Disclaimer: The works of Type-Moon and Jō Taketsuki are their own despite my most fervent wishes. This is a fan work and if anyone does pay me for it the only thing it will accomplish is to get me into trouble. This is being done purely for fun, constructive criticism is welcome, and flames will be ignored. Please be gentle though, this is the first fanfic I've put on the net.
In all truth I was quite surprised by how well received my Interlude was. I'm pleased that so many people were glad to see what was going on back in the Nasuverse as well as being amused by Rin's learning of Rule of the Underworld.
In all truth I wrote that chapter because I didn't like the idea of Sakura just sitting around waiting for Shirou to return to her as she did in the Normal Heaven's Feel ending. Granted it was tragically beautiful and actually brought a tear to my eye when I watched it, but it just wasn't what I wanted for my story.
Instead I've let Sakura learn that Shirou is alive, from there I just let her follow what I thought would be the path she would take. Rest assured that I don't plan for her to suddenly master the Kaleidoscope or anything like that. As I understand it her element, Imaginary Numbers, is more suited to learning the spiritually based Magic of Heaven's Feel or maybe the Denial of Nothingness given her ability to materialize shadow familiars. However that's purely academic since I have no plans for her to get involved with either Magic.
Right now her full focus is simply to learn enough to either go to Shirou or bring him to her; she has no interest in learning anything else, though she will if it will get her closer to her goal.
On another matter I would like to thank the readers that have sent me more information on the nature of Magic Circuits. In all truth some of the info I got was a bit contradictory, but I think I've managed to hash out a happy medium in regards to Titan Knight and its effects upon Shirou's circuits. Since organic activity is a necessary part of the operation of the circuits Shirou's transition into a being pretty much of solid or molten metal renders them temporarily inoperative. When he returns to his normal state they resume optimum condition and operation again.
SPOILERS.
I thought I'd take the time to show the reactions of some of the other Campione to learning of the Feast that they missed. I didn't include Madame Aisha's response because she doesn't strike me as the kind to pay too much attention to the information that her followers bring her. I didn't write in Doni's response because he struck me as the type to go 'Awww I missed it, oh well' and then pretty much forget about it. Simply put I don't think that either of them were the types to get worked up over the chance to debate the merits of their Kingships with the other Campione. Mind you if there had been more of a fight then I imagine that Doni would have been way more disappointed.
I have also introduced a new God in this chapter, and I promise you that Venus is going to feature heavily in my next major storyline. I have also revealed the name of my other Divine Ancestor, and any semi-serious reader of Campione! Should be able to work out her real identity.
I would like to thank Capito Celcior for being the one to suggest using Andhrímnir in this story. I rather liked the idea of Shirou meeting a pretty much literal god of cooking. My apologies if his accent is a bit off, I confess to not having too much experience writing them. You might ask why I tried to write him with an accent if that was the case, the answer is; I DON'T KNOW! It just seemed like a good idea at the time. Mind you the time in question was nearly three o'clock in the morning, so that might have something to do with it.
Some might wonder as to why I am referring to Lancelot in the male form. Rest assured I am well aware of his/her nature and of her origin as a queen of the amazons and a goddess of war and steel. However until that identity is revealed in story I will continue to use the male form because everyone thinks that Lancelot is male and it makes it less confusing.
Now I imagine quite a few of my readers will be a bit put out that I didn't include the fight with the dragon. I admit that it might have been a bit on the lazy side, but the thing was that between a fully empowered Dragon Slaying Hero and Arondight as well as the fact that the dragon in question was the runt of its litter the fight scene I had in mind was more of a slaughter than anything else and after writing a bit of it I found it to be rather dull, so I cut it out entirely.
Also, just in case anyone wonders, no Shirou did not get an Authority from killing it since despite it being a Divine Beast it wasn't of high enough level to be regarded as a god. Had Shirou faced Niddhogg himself then it would have been a different matter, but one of its spawn just isn't 'big' enough to count.
Once again I'd like to thank my Beta for all his hard work and helpful suggestions.
God Slaying Blade Works: Chapter Sixteen: Seeking the Path
Three weeks ago, the day after the Feast of Kings.
Alexander Gascoigne, otherwise known as the Campione Black Prince Alec, frowned down at the report in his hands. Generally speaking he didn't spend much time regretting past actions, he found it to be an unnecessary waste of time. Generally speaking if he hadn't done something then it was almost always because it wasn't something that he wanted to do. Regrets were for those that had not succeeded in gaining what they wanted or had sought something that in the end they didn't like.
That was never a problem for the British Campione. He always took what he wanted and never thought to about how it might impact on him later. Of course that was not to say that he was without regrets; there had been things in his life that had been painful or unpleasant. It was just that he rarely regretted any of his own decisions.
Now though he was beginning to regret his decision to not interfere in the events that he'd witnessed in Japan.
The Feast of Kings.
It had only been a single night, but already word of what had taken place in the mansion of the eighth Campione was spreading around the world at an unbelievable rate. By the end of the week no practioners of the mystic arts worth their salt would not be able to tell you what the Feast of Kings had been.
What he was reading right now was a copy of the report that the History Compilation Committee had put together about the night based off the information passed on by their agents that served both Kusanagi Godou and Emiya Shirou. For the most part it was interesting but less than world shaking. The eighth Campione had been able to make a good impression upon his fellow Kings, and somehow managed to get all of them to engage in debate without any of them deciding to pick a fight with any of the others.
Given that God Slayers tended to have clashing personalities that was quite the feat, however that was not what grabbed his attention.
What really drew his eyes was the fact that Emiya had for some reason chosen to invite Guinevere of all people to his Feast.
Such an action simply defied all expectation. Divine Ancestors were the natural enemies of Campione; it was a relationship as natural as that of the mongoose and the cobra. Yet for some reason the eighth Campione had chosen to include arguably the most dangerous of the Divine Ancestors currently alive as a guest to a banquet that already had a surfeit of powerful and dangerous guests. By all rights it should have been akin to throwing a lit match into a box of fireworks, yet somehow he'd managed to prevent any hostilities.
Then there had been the gifts that the host had presented to his guests. Now those had caused quite the splash when word of them got out. Legendary weapons of such quality that even Lou Hao had praised them, and he had simply given them out as presents to those that had attended his gathering?Weapons like those were generally kept as the trump cards of the various magical organizations, a last resort for when facing such things as Divine Beasts or even Heretic Gods. They were artefacts to be jealously hoarded, not given out so carelessly.
But it was the gift that Emiya had given to Guinevere that really caused the British Campione's fists to tighten and his jaw to clench.
The actual spear of King Arthur himself, a weapon thought to be legendary by all, to have no mortal existence. Even the Witch Queen herself had confirmed it to be merely a tale, and yet she had also confirmed that the weapon was indeed what the eighth Campione claimed it to be.
A weapon that should not exist, could not exist, and the red haired King had gifted it to the holder of the Holy Grail.
Alec wanted it. That something that was impossible, that was unique, that baffled even the Witch of Briton, he wanted it.
Now, as he read over the report he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he had become involved in the battle. Would he have been invited to the Feast? What if he had swallowed his pride and introduced himself to the newest God Slayer and asked if he could attend? Might he now possess some remarkable gift of his own? Might he have had the chance to steal the spear of King Arthur from Guinevere?
Argggh! So many missed opportunities.
Well, there was little use to bemoaning escaped chances; rather he should be considering how the events that had taken place would affect the future.
In many ways things had remained the same, Guinevere still had what he wanted and if Alec wanted to get it then he'd have to take it from her. The problem was that now she had apparently formed some sort of relationship with Emiya, and he didn't know exactly what that relationship was. Was it simple regard? Gratitude for her healing him after his battle? An alliance of some kind? There were simply too many possibilities and that made future plans uncertain.
And that was something that Alexander Gascoigne did not like. Planning was something that he favoured considerably. He disliked entering battles where he had not properly prepared and outfitted himself accordingly. Unknown factors were unwelcome complications that threw such plans off.
That would have been another reason to attend the Feast, to try to learn more about this new King. He'd watched the younger God Slayer fight Mordred, and his performance against the powerful Heretic God indicated that Emiya Shirou was a very strong Campione despite his youth. However knowing his strength told the Black Prince nothing about the personality, the mindset that directed that power. And without that knowledge it would be difficult if not impossible to make accurate predictions of his actions.
And to top the whole thing off was the title that Guinevere had bestowed upon the host of the Feast. It gnawed at him that she had chosen that title; it hinted at so many things and yet gave no definite answers. It was as though the Divine Ancestor were deliberately taunting him with clues and suggestions that gave him no firm foundation upon which to build any sort of suppositions.
The King of Steel.
-()-
Two weeks ago.
Illya carefully copied down the words into her large note book and then looked up at Manaka.
"Would this sort of combination work?"
The silver haired girl absently chewed on her lower lip as her tutor carefully read over the incantation that her student had spent the last half hour painstakingly putting together.
It had been about a week since she and Shirou had begun to study the magic styles of this world, and so far it was proving to be quite the challenge. Well, for her anyway. Poor Shirou had proven that his skills remained as focussed as ever in a single avenue, and outside of that narrow set of skills his magic was severely limited.
Of course it didn't help at all that the system for magic use in this world was totally different from anything either of them was familiar with.
Illya still didn't have a full handle on it, she found that she could do magic of this world's style without having to fully understand the hows and whys of the magic's mechanics. In a way it was rather like driving a car, one didn't need to know how an engine functioned in order to use the vehicle.
Still, she had been able to work out a little of it, and from what she could deduce it all came back to the fact that there was no planetary consciousness to regulate the reality altering effects of magic.
Instead it was as though the 'duties' that the world spirit would normally have taken care of were being distributed among the myriad of gods that existed in this world. They also were connected to magic since almost every form of mystical craft in this world was in some way linked to prayers to gods. Sometimes it was as simple as merely invoking their name as part of a spell, other times it was something much more elaborate such as an hour long ritual that could be mistaken as some sort of religious service.
In some way all of the various deities were somehow connected to the ambient Prana of the world that all living things used. In much the same way that Gaia worked to correct any errors caused; the various gods also worked to . . . stabilize those errors rather than crush them out of existence. Yet at the same time those gods were a part of the world in a way that the Einzbern heir hadn't been able to quantify yet.
One thing that she was sure about was that the style of magic in this world had elements that were vaguely similar to a Marble Phantasm. By communicating, however slightly it may be, with the gods the mages of this world were connecting to the very spirit of the planet. Simply put they weren't working against it but with it.
Of course it wasn't anywhere near the scale or potency of a true Marble Phantasm, but at the same time it was closer to it than just about any conventional magecraft that Illya was familiar with.
Which was why she was being adamant in her studies despite the initial setbacks that she'd run into when she'd begun. The snowy haired girl honestly didn't have any idea of how effective the style would be when or if she returned to her home dimension, but if her theory was correct then she might well be able to create a whole new school of magecraft for her own personal use.
And possibly give her grandfather a heart attack, which would be a very pleasant bonus if she could manage it.
-()-
Out in the garden Shirou was standing next to a bucket of carrots and holding a small bag of sugar lumps.
