Checklist Item 2: Make sure the other Technician's don't Die. Unless it is Absolutely Necessary.

Chaldea Antarctica

When Shirou Emiya regained consciousness, he first thought it was a nightmare.

The fires were raging out of control as flames danced among the machines. Bodies, ash, steel, and stone lay scattered everywhere. His body hurt everywhere and burns pained every exposed inch of his skin. His insides felt cooked. It felt just like the Fuyuki Fire.

Shirou's eyes snapped open. He had to save someone! He couldn't let the Fuyuki fire kill everyone again. Shirou went to brace himself up –

-only to see his right hand was gone. A few centimeters away and unconnected to any part of his body, his right hand lay oozing blood and swords. As he painfully, centimeter by centimeter, raised his head from the ground to look at his left arm just to see that his left arm's biceps and down lay about a quarter of a meter away from his body. As he looked down, his blood and some foreign steel, now added to his Reality Marble, was beneath his almost corpse of a body.

Shirou raised his right arm and - oh did it hurt – and stuck its sheared-off wrist to his hand's protruding swords. He grimaced at the pain of reconnecting his nerves by stabbing both ends with swords before it faded to a pain merely a rank above the rest of his body. Nothing he couldn't ignore.

With his right hand reconnected, Shirou pushed his body up and over, ignoring the sounds of metal falling out of his body as his swords manifested to expel the swords that were not him, before covering wounds where his blood sought to leave his body. He felt a little light headed and dull despite the danger all around. Shirou grabbed his arm to reattach it and, as he glanced down at his legs, he probably had to project a sword to lever off the stone crushing both of his shins.

Shirou, holding his left arm to his biceps, looked around the room again. Now that he was fully awake, he saw that this was not like Fuyuki. For one thing, no one was dying as people weren't combusting into flames. Instead, they all lay scattered around, fragments of metal and stone sticking up from their bodies like an ugly graveyard full of crude gravestones on top of bodies. A second thing, now that he was sitting up, he could see the stone ceiling, albeit a ceiling with massive scars where the explosions had struck, instead of a clouded sky. The flames just felt like normal fire, without the sheer malevolence that Angra Mainyu had put out.

So, I am not in Fuyuki. Where am I? Oh right, Chaldea. Is there anyone alive?

Shirou looked around the room again, the smoke and exhaustion blurring his vision like a fine haze. No movement beyond the flicker of flames. No sound outside of the hiss of steam and crackle of fire. No smell beyond the smell of blood, ash, steel, and fire. No signs of life.

When the last jolt of pain from reattaching his limb to his body vanished, Shirou muttered "Trace on."

An average sword shimmered into existence near his legs. Nothing special, just another sword from a tourist shop made several years ago and sold to an American. Using his left arm, Shirou dug the tip of the sword under the concrete crushing his legs and pushed sharply downwards on the hilt. The stone rose and rolled off him even as his makeshift lever cracked and broke into glimmers of prana.

Shirou examined his feet. His calves were crushed. He wouldn't be able to walk on his feet for a while. Unacceptable. He needed to triage the survivors now before he could send anyone to the medical office.

Shirou muttered again his mantra "Trace on" as a chainmail cast made of tiny swords appeared around both legs. He staggered to his feet, limbs now attached, his legs now splintered and their function replaced by swords. He hoped the tiny blades wouldn't take too much prana to maintain. He needed to conserve his strength for the survivors.

The first person, Kallen Sayward lay just a few feet over, a chunk of the ceiling lay atop his back. A quick finger check at his throat confirmed him with no heartbeat and Kallen Sayward was designated as dead.

The pain and fire came like waves against a battered shore as Shirou took step after step checking his coworkers for any sign of life. Rum, von Nettesheim, Galliasta, Meinster all dead.

As Shirou limped over to Denis Flowerchild, the man hated being called by his last name, Shirou felt depressed and desperate. Most of his coworkers were dead. Maybe this was what Dad felt like when the Fuyuki Fire happened. Shirou's Od was very low, apparently having been used up while he was unconscious. I didn't even know you could use magecraft while unconscious, Shirou mused to himself. He felt light headed like he was missing a lot of blood again.

