face that her line wasn't all that convincing, she carried on. "If you keep jumping in front of everyone they'll never be able to stand up for themselves; you might not always be around for every situation so it's better if they fail and have you to fall back on. Then, you can help and they'll know their own limits for the next time when you aren't there."

She could actually see Shirou's mind churn as he absorbed her words. It wasn't that difficult of a premise to understand, was it? "But what if they fail and get hurt?"

Furrowing her brow, Illya stood her ground as the clashing of blades grew closer and closer. "Then you can help and they'll learn from their mistakes for next time. You care about them but that doesn't mean you have to shield them from everything."

A loud resonating clang broke their conversation short and whirled the girl around. Beyond the two standing against one another was the battered form of Lancer who was audibly huffing in exertion.

He was kneeling, but a sharp inhale sent him back on his feet with his sword at the ready. A voice reached the back of her mind. "Something has changed with him." Ominously, a deep crimson light grew from the trees ahead of Lancer. "I believe Berserker has finally gone berserk."

"Watch out!"

A pair of arms wrapped around her before she could even recognize what it was she was watching out for. Shutting her eyes and watching from Lancer, so much happened at once.

A wave of crimson energy burst from the trees, Lancer used his sword to slash into the air, opening up a gash of blue light that dwarfed the crimson in comparison. The two powers collided and an ear-ringing boom echoed over the trees as both energies fought for supremacy.

As quickly as it had begun, the clash ended and a flaming, charred landscape remained with Berserker at its center. Opening her eyes, the scent of burning flesh and hair stung at her nose. Returning to her own body, stinging pain in her arm elicited an involuntary hiss. Looking down, a bright red, already blistering spot had been scorched into her skin. It was only a minor area but it was still considerably painful and severe. The question was where it came from and if it had been Berserker's noble phantasm, why hadn't it hurt more of her body?

The realization that she had been guarded by Shirou came about when he moved away from her. Lifting his arms and body away, he asked if she was alright.

Peering up, she spotted the charred flesh of his back without even looking all that hard. Wisps of smoke stirred from his body though he only seemed concerned with her. He had taken the brunt of the heat and shielded her like a fool again.

Then again, she didn't have a relic with hyper-regenerative abilities and he did, so maybe it hadn't been that foolish. Portions of burnt flesh were already sloughing off to be replaced with new skin, making her wonder just how effective Avalon really was.

Wordless about her brother, she remembered that two other people had been present and a look in Rin's direction brought some relief. They had been spared from the heat though the same couldn't be said for Lancer. The heat had scorched large portions of his armour though he seemed to have avoided the worst of it because of it.

Still standing upright, Lancer struggled and shook to keep his weapon upright. Eventually, when the effort was too much, he allowed the blade and his body to collapse onto the ground.

"Damnit!" he cursed with unexpected venom. "I failed you, master."

His body became a fine powder blown away by a sudden spontaneous breeze. Panicking, the girl looked inward and found their connection safe and sound. He was alive, but he was too wounded to remain physical. Essentially, he had been driven into a restorative coma which was far better than him being dead.

Beyond Lancer's former position stood a genuine terror. Even with her magic senses dulled the unmistakable energy swirling around Berserker was enough to put all the other servants to shame. The crimson sword in his hand pulsed with dull light as if it had a heartbeat and crackles of power arced off its surface.

She felt terrified, she wanted to run. Looking at Shirou, all she could see on his face was determination. Even Rin and the other girl beside her hardly even stirred. Why weren't they scared? How could they even possibly think they stood a chance against something like that and what kept them from running away like she wanted to?

Maybe she wasn't cut out to stand beside Shirou. Maybe standing behind him would be the best choice and even then it would need to be from a safe distance. She could be present and supportive without being on the front lines, right?

The gray-haired woman shifted to take her weight off the staff she had been using. In a flurry of moving parts, the long stick recombined into a bulky lance. It was a long weapon that looked as if it was composed of interlocking, overlapping ribbons of pristine white. The ribbons covered the entire lance, splaying out of their weave at the base where they swirled almost as if they were conscious.

Saber's voice called out from behind. "Is that-"

"Gray, rave" the woman began chanting. From the ground and within the air, golden glimmers of energy appeared and swirled around her. Particles of light touched her skin and were absorbed while balls of light hovered around her. "Crave, deprave," the chant continued. Strangely, the voice coming from her sounded as if it was being harmonized with Saber herself. "Grave me," she continued with some hesitation. The golden energy around the gray woman seemed to be taking humanoid shapes and glimmers from over Illya's shoulder made her look back.

Saber herself was generating golden glimmers and particles were flowing from her body. Looking down in confusion momentarily, the servant seemed to rapidly realize what was transpiring.

The gray-haired woman carried on, voice speaking with conviction and commanding authority. "Seal thirteen, decision start; Bedivere, Palamedes, Mordred, Galahad, Gaheris, Gareth, Agravain, Kay, Tristan and Percival approved. Answer; Lancelot, Artoria." As each name was spoken, the golden glimmers took shape. Men of all sizes in various clothing and armour stood around the gray-haired woman, gazing upon her, Saber and the enemy ahead with judgemental eyes.

"Denied, humanity does not hinge on this battle." Saber's voice called out clearly, and a pulse of light within the golden figures seemed to acknowledge her.

The disembodied voice of Illya's servant echoed in the air and her own mind. "This battle will not harm any elementals, approved."

