Chapter 181

The moment she left the hole and reached the surface, her body dissipated into golden motes of light as she faded away into transparency, and then disappeared entirely. Without a moment's hesitation, she headed towards where Illya was currently taking Emiya's body.

"Illya, did you touch any mud?"

Berserker's urgent tone betrayed her anxiety, but Illya quickly reassured her.

"I made sure to stay away from it. So you defeated Avenger?"

Her expectations were quickly disappointed, but she nodded as soon as she heard Berserker's brief overview of the battle she had just fought moments ago.

"I see. Extract Caster, her Master and Saber, then leave the temple. We'll meet at the Einzbern mansion."

Receiving her orders, Berserker swiftly acted on them, while Illya headed back to the mansion by herself, concealing her presence while carrying Emiya back with her all the way.

The maids received her when she arrived, not even casting a single glance at the battered and bruised body that was levitating behind her, and they helped carry Emiya into the large mansion that served as the temporary residence for Illya. Taking him to an empty guest room, they drew out the necessary preparations for Illya to perform more extensive healing and tended to his wounds, cleaning the stumps and doing their utmost to repair him to his original state. With the training they had received from the Einzbern family, while it was true they weren't extremely well-versed in conventional medical techniques, their magecraft more than made up for it.

In a matter of minutes, Shirou was already beginning to look leagues better than the corpse he had been when first brought into the house. The color had yet to return to his skin, a deathly pallor hanging around his face, but with his wounds and stump covered, along with the blood and grit cleaned from his body, he looked much more alive.

Placing her hands on the magic circle carved beneath the blankets he was resting on, Illya poured her Magic Circuits engraved on her entire body into its activation, sustaining it as Emiya's breathing returned, stabilized and went to a somewhat normal pace.

As soon as his condition wasn't critical, she crawled onto a nearby bed and fell asleep, leaving one maid to tend to Shirou and the sleeping Master as the other went outside to continue standing guard.

Opening his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of an elaborate chandelier, white ceilings cleaned to a sparkle complementing the hundreds of reflective crystals hanging off the chandelier, even when dim. The sparkling lights stabbed into his eyes, reflexively wincing as he turned his head away in an effort to avoid the small spots of brilliance blinding him. In doing so however, he triggered a wave of pain flowing from his neck to his torso, with a numbness coating his legs. Stifling a scream, he grunted as he carefully maneuvered his head back to staring at the ceiling. It took a while, but his eyes were able to adjust after some time passed, the lights being considerably darker than what it would have been at maximum power.

Doing his best not to move his neck too much, he slowly shifted his eyeballs to the side, trying to look around the room. Reaching all the way to the edges of his eyelids, he spotted something near the wall, and his movements didn't go unnoticed. The stalk of white and black moved, coming nearer until it solidified into a solid image of a maid with red eyes, pale white skin and white hair. Leaning down over him, she gazed at his face closely, perhaps a little too closely, goosebumps prickling his skin as he felt her breath tickle his nose.

"Are you alright?"

The tone was rather flat, with a hint of a foreign accent that he couldn't place, but he could still understand most of it even though it partly felt like he was hearing it underwater.

"Ye-hngh!"

His unconscious effort to nod made him grimace in pain as another wave of pain swept through his body, the effort of simply trying to nod sending a chain reaction of sore muscles, interlaced wounds and pain receptors tumbling one after another. Seeing his face scrunch up tightly, Leysritt leaned back and stood straight again. Placing one hand on his chest, she pressed down.

Shirou closed his eyes anticipating pain, but it never came. Instead, a rush of warmth spilled into his body from the pressure on his chest, something going into his wounds, yet it didn't hurt at all. Instead, he felt lighter, the pain wracking his body lessening as the maid moved her hands in circles around on his bandage-wrapped chest, rubbing it in. She stopped soon, wiping her hands clean on a towel and placing it back on a trolley nearby.

"How does it feel now?"

She might not have much to say, but actions spoke louder than words.

Managing a tight smile, he croaked out a word of thanks, and that was as far as his throat would go. Seeing his Adam's apple bob up and down, she took up a pitcher of water nearby and raised it over his head, tilting his jaw open to receive the stream of transparent liquid that wet his mouth and restored functionality to his parched throat. Swallowing eagerly, he felt the water go down his throat and cool down his body, his throat no longer feeling like he would cough out his lungs with a single word.

