It was inevitable that Shirou would find himself in this predicament. After all, that blue spandex man managed to hunt him down in the school and then literally appeared out of nowhere. That was the only reason he got stabbed in the heart, not expecting his opponent to fade in and out of existence.

The fact that he was found again wasn't all to surprising. Now standing in front of him, the wild haired lance wielding guy was grinning, ready to strike again. "Gotta admit kid, usually when I stab someone through the heart, they stay down. Ah well, unlucky for you right?" Shirou cursed as he, panicking over the close proximity with the man who busted through his roof, turned tail and ran, eager to be anywhere but in stabbing or general striking distance of the man who could break his bloody roof! And yet, with a quick push of his legs and with a glancing kick to the side, he ended up right next to the shed, literally going through the glass doors of his house and soaring over the backyard like a ragdoll. The only reason he was alive was because of his use of reinforcement, something he was actively doing since the intruder showed up. Otherwise, the kick would have connected fully and did some actual damage.

He wasn't the best magus, he knew that. He didn't have any formal training, neither did he have any kind of information apart from all his own personal experiments and the few spells taught to him by his dad. Spells he had used and abused over the course of his life, and unknowing to him, mastered beyond what magi normally do. After all, if reinforcement, structural analysis and projection were basic spells taught to children to learn how to control the flow of their prana, then what use do they have after they fulfilled their purpose? Shirou didn't have that mindset, no he had to train further and further simply because he didn't have any other kind of spells to practice. So to him, reinforcing his body to be able to take a hit like that was normal, to other magi it was abnormal.

'Lancer…do not hold back.' Cu snorted at the idea of him holding back. That's not something he does. Still, it was surprising to see the kid get back up. Even his own master would have been struggling at this point. "Kudos to you kid. I don't know how you did it, but once again you survived a killing blow, at least for normal people. But my Master really wants you dead, especially after that. Sorry kiddo, but you ain't living to see past this."

'I don't want to die. Not like this, not before I can accomplish my dream.' Shirou was desperate as he got back up. All that he's done in his life was meant to go to one direction. To being a Hero of Justice, to save people, to help them, to see them smile. Now though, he was going to die, again. 'I can't help anyone if I'm dead. I need to stop him…How do I stop him?' People tend to cry out for help during life and death situations, hoping someone would come and save them. Yet his thoughts drifted, as if in a haze. A brief glimpse of a land filled with swords and suddenly in his mind's eye he had pictures of swords, spears, halberds, and all sorts of weapons. Like an endless world filled with weapons, shields and armour. He didn't understand it. He didn't know what it meant. But he knew that he needed one of those weapons. He needed something capable of killing this man and as if the show of weapons realised what was being asked, a sword appeared in his mind's eye.

It was of a simple make, nothing extraordinary and yet something about it screamed potential. A glowing golden hilt leading to an ornate short cross-guard that seemingly starts to bend inwards at the end points. All of this holds a blade of the finest metal, silver and shiny, powerful, and sturdy yet neither heavy nor bulky. A sword filled with empty purpose.

But it was enough. He could see it; he could visualize it in this world of weapons. But he needed it, in his hands and as the footsteps got louder, he knew he needed it now. 'I hope this works. Judging the concept of creation…' His usual mantra, the normal steps he takes to use Projection, but something changed. Even though he thought he was projecting a normal sword, the drain on his circuits was significant. And the words…they changed.

Judging the concept of creation

Understanding the Intent of the Maker

Hypothesizing the basic structure

Seeing the end result

Duplicating the composition material

Synthesizing old components with new

Imitating the skill of its making

Completing the desired result

Sympathizing with the experience of its growth

Empathising with the crystallization of its purpose

Reproducing the accumulated years

Incorporating Skill

Excelling every manufacturing process

Moving further than metaphysical conceptualization

The Hammer Strikes

The Fires Roar

The Anvil Gleams

Forging Complete

"Trace On"

Lancer was nearly on top of him. He could feel the prana in the air being charged, he could smell fire and iron, he could see the projection being made. He felt it in his bones, when the hand of the kind gripped the hilt, that this wasn't some ordinary gradation air, it wasn't empty air given form. This was an actual sword; this was a problem. "Ah shit." Raising his spear to his side, he barely blocked the side attack, though he was surprised at the strength behind the hit. "Wow kid, who knew you could hit that hard. Too bad you're not fast enough." At blinding speeds, Cu attacked and Shirou was on the defence. The clashing of weapons sounded throughout the night sky as one man tried to kill another, one because he was ordered and another because he wanted to live.