After finishing, a huge explosion of yellow light fired a beam of energy into the heavens. The rain that had been falling upon the area stopped instantly and the clouds above were split wide to reveal the bright moon above. The base of the light tower flared outwards to imitate the lance itself. The golden light swirled into a rapid spiral and bathed both Rin and the gray-haired woman.

As a new threat appeared, Berserker raised his own weapon and a spray of crimson energy spewed from the top as he prepared an attack of his own.

"Sacred lance, remove restraints!" The lance dipped from vertical to horizontal and the beam of energy went with it. Both Illya and Shirou were bathed in the warming golden light from the tail ends of the spiralling energy.

A pulse of energy struck Illya directly in the chest, drawing out a hitching breath as the vortex forced oxygen out of her lungs. The sheer amount of mana her eyes could see was ludicrous. Not only did it exceed her own mana reserves, it made hers look small. She was a homunculus, her reserves exceeded any known magus but still, she was miniature compared to the power within that weapon.

A growling voice shouted out from behind the golden light. "Bolverk-"

It was too late, whatever attack Berserker had in mind was cut off with Gray's cry of, "Rhongomyniad!"

An explosion erupted from the lance but it wasn't nearly as loud as Illya would have expected. What caught her off guard was the gigantic pillar of light that fired off directly in Berserker's direction.

The pillar was larger than anything she had ever seen, easily able to eclipse several people and it absolutely dwarfed the other noble phantasms she had witnessed. It enveloped and carried on well beyond just Berserker. Acting as a laser, it bored through trees, the ground and deeper into the mainland.

As destructive as it was, it was pointed toward the top of a hill which led into the sky. Taking the hilltop clean off, the beam split the clouds beyond and likely carried off into space. As suddenly as the pillar of light had appeared, it faded away leaving empty darkness in its wake.

Before the Rin and Gray laid a massive borehole which stretched on far beyond Berserker's former location. It seemed to cut and burn through everything in its path, even the dirt and stone.

Only the crackle of escaping moisture within the burning trees followed until Shirou murmured a soft, "she did it." As his words reached her, the girl realized that she would be absorbing the servant's energy at any moment. She was a homunculus, after all, the ideal vessel for the Holy Grail.

Strangely, she didn't feel anything out of the ordinary. Had it already happened? Did it somehow miss? How long did it take? She knew what was supposed to happen, but she didn't know how it did or how it would even feel. It wasn't every day a person absorbed the spirit of a dead heroic legend brought back to life to fight over a wish-granting cup.

After Illya's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see that the lance had since recombined into a long stick that was working to support Gray's body. Without Berserker, her mind could think clearly and she directed Shirou to come and help her with Rin and the other woman. Running over, the two each took a girl, supporting them so that they didn't have to support one another.

Interestingly enough, Gray appeared different from how she was just moments prior. The gray hair that was identical to Saber's except in colour was no longer even that. It lacked the lustre and depth of colour but it was definitely a pale blonde now.

Maybe her name would change to Yellow or Blondie.

While she was caught up watching Shirou and Gray, the full weight of a very specific Magus pressed down roughly upon her head. "Hey, watch it! You're not as light as you think you are Miss Two-Helpings."

An irritated grumble and further pressure on her skull followed. "Suck it up because ultimately this is your fault. If you had actually learned how to use magecraft instead of relying on your magic crest you would still be able to heal these bites."

Rin wasn't the only one who could make personal attacks. Speaking loud enough for him to hear, she shot back with "shut up and stop pushing on my head or I'll tell Shirou about that one time you went into his room and-"

"Don't you say another word, Einzbern!" The elbow bearing down on her head moved to a hand upon her shoulder.

A totally innocuous smile crept across her face as she offered a totally artificial thanks. Feeling the venom in her throat, she couldn't help but add fuel to the fire. "By the way, you could also stand to lose a few pounds. Shirou likes his girls lean, like Sakura."

She saw Shirou visibly flinch and redden as she mentioned the other girl's name but was uncertain as to why. Before she could even ask, Shirou looked toward Saber and asked how she was doing with her injury and if she was able to walk home unassisted.

The woman, expectedly stubborn, claimed that the wound had closed thanks to the constant flow of mana from Shirou and that she could walk but would be unable to fight.

In reality, it was actually Illya's flow of mana, but she was too exhausted to fight over who was powering who. Powering two servants and her brother, she didn't really feel like arguing anyway.

The walk back home was chilly and awkward. With everyone so worn down, the only goal in mind was slipping into a warm bed to sleep the night off. The clouds above continued their struggle to create snow, sending down sleet and freezing rain which frequently shifted in intensity. It only made an already drained return home that much more time and energy-consuming.

Halfway through, Saber tripped and collapsed to her knees on the street, prompting Shirou to help with supporting her as well as Gray. Another time, Illya would have laughed at the sight of Shirou sandwiched between two near-identical women but she didn't even have the energy for that.

Shirou didn't even use his arms to get through the doors to their home, electing to project the keys and manipulate the projections to both unlock and open them. She hadn't known he was capable of such a thing but he had always been full of surprises.

Within the Emiya home, each person was tended to and placed into their own room where the only word was spoken was a single solitary "goodnight," if even that much.

Settling to the ground beside Shirou's futon, the weight of her own body became rapidly apparent. She was never used to feeling an actual draw upon her mana reserves but the past week had actually strained her considerably.

It made her wonder how those with limited mana reserves — like Shirou or Kiritsugu — felt on a daily basis using magecraft as they did. Was the exhaustion just something they learned to live with? Maybe that was why they always looked so tired.