Holding out one hand he concentrated on the power within him as he spoke the sacred spell words that had been imparted upon him.
"Hooves that thunder over the earth, wings that soar through the sky, sacred beast born from a monster yet pure as finest silver, hear my call and serve as the mount to a hero once more."
As he spoke the words the eighth Campione felt the familiar steely power shift within him. It had been like that since he'd woken up this morning, restless, eager. In the days since his battle with Mordred he'd been able to feel the Authority within him that was connected to his mount, but rather than being active it had felt . . . passive, asleep. When he'd reached for it he'd been able to touch it, but it had made no response when he'd tried to call it forth.
However as soon as he'd opened his eyes he'd felt the difference in the feel of the power and had known that once again he could call his winged steed to his side.
So, after getting the chores of the morning out of the way, Shirou had gone to the kitchen and made off with more than two thirds of the carrots in the fridge as well as all the sugar lumps he could grab while Asuka's back was turned. That had been enough to make him chuckle to himself at the absurdity of the situation. Here he was a person of vast personal power and wealth and yet he was still reduced to stealing from his own kitchen because he didn't want to have to get permission to take the food, which was technically his property, from the true tyrant of the kitchen.
Honestly there were times he wondered if Asuka had been the best choice he could have made, then he'd either taste her cooking or remember the lessons that she was giving him and all his doubts would fade like morning dew under the sun.
His thoughts about cooking and housekeepers were shoved to the back of his mind as the now familiar swarm of white lights sprang into existence and converged to become the form of the winged horse that had saved his master during the battle with the Traitor Knight.
Reaching out Shirou wrapped his arms around the Pegasus' neck and gave him a hug while rubbing the mane of his neck.
"Hey there Snow, welcome back."
In his mind he could sense the connection between him and the divine beast, it was like a small knot of emotions at the back of his mind that he could feel and yet know were not his own. He could feel joy from that little knot, joy and affection, both of which were emphasised as the winged stallion nuzzled back at him. Reaching down the King of Steel picked up the bucket and pulled out one of the large carrots within. Snow immediately saw and smelled them and neighed in happy anticipation.
"Hah, you really like these things don't you?" Shirou commented as the large pearly white teeth of his mount crunched down on the vegetable in his hand. In his mind he could feel the delight of the legendary horse, the pegasus might be an immortal creature of ancient myth possessing power the likes of which most humans could only dream of, and yet he still took delight in something as simple as eating a carrot.
Sitting down on a bench that faced out into his garden the red haired teen got into a rhythm of taking a carrot out of his bucket and feeding it to his mount. One by one the root vegetables disappeared into the divine animal's stomach until they were all gone. Snow stuck his nose into the bucket, probably hoping that there had been more hidden at the bottom, then gave a sad whiney as he found his hopes to be groundless.
"I'd probably be dead right now if it wasn't for you," Shirou commented as he held out a sugar lump on his palm out to the suddenly happy horse who eagerly snapped it up, "back then I was trapped and I had no time to come up with anything, yet there you were without me even having to ask you."
As he fed another sweet lump to the pegasus with his right hand the eighth Campione reached over with his left and affectionately stroked the side of Snow's head. Within his mind he felt the knot of emotions pulse with contentment and love in a way that put him in mind of a purring kitten.
"I used think that Dragon Slaying Hero was the best Authority I received from Perseus, but even if it is the best suited for battle I think you were the real prize."
As the young man sat there and enjoyed the peace of the moment a thought came to him. For the past week Snow hadn't been anywhere because he had sacrificed his body to fuel the attack upon Mordred that had saved Shirou's life. Since then he'd existed within the Campione's Authority as a sort of potential existence rather than an actual one. However before that, before he had lost his body; the Pegasus had gone somewhere when he hadn't been serving his master.
The question was where had that been?
Notions began to form in Shirou's mind. He was well aware that in the search for a way home he wouldn't be of too much use when it came to research or the use of magic, his talents or lack thereof saw to that. However as a Campione there were other options available to him, other avenues of investigation that he could pursue.
And one had just occurred to him.
-()-
Sasha Dejanstahl Voban sat in the darkness of his throne room and glared at the world in general. At his side the divine wolves that were a manifestation of his first Authority whined and shied away from him as they sensed their master's mood.
Balkan's Devil knew that he wasn't the most up to date Campione. Granted he chose to keep more abreast of current developments than Luo Hao to the point where he at least wore clothing suitable to the times. But for the most part he had little interest in the various devices that the people of the modern era had come up with to make life easier for them. After all what need had he, a man wielding the power of the gods themselves, of these portable communication trinkets that seemed to be the latest fashion?
As it turned out it seemed that he did indeed have some use for them. Had he had one then his servants would have been in contact with him days ago to let him know of the events that had taken place in Japan.
Four Heretic Gods.
FOUR!
The single greatest accumulation of rogue deities to appear in his entire life and he'd missed it. Not only that, it seemed that the newest Campione had decided to throw convention out of the window and had arranged for a feast with his fellow Kings and had even gone so far as to invite one of the most highly regarded of the Divine Ancestors to attend as well.
Voban had never practiced self deception, he was well aware that his real nature was that of a wild animal that constantly sought out fresh prey. He was comfortable with that truth and utterly unashamed of it. The thought that he had missed the chance to hunt so many gods rankled him, but his reason told him that even if he had been there he probably wouldn't have been able to hunt unimpeded.
That boy, Kusanagi Godou, would have been there for one. The old Campione was certain that had their battle continued then he would have eventually been the one to emerge victorious, but that didn't change the fact that the younger King had successfully won within the limits the Wolf King had set upon their confrontation. With his sense of ethics the seventh Campione would almost certainly have interfered with Voban's hunt given his lack of regard for those caught between himself and his prey.
And there would have been that martial artist from China. Voban met the woman himself on a number of occasions though they had never come into conflict due to the circumstances at the time. Even though the thought of facing the only other Campione of similar rank to himself did stir his blood it was not something to do lightly. Had they met in Japan he thought that it was hardly likely that she'd simply stand aside for him.
Then there were the American Campione and the newest Japanese King, neither of which he knew much about. When he took the time to think about it he realized that if he had been there he probably wouldn't have had the chance to enjoy himself. Four gods and five Campione as well as a Divine Ancestor in the background? That would have been less of a hunt and more of a chaotic mêlée, not something that suited him.
Still, this feast that had been held afterwards sounded as though it had been interesting. A chance for so many Kings to meet and contest their views with words rather than force was to the best of his knowledge unique.
This Emiya Shirou sounded as though he was an interesting King, despite how new he was to the role. Idly Voban found himself wondering just what sort of prey the young Campione would make.
-()-
One week ago.
Brynhildr looked down upon the golden orb as it nested amidst the nest of black stone.
"Why is it not ready yet?" her partner demanded her voice edged with irritation.
"I don't know, the work was precise and honoured Athena supplied us with the energy that was needed. There should be no cause for delays with anything to do with our own preparations, so I can only assume that it has something to do with him rather than with us."
Actually that was a lie.
In all truth the array that she had prepared should have completed its task days ago, however the blonde haired Divine Ancestor had needed a bit more time to get her own preparations ready and so had deliberately shifted a couple of the runes by just a fraction so as to throw of the flow of energies in the artefact she had constructed. The results hadn't been anything titanic; it had simply reduced the efficiency rate of the power circulation within her creation.
She had done it because she needed time.
Time to plan, time to prepare, time to learn. It had been some time since she had made the decision to betray her allies, only a few days, but in that time she had been hard at work.
She had come up with a plan, one that she thought might work. However she had to be careful since as much as it galled her to admit it out of the three of them she was the weakest. Athena might be reduced, but she was still a god. Her ally might be a Divine Ancestor like her, but she was centuries older than Brynhildr and had been a more powerful goddess before her fall. Either one of them would be able to crush her if they learnt of her plans.
What she needed was another ally. Mordred had been perfect, a Heretic God of immense power that had felt indebted to her enough to act as her champion for a time. The god that she was working to summon would probably not be as her former ally had been and was more likely to simply agree to do their group a favour rather than aiding her in specific.
So for the moment all she could do was buy time and try to refine her plans.
"Fortunately it doesn't seem as though the process has stopped, only been somewhat delayed, his return is still assured. Of that we need not worry."
Her words seemed to calm her ally somewhat because her features smoothed out and the irritation faded from her eyes.
"You're right Brynhildr," the elder Divine Ancestor agreed, "I'm sorry; I should not be allowing my frustrations to cause me to snap at you."
As the two hair coloured Divine Ancestor left the room Brynhildr did her best to keep the contempt she felt from showing on her face. So now she wanted to be civil, after all her earlier slights and insults? Well it was too late now; the golden haired former goddess had already decided her course.
"Soon Andromeda," She muttered under her breath, "Soon."
Deep within the heart of Mordred's former ally the seed of treachery that nestled there had put forth roots that were now slowly choking that heart. It had also put forth a small bud, nothing large or strong, but in time it would grow.
In time it would blossom.
-()-
Kaida sighed as she unpacked another delivery of books that had been delivered to the manor by the Committee. This was the third such delivery this week and already Shirou-sama was beginning to develop a small library of such tomes.
The black haired Hime-Miko wasn't entirely sure what it had been that had sparked her King's sudden interest gaining knowledge about a specific subject, but that spark seemed to have swiftly grown into an inferno. She had been the one that Shirou-sama had asked to get in touch with the Committee about finding these books for him in the first place. She had sent a message to Sayanomiya Kaoru-san and she had in turn arranged for one of the Committee's best people for finding such books and scrolls to visit the eighth Campione to discuss what he wanted.
The man that had come had been Sawahata Hiroshi, an agent with a reputation for being able to track down some of the hardest to find manuscripts in the world. Kaida hadn't been present for most of the meeting, but she had been entrusted to wheel in a small but very heavy chest when her King called her to. Initially she'd felt slightly offended at being relegated to such a minor task, however when Shirou-sama had opened the chest and explained that the contents was as payment for what he was asking. After seeing the wealth of gemstones and golden coins within she'd felt much less slighted to have been asked to watch it.
The past couple of weeks had been . . . interesting to say the least.
After the Feast of Kings both Shirou-sama and Illya-sama had begun to study the various traditional schools of magic as part of some plan that they were apparently keeping to themselves. Illya, as she had insisted her teachers call her, had proven to be an excellent student in most of the western styles that Manaka was familiar with. She had also shown some aptitude for some of the eastern styles that Kaida knew, but so far the snow haired girl was sticking to what she knew.
Shirou-sama on the other hand . . . Well, while she didn't want to be overly harsh the simple fact was that so far he had proven to be almost totally inept at practically every form of magic that they had introduced him to. His attempts at elemental manipulation would have been laughable had they not been backed by the power of a God Slayer. His attempt to blow over the pages of a book had resulted in his entire desk being scorched by sudden flames while his efforts to light a match had instead entombed it in ice.
Perhaps his abilities and handicaps were understandable though, from what Illya had told her Shirou-sama was able to perform outstanding feats in his areas of speciality, but due to that specialization he was very poor in other areas.
