Welcome to chapter 13!

For what you're about to read... I'm sorry.

He stood upon a hill of swords, staring into the abyss. He knew that there was no salvation to be found, no reprieve for his fractured soul, but he stood against the solitude and pain. Adamant to the point of foolishness, he planted himself upon the landscape like the countless swords aroud him – a staunch guardian in the face of hopelessness and despair.

But in the end, it did not change the fact that he was alone. It did not alter the reality that he was weak. It could not deny that his entire life had never been his own.

He used the cheap imitations of prized, well-known swords. He borrowed from the weapons that had become the embodiments of heroes and their legends, and wielded them with no pride of his own. For a man who had and could never hold his own blade or carve his existence into an extolled, heroic tale, there was no other choice but to borrow those swords.

He borrowed the power he currently possessed, for he was powerless. He had been unable to protect anything – anyone – and that weakness led to deaths that would end up forever haunting his mind. He needed power – power to protect, power to defeat evil. But he was too weak. Too hopelessly weak and too unbearably average, that he had no choice but to borrow power that was not his. A power that would never become his own.

It could be said that everything the man possessed was not his. His weapons, his power… they were nothing more than something belonging to other people, which he had borrowed due to his own lack of ability. Even his ideal – a fleeting dream envisioned by countless children still ignorant to reality – had not been his. Even the only driving force keeping him alive and fighting had been nothing more than a borrowed dream.

He stood upon the hill of swords, holding nothing. Surely, those hands would never come to hold anything. Regardless of how many wars he endures, no matter how much evil he destroys, those hands would forever remain empty, yet be burdened by a hopeless dream until the end of time. A hopeless dream of being a 'Hero of Justice'.

That face… looked so happy.

The man had nothing. His weapons, his power, and even his ideals were borrowed; he had nothing to call his own. The moment he realized that, and realized just how foolish he had been to chase that impossible dream, he wondered.

He wondered if perhaps, his life itself had been a borrowed thing as well.

"Ouch…"

Grumbling as she picked herself up, Kuro found her limbs unable to respond to her command. While it was a stroke of good luck that she did not lose a limb or two; she was not unscathed; even with Rho Aias protecting her, her entire body still felt like it had been run over by a truck. If luck was on her side, she might just get off easy with a few broken bones.

She had never fired something so powerful before, not even when she was trying to kill Illya. It took most of the mana she had, and the resulting explosion from clashing with Caladbolg was by far the most grand she had ever blocked. Surely, it must have at least wounded her opponent this time.

That aside, she thought, attempting to steady herself. What was that just now? A memory…? But whose…?

I should never have become a hero.

A rough, annoyingly familiar voice forced itself into her head. With just a few simple words, its presence instantly increased from a mere memory to a compelling force, threatening to take over Kuro at any moment.

What is this? She screamed in her head. Who are you? What are you?!

She knew that it could not be true. She was well aware that the Class Cards were, without exception, just meant to draw upon a Heroic Spirit's powers. They were not true Heroes in that sense, and thus could not have a personality of their own. All that existed in them were the memories and powers of said hero, stored like data in a floppy disk. They possessed no will, no soul. So why was she unable to resist them?

She was her own existence. She had her own memories, her own body, her own feelings. There was no way for her to be swayed by simple memories, for she had her own will and-

She froze.

A… soul…? She found herself asking. As frightening as the thought was, she knew that it was not without reason; she was, after all, a unique existence that could not truly be called 'human'. Do I… have a soul…?

"That surprised me."

That same voice, harsh and powerful, broke her train of thought. Stepping through the cloud of debris that had been caused by their arrows, Archer – completely unharmed – stared down at his adversary with an unreadable expression on his face.

"I'll admit: I underestimatetd you," he confessed. "To think you would actually actually Project that sword at all…"

"My, thank you," Kuro said, managing to force out a smile. "If you wanna show your appreciation, how about you let me shoot you once and not fight back? You'll get to see the power that way…"

"I'm afraid I'll have to pass," Archer replied, raising the all too familiar white sword Bakuya. "But as a special favor, I'll give you enough time for some last words."