Slipping beneath the covers, her body started to fall on its own. By the time Illya's head hit the pillow, sleep had already overtaken her.

… … …

… … …

"You will understand your mission when faced with your adversary."

What a load of shit.

Kiritsugu had no idea what he was looking for or where to even start. It wasn't as if he could rightly ask Assassin either, considering the servant appeared and disappeared when they pleased.

Perhaps it had been an elaborate ploy to get him to leave his safehouse, to leave Illya in the care of Missy to make it easier for them to kill her.

There were a lot of problems with that hypothesis. Namely, why they would even bother with such a human tactic. A servant wouldn't be frightened of three measly humans, especially when two weren't even mages.

Even so, if that had been their plan, it had been foiled by Illya's own wanton desires. If he were an obstacle in their way to killing her, they had inadvertently brought her closer.

Since he was first ordered, the thoughts plagued his mind and they refused to leave regardless of how hard he tried concentrating on finding whatever it was he was supposed to handle.

The man looked away from the forest outside Ryuudou temple to the street below his perch upon a roof. The flashing and mana signatures had stopped, which meant whatever battle was taking place had ended.

Letting loose a deep sigh, he unconsciously patted at his left breast pocket to see if it had a packet of cigarettes. Reminding himself he didn't smoke, his hand moved away only to shift right back.

Something was there, tucked in the pocket that had been left unused for so many years. Darting beneath the folds, the man withdrew an entire packet of cigarettes, still wrapped in cellophane. On the face, which he had to flip over to find, was a sticky note holding neat cursive.

"Illya told me you quit many years ago, but I thought you might need these. Be crushed by stress or take on a bad habit. Not like someone in your profession is going to live long enough for it to be a detriment either."

Snorting at the tailing comment, the Magus Killer peeled the note off and examined the package as if it were some long-lost heirloom. His fingers flittered over the tab to peel the cellophane back and he half expected some nagging voice, his conscience, to advise against it and remind him about all the effort he made to stop for Illya.

But only the gentle patter of spitting rain reached out to him.

In a blink, his hand had already removed the plastic coating and opened the top half. Even from a distance, the enticing scent of tobacco hit his nose and reminded him of all the mental ease indulging would offer.

He hesitated while trying to slide out one of the cigarettes and before he could, a vibration from his coat interrupted him.

Stuffing everything back into his breast pocket, he retrieved the buzzing cellphone and spared a glance at the contact screen — Missy — to see who it was.

Flipping it open and bringing it to his ear, he spoke before she could. "Illya stowed away in my car, she wanted to return to Fuyuki so she could help Shirou."

There was a pause as the woman on the other end collected herself. "I see, so long as she is safe. How is Shirou doing?"

He shrugged despite being alone. "I haven't seen him," was all he could respond with. There was a lot he wanted to say, a lot he could have said but he didn't wish to acknowledge it. Either he was dead or alive, and considering the former would just make him anxious.

The silence on the line was awkward as neither of the two knew what to say. They had grown so used to discussing business that small talk had become an enigma. Eventually, Missy asked, "what would you like me to do?"

"I think it would be best if you stayed at that safe house for your own safety."

The objection was immediate. "I'm not sitting idle while all of you are in danger."

"There's nothing you can do here and there's no reason for you to throw your life away." Adjusting the phone against his head, something moving at the edge of his vision attracted his attention.

A dark shape was moving across the rooftops but nothing was supposed to be on the same level as him. Trying to find it while Missy's voice spoke emptily to the side of his head, the man eventually spotted the target.

A figure in black, blending into the night. They had taken to wearing a long draping coat complete with a hood and they were moving at a surprising pace. Murmuring, "I've got to go," into his phone, Kiritsugu snapped it shut, stuffed it away and chased after the strange figure.

Vaulting over the parapet of the building he was on, the Magus Killer landed on the roof of the next building with a thud that sent a painful ache through his knees. It hadn't been a far fall, a mere four feet, but his abused body was finally fighting back. Biting back a noise of pain, he shifted back to a run to catch up to the mysterious figure. There was a chance that the strange person was who Assassin had wanted dealt with.

Keeping a short distance back, the man followed the figure across rooftops, down into the street and through back alleys and crossroads. Taking wild turns, it was as if they knew they were being tracked and were deliberately trying to lead Kiritsugu off their tail.

Even so, Kiritsugu knew Fuyuki all too well and it was because of that simple experience that he could keep up. After a few minutes, the residency grew more industrial and commercial. They were getting close to the south end of Miyama, near the Tohsaka manor.

It was at that exact spot that the figure stopped crouched at the edge of an alley.

They were a scout though for who wasn't known. Shirou had given the identities of all the masters in the War and none of them matched the description or techniques of this individual.

The Magus Killer reached into his coat and wrapped one hand around the grip of his Contender to draw it from its holster. Keeping the hammer uncocked for now, Kiritsugu carefully moved closer.

Even once he was within six feet, he couldn't see any identifying features, though he had to admit their taste in clothing was similar.

Levelling the pistol at the target's head, the click of cocking the hammer was all it took to send them twisting back to meet face-to-face.

It wasn't just Shirou who had all the bad luck it seemed.

Ahead of him was a strikingly similar face, his own, but it was different all the same.

The eyes were more sunken and hollow, the skin pale and deathly with the start of wrinkles. The hair had changed into a dull, lacklustre silver; a shade which extended to the rest of his facial hair.