With a shake of her head the possessor of the Dragon's Roar went back to putting the books away.
"Ah Hah!" the excited exclamation from just outside the door was both loud and surprising enough to make Kaida jump in startlement. She turned around in time to see her King burst into the room with a pleased smile upon his face.
"Shirou-sama?"
Turning to her he paused in his passage towards his desk and blinked once as he took note of her presence.
"Oh, sorry Kaida," he apologised as he waved a sheet of paper that he was holding at her, "I just got this message from the Committee and I'm in a really good mood about it."
"Oh? Might I enquire as to what news has put you in such a good humour Shirou-sama?"
At her words the eighth Campione gave a comically exaggerated grimace.
"You know I've told you that you don't need to call me that." He said almost plaintively.
"Indeed my King, but you haven't said that I can't. Allow me to continue to observe the proprieties that I regard as good manners, after all it is only right that I address one that I respect as much as yourself in the correct manner."
That had been a habit that she had come to develop after the great Feast that her King had held. Before that she had been coming to regard the Campione as 'Shirou' rather than 'Emiya'. However over the course of the banquet as well as the gift giving afterwards she had been able to observe the red haired young man when he was truly being a King, and the experience had been eye opening.
She had come to regard Shirou-sama as an admirable young man. He had come into possession of immense power and had managed not to let that power corrupt or consume him. He was respectful of others despite the authority he held over them, was kind to his servants and reasonable in his expectations. Yet when he needed to be she had seen him as intimidating or even flat out terrifying, yet such occasions were infrequent and only came on at great need. All in all she had felt he was a good man to have received the position he held, however for all his power and hidden fearsomeness she had not really seen him as a King.
That had changed on the night of the Feast.
There she had witnessed his presence, his royalty. She had heard him describe his wishes and his rule to the other Kings present and had heard him speak to them as equals. It was as though it were a sword that he only drew when he needed to, the rest of the time it was safely tucked away in its sheath.
Since then she had decided to refer to him by the term 'Sama' as a mark of her newfound respect and regard for him. It had seemed like the right thing to do now that he had been 'officially' accepted by so many of his peers.
"I guess not," he agreed as he leaned back against his desk. "Anyway, you wanted to know what has me in a good mood right? Well it's that I've finally got a reply from the Committee about a request that I sent off to them a few days back. It seems that they will be able to conduct the ritual that I was hoping they could perform for me."
"Is . . . is it a ritual to go to the Netherworld?" Kaida asked.
"Uh, yes, yes it is. How'd you know?"
In response to her King's question the black haired Hime-Miko held up one of the books that she had been in the act of putting away. Its title, written in gold against a grey leather binding, was 'A Study of the Netherworld'. The book that she picked up with her other hand was titled 'Realms of the Faery'. Behind her on the shelves there were many other books with similar titles in more than half a dozen different languages and all of them referred to the Netherworld or one of the other smaller realms.
"Ah, I guess that my recent reading material would kind of give it away wouldn't it?" Commented Shirou-sama with a slightly sheepish look on his face.
"Why do you wish to go to the Netherworld so much?" Kaida found herself asking.
She knew from her own studies that the Boundary of Life and Immortality was not a place to venture casually. For a normal spell caster simply going there could prove fatal as the atmosphere could drain the magic and life-force out of any mere mortal until there was nothing left. A Campione, with their enhanced vitality and divine power, might be able to go there without risk of the environment killing them, but that was not to say that there weren't dangers there that they should be wary of. Gods that had once been Heretic but had grown weary of rampaging in the mortal plane went there to idle their time away rather than return to their legends. And when confronted with a God Slayer those deities might find their fighting blood once more.
And that was not to say anything about the various Divine Beasts, Spirits and Faeries that called that realm their home as well. Many of them would have no problem with either attacking or at least interfering with a Campione if they should come across one wandering the Netherworld.
"Because I'm looking for somewhere and I think that the Netherworld can help me find it." Explained Shirou-sama as he picked a book of his desk. "As far as anyone has been able to determine the Netherworld is connected to everywhere on earth as well as many other worlds such as the faery land of Tír na nÓg, the Realm of Immortality and the Endless Dreaming. Not only that, several scholars who have had contact with Campione and Gods claim that not only is the Netherworld connected to everywhere but also, at least theoretically, everywhen. If that is the case then it could prove invaluable to our search."
That was enough to make Kaida's eyes widen in surprise. She been guessing that there might be something within the Astral Plane that Shirou-sama had wanted to find, but it had never occurred to her that her King was going to treat the entire dangerous realm as simply a tool to find something else.
However that begged the question of just what it was that he and Illya were looking for. If it was something mundane then there was no reason that he could not have simply ordered the History Compilation Committee to look for it for him. For that matter with his authority as a Campione he could have ordered organizations around the entire globe to search for what he sought. Given his seemingly limitless wealth and those strange and marvellous artefacts and weapons that he seemed to be able to produce out of nowhere he could easily offer the sort of reward that would have mages in Siberia scrambling to get to work.
So why wasn't he doing just that?
Every time that the young Hime-Miko learnt more about the King that she had sworn herself to it seemed to open up more questions.
Oh well, at least it kept life from getting boring.
Turning back to the box of books she continued to unpack them.
-()-
Yesterday.
Hiroshi was just getting off the train when he saw her.
As soon as he did he forgot about the job he was running a bit late to. He forgot about his girlfriend that he'd been happily dating for the last three years. Hell, as soon as he saw her he even forgot his own name.
She was, quite simply, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her hair, her eyes, her body, her every tiny movement and stance all conveyed a kind of entrancing perfection that could not be described by something as limited as the human language.
He only saw her for an instant, then somebody passed between them briefly cutting off his line of sight upon the perfect creature. When the individual had passed the beauty was gone without a trace, even though there shouldn't have been enough time for her to go even if she had departed at a full sprint.
For an instant they salaryman felt black despair claw at his heart at the thought that he might never see such loveliness again. Then he glanced up and his eyes fixed upon a new vision of divinity.
The woman his gaze was now locked upon was not the equal of the paragon of loveliness that he had seen before, but she had an exquisiteness of her own. Even though she was in her early middle years that merely lent a maturity to her beauty that further enraptured him. He had to go to her; he had to tell her of the love that he could feel thundering through his heart.
This was true love at first sight; there was no other way to describe it.
Without a thought to the young woman that just this morning he had been thinking of asking to marry him Hiroshi stumbled towards the new light of his heart.
/\/\/\/\/\
Nanami didn't care that he was the boyfriend of her best friend, she had to have him. She didn't care if she had to lie, threaten, blackmail or kill, she had to have him. She didn't care that Kimiko had been her dearest friend for more than ten years, she had to have him.
Minato had always lived near her, so it wasn't at all unusual for them to catch the same bus for school in the morning. In fact it was how they had begun talking in the first place and why she'd introduced him to her best friend. He was a nice guy, but a bit too active for her taste, Nanami had always preferred the quieter thoughtful types. Kimiko had always had a thing for those boys that were into sports so she'd thought that it would be a good match, a thought that she had been proven correct in.
Now she couldn't believe her stupidity. How could she have been so foolish as to let this marvellous specimen of manhood get away from her? She should have grabbed onto him and not let go . . . ever!
It had all become so clear to her. She just caught a glimpse of the most heart achingly beautiful woman she had ever seen and had turned to Minato to ask if he had seen her. As soon as she had laid eyes upon him she had felt her heart begin to pound and the blood rush through her veins to her face. It was as though love had suddenly struck her right there, how could she have been so blind to the fact that he was her destined soul mate in the past?
Well that wasn't important now, what was important was that she didn't waste another instant in not conveying her realized emotions to the man that would one day be the father of her children. If Kimiko got in the way of that . . . well, she'd just have to be dealt with.
Throwing her arms around her startled love's neck she bore him to the ground as her lips sealed themselves to his as she kissed him with all the wild passion that was now flooding her heart.
Who cared about friendship, she was in love.
/\/\/\/\/\
Andrew hadn't been in Japan long, but already he had found true love.
Granted he hadn't expected his soul mate to be a high school student, and he certainly hadn't expected it to be a boy. Still it was all perfectly clear to him now; women had always been more trouble than they were worth. His relationships had always failed due to his partners being demanding of his time for their feminine interests, dragging him to 'chick flicks' and their various shopping excursions. If his true love was another man then obviously their interests would be similar, at least more similar than they would be with a woman.
Without further thought for the divine beauty he had seen but a moment before he advanced upon the flame of his heart.
/\/\/\/\/\
Reina couldn't believe that she had never realized how beautiful Kimiko was.
The realization had struck her like a thunderbolt after she had glimpsed the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. How could she have been so blind in the past as to think that the younger student was a bit on the mousy side? She was a vision of loveliness that set her heart racing and who caused her to feel light headed with a simple smile. She was beautiful, she was lovely, she was . . . looking at a boy with love struck eyes.
Before Reina's horrified eyes the light of her world threw herself at that boy and bore him to the ground as she frantically kissed him.
No.
NO!
This couldn't be, her perfect beloved couldn't be in someone else's arms, she was Reina's, hers, HERS. Without further thought the student's hand went to her bag. She had some art supplies in there, including a scrape that she used in sculpting. It wasn't sharp on its edge anymore, but its point was like a needle and if she jammed it into that boy's eyeball then it would get him out of the way.
As her fingers closed around its handle she started to advance.
/\/\/\/\/\
Katsuro didn't understand why his love was crying and struggling as he tried to kiss her. Didn't she understand that they were meant to be together? Why was she being so difficult?
/\/\/\/\/\
Yoshirou screamed in rage as his hands closed around the throat of the girl that had tried to kiss him.
How dare she?
How dare she?
She had tainted . . . no, she had desecrated him with her touch. And right after he had found his true love.
How dare she?
His grip tightened.
/\/\/\/\/\
He loved her, he had to have her.
/\/\/\/\/\
He was in the way, kill him.
/\/\/\/\/\
She'd never love her; they must both die so they could have another chance in the next life.
/\/\/\/\/\
He-
/\/\/\/\/\
She-
/\/\/\/\/\
Love-
/\/\/\/\/\
Brynhildr stared around her as the sea of mortals writhed before her.
In one place men and women tore at each other's clothes in a wild abandon to satiate their passion, utterly unmindful of where they were. In another two men fought over the same woman while she shrieked in rage as she clawed at another girl. Elsewhere a young girl wept bitter tears as she threw herself and a surprised older woman onto the train tracks, not realizing that her suicide attempt was doomed to failure since that track was closed.
About her raged all the consequences of unreasoning love, and in the middle of the station, in the centre of the only empty spot on the floor, was the cause of it all.
"We greet you honoured Venus, and welcome you to the mortal plane."
The blonde haired Divine Ancestor heard the voice of her ally but didn't turn to look at her. Indeed she wouldn't have been able to had it meant the return of her full divinity. All her attention was riveted upon the newly descended Heretic Goddess that stood before her.