Or I am breathing too much carbon dioxide. Shirou realized with a chill. He couldn't help anyone if he died from running out of oxygen. At his next stumble step forward, Shirou didn't catch himself and let himself fall to the ground.

The impact knocked the breath out of him. Even as he wheezed, he crawled forward. Centimeter by centimeter, one arm at a time, Shirou reached Denis. He stopped to check Denis's pulse.

One beat of Shirou's heart.

Two beats.

Three beats.

Shirou sighed in disappointment. Another dead. And then he felt a beat.

Shirou stilled. Is he alive? Is it possible for him, Shirou, to save another person?

One second, two seconds, three seconds, four seconds, five seconds, six seconds.

Heartbeat.

Shirou examined Denis's facedown body. A pierce wound in his right side, a slab of concrete across his left hip, both legs and left hand. And then Shirou saw the blood. The blood pooling under Denis's head.

Shirou hurriedly lifted Denis's head. It wouldn't do for Denis to drown in his blood. As Shirou lifted the head, he saw a piece of metal shrapnel lodged in the nose.

"Trace On." Shirou's Structural Analysis started to spill secrets.

The piece of metal was 45 minutes old, having separated from the generator when a bomb placed inside the wall behind it went off and caused parts of the generator to fracture and scatter like a hail of missiles. It was 5 centimeters long at its longest diagonal, jagged, and had spent 45 minutes lodged upwards in Denis Flowerchild's nose. It had hit before the concrete slab collapsed on and knocked down Denis Flowerchild but only by a two-tenths of a second. It had severed and was now blocking an artery to the frontal part of the brain.

Shirou stilled. No, no, NO! At this point, it would take very good medical care or a miracle to save his life. He might suffer from brain damage for the rest of his life but it might be possible for him to survive. But not with the concrete slab across his body.

Shirou left Flowerchild with a small dull sword raising his head out of the pool of blood. He would return if the last person was dead or in even worse condition. As Shirou crawled over to Todd Reeve, he idly wondered if he would have strength to drag two bodies out of this disaster.

No need. The American engineer was dead. Shirou simply turned around and started crawling back to Denis. He would have to do this carefully and quickly. No hesitation, no dallying. He would need to sever and cauterize Denis's limbs before he could drag him over to the door.

The door! Was it able to open? Shirou glanced over. The haze formed by the heat of the fires wavered the image of the door from half-way across the room. Even then, Shirou could see that he would need to clear a path to the door, otherwise, no one would be able to get in or out. Shirou turned and crawled towards the door, taking time to crawl around the occasional slab or pushing some of the smaller and lighter pieces away from the path he would take once he got Denis.

At the door, Shirou saw a slab of concrete indented into the lower left portion. For a sliding door, this meant that unless he got that dent removed, the door was as good as a wall for all the good that it could do.

Shirou got up into a crouch. He would need his full strength for this. With another murmured "Trace on", Shirou reinforced his body and pulled on the concrete away. It groaned as Shirou's magecraft enhanced strength pulled it screeching centimeter by centimeter away from the door. At a quarter of a meter, Shirou stopped, panting. He was so tired.

But there is a person to save. He can't abandon him. Shirou turned back to the door. It still can't open but if he could cut out the warped portion of the door, then perhaps the door would be able to slide open, allowing for Denis to escape the conflagration. But how to cut it?

Shirou browsed his Reality Marble. Surely there was some sword that had cut through metal at some point. Maybe a Mystic Code or Noble Phantasm or something?

"Emiya Shirou. Understand. You are a maker, not a fighter. Do not think about other things. There is only one thing you can do. So master that one thing. Do not forget. What you must imagine is that you yourself are the strongest. You do not need outside enemies. For you, the one you have to fight is none other than your own image."