It wasn't as if the premise was impossible. In fact, with all he had seen, it had been strangely common. In the Fourth War he had fought his own son as an enemy servant. At least, it had been a version of his son. Considering his lifelong, miserable luck, it was practically guaranteed that something as bizarre and unfortunate as a Magus Killer servant existed. Maybe the servant version of Shirou had come about again to fight in the Fifth War somehow, though the boy couldn't inherit Kiritsugu's poor luck so such a thing was unlikely.

In any sense, a face was just a face. People had similar faces, some even had near-identical features but that didn't mean they were the same person. Plenty of examples existed of clone-like people existing on the planet.

What squashed that thought was the gun in his hand. A Thompson Contender, though this one had been painted flat black to hide the minor reflections off the brushed steel. It was the trademark weapon of the Magus Killer, no two ways about it.

"What sort of sick joke is this?"

It was his own voice, but Kiritsugu hadn't spoken at all. Narrowing his eyes, the Magus Killer retightened his grasp on his weapon. "I'd like to ask the same thing."

The fake took the time to examine him head to toe before speaking. "Doesn't seem like the punchline is coming any time soon." Slowly, the copy stood upright, keeping his own weapon prepared.

After enough of an awkward pause to make even the most confident of socialites cower, Kiritsugu decided to speak. "Introductions don't seem necessary. Mind telling me what it is you're doing?"

The copy narrowed their eyes so the dark colour could grow another shade darker. "I think it's obvious neither one of us is going to tell the other our intentions."

"I'm here to kill a target," Kiritsugu responded without missing a beat.

The copy seemed taken aback. "Guess we have the same goal then. Assuming we're after the same person, we might be able to get it done easier together." Dark eyes narrowed into an apprehensive, almost accusatory glare. "Working with a partner isn't something I do, but I could make an exception this time for myself." An open hand slipped forward from his side.

The entire situation was strange. Not only was there a copy of himself, the only reasonable explanation for why they even existed was that they were a servant. Such a thought made everything all that much more convoluted. Assassin was already a known variable and if Kiritsugu were a servant, that was undoubtedly the classification he would fall into.

So what had happened? What did he do now?

If the copy ahead of him was indeed a servant; then a gun, even the Contender, was no more powerful than a toothpick. He was totally at their mercy in all reality which meant his life was hinged on a handshake.

If he denied the servant, he would likely be viewed as an enemy and killed. If he accepted the partnership, he might have been able to walk away but there was no telling what the servant would want of him.

Considering the odds, the decision was easy.

Extending his hand, Kiritsugu gripped his counterpart's gloved hand and shook once. "I've always wondered how effective I would be if there were two of me," the copy murmured before breaking contact.

There were many questions Kiritsugu wanted to ask, but many of them would incite suspicion. If he learned anything with Caster during the Fourth War, the servant and the person they came from were entirely different but similar entities. It seemed as if servants came about at significant points in a person's life.

He needed to discover which part of his life the servant had copied, which path they had followed and where that path ended. "What do you know about the target you're after?"

It was a harmless question with no chance of rousing suspicion. The plan worked as the imitation looked forward and nodded his head toward the Tohsaka manor. "Not much, unfortunately. I've been tracking what little leads I could but I'm unfamiliar with the city and I didn't have the luxury of time to prepare."

Kiritsugu offered a hum of shared frustration, trying his best to appear sympathetic. Without a doubt, this imitation was the problem Assassin had sent him to deal with. The only person capable of killing himself was himself after all, but would being a servant change things?

The gun in his hand felt uneasy. Would a bullet even do anything? Would an Origin Round even affect a servant or be enough to kill them? There were too many risks, too many variables which could go wrong, He needed more time to prepare and analyze.

He needed to understand himself more than he already did. Specifically, how the part of himself that became a servant planned out assassinations.

"Might be waiting a long time before anyone comes around," Kiritsugu spoke with careful wording.

The imitation made a small noise. "Only way to go about it until I know more, you should know that better than anyone." The imitation sent back one suspicious glance in Kiritsugu's direction.

It had been a blunder, but a small one at least. How long had it been that he had forgotten such crucial components of his own life? He would never move on a target without knowing each and every intimate detail possible, why would he expect his imitation to?

Speaking of not moving on a target, he needed to pull back immediately. He had already made a mistake and, thankfully, it hadn't cost him his life. He needed to sit back and reevaluate what he knew and what he would need to do. "We can cover more ground if we separate. How can I contact you?"

The imitation shuffled, reached into a pocket and withdrew a cellphone. Tossing it in Kiritsugu's direction, he explained that "the only contact in there will reach me."

It was a simple cell phone, the cheapest on the market. Kiritsugu understood its purpose immediately. The question was, if his imitation had a need for a detonator already, where had he set up explosives?

Offering a brief nod, Kiritsugu stuffed the device in one of his own pockets and turned away. With each step he half expected a bullet to lodge itself in the back of his skull. When it didn't, he considered himself lucky before starting to digest what the hell was even going on.

He was going to need a lot more coffee.

… … …

… … …

It was very seldom that Shirou slept past eight in the morning. He was typically up and about around five or six either training or preparing breakfast. Not even extreme exhaustion or injuries managed to keep him down.

After last night, however, eight came and went and he only stirred from his bed at eleven. Despite the late hour of waking, the house was quiet and even Illya was still fast asleep.