There were no words to describe Venus, because no paltry description could ever hope to fully capture her wonder. Her hair could not be called golden blonde because to do so would imply that it would not be perfect for those that loved raven black hair. Her hair could not be called raven black because to do so would imply that it would not be perfect for those that loved hair golden blonde. Her hair was perfection for it was all colours at once, black, blonde, chestnut, white, red, it was all of them and yet none.
It was the same for all of her. Every facet of her appearance was an example of feminine perfection in all possible ways. She was short, she was tall. She was fair skinned, she was tanned near as black as coal. Her build was lush, her build was slender. How could words, mere sounds in the air or marks on paper, possibly hope to convey the unmatchable perfection of the goddess of beauty and love?
Brynhildr was a Divine Ancestor, a fallen goddess that none the less possessed power that no mortal could dream of, and yet in spite of that she could feel herself being helplessly drawn in by the inescapable gravity of this goddess's beauty.
"Oh, what's this? Do a trio of fallen Goddesses come to greet me upon my descent? My, what a happy omen for my time in this world."
Even her voice was intoxicating. It slid through one's ears like sweetest honey and befuddled ones senses like the strongest liquor. The Norse Divine Ancestor could actually feel her body begin to shake with a combination of desire and fear. Was this what it had been like for mortals confronted with the deadly sirens? Had they seen a similar beauty and been drawn to it even thought they knew that it was deadly?
"Cease your bewitchments." The voice of Athena sound so . . . tiny, so pitiful when compared to the rich magnificence of the Heretic Goddess's, yet despite that, there was steel in it. And that steel reminded all that heard it that though she was reduced this was still Athena, a goddess of craft and war who knew few equals. "I shall not have my allies swept away by your charms Aphrodite."
"Heh, still boring as ever, Athena. You really should find yourself a man and let out all of that pent up stress. Still, I didn't emerge from my legend simply to confront you, so I suppose I can leave your playthings alone for now."
There was no obvious change, no immediate shift, yet somehow the vision of supreme beauty before her changed. Like a light dying down from a blinding brightness to an endurable shine the goddess before reined in her supernatural allure. Her appearance lost that transcendent quality it had possessed and faded into that of a magnificent beauty, but one within mortal comprehension.
Her hair was a lovely dark brown and her eyes glittered like freshly cut sapphires. Her age was that of a young woman who had just entered adulthood. Her body was tall and lushly curved without being vulgar or obscene. She was clad in a simple white sundress that reached down to her ankles.
Utterly ignoring the virtual riot that continued about her Venus delicately stepped forward and approached the trio.
"I can feel that you've cast some sort of spell upon this place. To what end?"
In response to the goddess's question the Divine Ancestor with the red and blue hair stepped forwards.
"Though we do not yet know how one of the children of Pandora has some means to track deities that appear within the bounds of his city. The spells that we have cast here will mask your arrival so that he remains unaware of your descent."
"How thoughtful of you T-"
"Please do not call me by that name." the eldest Divine Ancestor cut the goddess off, "As I am I have no right to it. Merely address me as Andromeda; I shall look forward to you calling me by my true name when I have regained what I have lost."
"Ah, so that's the game that you and your friends are playing," commented the goddess of love as a smile crossed her face. "Well I thank you for the efforts, but I have no desire to hide myself from the Campione of this land. Indeed I wish to meet him, it was for that very reason that I chose to leave my Legend."
That caught Brynhildr by surprise. Generally gods only descended to the mortal realm when they grew dissatisfied with their legends to the point where they became a burden. Most of the time this applied to combative or active gods such as war gods or hero gods. Even gods of such crafts as dancing or weaving would from time to time escape to the mortal plane so that they could test their talents against the best that the human world had to offer as a way of breaking their boredom.
It was most unusual though for a deity of love like Venus to break out of her legend. Gods such as herself were normally content to reside within their legends indulging in the pleasures that attended them there and occasionally answering such prayer that might reach them. To the best of her knowledge such deities had only ever descended to the mortal plane three times in recorded history, and all three had left chaos and ruin in their wakes.
It wasn't that such gods were powerful, in terms of destructive capacity Brynhildr knew that she probably stood above the wife of Vulcan even in her reduced state. However that wasn't what made her dangerous, the proof of that was all about them in the forms of the mortals that were running wild under her power.
Love, one of the most powerful and dangerous emotions known to humanity. It could inspire one to heights that could in time become legend, or it could lead one to such depths and depravity that even the demons from hell would flinch away in horror. It could grant hope to drive one on or it could send one spiralling into a pit of despair. Love, along with its attendant emotions of caring, desire and jealousy, could be described as the most wild and volatile emotion humanity was capable of.
And that emotion was Venus's to command.
And no matter how unfeeling or rational a being tried to be the simple fact was that be they gods or mortals all were pushed, if not ruled, by their hearts. In the past Venus had enchanted heroes, monsters, even fellow deities, none had been immune to her power.
It was for this reason that she was to be as feared as she was to be admired. However it also begged the question as to why she was seeking a Campione.
"For what reason do you seek to find a child of Pandora?"
It would seem that she and Andromeda shared a similar curiosity.
"I felt the death of my former lover," the goddess declared as she idly flicked at a lock of her hair, "He was calling himself Mordred I believe. Well in our time together he was always a splendid lover, almost as enthusiastic as he was upon the battlefield. I found myself wondering if his vanquisher might prove to be equally talented or maybe even superior."
Brynhildr had to control her face in order to keep her sheer incredulity from showing. That was it? That was the reason that she had defied the natural order as to where she should exist? The sheer carelessness of it was enough to enter the realms of absurdity.
"Honoured Venus . . . are you aware that this land is home to two of the God Slayers?" Andromeda's voice was measured, "Do you know which one you seek or where to find him?"
"No," admitted the goddess as she tilted her head slightly, "But something tells me you can tell me."
The blonde haired Divine Ancestor couldn't help but convulsively swallow at the sight of the smile that crossed the goddess's face. She was perfectly aware that though she and Andromeda might be immortal witches if this deity turned the full force of her power upon them then they would both be reduced to her adoring slaves.
"Venus . . ."
Even though Brynhildr held her in secret contempt she was none the less glad that Athena stood there with them. Weakened though she might be the fallen goddess was still a full divinity and as such not someone that the goddess of love could simply trample over. And that would hopefully be enough of a deterrent to allow Andromeda to talk her into allying herself with them.
"Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud Athena," her words were light, even playful, but the goddess's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Part of the fun is finding my target, I wouldn't force too much out of your little friends."
"P-Perhaps we may be of some aid to you without the need for any . . . coercion." Despite the strong front that the older Divine Ancestor was putting up there was a definite catch in her voice. "Even if you were to find your target then the other Campione might well interfere with you. Do you think that would end well?"
That perfect brow furrowed as Venus gazed at the young seeming girls before her.
"What are you proposing then?"
"We have plans of our own, but they should not interfere with your own desires. If you will consent to aid us in our own aims then we will be able to ensure that your own goals can be achieved unimpeded."
"You're so sure that you can deliver on your promise?" There was amusement in the voice of Venus, as though she were watching something moderately entertaining.
"When dealing with any God Slayer caution and careful planning are always needed. When dealing with two . . . well, I'm sure you can see the advantage to allowing us to work with you. In addition we shall soon be able to call upon another deity to aid us. With our combined abilities I'm certain that we shall all be able to achieve our wishes."
There was a moment where only the sounds of violence and passion from the crowd were the only things to be heard. Then the brown haired goddess slowly nodded.
"Very well, I am willing to show some patience. The centuries you have spent as an immortal witch have been good for you Andromeda; during your full divinity you had no gift for debate or discussion. It would seem that your time here has taught you much."
It was only due to her decades of partnership with the blue and red haired Divine Ancestor that she noticed the way that her ally's muscles tensed for an instant before relaxing. It was strange, always before she had found Andromeda's ability to control her pride and remain humble even in the face of ridicule and scorn to be admirable. Now she saw it only as weakness or fear, disgusting rather than commendable.
Still, whatever the case may be it seemed that her ally had been able to secure the cooperation of the Heretic Goddess, so that was something at least.
"My time in hiding has taught me some of the values of discretion," Andromeda agreed, "If it does not offend you I shall see to the effects you have had upon this place. It would not do for any of the local bastard children of Pandora to realize that this is because of a god and begin to hunt for you."
As she spoke the older Divine Ancestor pressed the palms of her hands together. She held them like that for a short time as she muttered spell words under her breath. Then in a single almost violent movement she flung her arms out wide as though throwing something away.
In response to her actions a blue tinge swept through the air, like a coloured mist being driven by a strong wind. Before long it had filled the entire station and enveloped everyone within. Those that the tinge touched suddenly froze in place before collapsing to the ground unconscious. In less than five seconds the crowds within the building had gone from rioting to insensible.
With another flick of her hand Andromeda gestured at a wall and bright red painted words appeared there.
Fear the Sons of Kaze no Aoi, if our demands are not met then there shall be consequences.
"Who are the Sons of Kaze no Aoi?" asked Brynhildr mildly curious.
"A figment of my imagination." answered Andromeda, "These mortals will wake up in a few hours with no memory of what happened here. The authorities will conclude that it is one of those laughable terrorist attacks that humans have become so fond of lately, one using drugs or some such. There will be no hints left of honoured Venus's descent to this plane and so no clues to alert the God Slayers."
Without further words the quartet of divine females disappeared from the station leaving the havoc they had wrought behind without even a backwards glance.
-()-
Today.
"Right then, let's get going."
Shirou stood in the centre of the large design that Manaka and Kaida had inscribed upon the ground with a shoulder bag on his arm. Off to the side stood Kusanagi Godou and Liliana Kranjcar, the witch here to aid in the ritual and the seventh Campione because he'd been curious to see it and had wanted to accompany his friend.
The ritual that he was planning to use was itself rather simple; the hard part had been getting hold of the reagents needed to conduct it safely. As long as one had those and some talented aid such as Liliana and Manaka then what he wanted accomplished was a relatively simple task.
However despite the simplicity of the spell work the nature of the ritual was not one to be undertaken lightly.
"Are you sure about this Shirou?" Godou questioned as the two witches and the Hime-Miko moved to their spots around the design. "The Netherworld is a troublesome place."
"Yes," the King of Steel agreed, "I read the report that Committee compiled on what happened. Still, I have a bit of a better idea of what I'm getting into and I won't have to worry about a friend getting killed by the atmosphere. I'm sure that I'll be strong enough to handle anything that I run across, and the ladies here will cast the spell needed to bring me back in exactly five hours. If I can't handle that much then I hardly deserve the title of King do I?"
The seventh Campione simply stared at him for a moment, then shook his head in a sort of amused resignation.
"Campione really are without common sense."
"Oh? Then what does it say that you're one?"
"That . . . Huh, I'm not quite sure."
"If you work it out be sure to let me know."
Watching the by play between the two Kings seemed to result in some amusement with the girls, because Shirou could see smiles tugging at their lips.
"If you will just hold still for a moment Emiya-sama," said Liliana as she closed her eyes and started to concentrate. "We shall activate the spell in just a moment."
