Shirou took the precious few seconds between Berserker initiating his sprint and his imminent crash into Shirou's lines to try to come up with a plan. He saw Rin frozen to the spot, Arthur moving forward to intercept the long-haired man, and Archer...just standing in place?
We're being attacked by what I'm going to assume is the physically strongest servant in this competition, and he's just standing there?! Shirou mentally screamed, releasing his stress in an instant. He twisted his head to keep the enemy in his sight while looking at his allies.
"Rin, go after Illyasviel!" he shouted, Rin staring at him for a second before she nodded and focused on the enemy magus. "Non-lethally!" he added after a quarter-second's pause.
"Archer, get on a building and do the same," he directed, though it seemed that Archer either didn't hear him or, more likely, ignored him entirely.
"Arthur, we'll try to stop Berserker together while Rin and hopefully Archer take out Illyasviel," Shirou transmitted.
"Understood, though I strongly encourage you to assist Archer and his master while I hold Berserker off on my lonesome," Arthur replied, his gauntlet glowing green.
When the light faded, it revealed a sword shaped almost like a shortened trident, though the length of the blade was sharp instead of rounded. The blade itself shined a pale green from some inner light, its bright glow darkening at the tips of the two excess prongs. It looked non-metallic, as though cut directly from emerald rather than forged. Its hilt was patterned after a viper's scales, overlapping plates of iron giving the impression of a melanistic adder's hide. Its short pommel was shaped in the form of a snake's head, the iron facsimile enhanced by twin rubies slotted where a living snake would have eyes. Wyneidraich, sword of Sir Caradoc Short-Arm, Shirou's mind supplied, so named for–
Shirou winced, ignoring the pain in his head as he muttered "trace on," reinforcing his body. His eyesight sharpened as his reaction time halved, and he leapt backwards to Arthur's location. He thought for a second, and the same inscribed blade he'd used to prove his superior projection came into his hands, the meager knowledge of its 10th century wielder jumping to his mind.
"Not a chance, Arthur," Shirou responded mentally, "What kind of hero would I be if I abandoned my closest ally against my enemies? I'm sure he's strong, but there's no way that he's–"
Shirou stopped thinking as he bit down a scream. He felt a reinforced rib crack as Berserker bodychecked him to the ground, the huge man focused entirely on Arthur.
The magus steadied himself, risking a glance to the side. Rin was peppering Illyasviel with curses, though the smaller girl had formed bird-like constructs out of her hair and was using them to block Rin's gandr shots.
Archer was nowhere to be seen, though a glint of reflected moonlight on top of one of the houses showed Shirou that he was likely covering his master, a suspicion confirmed by a sudden spray of arrows in Illya's direction. The distraction worked, Illyasviel taking a hit from a curse when she moved one of her two hair-constructs to defend herself from the arrow storm. She grimaced and formed a third construct in the form of a sword, sending it at the location from which the arrows originated.
Berserker had engaged with Arthur in the time it had taken for Shirou to stand, and was raining blows on the king with his sword, Arthur parrying at speeds well-past inhuman. The dance of blades would have mesmerized a normal person, but Shirou was anything but.
Shirou dashed towards the battle, ducking under the swing Berserker sent his way. Shirou used his reinforced muscles to dodge, knowing that parrying would be fruitless. He swiped at Berserker's legs, leaping from side to side to prevent the far stronger warrior from landing a hit, but a moment's hesitation cost him, a backhand sending him flying straight towards Rin and Illyasviel's duel.
He groaned but leapt back to his feet, dodging an arrow and a curse while parrying an incoming hair-sword as he ran back towards Arthur's duel.
The two servants had locked their blades and the sound of grinding stone filled the air, flakes of green falling from Wyneidraich as the overwhelming strength of its opponent dug deep into its emerald blade.
Arthur broke the stalemate and ducked, slashing at Berkerser's legs. The huge man jumped the slash and aimed his short fall, seeking to stab Arthur's sword arm through his steel armor using his strength and the minor downward momentum of his leap. Arthur recovered in time, twisting his body so that the bigger man's sword slid past his armor, screeching across but not penetrating.
"You are quite good," said Illyasviel's servant, his words tinged in an accent Shirou didn't know, his eyes narrowed. His suit was littered with small cuts, though he did not sport any wounds.