Carefully moving out of his futon so as not to disturb his sister, Shirou gathered a fresh pair of clothes and shuffled dreamily to the bathroom. It was strange for him to feel so tired despite sleeping so long but he had never activated and sustained a Reality Marble before.

While bathing he took a moment to reflect and allow the stress of the past week to ebb away. Things were looking up and after all of their hardships, it finally seemed as if their end goal was in sight.

Three servants had been eliminated in a single day, leaving four left. Two were under his control and the other two were nothing compared to Berserker. It was a giant leap toward ending the Grail War, but he still had plenty of loose ends to tie up.

Bazett, Luvia, Zouken, Sakura and the Grail itself. It would be best to start with the easiest task and slowly move on one task at a time but with everyone injured or exhausted, spending a day to rest and recover was the best decision.

Once everyone was ready to move, he could go after Caren. He needed her to help with Sakura and since Berserker was out of the way she was easily accessible. With Caren in tow, they could purge the crest worms from Sakura. Then, both girls could follow him to the Matou manor and exorcise Zouken or Saber could blow him away with her sword.

It sounded easy and basic in his mind, but nothing was ever so simple in reality, Kiritsugu and life itself had taught him that much.

Stepping out of the shower, the boy peered into his own eyes within the mirror. Eyes unblinking, he watched for a long while just to certify that the reflection he was looking at was indeed the person he really was.

How much had he changed? The damage done to his brain by the spread of sword-flesh was permanent, he knew that much but how had it affected him? Did his personality change? Did his senses change? Maybe an internal part of his own consciousness had changed and he wouldn't even be able to detect the difference. As far as he knew, he could remember everything important, but how would he know if he had forgotten something if it had been wiped away?

Lifting a hand to his cheek, he rubbed and then pinched the skin just to feel the sensation. He could feel the calluses on his fingers and the pain of the pinch, but what did that really prove beyond the fact that he wasn't in a dream?

It was annoying and stressful to think about. Maybe it was best to ignore the issue until it became something he couldn't ignore. Hopefully, if it got to that point, he would know what the consequences were.

The thoughts of his own brain were washed away with a cycle of deep breathing. The image of a falling hammer contacting a firing pin leapt to mind and a rapid warmth crept from the center of his back outwards through his entire body. A thrum of energy coursed through his veins, seemingly stronger than ever as if every circuit was aligned and working together at peak efficiency.

Regardless of how often he saw it, the fact that his crest had grown to such a size was always impressive to him. It was larger than Rin's, whose crest took up both forearms, though she could still best him in the sheer quality of her circuits.

Shutting his eyes and examining his magic circuits from the inside, he immediately noticed just how streamlined they appeared. Activating his Reality Marble seemed to have done more than reversed the effects of sword-flesh. It had adjusted his body on the inside and unlocked abilities he never had before.

Projecting a kitchen knife in the air ahead of him, the boy constantly manipulated its velocity to keep it suspended within the air. He had never been able to manipulate speeds of fully actualized weapons before and it was undoubtedly the greatest upgrade.

With little more than a thought and a flick of the eyes, the knife shot toward the bathroom door only to stop instantly before contact with the same amount of effort. Opening his hand, the blade shot straight back into his grip where it faded away into blue sparks.

The possibilities such a trait offered were limitless. Why would he even need to use his arms if he could simply have weapons do all of the work for him?

He would need to conduct more research on his own in the near future, but that would be after the Grail War.

Shirou shut off his circuits, dried himself and threw on fresh clothes before walking out into the hall. He was happy to be home at the very least as it meant quite a few things. For starters, he could sleep in a familiar futon. The Tohsaka manor had comfortable beds but he wasn't used to sleeping in something so soft and plush. Tatami was stiff, but yielding where it needed to be and the base of the futon amplified the effect.

Continuing on, being home meant he could cook his own meals. He had been eating quick and cheap meals for the past couple days and it had started to wear on him.

Stepping into the kitchen, Shirou momentarily noted how vacant the house seemed. Typically Kiritsugu was up around when he walked into the kitchen after his training either watching the news or drinking coffee. Passing it off, the boy stepped into the kitchen and took stock of his ingredients while recipes flitted through his mind.

The only way he was going to be able to cook for six, accounting for their appetites, would be to make a multitude of smaller dishes because he simply couldn't make enough of a single one.

Taking and adorning his apron, he paused to crack his knuckles. He was about to commit a serious culinary undertaking by trying to cook so many individual dishes at once.

Cooking typically relieved his stress but when there was so much to watch, stir and keep from burning it actually strained him more. At the end, around twelve-thirty, all of the stress ebbed away and a soft grin of accomplishment befell his face.

With the food ready, he only needed guests to eat. Turning around he found the dining room bare, another strange sight. Humming to himself, the boy removed his apron and rehung it upon its wall hook. Taking a step toward the hall, the sound of running footsteps and a familiar melody, his cellphone, reached him.

Holding back from the doorway, Illya slid into view with an outstretched hand holding the device.

Hurriedly taking it and answering the call, an Irish voice greeted him with, "hey there, kiddo."

Blinking once, Shirou furrowed his brow. "Bazett? What do you want?" What possible reason would an enemy master have to call him on his personal cellphone other than to try throwing him off? Bazett wouldn't resort to such an arrogant tactic. She knew it wouldn't work on him anyway.

"I've been thinking about our conversation at the bar, you know the one." He wasn't certain, but she sounded uncomfortable. It wasn't something he would have expected from Bazett of all people. "Anyway, I've reconsidered and I think we should have another chat."