With a nod of his head Shirou closed his mouth and turned his attention inwards. This little expedition into the Astral plane was only the first of a number that he had planned, especially if this trip yielded the results that he hoped for. Still, first things first. If he was going into unknown territory that could be hostile then he'd best be ready for the worst. Reaching into himself he wordlessly touched the power he had received from Perseus and allowed the strength of the Dragon Slaying Hero to flow into him.
Around him the lines of the design began to glow as the three magic users fed power into it. He could definitely feel something happening now, a sort of twisting of the space about him that was more implied than actually felt, quite fascinating really. Idly he wondered where Illya was, this would have been pretty interesting to her.
Oh, now he remembered. She said that she'd be in her workshop for most of today. Apparently there'd been some sort of glitch with her Mini City Guide yesterday and the snowy haired young magus was determined to fix it.
Further thoughts about his adopted sister's activities were cut off as the light from the design suddenly flared to near blinding intensity and the twisting of space went from an implication to a definite fact. Even as he instinctively brought his arm up to shield his eyes Shirou experienced a strange sense of falling.
It took the young King a few moments to reorient himself. Rather than standing on the patio outside is workshop he was now in a sort of mist filled forest. What was odd was that colour of everything about him looked to be tinted with grey, not because of the mist, but rather as though it were an old painting that had lost its colour over time.
Ah well, he'd been prepared to be faced with a world something like this. After all the Netherworld was a dimension that existed above and around the one he normally lived in, one couldn't expect it to simply look normal. The important thing was to get exploring and to get the readings that he needed.
Reaching into the bag he was carrying he drew out an instrument of metal and glass that for some reason looked to him like someone had tried to torture a crystal wine glass with an egg whisk. Illya had put it together using some recollections of one of the books that she'd read in the Einzbern library. She'd admitted that under normal circumstances she wouldn't have been able to make it, but a combination of Wishcraft and her access to plenty of platinum and diamond to use as materials had managed to compensate for the gaps in her knowledge.
In all truth Shirou wasn't entirely sure what the instrument was supposed to do, since even the knowledge that he'd inherited from Archer hadn't included anything about it. As far as he understood it the construct was meant to measure the density of a dimension, though exactly how that would help them was something the eighth Campione wasn't too sure of. Still, he trusted Illya to know what she was doing.
The basic premise of his idea was fairly simple. Both he and Illya had tried to use their respective Authorities and Magecraft to reach the Throne of Heroes, he for Saber and her for Berserker. However both of them hadn't been able to 'reach' it even though they could perceive it in some way that neither of them understood. If one took that as an indication then it meant that their home dimensions was metaphysically 'closer' to the Throne than the one they were currently in. One of the objectives of this excursion was to see if Shirou could feel any sort of change in the 'distance' to the Throne if he tried to use Ruler of the Underworld in the Netherworld.
Well, now was as good a time as any to try.
"Trace on."
First he needed a link, something connected to the one he sought to call. Thinking back to the Feast and the gifts he had given he Traced Rhongomyniad, it was a Noble Phantasm with a strong enough connection to Saber that he could use it to summon her, but it wasn't nearly as costly to Trace as Avalon or Excalibur.
"Past thejaws of Cerberus, down the twisting path to the kingdoms three, before me lies the domain over which I am monarch. Beneath the earth, beneath the darkness, all within is my possession."
As he spoke the words he could feel the power of the Authority stir and wake within him. He could feel it find the connection that the spear heheld possessed and he could feel the power of the Authority run along that connection as it reached out. Reached out . . . but not far enough.
He could sense the Throne through the power of his Authority, a sort of far off blur that he couldn't 'see' the details of and yet he knew washis goal. It was still far out of 'reach', but there was a definite sense that the metaphysical distance had lessened if only fractionally.
That meant that even if it was only by a step then at least his search for a way back home had made some progress. As that thought brought a grin to his face he glanced down at the instrument that he was holding in his left hand. Illya had told him that once the wires within the glass had begun to glow blue then it would have fulfilled its task. Right now they were more of a pale green, which meant that it still had a few minutes before it was finished.
Letting the spear he had Traced fade back into the ambient Prana that it had been made from Shirou placed the instrument back in the bag he had then hitched the bag back onto his shoulder and began to walk into the forest. After all there was no reason for him to have to stay in the same place for the whole time.
Right, one of the things that he'd read in the books about that Netherworld had been that within its bounds it was possible for one to travel instantaneously from one place to another by an act of sheer will if one was strong enough. Well he was a Campione, so that should be more than enough to power such a feat.
Closing his eyes he tried to focus on the beach. Yes, that was a good location; he'd been meaning to take Illya there for a weekend holiday since the weather was improving. She'd mentioned that she'd never been to the beach before. Hell, she'd never been out of the mansion grounds of the Einzbern family estate. What must that have been like, living in a place almost constantly locked in a near endless winter that only abated in the summer?
Shirou felt a sort of shift and opened his eyes to see not blue waves and sandy beaches but rather deep forest and piled up snow. Oddly enough it wasn't as though the temperature had dropped as much as he had been expecting. Sure it felt a bit cooler, but it was more like opening the fridge and getting a chill gust rather than walking into an industrial sized freezer. Reaching down he picked up a handful of snow and was surprised to find that it felt rather like picking up a lettuce from a supermarket chiller. In addition to that the snow wasn't melting in his hand rather it was simply staying in one piece as though it was a plastic recreation rather than the real thing.
Glancing around he saw that the trees weren't any type that were native to Japan, definitely a different variety of oak. Plus almost all the trees he could see were huge towering things that must have been decades if not centuries old. Above the trees he could see a huge black mountain rearing up over them. He might not be any great detective, but was fairly sure that he could safely conclude that he wasn't in Japan anymore.
Which begged the question of where exactly he was?
At a guess he imagined that he was somewhere in the north of Germany. After all his mind had been wandering to the place where Illya had lived her life right as he was attempting to translocate himself, apparently not the smartest thing that he could have done. Closing his eyes he prepared to try once more to reach a Japanese beach when something caught his attention.
The first thing that he noticed was the smell, an absolutely delicious aroma of cooking meat that was carried to him on the wind. The second thing that he noticed was the singing. It was faint, clearly quite distant, but as soon as he started to concentrate on it he managed to pick out the words.
And as soon as he did his face turned bright scarlet.
Even though the song was being sung in some archaic form of German Shirou's gift for languages as a Campione meant that he had no trouble understanding it, much to his dismay. It seemed that the song was a shamelessly bawdy one about a barmaid with several lovers that had set her sights on another young man only to find he was already in love with another young girl. Not to be put off it seemed the barmaid was in the process of seducing the young man's beloved so as to secure herself a position in his bed. The red haired young man felt his ears burn as the song described in lurid detail the exact methods that the barmaid was using to achieve her ends.
Oh-kay, it would seem that there was an extremely talented cook hereabouts that had a patchent for what must have been the Dark Age's equivalent of porn. Under most other circumstances Shirou would have simply done his best to get out of there, but damn but that meat smelt good.
He decided that he really wanted to see if he could get the recipe for it.
It was after about ten minutes of walking that he found his way to the clearing from which the lovely scent was coming. He'd not been sure what he was expecting, maybe an outdoors feast or some sort of dwelling.
What he found instead was a spit roast boar turning over a bed of coals and being attended by one man dressed up in what looked like Viking clothes. Off to one side was a large bronze cauldron filled with gently bubbling water rising on another bed of glowing embers. All in all it looked like a pleasant, if slightly primitive, barbeque.
Well, except for one minor detail, the boar that was being roasted was well over fifteen feet in length meaning that it was larger than a family car. Yet in spite of its enormous size the man clad in Viking clothes was calmly turning the spit and occasionally tossing herbs and salt onto the huge carcass. What was almost as strange was the wonderfully heady aroma that was rising from both the gently sizzling meat and the boiling cauldron that seemed to have a number of vegetables bobbing around in the water.
Also, much to Shirou's relief, the song that he'd been singing had finally come to an end with the promiscuous barmaid having seduced all her targets and having secured herself a position as the mistress of the young man who was now as besotted with her as he was with his betrothed. The eighth Campione was well aware that from now to the day he died he'd never be able to look at a barmaid in the same way again without that . . . graphic song traitorously repeating itself in his head.
"Oh? And who might ye be young sir?"
The words that were spoken to him were definitely not Japanese, but as with the song Shirou found that he had no trouble in understanding them. The accent was a bit strange, a brogue that he had never heard before in his country, but he had no trouble understanding it.
Well, language and accents aside it seemed that he had been spotted. For an instant the young Emiya considered flight or attack, but then decided that both responses would be a bit premature at this point. The cooking Viking had made no hostile moves and he still had Dragon Slaying Hero activated. Now was as good a time as any to try to learn some more about this place, and speaking to someone that seemed to be one of the locals might be a good way to gather a bit more information.
"Greetings to you, he called as politely as he could as he calmly walked into the clearing, "I'm Emiya Shirou, and might I enquire to whom do I speak?"
Reaching into a small tub next to him the mysterious cook drew out a ladle full of some sort of steaming oil and poured it over the turning hog. The coals hissed as the oil dripped down onto them, but strangely enough didn't dim.
"I be Andhrímnir," he said as he nodded towards the newcomer to his clearing, "'Tas been a long time since I've been seeing any newcomers to these parts."
On hearing the name Shirou took a closer look at the man while mentally going over the various Norse gods that he could remember. The man sat before him was of average European height but had a stocky build that made him look shorter than he actually was. There were defined muscles on his bare arms, yet the man definitely had something of a paunch and his face padded slightly with fat. If the eighth Campione had to describe him he'd say that this was a man that saw a lot of regular intense workouts but who also had access to a great deal of food.
The man's hair and beard was a sort of dark grey that might have once been black or brown, though now it was impossible to tell. His eyes were twin shards of frozen sky that somehow managed to be warm despite their shocking colour. His clothing was a simple dull green tunic with brown hose and boots with a short of short brown cloak about his shoulders. On his head was a simple conical helmet that was devoid of ornamentation to the point where it looked more like a metal hat than it did head protection.
There weren't any of the tell tale signs that he'd been hoping for. If he'd had a hammer at his belt then it would have suggested he was Thor, despite his claims otherwise. A missing eye would have hinted Odin while a missing right hand would have indicated Týr. However there were no such indications and the name Andhrímnir didn't ring any bells.
"I . . . I fear that I do not know you." Shirou confessed as he drew nearer.
Though he was keeping his posture relaxed and as non-threatening as he could manage he was also keeping his magic ready in case he had to Trace a weapon in a hurry.
"Eh? How can ye claim never to have heard 'o Andhrímnir young sir? Why I be the great cook that serves up the splendid banquet of the Aesir and the einherjar. Tis my skills that allow 'em to feast 'pon the best foods and fare that the kitchens 'o Asgard can provide."
The King of Steel's brow furrowed as a memory tugged at the edge of his recollection.
"Don't you have a . . . pig that you serve up and then the next day it comes back to life so you can serve it up again?"
"Aye, aye. That be old Sæhrímnir here," the Viking deity agreed as he gestured at the enormous slowly turning hog over which he was presiding. "He's a real good customer about it, ye'd think that after a few hundred years 'o being killed skinned and roasted that a body would get tired 'o it, but not 'im. I think 'e finds it restful 'cause as soon as 'e rises up the next day then 'e's all brim full 'o get go."