"Are they safe?"

"I would assume you mean your comrades. They should be on the way here."

Without a single flicker of emotion on her face, she answered him, but Shirou felt relieved all the same. It seemed like they had all made it through in one piece. Well, he himself wasn't in one piece, but that was besides the point.

"Is-*kaf*-, is Avenger dead?"

He felt his throat act up midway, but he endured and managed to voice his question.

Leysritt was mildly surprised that instead of asking where he was and her identity as the first things, he was instead more concerned about other people rather than his immediate surroundings and his own condition. Her face and voice showed none of her internal emotions though as she replied.

"I do not know. The mistress never mentioned it."

Mistress? Rolling his eyes around to scan the room, he caught sight of the bed that was taking a third of the width of the entire room, standing in the center of the wall to his right. Though his hearing was ruined, he could hear as Illya turned on the bed, his eardrums and inner auditory organs healing enough so he was able to just catch the noise of shuffling silk sheets, barely audible to his ear unless he was actually straining his ears and focusing.

Noticing his line-of-sight, Leysritt spoke up.

"The mistress is resting now. When she wakes up, she will speak with you to clarify the situation."

With that, the maid stepped away back to the wall, leaving Emiya to recover. He wasn't in the best condition to speak extensively, and Leysritt judged it would be better to let Illya handle the situation later.

Staring back at the ceiling again, Shirou closed his eyes and sank into a deep sleep.

Blood scattering the fields, fires and smoke filling the air amongst the many swords stabbed into the ground, corpses and bodies releasing the overwhelming stench of death. The smog overhead created by the fires blocked out all sight of the sky, a dull orange glow the only light filling the blood-soaked grassy plains. Shadows moved about, the dark figures near and distant of isolated clashes swinging swords stained dark, the ring of steel echoing and fading amidst the caws of the crows that were starting to descend on the fresh meals lying on the ground. Riderless horses galloped aimlessly, neighing in abject terror as some left the field, while others circled it, their riders no longer moving on the ground. Banners, arrows, lances, spears, all manner of equipment in various states of disrepair lay scattered, even more numerous than the corpses that practically blanketed the earth.

In the midst of all this, on a small hill that jutted out of the plains, the small rise of earth was host to a battle between two slim figures, one wielding an elegant ceremonial sword, the other holding a large lance that was unlike anything he had ever seen before, a magnificent spire that was unstained by the battle, pure white bindings covered the body in spirals like the finest weave of a master tailor. The ivory grip glimmered with a mystifying light, enhanced further by the rest of the lance, and the end of the lance was the point where all the lines spiralled into one sharp tip.

He watched as the lance was shoved through the sword-wielding person's chest, going so far that more than half of the body was sticking out the other side, almost splitting the warrior in half as it destroyed everything in a circle on her upper torso.

Dark purple glyphs with wisps of smoke branded onto the body glistened with blood, a dark light shining from the eyes of the dying warrior as she the veins on her arm bulged, a thrust born from a curse and a indomitable will that refused to bow in the face of death. A simple push was all it was, containing all the remaining force left in her body and life placed onto that one blade.

The shadow of a sword edge appeared behind the lance-wielder, and then the warrior in red sank to the ground, kneeling on the ground before collapsing face-forward, falling under the shadow of the figure still standing. The arm moved, the sword pulled out of the body, and then the lance-wielder retrieved the lance from the chest, a sharp tug sending a spray of blood splattering against the ground.

Standing alone atop the hill, the lance dipped towards the ground, the tip slipping into the dirt as her arm sagged under its weight. Her profile under the artificial twilight seemed just a bit lonely to Shirou as he looked at her, standing straight even as blood spread across the back of the blue gown beneath her stained armor. As he watched, a weak breeze stirred the loose threads of hair that had escaped the bun of golden hair, now colored all over with patches of maroon, save for those little strands dancing with the wind. Her face was turned away from him, giving him no clues as to what she was looking at, or even whether her eyes were open or not. All he could tell was that she was facing the distant strip of green, gradually growing larger and larger in the distance as the smoke cleared, the far plains untouched by the massive fields of slaughter they were standing in.