The memory flashes through his head. The unknown Archer who killed Berserker six times by himself. His last words. His advice that enabled Saber and Shirou to kill Berserker together. The solution is clear now.

If Shirou doesn't have a sword that can cut through steel and the Noble Phantasms that could do so require too much prana to project, then Shirou will just have to imagine and forge a sword that can.

Falling deep into his aria and closer to his Reality Marble, Shirou enunciated "Trace on!"

Judging the concept of creation.

The sword was an ordinary sword made by Shirou Emiya. It was enchanted according to Wayland's 32nd method to cut through iron like it was air.

Hypothesizing the basic structure.

The sword is a straight sword, edged on both sides in a diamond cross-section with a gently rounded center. The hilt is suited for a hand and a half sword, and the ornamentation is plain.

Duplicating the composition material.

It was a 5160-spring steel alloy. Constantly infused with prana throughout Shirou's forging process.

Imitating the skill of its making.

Forged in Unlimited Blades Works, at the will of Shirou Emiya. Rushed through production but still a blade of quality. It does not have an existence in Gaia.

Sympathizing with the experience of its growth.

Called into existence, the sword knew neither forge nor flame beyond the will and life of Shirou Emiya.

Reproducing the accumulated years.

A brand-new sword. It only exists in Unlimited Blade Works. A copy of it was called forth to save a life.

Excelling every manufacturing process.

Driven to surpass even itself, this sword will exert an influence on Gaia despite never being a part of it.

With the completion of the final step, Shirou reached forth his arm and grabbed the iron slicing, Mystic Code longsword that he projected. His hand shook from exhaustion and perhaps what were side effects of reattaching his hand back to his body. He exhaled into the smoke-filled atmosphere and thrust.

A slash from the floor upwards to two-thirds the height of a man. He withdrew his sword, turned it ninety degrees and then cut across the top of his makeshift opening. He could now hear the sounds of air and smoke fly through the narrow slits in the door. Good, good.

However, Shirou knew his sword couldn't cut except for at the edges so he withdrew it again before slicing downwards to the ground, taking care not to cut the ground before dismissing the sword. Shirou had no desire to cause the floor to collapse, that could slow the rescue of Denis if not kill him if the floor collapsed.

Shirou pushed on the cut-out door, frowning as instead of moving, it squealed the shriek of tortured steel. Oh. He had forgotten that the sliding door was deeper than the floor level. Shirou would have groaned if it didn't waste precious oxygen.

Reaching into his small prana reserves, Shirou frowned as it seemed to be smaller than it should be. With only the inversion of his Reality Marble into his body to reattach some limbs back together, the projection of a cast of swords, a few sword-levers, and a brand-new Mystic Code, and some Reinforcement, he shouldn't have his reserves this low. Just enough to keep his projections in the world and to do some small magecrafts.

"Trace On." His sword reappeared and clattered to the floor. Shirou reached forth his hand and with a simple flick, he sliced through the bottom of his new door. Steel groaned as the door finally fell.

On him. Shirou flung up his arms just in time to catch the door before it crushed him into the ground. It was as heavy as he would have imagined. Grunting with effort, Shirou's magecraft reinforced arms, lowered the door bit by bit, as the sound of the door's stressed steel echoed from the swords piercing his arms and legs together.

Shirou dropped the door onto the ground before falling backwards onto his bum, breathing hard. He needed to do more workouts. Trying to catch the heavy metal door was nearly beyond him.

Shirou gazed out the door towards the corridor that was filling with the smoke from the room. No fires out there but there was no doctor, no medic, not even bystanders. The dark corridor mocked his efforts to save.

Shirou scooted backwards before turning onto his stomach, following the path that he had cleared for Denis. Without the debris slowing him down, it felt positively rapid when compared to his journey to the door. In almost no time, he was at the patch of ground that Denis lay on.

Now, how to get Denis to the door without disturbing the piece of metal in his head? If too jarring, Denis would die as the shrapnel jiggled around poking his brain in various spots or the jiggling would cause too much blood to slip past the metal preventing the blood from gushing from his head. Either way, Denis could die.