By now the red haired God Slayer had closed the distance between the two of them and was standing just a bit away from the head of the cooking boar.
"Are-are you a Heretic God?"
Well, that was the important question to get out of the way first. After all this fellow might be being friendly now, but that might change at a moment's notice. If something was going to kick off a fight between them then now was as good a time as any.
"Don't worry yerself 'bout that young sir," the Norse god said airily as he waved his cooking utensil about dismissively, "Sure I did spend some time raising all sorts 'o trouble a century or two past, 'Owever I left alla that behind me when I chose to spend the rest 'o me days here. After all, it be a sight quieter and more restful that the halls of Valhalla don't ye know? Here I need cook for none but meself and I get to enjoy alla old Sæhrímnir's meat without needing to share it with none I donna want to."
The brogue that Andhrímnir spoke in was oddly appealing in a way; it gave him a sort of rustic charm that Shirou couldn't remember having encountered before. Then a thought suddenly struck him.
"Wait! So you've been eating roast boar every day for the last two hundred years? Doesn't that get a bit . . . stale?"
"Y'd think so, but me skills be beyond any others when it comes to cooking hogs." His face took on a rather sardonic look, "After more'n a thousand years 'o cooking me old friend here you learn a thing or two about brin' out the flavours 'o boar flesh. And I be learnin' 'ow to make all manner 'o accompanin' dishes besides, even from the simplest 'o fair."
Now this was something that came near to Shirou's heart. Glancing down he saw that there was another stool near the one that the Viking deity was sitting on. He wasn't feeling any sort of ill intent from this Andhrímnir, far from it in fact. Every other time he'd been confronted by a god there'd been a sort of instinctive hostility, the innate clash of two of two natural enemies encountering each other. However now that feeling was strangely absent.
Ah well, why not? He was ready in case anything was pulled against him after all. Hooking his foot around one of the legs of the stool he pulled it towards him and then sat down on it.
"So what would you say the best way to season a spit roast would be? I've been thinking about having one of my own, so what would you recommend?"
The grin that spread over the Viking god's face let Shirou know that he was probably in for a full blown lecture.
"Well, ye see . . ."
-()-
Guinevere took a look around her new base of operations and nodded to herself. It might lack the grandeur of her former castle, but this new dwelling was comfortable, secure and, most importantly, not a pile of smoking debris thanks to the Black Prince Alec.
Her new residence was an old fashioned western style manor located on the northern outskirts of Tokyo. It was a large domicile, though not on the same scale as the manor of Sir Shirou, and more than sufficient for her needs. However it was not the manor itself that was of greatest note to her, but rather where it had been built.
Behind the mansion's gardens was a small but deep lake that served as part of the local landscape and was regarded as the private property of the manor's owner. It had been for this reason that the Witch Queen had instructed her mortal agents to arrange for its purchase. Granted it was well within her power to drive the former owners out using spell, but some of the rituals and enchantments that she preferred to use needed to be performed upon ground that belonged to her. Since the ceremonies needed to claim a land by right of conquest were long and dull, not to mention needlessly complicated, it was far easier to simply throw money at the owners until they agreed to sell the property to her. It also had the added advantage of stirring up the least amount of fuss that others might take notice of.
Had anyone been present to witness it they would have seen a beautiful young girl in a black frilly dress making her way from the mansion to the edge of the lake where a short jetty extended out over its waters. Over the years the previous owners of the dwelling had used that wooden construct as a place to fish, a mooring place for boats or a point from which to dive into the waters. However the current owner of the manor had plans that none of the earlier inhabitants would ever have conceived of.
"Sir Knight? Guinevere would seek your council."
Any watching would have thought that this was simply a case of a lonely young girl seeking comfort in conversation with imaginary friends. However had that same watcher drawn closer they would have beheld a sight that would have made them question their sanity.
Upon the surface of the water at the end of the jetty was the image of a knight in white armour, and yet against all logic that knight wasn't underwater. Instead it was as though his reflection was there upon the lake's surface even though there was nothing to cast it.
(Oh, and what troubles you so that you would seek the council of this simple knight? You know that I have no talent for riddles and puzzles, but still if I can then I shall offer you all my aid.)
The easy response of her beloved champion brought a smile to Guinevere's lips. That was just the way that her dear Lancelot was, utterly without shame or worry, small wonder that she loved him so.
"I think that I have finally learnt of where our beloved Master lies sleeping, I am certain that it is somewhere in this land."
(Oh? So the Monkey King was able to lead you to what you sought?) There was a definite hint of amusement to the voice of the reflection now, a hidden amusement at the excitement that the seemingly young girl was showing.
"No, though when Guinevere felt the strength of the Steel the Great Sage possessed she thought that he might be a reincarnation of our beloved Master. He may even have been connected to Artus in some way, but I had no chance to investigate it because of Mordred."
At the mention of the name the knight in the Lake seemed to freeze in place, all the tiny movements that he'd been displaying before was gone as it would have been had he been replaced with a statue.
(Mordred?)
There was such venom, such hatred loaded upon that name that the Queen of the Divine Ancestors felt an involuntary shudder run down her spine. This was Lancelot du Lac, her most treasured friend and ally, the god of Steel that had willingly submitted to her spell so that he could better protect her. And yet in spite of that she found herself recoiling in instinctual fear from the raw animosity radiating from the image of her guardian.
(You have seen the Traitor? When next you find him you must summon me immediately and this knight shall cut the blood price that he owes us both from his impaled carcass!)
"Th-There will be no need to," Guinevere said, glancing down and fiddling with her dress like a child whose parents had caught her stealing cookies. "When Guinevere was confronted by the Traitor Knight she acted . . . unwisely and tried to assassinate him by herself. I-"
(WHAT?!)
The golden haired girl's explanation was cut off by a nearly shouted exclamation of disbelief and outrage.
(WHY WOULD YOU DO SOMETHING SO FOOLISH?! HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THAT BLACKHEART'S STRENGTH?! WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL FOR MY PROTECTION?!)
In the face of her guardians sudden anger the Witch of Briton could do nothing save slowly shrink in on herself. Each recrimination drew a wince from her. Seeing the effects that his tirade was having upon his charge the Knight of the Lake paused for a moment as his armoured form visible tried to calm itself.
(You said that there is no need to call me against him. Since you are safe, my most beloved child, then does that mean that your assassination was successful? Were you able to strike down the traitor to our King?)
Guinevere shook her head as she once more drew herself up.
"No, though I waited until he was locked in combat with one of the Campione of this land I was still not able to slay him. He was able to dodge the spell that I used to cast the power of the Holy Grail at him and then he had me caught before Guinevere could invoke the spell to call Sir Knight to her side."
As memories of her dire situation washed over her the eyes of the Witch Queen gazed off into the past and fear touched her face as she remembered her helplessness in the face of the war god's power.
(Then how did you escape? Mordred is not one to show mercy upon those that he has subdued.)
"Ah, Guinevere was saved by the Campione that was fighting the traitor. He was so magnificent. One instant Mordred was about to skewer me upon his sword and then the next despite being wounded and exhausted Sir Shirou was standing between us and defending me."
(This Sir Shirou must have been a mighty warrior to drive off Mordred. I may hate him for his betrayal, but I would never deny his strength.) There was a definite hint of curiosity in the knight's voice now, an interest in the one that had saved his charge.
"Sir Shirou didn't simply drive Mordred off, he defeated and slew him." declared the Divine Ancestor, "It was a momentous battle to behold, even in his battle with Artus Mordred didn't use his full power. He was ashamed to reveal that he was not a true God of Steel, but was rather pretender, a god of war and Earth that had been altered by the passage of time. As he fought he regressed from the knight we knew and back through all his incarnations. He used many powerful Authorities in the battle and yet despite using all of them Sir Shirou was able to match and defeat them all."
(A fine achievement, though tell me Guinevere; should I be worried that I shall have competition for the post of your protector?)
The results of his question were immediate and gratifyingly amusing. The Witch Queen's face turned bright red as she began to frantically wave her arms in vague gestures.
"S-Sir Knight! How can you ask that of me? Even if Guinevere did save the King after his battle and even if she did give him her f-first k-k-kiss that doesn't mean that she's interested in him! He's-He's just a means to an end! Why should Guinevere care if he is kind to her or defends her honour to his fellow Kings? Why should I care if he gives me such treasured gifts or lets me defend the reign of my beloved master at a competition of Kings?
"Sir Knight is my truest protector, and I would not abandon you simply because Sir Shirou has lovely eyes and-"
The Witch Queen of Briton's ramble was cut off as she slapped both her hands over her mouth even as she somehow managed to flush even redder.
(Really now? Has this Sir Shirou made such a great impression upon you my most precious child?)
Far from being offended by the idea of Guinevere being attracted to another the armoured warrior seemed to instead be amused by the idea.
"I-It's not like that!" The blonde immortal practically wailed, "Guinevere doesn't mean it, but whenever she thinks of him her heart races and she can't think straight. What am I supposed to doooooo?!"
The last sentence was uttered with a sort of imploring desperation.
(Oh ho ho, it would seem that my lady is quite smitten with this young Campione,) the Knight's voice was now making no attempt to hide its amusement, (So how did it come to pass that he was able to steal your first kiss?)
"SIR KNIGHT!" Seeing that the image of her protector was now shaking with repressed laughter Guinevere took a deep breath and did her best to calm down. "Sir Shirou had exhausted himself in slaying Mordred, so much so that his life was in danger. It would have been gratitude most poor to allow Guinevere's saviour to die so she moved to heal him. Since he was a Campione the spell had to be applied internally to affect him, hence why I had to k-kiss him."
The shaking of Lancelot's shoulders subsided and all save a hint of his amusement faded from his posture.
(This Sir Shirou seems to have made quite the impression upon you. Will you perhaps try to induce him to join our cause as you once tried to do with that stubborn prince fellow?)
"I-I'm not entirely sure," admitted the keeper of the Holy Grail, "I do not think that Sir Shirou is one to be taken lightly. He . . . he has Steel in him."
(Ah, a good choice of ally then. Perhaps you co-)
"No! Sir Knight doesn't understand. Sir Shirou has Steel in him the same way that a deity of Steel does; it's as much a part of his being as his very soul is."
The caused Lancelot to freeze once more, his helmeted head tilting slightly to the side.
(Girl . . . what you describe is impossible. No mortal, not even a child of Pandora, can have a nature of Steel. They may use its power if they have the correct Authorities, they may make it a part of their bodies, but they can never hold it as a component of their natures.)
"And yet Sir Shirou does, not only that I have with my own eyes seen him wield Excalibur."
(WHAT?!)
"I know not how he may have gained it, but I am certain that the sword he used to slay Mordred was our master's divine sword of salvation." Once again the child like immortal paused before continuing, "Guinevere has a theory. Some of the clues the deceased Asherah obtained from the Kuhoudzuka family indicate that his majesty does indeed sleep in this land. I think that somehow Sir Shirou has been in contact with him and it has been that which has led to his strange nature."
