- Chapter 5: Fool -

Two words. Two simple words, from a girl she had known for little more than a few hours. That was it. That was all it took.

"M-Mash! SAVE US!"

Now, Mash Kriyelight didn't consider herself to be a strong person. She was timid and shy. Quiet and anxious. No matter how deeply she hated that part of herself, no matter how much she tried to deny it, it was nothing but the honest truth.

She was a weakling, if not in body then in heart.

Someone somewhere speaks. "True name: pseudonym registered."

Death came upon black wings, unstoppable and undefeatable. An infinite light, ready to cleanse the unworthy from the face of the earth. Fear should have stopped her from moving. Anxiety should have destroyed her resolve. After all, how was a worthless existence like her supposed to stand up to a monster like that?!

The person continues to call out. "Deploying Noble Phantasm!"

And yet… And yet, a voice whispered in her soul, speaking with a passion she couldn't deny. Protect. Save. Shield.

"Salvation of the Human Order!"

If she couldn't be strong for herself, then... maybe, just maybe, she could be strong for someone else. She is moving before she even realizes it, coming to rest in front of a wide-eyed senpai. The titanic shield is slammed into the ground with superhuman force, chunks of earth rising into the air as the final words are roared out with all the strength she could possibly muster.

"LORD CHALDEAS!""

A shimmering white shield explodes into existence, just in time for the monstrous attack to crash into it.

Her feet dig into the earth, as what could only be called raw power rips away at her manifested resolve. The air heats and the sky screams, as she refuses to give an inch.

The blast roars.

She roars louder.


Goddamnit.

Cu sighed internally. Maaaaaan, he'd really thought that his Ochd Deug Odin would work. Turns out Pendragon was even tougher than he'd originally thought.

But ah well, you win some and you lose some. It was more fun like this, anyways.

Belching up a bit of soot, he pushes himself up and out of the rubble of what used to be Mount Enzou. Now where...?

Bits of forest and earth fall from the sky as he squints around. A low whistle leaves his lips. A neat semi-circle of (relatively) pristine earth was cut out from a land of absolution devastation, extending outward from...

Damn, girly'd really managed to save their asses here. Burned out from using Odin as he was, surviving that blast would've been a real crapshoot.

'CU! ARE YOU THERE?!' shouts a voice in his head. Ah right. He'd a Master now. 'PLEASE ANSWER ME!'

'Yeah yeah, don't get your panties in a twist,' he grumbles good-naturedly. Ah man, his staff was absolutely fucked.

'YOU'RE ALIVE!' his Master happily exclaims. 'Listen! We're moving on to plan C!'

"Plan C?" he mutters. "There was a plan C?"

A red blur blasts past him, Emiya pirouetting into a graceless tumble some ways away. In the distance, King Arthur lowers her fist and whirls towards Kryielight. "Hey, Cu." the man wheezes.

"Sup." Ah shit, his staff was wrecked. "Where're the other two?"

"Plan C," Emiya states, as if that fucking answers anything. "You ready?"

"...Yeah?" Maybe he could just brain 'er with a rock? Summoning another staff would be a real drag right now.

"Catch."

He stiffens, as an oh-so-familiar bloodlust fills the air. A wild grin spreads across his face, as a monstrous red spear is snatched out of the air.

The grin only grows bigger, when a second identical spear joins it.

"Oh, you bitch!" he says with a laugh. "You couldn't have done this earlier?!"

"I forgot. Now, I just need a few moments."

Twin Gae Bolgs, one in each hand, are gracefully spun into a ready stance. It feels like they are humming, happy that they are within his grasp, a song of death and desolation just waiting to be unleashed. If only she could see him now!

"Ha! Take all the time you need!"

Blasting forward, a whirlwind of stabs and slashes comes down upon the darkened king. She snarls in rage, twisting and deflecting at the rain of spears.

He barely twirls around a thrown slash, instantly moving to counter. Every moment his form grows better, stronger, more precise. Though he was Caster and she a Saber, who honestly gave a shit?!