"Such a gentleman…" Kuro muttered. As much as she wanted to fight back, she knew by now that he was no match for him; he had effortlessly survived her strongest attack, and she was currently not at her best. There was nothing more she could-

"Excalibur!"

A brilliant wave of gold seared the air between them, its force sending Kuro flying even without making contact. The large beam of light easily crushed whatever floor they had been standing on earlier, and could have obliterated Kuro herself had she been caught in it.

"It seems everyone loves that sword," Archer mused, watching the attack dissipate and turning to look at the one who had unleashed it. "It could very well be considered the pinnacle of Noble Phantasms, but no one in this age will give it the appropriate respect, will they?"

The girl wielding said holy sword did not reply, opting instead for taking a defensive stance next to an exasperated Kuro.

"Kuro, are you alright?" Miyu, dressed in what appeared to be Saber's armor, asked. In her arms lay a beautiful sword, one that was surely a sight to behold yet far too dull in terms of radiance. It was not something that could be called the real thing, yet was not so imperfect as to be called a cheap fake.

"Whatever happened to being discreet?" Kuro panted. "I thought Saber didn't want you to show off that sword."

"There was no helping it," Miyu defended calmly. "But that aside, are you alright?"

"More or less," Kuro said, getting to her feet. "I'd like a quick kiss, but I guess that's not an option is it?"

"T-that is…" Despite the very real threat of death, Miyu blushed. Even while holding a legendary Noble Phantasm and donning sturdy armor, she was still a little girl at heart. "P-please focus on the battle for now…"

Kuro opened her mouth – likely in an attempt to make fun of how flustered Miyu was – but stopped. As much as she wanted to, she could not bring herself to keep up that attitude anymore. Right now, the only thing she needed was answers, and the only person who could give it was him.

"Yeah, you're right," she agreed, projecting her favored pair of swords. "We'll do that after we kick his butt."

Archer sighed. For one thing, he was glad that he did not have to kill the tanned Illya, but he had not anticipated this. Tonight was supposed to be a short one, where he stayed on the lookout for Rin while possibly killing Emiya Shirou. Fighting a miniature version of himself, along with a mini-Saber, was not part of the plan.

Why does my life have to be so complicated? He thought.

"H-hey! Are you okay?!"

Faced with Shirou's earnest but seriously misplaced concern, Caster almost wanted to laugh. The boy had absolutely no capacity for distrust – a trait she might have expected from a young child or really skilled liar. While she would normally assume the latter, Caster fancied herself more than capable of telling if someone was lying.

The boy genuinely cared. Despite knowing that she was the enemy, he was still expressing concern for Caster. The child was far too naïve for a magus – or for any decent human, for that matter – which made things much easier for her.

No, I can't let my guard down, she thought to herself. There's no way he could be this vulnerable.

"I'm fine," she assured him. The swords, which had gouged into her body not too long ago, had already vanished. Magecraft, she assumed, and a highly annoying ability at that. "Where's the enemy?"

"N-no idea," Shirou replied. "I don't see Shinji's Servant anywhere, but that bastard's definitely still aiming for us…"

Caster got to her feet. Rider had taken her fair share of swords in the bombardment earlier, so it was not surprising for her to retire. Had her Master been more competent as a magus however, she might have been able to continue fighting. Alas, the clump of talking seaweed had nowhere enough ability to back up his huge mouth.

"You know the identity of the attacker, child?" Caster asked. "Don't tell me you had your Servant-"

"Of course not!" Shirou denied instantly. "That's Tohsaka's Servant! We have to get out of here right now before he-"

A bright flash of gold interrupted Shirou's words, before proceeding to destroy whatever was in the general area a few kilometers away.

"Saber…?" he wondered aloud.

"Is something the matter?" Caster asked, her shaky legs giving way before she could steady herself.