(I do not see how that could be, I have never heard of such a thing happening before.)
"Guinevere is sure that there is something here. How else could Sir Shirou come to wield Excalibur?" she paused for a moment as a thought occurred to her, "Sir Knight, do you know of a sword called Arondight?"
(Arondight? In some legends it was the name of the sword this knight was said to wield; however in truth I always preferred to use a lance since the charge of a foe is this knight's preferred way of fighting.)
The Witch Queen nodded at that answer as another question about the strange Campione that has saved her remained unanswered in her mind. However one quote echoed through her mind, what Sir Shirou had told her; 'all stories are real. It's just that they aren't all real in the same story'.
"For the time being we shall continue to investigate, but with great care," she informed her protector. "There are two Kings in this land and for the time being neither of them holds hostility to Guinevere. This will mean that so long as we do not cross them or harm their subjects they shall not interfere with us and we shall have much more freedom than we would in other lands."
(As ever this knight shall follow the lead of Guinevere.) The reflection stated, (Though . . . I partly hope that we do come into conflict with this Sir Shirou. If he is as fine a warrior as you say then I would dearly enjoy meeting him in battle.)
"Sir Knight will never change," observed the child like Witch Queen, "But then that is the nature of an old Steel such as you."
The words were spoken without recrimination or irritation, but rather with affection instead.
-()-
Yusuke glanced out of his office window and saw how much the shadows had moved. At a guess it had been several hours since his King had left for the strange otherworld that he had said he was going to investigate. It would soon be time for his liege to return.
At the moment Yusuke was working on balancing the accounts for the businesses that had belonged to the Circle of the Chosen, or at least they had until Illya-sama conducted an extremely hostile takeover on them. Since they'd been given to him to handle the resurrected accountant had taken great pleasure in teasing apart the complicated knot of poorly handled accounts that he'd inherited from those businesses. The simple fact of the matter was that most of the properties that he'd been placed in charge of were potentially quite lucrative. The problem was that those that had been administering to them had possessed of the business acumen of a jellyfish.
The workers, locations and even investments had been sound enough. The problem was the final machine that those components had been assembled into could only run as long as it received regular influxes of funds. It was now his task to change that and assemble these various enterprises into something more self sufficient.
Huge resources, multiple ventures, international scope and a near unlimited budget?
This was the kind of work that he would have climbed out of his grave to do even without the benefit of his King's Authority.
Not that he'd been idle up until now of course. His liege had asked for his aid when he'd first called the dead soul up, and Yusuke intended for his aid to be as complete as he could manage. Never do things by halves, that was something of a personal motto and it had been one that had served him well through most of his life. Right now he could proudly say that if for some reason he was to disappear tomorrow the investments and businesses he had already set up for Shirou-sama would continue without his supervision and ensure that even without his Rule of the Underworld the eighth Campione would never have to be concerned about money for the rest of his life. Well, assuming his spending remained as modest as it had been up until now (buying the mansion being the one exception).
BRING BRING!
Huh? Well, that was a surprise. Down at the bottom left hand of his computer screen was a small message telling him that one of his contacts wanted to speak to him about a purchase that he might be interested in.
The thing that made this particular contact noteworthy was that it wasn't one of the people he got in touch with for his bottles of wine; rather it was a more recent contact that he'd made in the world of historical artefacts. Shortly after they had purchased the mansion and moved in Shirou-sama had told Yusuke that he was interested in acquiring old manuscripts and artefacts related to gods of travelling. It had been a somewhat unusual request, but the undead accountant had had no problems adding the search to his other duties, in truth it had been something of a nice change of pace.
It was in relation to this that he had been contacted now. Clicking on the message the resurrected accountant opened it up and read what had been sent to him.
Hmmm, it seemed that a contact in the south of Europe had recently been involved in an archaeological dig that had unearthed some sort of extremely old burial plot. However part way through the dig the funding for the excavation had been terminated for some reason. In order to raise the funds needed to complete the project the crew were selling some of their preliminary findings through various backdoor channels. Not exactly legal, but since they technically owned the land where the dig was taking place it wasn't totally illegal either. Basically it was one of those issues that could stay in the courts for years if taken there.
What was interesting was the item that was being offered to him for purchase. It was a tablet of stone with remarkable well preserved and intricate pictograms upon it that were at least two thousand years old. What was of particular note was that the images upon it depicted some sort of godly figure journeying from land to land, but so far none of the archaeologists there had been able to positively identify the god being depicted. There was even some speculation that it might be some minor local deity whose existence had been forgotten and lost to time.
A mysterious tablet, with possibly supernatural qualities given its preserved state, depicting a god of travelling that nobody could identify? That definitely sounded like something Shirou-sama might be interested in.
Glancing down to the bottom of the message Yusuke saw how much they were asking for the tablet and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. That was a large amount, not ridiculously so but still expensive for what it was. Under most other circumstances the accountant might have been hesitant to buy the Artefact, however his King had given him full discretion to use the funds available to him. He had also said he was more than willing to get ten duds if it meant one success.
With a nod to himself the resurrected servant pressed the button that confirmed the purchase. Half would be paid now and the other half would be done on the arrival of the tablet.
As he turned back to his work Yusuke couldn't help but wonder if he had made the correct choice.
-()-
"-so if ye boil the 'erbs before ya dry 'em and then put 'em on the roast then alla flavour gets split 'tween the meat and the roots so that ya get a tastier stew an' a taster roast."
"I see, why didn't I ever think of that?" Shirou wondered aloud as he painstakingly copied the suggestion into a note that had been in his pack on the off chance that he'd wanted to write himself some sort of memo.
It had been quite a thick notebook, one of those that had lots of pages you could pull out to take with you, now it was nearly half full of various notes, recipes and suggestions. There were ways of cooking pork in there that had the eighth Campione practically salivating to try.
A beeping noise brought him out of his thoughts and made him look down at his wrist. Even though he didn't normally wear a watch he'd put on a digital one today so that an alarm would ring when the time for his return to the mortal plane drew near.
"Ah, look's like I'll be having to leave soon."
"Oh? Well tha's probably fo' the best. Tat ol' worm should be showin' up soon, an I don' think ye wanna be 'ere when 'e 'rrives."
That made Shirou blink in incomprehension.
"A worm? Why would I be worried about a-"
His words were cut off by a sudden rumble from beneath the ground caused the earth to shake.
"Aye, 'e be one 'o Niddhogg's brood. The runt 'o the litter, but a fair bit smarter 'n the rest 'o his kin. Alla 'em went off to try 'n find power 'r riches and ended up getting' carved up by tha' gods 'o Steel that roam about this place. This'n though 'as a plan, 'e's trying to consume ol' Sæhrímnir so 'e can steal 'is powers o' revival. Not a bad plan, but 'e can't touch me meat since 'e's no part 'o me feast, my Authority can keep 'im out."
There was another shake to the earth, sharper and more pronounced this time.
"Nidd-Niddhogg?! As in the dragon that gnaws on the root of the World Tree?" Shirou shouted over the rumbling as he did his best to keep his balance.
"Aye, tat's the fella," the Viking god nodded, then he tilted his head in thought, "Ye know . . . ye've not eaten o me cooking, so tat means ye'r no' a part 'o me feast, and tat means tat ye'd be fair game as far as e's concerned, so ye might 'ant to move."
The driving force of the universe must have once been a stage director, that was the only explanation that Shirou could come up with. There was no other justification for the almost theatrical timing with which the earth to the left side of the clearing chose to erupt at that specific moment.
As the bits of dirt came raining down like dirty hailstones the King of Steel was already off his stool and moving out to get into a better position. His hand was outstretched to Trace a weapon, but as he saw what was pulling itself from the crater that had just formed he found himself frozen with awe at the sight.
Despite his many adventures Archer had never actually seen a dragon. He'd met, fought and even killed those with draconic attributes. He'd even faced homunculi creatures that had been in the forms of those long forgotten creatures. However not even in his time as a Counter Guardian had he actually faced one of those great monsters that were regarded as the highest level of Phantasmal Beasts.
Shirou himself had been in the presence of Mordred when he had tried to reclaim his oldest power, but even that hadn't been a pure dragon, even though it had possessed the power of one.
The creature that was now heaving itself out of the ground was a true dragon; there was simply no other word that could describe it. Its long scaled body was serpentine yet in spite of that limbs jutted out from its torso, long and strong limbs that ended in hooked talons. The head was a nightmare covered in scales and sporting jaws filled with dripping teeth. As it dragged its body out of the earth bat like wings unfurled and clawed at the air as they tried to aid the beast to emerge faster. All in all the dragon that was now hauling itself from the earth's embrace must have been at least fifty feet in length from snout to tail tip and massing more than a large truck.
But more than that there was a presence to the monster, an overwhelming aura of dominance that seemed to scream that this being was an absolute apex predator. In the face of such a monster the normal reaction for a mortal was to become either paralysed by fear or panicked beyond reason.
But Shirou was a Campione, and Campione could not be regarded as normal by any stretch of the imagination.
Sure this creature had power and presence. Certainly it was impressive to behold, a monster worthy of its reputation. But the simple fact was that not only was he semi accustomed to facing foes far more impressive, he was also by the very nature of several of his Authorities a dragon's natural enemy. And right now one of those Authorities was already flowing though his body.
Dragon Slaying Hero didn't even need him to form spell words to create the connection of a dragon, the sheer proximity of a pure example of its natural target allowed it to release its full power immediately.
And it was a good thing that it did. As though drawn by a magnet the great head of the monster swung around until its burning eyes were glaring directly at the young King. For a moment the god slayer and the divine beast locked eyes and wills. Shirou could feel the press of its divinity as the dragon tried to subdue him through raw presence, but even as the attempt failed Shirou was able to glean some insight into the beast.
There was intelligence there, of that he was certain. A brutish animalistic intelligence to be sure, but enough to recognize an opportunity when it saw one. There was also a sort of mindless titanic pride as well, a wordless and thoughtless belief that it was the absolute crown of creation, that all other beings existed solely for the benefit of its kind.
The contact only lasted for an instant though, then the huge jaws were gaping wide and coming at the King of Steel faster than the swiftest striking snake. Unfortunately for the mythological beast its prey was even faster, even as it lashed out Shirou was already dodging to the side with the enhanced speed of his Authority and reaching out a hand to Trace a-
The sudden feeling of metal in his hand caught him so completely by surprise that he almost dropped it.
This was impossible, he hadn't Traced a weapon yet, he hadn't even decided which sword he was going to use. And yet here in his hand he held a Noble Phantasm, and not just any such weapon either.
The sword in his hand was Arondight, the Unfading Light of the Lake, the Dragon Slaying Sword of Sir Lancelot, a Noble Phantasm of equal rank to Excalibur itself.
And it was just . . . there, in his hand. No Tracing, no magic, not even a thought to summoning it. One of the mightiest weapons in the world was just in his grip without any kind of reason or explanation.
For an instant the red haired King was stunned into immobility by this turn of events, then a roar from the beast he was facing reminded him that right now might not be the best time to try to work out what had happened.