Nothing for it, Shirou projected the simplest solution he could think of. A squat but long trolley came into Gaia in front of Denis. With his utmost care, Shirou projected a massive blunt sword beneath Denis, with the hilt resting on top of the trolley. Dismissing the sword that had kept Denis's head from drowning in a pool of blood, Shirou smoothly levered the sword up to height of the trolley and dragged it across the trolley, bringing Denis with it.

Shirou decided against dismissing the sword. It was wide enough that Denis dropping to the trolley could potentially jar his body in a bad way. Squatting back down again, Shirou grabbed the handles of the trolley and slowly rolled it around to the cleared path. Boy was he glad that he had spent the time to clear the path. It was making this much faster and safer for Denis. The odds of Denis's survival were looking up!

Slowly but as steadily as he could, Shirou pulled his projected trolley and sword towards the door and his cut-out door.

As Shirou approached the door, the squatting Shirou realized that he forgot to move the slab of steel away from the opening. What to do? His prana was still remarkably low and he needed to keep his strength up as long as he could. But the cut-out part of the door was blocking the way and to go over it would involve bumping the trolley and its cargo of Denis, which might kill him.

Shirou stopped the cart and walked over to the slab of steel. He bent down to see if there was something like a hand hold or if the edge was cut such that he could grip it. No such luck. While the edge of the steel was diagonally cut, it wasn't angled enough for a person to grab. Sometimes, Shirou hated his luck.

Shirou laid the bottom of one foot against the opposite edge of the door. Reinforcing his body, Shirou pushed with all the strength he could muster. The steel shrieked as it rubbed inch by screeching inch away from the door and the pathway for rescue.

Shirou stopped, panting the smoke-filled air in and out of his lungs. The world seemed to swim and sway from one side to another. Shirou figured that that wasn't good. It had never been good on his hunts before. But Denis needed to get to the medical office. Now.

Shirou grabbed the trolley bars and the world seemed to stabilize a bit. That was good, right? Shirou tugged on the handlebars and wheeled the reeling cart out of the broken and aflame power plant and into the dark and dimly green lit corridors.

Shirou paused. Something was wrong but was he supposed to head right or left to get to the medical office?

Making a decision, Shirou tugged on the cart. Maybe it was just him but the cart seemed heavier than before. Maybe he should stand up? Yeah, that made sense. There weren't any enemies around to crouch in cover for after all. So why was he crouching? That was just silly.

Oh yeah, he needed to push the cart. Someone needed help. Someone needed to be saved. Standing, Shirou pushed the cart - or was that fell on top of the handlebars? He must have drunk too much liquor at some point. It seemed funny. Bad sis Fujimura, getting him drunk like that.

As Shirou staggered down the corridor towards the elevator, the green lights seemed to occupy his mind. There was something important about green lights. Didn't they mean go? Wasn't he going? Then all should be fine. But there was something important. What could it be? Also, why was the darkness moving in from the walls? Was there some Mystery involving darkness here?

As Shirou felt the last of his od give out, he felt the cart and sword vanish from under his hands. A thump distantly sounded and then Shirou was falling. Falling into the cart that used to be there.

Was that another corpse there? Shirou wondered as he fell into the darkness.

Both the darkness and the corpse seemed terribly familiar. But why was that?

I was surprised by the number of people who thought that Shirou would become a demi-servant. Or the idea where Caster servants piece him back together. For those wondering, the next chapter will have an explanation for what has happened.

For now, Shirou just used up the equivalent of a lifetime of luck to not have anything hit his brain. A few small pieces of shrapnel bounced off his skull but nothing penetrated his brain. And with his Magic Circuits on, brain intact, his Reality Marble formed, and his Reality Marble having a form of imitation of Avalon, the conditions were right for the Reality Marble to piece (or pierce in this case) him back together. I am basing this off a bit of lore from that as long as the brain is intact, the Magic Circuits can continue working, even if the body dies.