"Hey! Are you alright?!" Shirou asked. In his panic, he had forgotten that Servants did not recover from being skewered just because the swords were removed. When he finally caught on to that tiny detail, his response was not any better: "W-we need to get you to a hospital!"

"You… really are an odd magus," Caster chuckled. She had expected Shirou to drop the act and finish her off (which would have resulted in his own demise, of couse) or simply run off and leaving her there, but he had done neither. If this man was a magus, he was certainly a failure of one. In that aspect, he was actually pretty similar to her own Master. "I will be fine, child. You should probably leave now; there's no telling what will happen from hereon out. Magi should stay out of battles involving Servants."

"What're you talking about?!" Shirou exclaimed. "You're in no condition to fight! We need to run away!"

"Shirou!"

Beneath the shadows of her hood, Caster's eyes widened. It was her.

Descending from the sky in a pink-and-white frilly dress, Illya dashed over to the confused boy with a queer red stick in her hand. Caster briefly wondered if she was somehow capable of flight because of that outfit, or if the attire was the result of some bizarre need for little girls to appeal to men. Either way, it irked the cloak-and-hood-wearing Caster way more than it should.

"I-Illya?!" Shirou exclaimed. "W-what're you doing here?!"

"Sapphire-chan called us over!" Ruby chirped. "Kuro apparently took off and- what's this? Assaulting a lady under the cover of night, are we?"

"Eh?!" Illya gawked at the hooded woman for a few seconds before the color drained from her face. "C-C-C-Caster?!"

"Who is this child?" Caster asked.

"S-she's… it's a little difficult to explain," Shirou said. "Think of her as my little sister."

"Li-" Illya, despite her panic, took the time to blush. "N-now's not the time for that! G-get away from-"

"You know, Illya-san," the wand in her hand said, not even bothering to hide its (her?) exasperation. "If you're going to act like that every time we meet one of these guys, you're really going to waste our screentime."

"Huh? What're you talking about?" Illya asked.

"If you wanted to exclaim that much, you could always just save it for when I'm recording footage for the next 'Ufufu time – squealing girls' episode!"

"W-what's with that suspicious-sounding title…" Illya asked, visibly edging away from her wand in fear. "Wait, did you just say 'next episode'?! How many-"

"Oh look, there's an injured person over there," Ruby deadpanned, sounding about as convincing as someone reading off a really boring script. "She might just be an enemy or a friend. We ought to check on her as well as Shirou-san's wellbeing."

"You're clearly avoiding the topic, aren't you?! Aren't you?!"

"Okay kids, wrap it up."

Materializing into existence with a look both amused and irritated in equal measure on his face, Lancer walked in front of his Master and glared at Caster.

"Yo," he greeted, his tone far too cold for it to be one used to regard a friend. "So you're still alive."

"Indeed," Caster replied, sounding less composed than she had intended to. "No thanks to you."

"Thanks for the reminder," Lancer smirked, twirling Gae Bolg in his hand and assuming a stance for combat. "Now I can reclaim my honor by finishing the job."

"W-wait a minute!" Shirou yelled, physically shielding Caster by stepping in between them. "She's not an enemy! She saved my life!"

"That's nice and all, kid," Lancer said, not budging. "But she's not as nice as she looks."

"W-what do you mean?"

"She murdered her own Master," Lancer explained. "I was sent to eliminate her by my previous Master, but she escaped. I don't know what tricks she pulled, but if she's still in this War it can't be good. Now if you get it, step aside."

"I could say the same about you, spearman," Caster said, her lips curving into a malicious smile. "From the sounds of it, you have left your Master too. Are you in any position to be judging me?"

"Wait, Se- Lancer-san!" Illya said, before Lancer could retort. "Now's not the time to be fighting! We have to help Kuro and Miyu!"

Lancer, for all his eagerness to do battle, hesitated. Saber was probably already there right now, dealing with Archer alongside the dark Illya and tiny Saber. There was no real need for him to intervene, even if he did have a score to settle with Archer. Who knew what would happen if he just let Caster roam free right now?