He was silent for a moment as his brain tried to comprehend what his ears were telling him. The last time he spoke to her, she had been entirely against the idea of an alliance and had no interest in listening to what he had to say about the Grail War. Was it a trap or was she genuinely concerned and willing to cooperate? "Alright, where did you want to meet?"

"We aren't supposed to fight in the day, so sometime before the sun goes down. Maybe at your house." She paused just long enough for her next comment to seem innocuous. "It's lunchtime right now, isn't it?"

Shirou picked up on the not-so-subtle implication and frowned. "You just want lunch."

"No, no, not at all!" She paused for an uncomfortable amount of time. When she resumed, her voice was much softer. "Though you will be making lunch, right?"

Rolling his eyes, the boy leaned against the nearby wall, looking down at Illya who was staring up at him with questions in her eyes. "I might, but how do I know this isn't some plot you have with Luvia to kill me?"

"I can't keep up a partnership with some rich snob from the Clock Tower. Besides, I know where you live and haven't tried yet, isn't that enough?"

"I guess if you're willing to walk into a master's home when he has two servants you either have a plan or you know he won't kill you outright." His voice held more ice than he had really wanted, but it seemed to get the message across regardless.

"I had options then but I've got nothing now. I can see the direction this War is going and it doesn't look like I'm going to be on top." Bazett paused and a soft shuffling noise came through the phone. "Maybe you're right, maybe this whole thing needs to get shut down and just maybe I'll be willing to listen to what you have to say this time." It was hard to say, but Shirou could almost hear fear in Bazett's typically stalwart, unmoving tone.

It was strange. He didn't feel anything. Not sympathy for her situation, anger at her past stubbornness or a desire to work together. He felt empty as if she was just another bump in the road he needed to drive around or over. "Well then maybe you can show up in an hour or two and talk. If that's all you needed, I have other things to do."

Wrapping up the conversation, the boy snapped the phone closed and summarized the conversation to Illya who looked at him as if he was a stranger. "You invited an enemy master here? Have you lost your mind?"

"I know, it's stupid but she seemed desperate and this could be an opportunity to get her out of the way."

Illya deadpan stared back at him. "Didn't anyone ever tell you about the safety mechanism of the Grail?"

"Safety mechanism?"

She nodded. "I don't know if it will still activate with three servants dead, but if too many masters of the Grail War work together, a mechanism within is triggered. An additional number of servants are summoned and new masters are selected to fight in a Greater Grail War."

Shirou furrowed his brow. "You didn't think to tell me this earlier?"

She shrugged partly. "Well, I didn't really think you would be able to rally all of the masters together. At best I thought you would get Rin and Sakura but those are the only two who aren't masters now."

But those girls only accounted for two servants. "What about Caren?"

It was Illya's turn to furrow her brow and look confused. "What about Caren?"

"She was Berserker's master, we can get her to help."

"Did you forget she was the overseer of the War? She is supposed to be a neutral party. Though, she was also a master, so that hardly means much anymore." The girl brought a hand beneath her chin in thought. "Ultimately the decision would be up to her, but what can a priest help with?"

The boy reminded himself that lunch was getting colder the longer they spoke. Pushing off the wall, he took a step past her into the hall. "She was able to restrain Berserker with a scarf. There's a lot more to her than either of us really picked up on. Help me go gather the others and we can talk around the table."

Sending Illya off one way, Shirou knocked on the doors of everyone on his side of the house. Within a few minutes, all were gathered in the dining room and lunch was being served.

Shirou thought the best course of action was to go over Bazett before she arrived. Before he could do that, he needed to fill Illya in. He didn't spend much time, but he let her know that Assassin and Archer had also died along with Berserker, Luvia and Bazett were working together, Reines had brought Gray with her to investigate him only to die, and that he had been given new abilities by some sort of magecraft connection with Archer.

With her relatively caught up to speed on what needed to be done and what had been done, he moved on to Bazett and their potential alliance. The moment he did, however, Rin nearly lunged at him over the table. It was only because she was injured that she didn't successfully bite his head off. "That Irish gorilla almost killed me and you want to invite her here?" Being partially restrained by Illya, the Tohsaka continued. "She sicked Caster on Archer because she thought he was you. I don't know what else to tell you but it's obvious she doesn't want to make friends."

Saber, looking much better since last night, chimed in from her seated position while taking bites of food. "I can understand Rin's concern, but if this Bazett is willing to enter an enemy master's domain while he is in control of two servants she must have something of importance to discuss." Saber practically mimicking Shirou's own thoughts wasn't all that surprising. She had thought it through logically just as he did.

The echoing, ghastly voice of Lancer contributed to the conversation. "I can understand putting up a strong face but I would like to remind everyone that I am still unable to return to physical form. In terms of fighting force, we have my liege, Shirou and Gray, all of which are capable of handling a single servant alone."

"And if she brings Luvia and there's two?" Rin asked, settling back into her seat with a noise of pain.

"I'll activate my reality marble," Shirou stated directly.

Illya turned to look at him in bewilderment. "You have access to a reality marble?"

Ignoring the homunculus, Gray added in her own diminutive voice, "Using Rhongomyniad is out of the question, I refuse to use it again. I can still fight, but it won't be near the same level as it was last night."

A muffled, cackling laugh from within her coat chimed in. "Looks like she's grown a little backbone, making her own decisions for once!"