Shirou panted as he stood there barely holding the sword up with one hand, while the other was bleeding profusely, having used it to defend from whatever strikes he couldn't parry or block with the sword. He couldn't keep going like this, he knew that much. The projection took too much out of him for some reason, and even with the constant augmentation of reinforcement, he was barely keeping up with the Lancer. "Ya know kid, if you were at full strength then maybe this would have been more even but at least you managed to hold on this long. Oh well, time to go. But before that, tell me your name young warrior so that I can remember it after I take your life." Cu wasn't an overly honourable guy, definitely not a knight kind of person, but he respected strength and effort and skill. While the kid lacked the latter part, he sure had the other two. For a person in this age to be able to actually stand up to a Heroic Spirit like him? That deserved respect.

Shirou clenched his teeth in anger, refusing to give up. Hefting the sword up once again, even though his left arm was hanging uselessly by his side, he grounded out "My name is Emiya Shirou, and I won't die, not tonight. Not until I accomplish my dream." Cu smiled, a genuine smile. "Emiya Shirou, you Japanese folk like saying the name second right? That makes you, Shirou Emiya in my tongue. Well kid, my name is Sétanta or Cú Chulainn, the Hound of Ulster. You've earned my respect Shirou, and for that I'll give you a quick death."

Cú dashed forward, intent on ending this when suddenly he veered off to the right, dodging a slash from what seemed like empty air as an ethereal girl suddenly stood in front of Shirou. "Thy shalt not harm mine Master dog. Prepare thyself, for my blade shall end you." The girl, dressed in a silver blue battle skirt, with metal gauntlets and boots, prepared herself. Cú grinned in excitement, "Ha! So you are the Seventh Master then! And Saber no less! I knew I liked you kid. But, it seems I'm gonna have to pull out the big guns here." Getting into his signature stance, Cú was enveloped in a red aura, filled with killing intent. The aura moved towards his spear and soon condensed itself, waiting to be unleashed. "This is the end Saber," Dashing forward, the Hound of Ireland roared in rage, the killing intent momentarily taking a hold of him as he jumped mid dash and with a shout, unleashed the attack "Your heart is mine! Gáe Bolg!"

Shirou knew he owed his life to this strange girl, he also knew he wasn't strong enough to stop whatever the heck this attack was. But what he could do was obvious, suspecting that the sheer force of the attack would simply rip through his body if he jumped in front, he instead fused his legs with reinforcement, ignoring the searing pain – absentmindedly noting that it was less than usual, and dashed towards the Lancer.

If one were to be aware of what a Noble Phantasm is, then they would understand taking one head on would be suicidal unless you knew what it was and you had a way to handle it. Saber, knew that the reverse causality of Cú Chulainn's attack was something she could only hope to live through, based on her luck status. She was unwilling to risk her Master, whom she saw fighting against this Heroic Spirit and succeed in holding him off until she fully materialised. Seeing the pain he was in, the dedication, it drove her to stand where she was, sword at the ready and willing to base everything on her luck, something she rarely does. So she was shocked when her Master dashed forward at incredible speeds and attacked the Lancer. If it was a normal ritual or a spell with a lengthy incantation, this would have proven to be a sound strategy. But it was neither of those, it was a Noble Phantasm, an attack which infused itself with power in a matter of seconds, power that had to be directed. And as Lancer's eyes widen at the sword cutting into his abdomen, so to did Saber's eyes at the angry red pulse that exploded from the spear, the attack interrupted and so like exploded outwards.

Shirou's body flew through the air and smashed into the ground, while Cú Chulainn had disappeared underneath the smoke. Saber, sensing the other Servant still alive was reluctant to turn her back towards him, but his words surprised her. "Go to your Master, Saber. Even if you kill me now, he won't survive if you don't help him. So go and make sure he lives." Saber gritted her teeth, wanting to turn and help but she didn't know if she could, "Why? Does your Master not wish to win?"

"His orders were to retreat if my Noble Phantasm doesn't work. Not only that, but he stopped watching a while ago. I respect the kid too much to see him die like this. So help him out and come and find me. I want to fight you and him as well again." With that, Saber could see him turning his back to her through the dust that has yet to settle, before she decided to take heed to his words and rushed towards her fallen Master. "And Saber, make sure you hold on to him tight, cause if I can find a way to change Master's, I'm coming for yours." With that, Cú Chulainn rushed off, while Saber shook her head at his words. Crouching over her Master, she was surprised to see his wounds already steadily healing. Thankfully the blast had been wide and unfocused, as such it was a weak area of effect with a lot of physical force, hence explaining the violent projection of the Master.

She sighed as she gazed upon his battered form, wondering how this War would turn out. If she heard correctly, this was the son of her previous Master, someone who she despised due to his underhanded tricks and lack of morals. Hopefully, this one won't turn out the same, though having seen what he's done until now, while a marked improvement from his father, it was sure to bring her many headaches in the near future. Lifting his body, she carried him inside the house, hoping nothing exciting happens for a while.

Scene Change

"My oh my, what a wonderful surprise. Truly a curious boy we have here. Let's see what you can do, sweet boy."

A/N

Alright, if you have any questions concerning the fic please leave a review or Pm me.