"B-besides," Illya added timidly, boldly borrowing the words Archer had used against Saber before. "She's injured; you wouldn't want to cut down someone who can't fight back, right?"

Lancer actually turned and stared at her when she said that, causing Illya to back away like a frightened lamb (which for some reason made Ruby oddly excited). He was not furious at the comment, but rather extremely surprised that a kid like Illya would say something like that.

"U-uh…" Illya mumbled.

"… Well, you're not exactly wrong," he sighed. He then shot another glare at Caster. "On the account that you helped that kid over there, I'll back down this time. But mark my words, Caster: if you so much as lay a hand on these two, I'll pulverise you without mercy."

"How noble," Caster said. "Even though you have absolutely no chance against that monster…"

"'That monster'?" Lancer repeated. "You mean Berserker? He's tough, sure, but he isn't-"

Interrupting his statement was, surprisingly, Caster's laugh. Rather than being filled with malicious intent, it was instead a chuckle filled with mirth at Lancer's ridiculous, clueless declaration.

"… What's so funny?" the spearman in blue asked, narrowing his eyes.

"So you're unaware," Caster said, a hint of mockery tugging at her lips. "Understandable, I guess; any sensible Master would keep a Servant like you who covets battle away from something like that…"

"If you've got something to say, spit it out," Lancer snapped. "You're trying my patience, Caster."

"There's a far more fearsome Master out there than the child who has a leash on that mad dog," Caster said. "That Master has two Servants under their control, and one of them is the culprit responsible for puncturing that boy's arm."

"S-Shirou?!" Illya yelled, the color draining from her face. "T-that arm!"

"You're saying that now?!" Ruby asked incredulously.

"I-it's fine, don't worry," Shirou replied nonchalantly, giving her a confident grin. "More importantly, that Servant from just now… She's not Shinji's Servant?"

"That obnoxious failure of a magus, a Master?" Caster asked, chuckling. "He's merely a puppet. The real threat is the Master who managed to break the rules, control two Servants, and is currently hiding somewhere far from anyone's suspicions."

"And you know where this place is?" Lancer asked.

"Of course," Caster replied. "I am a Caster, after all. But," she added in a louder voice, cutting across Lancer's potential comment. "I'm naturally not going to share that information for free."

"How about your life for that information, then?" Lancer growled. "Seems like a fair trade to me."

"In exchange for my information," Caster continued, as though Lancer had not spoken. "I wish to borrow your power to eliminate them."

"Hold on," Lancer said abruptly. "You can't possibly be…"

"Indeed I am," Caster nodded. "I'm proposing a temporary alliance."

"That bitch… she'd better not screw everything up."

Listening silently to her 'Master' while recovering from her injuries, Rider resisted the urge to voice her concerns about the situation. Matou Shinji was not a man known for his sagacity, nor was he one who took kindly to being told what to do. Which was odd, considering he was currently following along with someone else's plan.

She had initially expected Shinji to order her to kill Caster immediately when the latter had shown herself. She had expected him to be so furious he would just be insulted by the prospect of an alliance. What she had not expected, however, was for Shinji to actually agree to Caster's offer. Granted, she agreed that for the sake of winning the War, working with Caster to take out Saber, Lancer and that queer magus who could steal Servants all at once was a smart choice, but she heavily doubted Shinji's competence in dealing with Caster afterwards.

"Stop daydreaming, Rider!" Shinji scolded, storming off. "We're going!"

"Where to, Master?" Rider asked.

"Tch, you really are as dumb as you look," Shinji grumbled. "Have you not paid attention to anything I've said? You really are useless…"

Without another look at his Servant, the Master of the Matou family headed to the agreed upon place – the place where Emiya Shirou and pathetic entourage would surely meet his demise.

Wordlessly, Rider complied, following her abusive Master to the place known as Ryuudou Temple.

Did I just... Caster and Shinj-... Um...