Saber nodded and closed both eyes. "So long as Shirou continues supplying enough mana, Excalibur should be more than enough for a caster-class servant." Finishing her statement, she took a bite of a sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

Illya struggled to wedge into the conversation again. "He's using my mana and why didn't anyone tell me about his reality marble? Did he get Archer's help?"

Shirou had yet to take a single piece of food, waiting for everyone to settle and help themselves before moving. "If we can convince Bazett to help us shut down the Grail War, it's another problem we don't have to deal with and another asset to our side. The greatest unknown is Caster himself, we don't know how he will react. The only concern is whether our alliance will activate the Greater Grail War."

Rin shook her head. "That can't happen, not with our current circumstances. At minimum, the Grail requires a complete set of servants to summon counterparts of. Either all three of the knight classes must be alive or all three of the cavalry classes. Berserker falls into a gray zone between the two."

Illya slammed both hands on the table, rattling the plates and gathering the attention of everyone within the room. After a few seconds of agitated staring, she opened her mouth and the doorbell rang before she could speak.

Moving to answer while the girl shouted angry questions, Shirou slid open the front door to two people. He wasn't entirely worried about being instantly murdered considering the bells which caught killing intent hadn't chimed, but he was ready for it in case.

Bazett offered a short greeting which Caster, who was standing behind her, mimicked. As soon as the former smelt the aroma of brunch within, a glimmer sparkled within her rapidly glazed eyes.

He wasn't certain, but he thought he saw drool form at the edges of her mouth. "No point standing in the cold, are you going to come in?"

Snapping to reality, the Enforcer nearly slobbered on him as she pushed into the building. Stepping past, Caster scratched the back of his head. "I was pretty drunk the last time we spoke. No hard feelings, right?"

Their conversation in the bar had been less than hospitable but it wasn't unjustified. He had approached them in the night as an enemy master unprompted, he had been lucky he wasn't attacked on sight or cursed by Caster. Shirou was still partly upset about the fireball to the back though. Responding with a brief shrug, Bazett interrupted by asking if the food was ready.

Were his culinary skills the only reason he was valued? Passing off the question, Shirou tried to get Bazett preemptively started on the topic at hand as he walked to the dining room. "Were you really serious about wanting to end the Grail War?"

Her voice was quiet as if she didn't want to admit the fact aloud. "Well, I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. It's the only option I've got left like I said." He would have asked what she meant, but he already knew, at least somewhat. If she was finally willing to speak with him about creating an alliance then her alliance with Luvia was either holding by threads or outright not working for her anymore.

Stepping into the dining room, Bazett faced the cold glare of three separate people. Illya, Saber and Rin, who had the most piercing gaze of all. The Tohsaka only said "McRemitz" as a blunt greeting.

The Irish woman hardly seemed phased. "I get the feeling some people don't want me here." She paused to stare directly at Rin for a moment "But I was invited and there's food on the table so I don't really care." She took a step past Shirou into the room but abruptly stopped as her eyes landed on Gray. "Wait a minute-"

"Reines is dead," Shirou answered the unspoken question. Moving out of the doorway and back to his seat, he explained partly, "Assassin forced me to choose and she was the only reasonable option." It was a half-truth, but good enough to go undetected.

The woman snorted and moved to take a seat herself. "Well shit, that might shake things up. From what I know, she was a pretty big player in the Clock Tower families. There might be a power struggle unless that kid Lord El-Melloi can pull up his socks." The Irish woman wasted no time in collecting a set of utensils so she could begin filling her plate. "But we have other things to talk about right now."

"Like how you can walk in here surrounded by enemies and act as if we're all good friends." Rin's murmured comment went unresponded to.

Shirou could see things were being derailed. "Let's take things one at a time, we need to focus on one topic at a time."

Rin agreed. "Besides, Gray has already informed the Clock Tower of the situation, so the Mage's Association isn't likely to come knocking."

He didn't really know when she would have done such a thing but Rin was always keen on handling the logistics, so she probably had it handled. "As I was saying, we should finalize your decision, Bazett. Are you willing to work with us to dismantle the Holy Grail War?"

Bazett narrowed her eyes and spoke between large bites of a sandwich. "I'm going to need more information than that, kiddo. Why are you so hell-bent on destroying it when you could just cast a wish with it? Why not just wish for it to go away?"

"He can't, the Grail wouldn't allow that sort of wish." Shirou turned to Rin, who had a look in her eye that told him she was about to go on a rant. "I've been doing some investigating into the Grail with Kiritaugu's help. According to him, it's been corrupted by a servant which was summoned in the Third War known as Avenger."

Caster's head recoiled at the name. "Avenger? That's not a servant class."

"Not a traditional one, no, but there are many non-standard servant classes." the girl continued. "Avenger was the Einzbern family's attempt at cheating in the Third War. The details aren't very specific, but they manipulated the summoning process somehow to reach beyond the normal pool of servants. From what Kiritsugu knows, Avenger's true name was Angra Manyu, but they weren't the Zoroastrian god from which the name originates."

Illya interrupted momentarily by putting a finger to her lips and murmuring, "where have I heard that name before?"

Rin carried on as if nothing happened. "To make a long history lesson short, a normal human was selected from a village and cursed to live indefinitely while the villagers tortured and cast their sins onto him."

"What was the point?" Bazett asked.

"By casting all their evils onto a single person, the others were spared — or so the theory was. Either way, the person selected became the carrier of All the World's Evil. I'm not entirely sure how, but this person was able to become a heroic spirit.