"You as well," replied Arthur, his armor similarly scratched.
The two disengaged, Shirou taking the minor pause to throw his sword at Illya's servant's back. The man swatted the weapon away, but the slight distraction was the intent, Arthur landing a strike on the bigger man's sword arm in the tenth of a second between the man's reaction and recovery.
Berserker grimaced and shook his arm, but looked no worse for wear. "A fine strategy, but my strength cannot be taken from me so easily," he said, a small smile now on his face.
Arthur remained silent as Shirou hissed "trace on," forming two thin daggers. The magus threw both of them at Berserker's feet, then formed two more, repeating the process. Berserker didn't remain idle, jumping not towards Arthur but towards Shirou, who barely dodged, a line of red appearing across his chest. Berserker raised his sword again, but was forced to dodge by Arthur, who thrust his sword towards the larger man.
A white glow and a diverting strike from the servant of the blade showed that Arthur had swapped weapons, this time using a silver rapier with glowing white runes along its length, a second set dark beneath them. Its hilt was stylized to resemble a fish, the protective portion thereof inscribed with Latin words that Shirou could not read. Pysguread, sword of Sir Perceval, he thought to himself. Incarnating the holiness of the Fisher–
Not now! Shirou thought, his brain's short lockup costing him a gash on his left arm courtesy of Berserker, whose gaze hit the magus' command seals, the huge man smirking in response.
"Oh? Are you the master of the knight?" he asked Shirou, casually deflecting a thrust towards his left shoulder from Arthur, wincing in pain when a mirror of the attack hit his right.
Shirou had an idea. Leaping backwards to avoid being sliced in half, he spoke. "No, I'm the master of the servant about to kill your master, actually."
The man's eyes widened as he ever so slightly turned his gaze to the battle going on behind him, opening his guard for a fraction of a second. Rin was currently on the defensive, shooting finn shots at the bird creatures pestering her, while Archer was jumping back and forth between roofs, slicing off strands of hair from the two swords following him as he passed by.
Arthur seized the opening, thrusting his sword to the hilt in Berserker's shoulder, a similar wound appearing on the opposite side of the larger man's body.
Berserker whirled around and Arthur gripped his blade to retain control, thereby tearing through the muscle in both of the larger man's shoulders. To Shirou's surprise, the wounds didn't seem to even bother the servant, vanishing entirely in a second. Distracted, Shirou failed to notice the swing coming his way, and he fell to the ground again, clutching his left shoulder, a follow-up strike from Berserker's sword not tearing it open only because Shirou had twisted himself to be hit by the flat of the blade in place of its edge.
"Divine weaponry won't hurt me, either," said the man, speaking to Arthur but focusing on Shirou, who desperately projected the longsword he'd used earlier, the blade shattering as Shirou narrowly deflected the downwards strike from Berserker. Shirou rolled away from the man, projecting a wooden sword and slamming it against the Berserker's leg. It shattered instantly, but the minor flinch from the man gave Arthur time to swap his blade and strike.
Arthur growled and his gauntlet glowed grey, a mostly plain iron broadsword with a stone hilt, its blade speckled with black, appearing in his hands – Treildfigen, the humbling blade, sword of Sir Kay – and swung upwards in the same motion. Berserker's back was nicked by the blade, his attention focused on Shirou, though his supernatural reflexes allowed him to dodge the worst of the strike. The wound seemed to deepen as the magus watched, though he didn't get the chance to do so for long, Berserker stabbing his sword directly between the boy's legs and withdrawing it in one fluid motion, the street below cracked by the force of the blow.
Berserker staggered for a second as the wound on his back bled freely, but turned and hurled the sword in his hands at Arthur, the motion catching the king off guard and forcing him to just barely dodge. The escape with not without price, however, and his left vambrace and the skin beneath were torn to pieces.