The shaft of one spear is used as a makeshift pole, allowing for an aerial assault. The sword nicks his face, as a spear gouges a chunk out of her armor.

He lands in a somersault, rolling into a slide as he faces the king once again. A laugh bursts from his lungs, wild and full of frenzied joy. Now this?! Now this what he was talking about!

He charges.


Over his endless journey, Shirou had seen and collected a large number of blades. Many of them were extremely powerful, in some way or another. They weren't called Noble Phantasms for no reason, after all.

But despite that, there were very few such Phantasms he would say were dear to his heart. Kanshou and Byakua could be numbered among said weapons, the married blades his favored weapons for just about any occasion.

This was another.

He walks.

He walks within a world of tempered steel and foolish hope. His selfish desire to become a selfless hero, a facsimile of the utopia that he so desperately wished to reach. Each and every blade whose form was preserved within makes itself known. But he walks by them all, searching for only one in particular.

Her hope. Her dream.

Passing by an endless sea of blades, he eventually arrives at the very center of his being, whereupon a small hill rose.

And on that hill, under a clear blue sky, was a ring of swords. Gleaming under the noonday sun, the pressure they exuded was nothing short of incredible.

For each one and every one of the hallowed blades was immensely powerful in its own right, a weapon of mass destruction on par with the atomic bomb. They had been wielded by heroes of legend, slaughtered many a foe, and held rich and storied histories the likes of which would never be seen again.

And yet, they were nothing compared to what lay within the ring, mere campfire sparks next to the glorious and infinite stars that stood sheathed at the epicenter of the endless landscape.

Judging the concept of creation.

The crystallized manifestation of the Divine Right of Kings. It was an unreachable ideal of a by-gone age, thought to be lost forever, no matter how desperately the heart of Mankind clamored for its return.

Hypothesizing the basic structure.

A blade the likes of which few had ever seen, it was a masterwork of a long-sword, gilded in lustrous gold and dark azure.

Duplicating the composition material.

Chivalry was burned into its glimmering steel and victory forged into its golden hilt. Authority was engraved into its very core, in the form of the words 'Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone is rightwise king of all England'.

Imitating the skill of its making.

Forged in the everdistant utopia by hands not quite human. Techniques not fit for mortal eyes blessed it, manifesting in a truly unique existence.

Sympathizing the experience of its growth.

The favored blade of one of mankind's most beloved heroes, who became something more than human the moment they accepted its heavenly charge. Its very presence on the field of war denoted an assured victory, right up until the sacred oath of chivalry was broken, and the weapon thought lost forevermore.

Reproducing the accumulated years.

It was the Sword in the Stone. It was the Sword that Chooses the King. It was the Golden Sword of Promised Victory. It was the Blade of King Arthur of Camelot.

Excelling every manufacturing process.

It was in Shirou's hands, as he roared out its name.

"CALIBURN!"


If Exalibur Morgan was the arrival of death, than Caliburn was the advent of hope. Surging, roaring, howling. A blast of golden brilliance that lit up the endless dark, a beacon against the forces of darkness.

Beautiful.

She could still remember, clear as day, the moment. When she pulled the sword. When she became king.

Oh, how she had dreamed. To be a great ruler, kind and just. To make that utopia a reality, so that all her people could live happily ever after.

Hah... How stupid.

For all its power, the blade held within her hands was not the one she loved the most. No. Ironically enough, that honor laid with the blade held by her enemy.

She could've dodged, even with the barbarian constantly nipping at her heels. Despite the annoying nature of his newfound weapons, that much was certain.

Yet... she didn't.

Why? Well... who knows?


It is cold. It is cold, and growing colder.

She opens her eyes, for a half second expecting to see a setting sun and a war-ravaged hilltop. Yet instead, she sees golden eyes and a brittle half-smile.

"Hah..." She breathes out. "I lost."

It wasn't a question, more a statement of fact. Yet, Shirou nods anyways. "Yeah."