Illya made a clucking noise with her tongue. "It's so familiar, but why?"

Bazett asked a question while Caster experimentally tasted a forkful of eggs with furikake. "So how does a single servant being summoned corrupt the whole damn thing?"

Shirou spoke this time. "It doesn't, the Grail was corrupted once Avenger died."

Tohsaka picked up right where he left off. "Avenger had an ability which activated after his death. From the inside, he managed to corrupt the entire system with the evil stored within his body. The consciousness within was overwritten with Avenger and the Holy Grail became nothing more than a monkey's paw focused on exterminating humanity."

Bazett and Caster both swallowed a mouthful of the food they had been gorging themselves on while Rin spoke. Nearly choking, Bazett cleared her throat and spoke absently, "certainly a convincing story."

Shirou felt a slight twitch of anger. "Were you even listening?"

"Not gonna lie," Caster began. "The food was really messing with my ears. I sorta phased out after the corrupt Grail thing but I'm game to work with you if I get more of this stuff."

Shirou shut his eyes and popped a miniature quiche into his mouth. He didn't remember Bazett being this gluttonous or foolish but maybe he hadn't been paying that much attention. "So your allegiance lies with your stomach?"

Saber offered wise words of wisdom. "An army marches on its stomach, Shirou."

Snapping his eyes open. "Oh come on, that's not even a quote you made!"

"The little lass is right, you know. The greatest motivator is a good meal." Caster's comment on her size rewarded him with a scornful glare from the little lass in question. "All in all, I was never interested in winning the Grail anyway, especially not in my current body." To accent the fact, he grabbed a handful of the blue robes draping his form and let them drop limply. "Can't even have a decent fight."

"Silence, spearless one." Focusing on Shirou, Bazett narrowed her eyes. "I was never very good at math, but there's still six servants left since you probably killed Assassin-"

"There's four left, actually," Illya corrected as she lifted seven fingers and began lowering them one at a time. "Assassin killed Archer, Shirou killed Assassin and then Gray killed Berserker."

Caster and Bazett both turned to look at the Saber-look-alike — who was trying to sink into the floor from the attention — with pale faces. In tandem, the two exclaimed bewilderment over the fact that "she killed that monster?"

"I think she's the strongest one at this table," Rin murmured under her breath.

Caster lamented. "There was only one servant killed by another servant? What the hell is going on with this War?"

"It's certainly full of surprises," Shirou admitted. "The Grail has stored energy from the Fourth War along with three servants. It's going to choose a location to materialize soon and you can either work with me or stand in my way."

Bazett refocused on him and the two locked eyes for quite a time before she spoke. "You've changed, kid. That glimmer in your eye is gone; you actually meant it when you said something as cold as that." A part of him felt disgusted with himself. What had he done to elicit that response? "If my options are either stand against whatever you've become- might become, or watch others try then it's pretty obvious that I'll take a spectator seat."

"Well, then it seems like the rest of the War is going to be easy." A challenging grin spread across Caster's face.

Shirou offered a brief nod as he finally began picking at the remains of food upon the table. "In terms of combat, sure, but we still have problems which need solving. First off, we need to locate where the Grail will spawn. Secondly, we need to deal with Zouken Matou. Lastly, we have to figure out how to actually dismantle the Grail War for good."

Rin had been looking at him strangely since the second goal was mentioned. "Why do we need to kill the Matou head?"

"He was one of the original creators of the Holy Grail War. Even if we manage to shut it down, so long as he is alive there is a chance he could remake the system or stop us."

Bazett appreciated him. "I've heard that name a couple of times before. He's that old bastard Kiritsugu had a run-in with. The caretaker of that girl with the purple hair."

"Sakura, that's right," Shirou agreed. "We need to deal with her before we can go after Zouken."

Rin's confusion only grew greater and it was only when she spoke that Shirou realized he hadn't told her about Sakura's condition. "What does she have to do with Zouken? You aren't planning on killing her, are you?"

The fact Rin considered that he would be insulting enough. "Of course not! Zouken and Sakura are connected, we just need to separate them. I can tell you about it later but what's important to know is that we can't kill Zouken without first handling Sakura which is why we need Caren."

"You have a plan to do all of this then?" Saber asked.

Shirou tilted his head from side to side. "Something like that. Zouken isn't exactly someone you can plan for though, so we'll just have to play it by ear once we start."

The sound of a sliding door was just barely audible in the dining room but both he and Illya were trained to hear it easily. Shirou could barely even stand up to greet whoever it was before they stood within the dining room's doorway.

Shirou was confused, for more than a couple of reasons. "Kiritsugu?"

There was no humour in his eyes, no smile on his face. He was grim, dark and blunt in his Magus Killer state. "Good news and bad news." He panned the room, noted Gray and Bazett but did nothing more. "Good news, I'm here to help you survive. Bad news, I'm also a servant and I'm going to kill all of you."


After all the stress the last chapters have put you under, I wanted to give you some time to relax - but not too much.

I think this chapter was so difficult to write for me because none of it was really planned. In terms of what I have planned and what I don't, this one was the farthest in the depths of "I dunno what to do." I've got lots of stuff mentally prepped in the future, but this was hard to write well enough that I thought it felt good.

I hope you enjoyed my return to the land of the living: here's hoping I'll be able to get my writing brain in geat and get more to y'all.

Remember to favourite, follow and leave a review, all of them help guilt me into writing more, hah!