The staggered king was off guard, which was exactly Berserker's intention. He grabbed Shirou by the arm and threw him directly at Arthur, the latter's instinctive reaction only barely stopped before splitting his master in half. He dropped the sword, caught and dropped Shirou, and turned to ward off Berserker, another blade already formed in his hand to combat the onrushing but unarmed man. This one was preceded by his gauntlet glowing yellow, signaling the disappearance of Kay's sword by the appearance of another, the newly present tri-bladed weapon not even heeded by the onrushing servant. It was shaped similar to a normal longsword, though its hilt was covered in yellow pelt ringed with brown fur, mimicking the mane of a lion. Its blades were placed in parallel, each a speckled grey color, and Shirou knew its name to be Maircllewr, blade of Sir Ywain, the Lion's companion, who–
He yelled in pain, unheeded by both his servant and that opposing, and shook slightly, his spine burning. He grit his teeth and rose, summoning his favored longsword once more and reinforcing its blade as best he could. Berserker was engaged in a furious game of cat and mouse with Arthur, dodging the king's swings and retaliating with punches, denting Arthur's once pristine armor.
Arthur took a blow and used the momentum to spin, slashing at Berserker, who grinned, the blades passing straight through his body, as if not present at all. "Lions are no threat to me," Berserker remarked, his tone triumphant. Arthur's surprise cost him, his left arm nearly wrenched out of its socket by Berserker, forcing the servant to drop his sword.
Shirou struck then, his triply densified blade stabbed into the wound caused by Treildfigen. Berserker gave a cry of agony and spun. The movement wrenched Shirou sideways, his sword lost, but caused Berserker to drop Arthur in the process.
"You really are quite annoying, you know that?" Berserker said, kicking Arthur's currently kneeling body away and baring down on Shirou. The magus' eyes widened, his servant out of the fray for a precious few seconds. The huge man wrenched the nearest streetlamp out of the ground as Shirou caught his breath, both of their gazes flashing to Rin shooting curses like bullets at Illyasviel, Rin's servant keeping all four of Illyasviel's hair constructs at bay with ease.
"Your servant seems a bit too dangerous to leave with my master, so I'm going to have to get rid of you. I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry," said the man, thrusting the streetlamp downwards as though it were a lance. Shirou desperately sought a way out of the situation, barely projecting a dagger in time to nudge the lamp through his shoulder in place of his heart. He gasped as the pain hit him, barely retaining consciousness, and Berserker prepared for another strike.
I've gotta do this, he thought, or I'm dead.
He flipped a mental switch and focused hard on the contours of Kay's sword, from the speckled black on the blade to the stone pommel, hoping against hope that he could replicate the event of hours prior. He visualized it as time slowed for him, the sword appearing in his mind. He saw the intricate runes carved into each inch of the black on the blade – Obsidian, Shirou realized, understanding at once their purpose. He felt the blade settle in his hands, the life and history of Sir Kay following. He saw a boy grow up in the court of Sir Ector, a man wrench a sword from stone, and a king lead a charge towards the men of Rome. He felt the life, the power, and the unquestioned loyalty of Kay flow into him, and shouted, his twinned voice distracting even the three participants in the other battle.
"Trace on!"
In his hands was Treildfigen, its outline traced in black fire. The runes in obsidian were glittering, and its stone hilt glowed white.
"Shirou!" shouted Arthur over their mental connection. "Are you..." Arthur's mouth dropped open and he halted his charge towards Berserker, the king noticing the shift in his master.
"I'll take it from here, Arthur," replied something that was both Shirou and another, as he slashed the telephone pole in half, stunning Berserker, who leapt away from the followup slash aimed at his unarmored chest. He stared at Shirou uncertainly, before a grin took over his features.
"Well, isn't that interesting! I see that I'll have to get serious," the man exclaimed, grabbing the two pieces of pole and holding them as though they were clubs, his posture and stance shifting to perfectly accommodate the new weaponry.
Shirou stood then, holding the two-handed sword in a tight grip, the hole in his shoulder healing rapidly. He motioned Berserker forward with his sword, the servant gladly leaping to just out of Shirou's extended reach. Arthur finally reached Shirou and stood next to him, his hands back to normal and the invisible Excalibur in his grip. The servant and master nodded to one another and charged, but all three stopped when Illyasviel shouted, still engaged in dodging Rin's gandr barrage and now fighting Archer with seven swords. Her skin lit up in bright red, tracing out an extensive pattern of magic circuits along her body.