Hmm. Her body refuses to obey her commands, a clear sign as any. Attempting to move her arm just causes her fingers to twitch uselessly. She couldn't even lift her head off his lap. How... vexing.

"Your swordsmanship has improved," she idly notes. Broken ribs, a punctured lung. Maybe even some ruptured tendons, not that it really mattered anymore.

"Well, I learned from the best, after all."

Her lips twitch upwards. Hah. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

Loose strands of her hair are tenderly brushed aside, as a fond grin appears on his face. "That's fine. I'm already where I need to be."

It was so easy, to fall back into the familiar rhythm. Knowing that she couldn't get close, yet finding herself doing so anyways. It felt nice. It hurt more than she could imagine. "...Idiot." Who was she talking about? She couldn't quite tell.

He chuckles. "Yeah."

A silence fills the air, though it is not an uncomfortable one by any means. It is… it is the type of silence that only occurs between dear friends, where words are unimportant, the simple fact that they are by each other's side more than enough for the two of them.

But somewhat paradoxically, there were things that still needed to be said. Or at least, that she needed to say.

Hah... It was fitting, perhaps, for her to be felled this way. By that. By him. "I… you deserved better, Shirou. Than me. Than this."

A flash of pain flickers across his face. "So did you, Saber."

She lets out a scornful chuckle at that. "Do not fool yourself. " No matter how wishfully she wished… no matter how hopelessly she hoped… the end result was the same. Her bloody sins would follow her forever, down into hell itself. "A monster is to die a monster's death, is that not how the stories go?"

"..." He doesn't respond.

A heavy swallow. "S-Shirou?"

"Yes, Saber?"

"D-Did you…" A simple question, that was all it was. And yet, voicing it seemed more insurmountable than the greatest wall. Her throat felt dry and her voice weak. Why? Why couldn't she just say it? "D-did..."

A soft smile. "More than words could ever say."

Something happens to her heart. What exactly it was, she couldn't quite tell. "Ah."

Nothing more was said. Nothing more needed to be said.

The cold was creeping ever closer, the fire in her breast growing ever dimmer. Try as she might, her eyes slowly close further and further. Her lot. Her fate. The warmth of her Master is the only holding back the cold of the night.

And soon enough, that too, fades.


"Now I love crazy as much as the next guy... but I'm not so sure about this, kid."

"Y-yes, senpai... H-how can you tell...?"

"I believe in him, just like I believed in you! So trust me that I trust him! Now! Shirou, let's do this! I command you-!"


It is warm. It is warm, and growing warmer.

"You didn't think I'd let you go that easily, did you?" comes a voice.

Her eyes flick open once more, taking in a smiling fool. Within his grasp lies a sickeningly familiar golden sheath, glowing a soft white hue. To the side stands a similarly grinning girl, flecks of crimson light just then beginning to fade away from the back of her left hand. "Heya!" She waves. "Wanna be my Servant?!"

Two seconds.

It would take two seconds, to summon her blade and separate the girl's head from her shoulders. Though the Shielder and Caster stood tensed right nearby, she was utterly confident that she could do at least that much before being cut down once more.

Her fingers twitch, as feeling floods into them. Two seconds. She tenses slightly...!

...before letting out a deep sigh. Sneering upwards, the full might of her glare does nothing to damper an oh-so infuriating smile.

"Shirou," she begins. "You idiot."


A/N: Originally supposed to go fill grim-derp, but I couldn't justify it in terms of the theme/logic of the story. Plus, following canon sucks and in Fate the rules exist to be broken.

To clarify, Shirou still is searching for 'his' Saber. But at the same time, Saber is Saber and he loves Saber... Tbh he's just as confused about it as you and I.

This was 97.45% finished for a while (Yes, even the Gae Bolg part...), but I never saw a reason to post since a legend like Parcicious started this thing too. But eh, seems like people still want it? Never underestimate the power of reviews, I guess. Will try my best to not do cliffhangers from now on, looking back, it was stupid.