Once again the serpentine monster lunged at him, and once again Shirou was able to dodge with ease. Even though the poor beast didn't know it was now facing almost hopeless odds. With the full power of Dragon Slaying Hero released the young Emiya was almost as powerful as the Berserker of his war had been, though his lesser bulk reduced the application of that power somewhat. When one added in the boost provided by the sword he now held as well as the fact that it was a weapon empowered specifically against this type of monster . . .
With a wordless cry Shirou charged forwards.
-()-
Illya stared at the circle before her and tried her best not to fidget.
It was about mid-afternoon now and the sun overhead was bright and hot. Honestly if you had told her one year ago that she would even slightly miss the biting chills of the Einzbern castle then the child like magus would have probably laughed at the very notion. But that had been before she had the pleasure of experiencing a Japanese summer first hand.
Privately she was deeply grateful that both her room and her workshop had been fitted with air conditioning, had that not been that case then her nights would have been far less comfortable and she'd probably have baked alive in the large shed where she conducted her experiments. In her humble view the existence of both air conditioning and central heating were proof that no matter what her Grandfather said modern technology was in fact utterly awesome.
Not that he'd ever admit it though; the old fuddy duddy was probably sitting in his castle right now using some spell to keep warm whilst he tried to think up another way to gain the Holy Grail. He was kind of predictable that way.
But there was a reason that the young Einzbern mage was standing out in the sun even though she felt as though she was about to melt.
It was time to bring Shirou back from the Netherworld.
Illya had been a bit distracted earlier in the day when he had entered that other realm. Her Mystic Code had been acting strangely and she'd been caught up in trying to find the cause of the malfunction to the point where she'd completely lost track of time. By the time she had finally given up Shirou had already been gone for more than an hour.
What really had frustrated her was the fact that she hadn't been able to find a single thing wrong with Mini City Guide. The alignment of elements had been perfect, the sympathetic material links had been flawless and the harmony of all runes, spells and energy paths had been at the idle state. So why was it that her Mystic Code had detected a Heretic God and then the next instant told her that it had been wrong?
Even after more than five frustrating hours of work she hadn't been able to locate the cause of the error. Apart from tearing her creation to bits and evaluating each component individually there wasn't much more she could do at this point. She'd simply have to wait and see if it came up with another such error and carefully analyse what happened when it did.
Of course other thoughts were intruding on her as well, thoughts of what her adopted brother hoped to accomplish with this endeavour, and of what it would mean for her if it turned out as he hoped.
In all truth she had mixed feelings about being able to return home. On the one hand if they couldn't then a small selfish part of her kept reminding her that Shirou wouldn't be reunited with Sakura. Instead he'd be stuck here with her, and as time passed and she grew older maybe he'd come to accept that he'd not be able to be with his lover again. And if that was the case might he not in time look for a new someone in his life? And if so then wouldn't his adopted sister be there to offer support and comfort? And might that not grow into a more . . . intimate relationship in time?
She was well aware that that line of thought was being influenced by the Soap Operas that she was becoming somewhat addicted to and that such a development was unlikely in the extreme given Shirou's distorted personality. But even so she couldn't help but wonder if it could come to pass.
Damn it all, how could she be sure of her feelings for returning home when she wasn't even completely sure of her feelings for her beloved adopted brother?
Putting all that aside there was also the purely practical considerations. If she and Shirou were to return to their home reality then they would both be regarded as highly desirable research subjects by pretty much every magus worth their salt. Shirou in particular, given the powers that were now at his disposal, would be regarded as a prime candidate for a sealing designation. The chance to study genuine divine abilities, not to mention that it might be possible to extrapolate knowledge of how the True Magics functioned from them. There'd probably be duels to the death between department heads to see who would get the privilege of dissecting and studying him.
And of course she'd be in much the same boat given her own accomplishments such as summoning up her Puppet Berserker. If she did learn how to use the magic of this world that would simply make her that much more appealing a research subject.
On the other hand there was a substantial part of her that did want to return to her home world.
She was well aware that there would be dangers waiting for them, but she was confident in both her own and her adopted brother's ability to handle them. Indeed it might be somewhat amusing to watch some of the Clock Tower's enforcers try to take her or Shirou into custody. Against the power of her puppet or Shirou's Authorities any conventional group of enforcers would be so outmatched it would boggle the mind.
And there were reasons that she wanted to return, some of them noble and some of them petty.
On the petty side was simple revenge upon her 'family' among the Einzbern clan for their deceit and manipulation of her. They had filled her mind with lies, warped her body, forced her though torturous experiences and had then sent her off to die for their own ends. When looked at that way it was quite understandable why she might have a grudge.
Well now she was fully healed and stronger than she'd ever been before in her life. She had a weapon comparable to a Servant, a Noble Phantasm of her own and was taking the first steps towards learning a type of magic that most magi would be willing to saw off their dominant arm to learn, and with a dull saw at that. If she had only a few more months to prepare then when she returned she'd be perfectly able to take on anything her 'family' had to offer.
Hmph, maybe she'd burn down their precious library simply to see if she could make her grandfather cry.
That'd teach him to try to get her to kill her onii-chan.
On the less petty side though was the thought that if they did return then maybe Shirou would be able to use his Authority to bring Mama and Papa back. Sure his Rule of the Underworld might not grant true resurrection, but what it did do was probably the next best thing. Sure they might have a hard time finding something that would serve as a suitable link item for her mother, but she was sure that they could find something.
And that was a wish that she kept in her heart of hearts, it was a tiny and delicate thing, one that could be easily broken by uncaring reality. But of all her wishes it was the most treasured and the most beautiful, the thought that one day she might be able to have a complete family.
Her, Shirou, Mama and Papa. All together as one family.
Thoughts of her faulty Mystic Code, the trouble she'd have correcting its problem and of her uncertain feelings and future were shoved to the back of her mind as the design upon the ground lit up with a brilliant blue light.
"He . . . feels somewhat far away." Commented Liliana with a look of concentration on her face.
"It's no trouble though," Manaka replied her fingers interlaced in a way that looked vaguely as though she were praying. "The link is still there, just follow it and there'll be no problems."
Kaida said nothing, just nodded her head as her closed eyes tightened with focus.
Illya dearly wanted to ask them what was going on, but she had been raised in a family of magi and one of the first rules that was hammered into even the youngest child was that disturbing someone that was concentrating was not a good thing. She simply had to show some patience and wait until either Shirou showed up or they stopped their spell work.
As it turned out her adopted brother was the first to show up.
He also showed up with the left side of his body covered in blood, a huge length of . . . something scaly slung over one shoulder and a severed head almost as big as he was held in one hand. Though how he was managing that without toppling over was something she wouldn't have minded knowing, some form of self reinforcement or one of his Authorities she guessed.
"Hey Illya-chan, you would not believe the kind of day I've had."
In a way it was nice to see Shirou acting like himself. She of course approved of the regal kinglike face that he had taken to adopting when faced with others, but it was also nice to see the same boy that had worked his way into her heart back in Fuyuki city. Still, right now that wasn't the most pressing thing on her mind.
"Shirou . . . what is that?"
She was quite proud of herself at how calmly she asked the question. What she really wanted to do was shout at him about what on earth he was carrying around, after all the jaws on that head looked big enough to snap her up whole if they wanted to.
"It's the head of a dragon." Shirou replied with what could only be described as a happy expression on his face.
"A dragon's head?" Illya asked feeling driven by some strange impulse to confirm the declaration.
"Mmm hmm, it attacked me, so I killed it."
"So . . . why did you bring its head back with you?"
Actually the young Einzbern could think of several reasons to do so, mainly involving harvesting it for reagents and organs. Back in their home world if anyone had succeeded in finding and slaying a dragon then they could have made several large fortunes selling its parts to various clans and families. As the highest level of Phantasmal Beasts dragons were the sources of some of the most powerful reagents in the world, the kind of ingredients that some families would have been willing to sell their heirs into slavery in order to obtain.
The problem with that notion though was that Shirou wasn't the kind of person to whom such an idea occurred; he needed people like her to point it out to him.
In answer to her question he simply looked at her as though she had asked him if he liked swords.
"Because it was the head of a dragon that tried to kill me?"
His reply was more of a question, as though he wasn't sure if his answer would be understood.
"No, I mean what are you going to do with it now?"
"Oh, well I thought I'd see if it's possible to mount and stuff the head of a divine beast. I'm sure it would look awesome if I can set it up just right in one of the spare rooms."
That was not what she'd been expecting, it was a surprisingly . . . juvenile reason all things considered. Still she supposed that for all his distortion, power and mental maturity Shirou was still a seventeen year old boy who had watched a few too many sentai shows growing up.
"And what about that?" She asked as she pointed to the scaly mass on his shoulder. Now that she took a better look at it it looked like about half the length of a very fat snake. Now what could it-
"I brought this back to see if I could adapt a recipe I found on the internet for crocodile tail. I think I'll freeze half of it so that I can keep it for future experimentation."
Okay, that she had not been expecting. Illya found herself struck dumb as she simply goggled at her adopted brother and took in his pleased expression.
"Hey it's only fair," he said to her in a slightly defensive tone, "It tried to eat me, so it's perfectly reasonable for me to eat it."
Illya just continued to stare at him, words failing her.
-()-
Shirou sat at his desk and put down his pen as he finished writing his latest letter to Sakura.
All in all things had gone fairly well today. He'd taken the first step towards finding a way back home, had met a god that seemed relatively easygoing, and who had not tried to kill him, and had acquired some unique meat for his kitchen and what could well be a kick ass ornament for his study.
That thought brought a grin to his face. He knew full well that the remains of a divine beast such as the dragon he had slain normally dissolved into ambient energy after their deaths, but he was hoping that having killed the monster in the Netherworld and then having brought it home might have made the difference. If that was the case then he was going to have it mounted above and behind his desk so that anyone facing him would have the stuffed head of the dragon glaring down at them.
Heh heh, a touch cruel on his part perhaps, but it would certainly make for a fairly intimidating first impression.
A frown appeared on his face as another subject drifted into his mind.
Arondight.
That sword was something he needed to investigate. Not only had it appeared in his hand without him Tracing it, it had also been a 'perfect' version of the Noble Phantasm. That meant there had been no degradation of its rank or power, it had been the full might of an extremely powerful legendary weapon.
But the strangest thing was that it had appeared in his hand but it had cost him no Prana. If he'd felt some drain when it had appeared then he would have guessed that it was some sort of instinctive Tracing, that the design for the powerful sword had somehow become imprinted upon his reflexes or something like that. However that wasn't the case, Arondight had appeared in his grasp out of nowhere and at no cost to him at all.
This hadn't been like him pulling an astralized weapon into the world either. He was absolutely certain that the sword hadn't been there before, but as soon as he had needed to arm himself there it had been in his hand.
Definitely something that needed to be investigated in the future.
Still for the time being at least he could put that out of his mind and get a good nights sleep. With a sigh he stood up and walked over to his bed as he began to pull the fresh pullover that he'd put on earlier off over his head.
Yes, sleep sounded like an excellent idea at his point.