"Berserker, I command you to kill them both. Use your mad enhancement!", yelled the girl, obviously impatient and angered. She gave a shriek as she conjured another bird to block a finn shot aimed directly at her face, the construct falling to bits within seconds.
On the other side of the street, Berserker stiffened and began to snarl, his features twisting in an animalistic manner.
"Master, this is incredibly dangerous. I highly suggest that we retreat as best we can," Arthur transmitted urgently.
"No, my liege, we shall stand and fight," said Shirou, who didn't notice the mode of address used.
They had no more time to speak, however, as Berserker began to rush them. However, before he took more than 2 steps forward, he screamed something in a language neither king nor knight understood and wrenched one eye out of his head. His now bloodied hand fell to his side as a torrent of blood burst from the empty socket, but when he stood and faced his opponents again, he showed signs of sentience.
"I refuse to be commanded against my will," said the calmed Berserker. "I spoke to Illya about not doing this, but it seems she either forgot or refused to listen."
The man gave a sigh and looked at his suit, torn to absolute pieces by the fight. "I have no desire to fight anymore tonight, and I believe I should go and stop my master from doing something incredibly stupid."
He nodded towards Arthur and Shirou, who let the sword fade from his hands and dropped to his knees, coughing blood. Arthur was instantly beside him, wrapping his left arm around his master, heedless of the pain he underwent to do so.
"Shirou, are you okay?" asked the king, obviously concerned.
Shirou coughed again before nodding, spent both physically and mentally.
The duo turned their gazes to the other side of the street, where Illyasviel was futilely resisting her servant's attempt at grabbing her. Rin and Archer just watched, obviously amused. Both looked almost untouched, Rin sporting only a few tears in her red turtleneck and Archer entirely unhurt.
"Il–" Shirou coughed, stumbling slightly, but gave another attempt to form words. "Illyasviel!"
The girl in question heard him and glared in his direction.
"I'll kill you some other time, brother. My servant is apparently refusing to be one." Her attempt at a growl was more adorable than scary, but Shirou nevertheless felt the weight of her disdain.
He pressed on regardless.
"Why do you hate me so much?" he asked.
"Because my father completely forgot about me, instead deciding to raise you. He abandoned me!" Illya's glare faded into a frown, and the beginning of tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "Why? Why would he do that? Was I not good enough for him?"
Abandon her? He spent thousands of dollars flying to Germany every year, just to try to see her! he thought to himself. Something here doesn't add up.
"He didn't abandon you, Illyasviel. Even after he adopted me, he tried to charter a flight to Germany every single year. He told me that the bounded fields around your mansion never let him in," Shirou explained. "He loved you dearly."
"But...but my grandfather said..." Illya looked even closer to tears than before. "If the bounded fields didn't let him in, why didn't he break them down? I know he was more than strong enough to do that; he was the magus killer!"
Shirou sighed and walked over to the other side of the street, Arthur trailing behind him. He winced with every step, feeling the echo of his wounds even as he healed from them. Ahead, Rin and Archer parted to let him through, her face worried and his impassive.
The magus stood, peering up at a petrified Illya, the pale girl still held in Berserker's arms.
"He was very sick, Illyasviel," Shirou said, his voice soft. "I don't know exactly what it was, but he got weaker every single year after he adopted me. By the end, he didn't even have the strength to stand, and he died in a hospital bed just 4 years ago."
Illya's lips were trembling by this point.
"B-but..."
"Do you know what his last words to me were? They were about his regret. His regret that he had lost you to your grandfather. His regret that he couldn't save you, like he saved me." Shirou smiled softly, though the expression looked tired and worn.
"He loved you, Illyasviel."
The girl turned into her servant's bloodied chest and began crying. The large, long-haired man awkwardly patted her on the back while looking pleadingly at the other 4 people present, asking by expression alone for someone else to deal with the girl. Shirou motioned for him to set her down, and Berserker did, whereupon Shirou hugged Illyasviel, gently rubbing her back as she sobbed into his shoulder.
5 minutes later, Illyasviel's cries stopped, though she kept her face buried in her brother's shoulder, wrapping her arms around him to reciprocate his hug.
"Illyasviel, are you feeling any better now?" Shirou asked, his hands still tracing circles over her back.
"Call me Illya," came the response, the girl seemingly happy to remain in their current position.
"Alright, Illya," Shirou said, a tired smile on his face as his adrenaline drained from his body. He felt the last few hours catch up to him, and a discrete analysis of his circuits showed that, despite retaining a fair bit of prana, he was certainly in no shape to fight another battle.
"Illya, I have to go home and rest, and I'm pretty sure everyone else here feels the same way. Your servant–" Shirou nodded to the man, whose wounds seemed a lot less serious outside of the fight, "did quite the number on my servant and I."
Berserker seemed amused, noticing the information Shirou had intentionally let slip. "I take take it you were lying completely about whose servant was whose, then?"
Shirou nodded, the motion slightly jostling his younger sister, the small girl refusing to let go.
"It's probably not very smart to correct that assumption from a tactical perspective, but I have no plans of fighting against you and Illya unless we're the only ones left. I assume she feels similarly."
The aforementioned Illya nodded against Shirou's shoulder, reluctantly detaching herself.
"Can I come and see you tomorrow?" she asked, looking up pleadingly at Shirou.
"Of course you can. How about you and your servant come over for dinner?" he responded, smiling down at her.
"I'd...I'd like that," she replied, trying to reciprocate his smile, the effect ruined by the tears and blood on her face.
"Alright, goodbye then, and I'll see you tomorrow!" Shirou said as he walked away, turning his head to see Berserker place Illya on his shoulders once more before bounding off into the night.
Rin and Archer parted with Shirou and his servant on the way home, and the group of two walked the path to Shirou's house, making their way in.
"Alright, Arthur, we'll talk more in the morning. For now, let's hope that my dad's clothing fits you, because I assume you probably want to wear something other than your armor," Shirou said.
"That would be a good idea; I'm certain I can find the clothing in question on my own, however, so you may prepare for bed without helping me," Arthur said, vanishing into invisibility.
I could really use a shower before bed, Shirou thought, looking down at the shallow wounds and blood covering most of his body. In fact, I'm just going to take one right now.
He yawned as he got into the shower, cleaned off the accumulated grime and blood, and put on his sleeping attire, prepared to fall asleep when he heard enthusiastic knocking coming from the direction of the living room.
Shirou opened the front door and widened his eyes. Standing in front of him was Rin, carrying a suitcase and a box, with a very sour looking Archer following behind her, transporting two more boxes and a second suitcase.
"Rin...why are you here?" he asked, wanting nothing more than to go to bed.
"Because I'm going to be staying over at your house," Rin responded, sending a bright smile at her fellow magus, a small blush making its way to her face as she noticed his current lack of a shirt.
"Why?" he asked, the word conveying a complex mix of annoyance, curiosity, resignation, and happiness.
"Archer and I discussed this while you and Saber prepared dinner. We agreed that you were correct about there being safety in numbers, and decided that there was no sense in splitting up just because it was nighttime," Rin said, keeping her smile.
I seriously doubt that Archer agreed, and find it likely that 'Archer was browbeaten into agreeing' describes the situation better, Shirou thought drily, staring at the servant of the bow, who looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else, but either way, Taiga is going to flip out.
"If you can deal with my overprotective guardian when she comes over in the morning, I don't really mind," Shirou said, stifling a yawn, "it's not like I don't have enough room."
"I'm sure I can convince Ms. Fujimura that I was just...hmm. This may be harder than I thought," Rin mused. "How were you planning to explain Saber's presence to her?"
"I was going to claim he was an old co-worker of my father's," Shirou said, "and I guess I could excuse Archer the same way."
It's technically true, too, Shirou thought, suppressing a smirk.
The conversation over, the two magi and one servant filed into the house. Shirou showed Rin and Archer the location of their bedrooms – Rin dumping her five containers of items in hers – , one of the bathrooms, and the linen closet before tiredly making his way back to his room, lying on his futon, and falling asleep.
AN: While the swords I'm using are mostly not actually extant in Arthurian myth, they are crystallizations of the legends surrounding their respective wielders. I named them and powered them by synthesizing their myths into offensive or defensive forms, translating various key words into Welsh, and coming up with a name from them. For Caradoc's sword Wyneidraich, for example, I used the Welsh for poison, snake, and arm, a reference to the tale of how he gained his moniker.