*ZZSHIZZZZ*

Static covered his eyes, his brain feeling like it was shaking and melting as he opened his mouth, but no sound came out. In a matter of seconds, his body turned itself inside out, a strange sensation of burning on the outside of his body while the insides were freezing to the point of being in space. Nothing could be heard or seen, his nose clogged by the sensation of stuffed cotton with no scent. His stomach, arms, legs, heart and brain felt like they were doing somersaults separately from each other, the world falling and rising in all directions.

Then he could see again.

The scene in front of his eyes was oddly familiar, and then he realized it was just like the memory engraved into his mind, the past that he would never be able to release no matter how hard he tried. Corpses littered everywhere, the dying screams forming an undercurrent beneath the crackling of fire, broken debris and rocks from the shattered buildings surrounding him. There was no one alive in sight, and the sky was filled with smog and dark smoke just like that day, and the memory he had just seen moments earlier.

Air whistled, the piercing screech just like that of a mortar drilled into his ears, forcing him to raise his eyes to the sky and behold the black dot dropping from far above the clouds, growing bigger and bigger until he could tell that it was the body of a human. The ground cracked as it landed, but it refused to give way to a crater as the body bounced once, twice, and then rolled to a stop a few yards away from it's landing point. With a start, Shirou realized the person was still alive as a finger twitched, but he could do nothing. All he could do was stare at the body as his feet were glued to the ground, staring down at the bloodied body in a similar state to how he had ended up in after blowing up the sword in Avenger's face.

There was even a stump on the right shoulder, the entire length of the arm as blood poured profusely from the ring of flesh around the splintered bone poking out, the marrow secreting dark crimson as it lay there exposed to the air. Bruises dotted her body like pimples, ugly and bleeding as they discolored whole swathes of skin all across. It looked like she was a girl, judging from what Shirou could see, but he was uncertain. The slim frame and long hair suggested so, though her face and body was too heavily damaged, distorting it's features to distinguish between male and female, let alone recognize her face.

Piercing the clouds above, a ray of light fell on the injured body, softly caressing the injuries as a warm glow pooled around her, highlighting her figure amidst the pain and angst she was surrounded by. Looking up, Shirou traced the golden light all the way to the opening in the clouds, seeing the smog part around it as if burnt by the light, creating a hole that clearly showed the azure skies above. As the gap widened, Shirou was finally able to see a figure floating high in the sky above the smog covering the land, untouched by the impurities staining the ground. Within the halo of golden light that was surely the source of the light shining on the injured girl that had fallen onto the ground, he thought he could recognize the person, a familiar shape that sparked his memory, even when they were miles above him.

Without warning, the light turned up to blinding levels of brilliance that absolutely blinded him, a cry tearing loose as he shut his eyes and covered them with his hands, yet the light still broke through his eyelids and hands, nothing but blinding white stabbing straight through his eyes into his brain.

He barely registered as his knees hit the ground, curling his body to bend his head into his stomach as he tried to hide from it, but there was no way to escape it. A shaft of brilliance that would deliver judgement, with nowhere to hide for the judged. He could run, but could he outrun light? Faced with no way to escape, he knelt on and the ground as he felt the splendour of the holy light bathe and incinerate him.

"Hah!"

The covers flew off his chest as he bolted upright, sweat beading his forehead as his breath came out in short gasps. With shaking hands, he touched his skin, confirming that it wasn't burning from intense heat. A hiss of pain escaped his lips as when the fingerpad put pressure on his chest, the bandages wrapped around the skin doing little to stem the sharp tension of being stabbed from the simple press of a finger. His fingers lifted off as if being repulsed, his arm falling to the side lifelessly, already out of energy from the simple act of raising it and touching his chest. As the adrenaline faded away, he became acutely aware of the soreness gripping his entire frame, being unable to lean forward or

backwards as both directions only caused pain in his back, stomach and chest. In the end, he settled for slowly leaning down his side, a half-controlled fall on his side back onto the sheets beneath him as he did his best to avoid tensing his muscles up too much.

Biting his lip, he slowly rolled himself to rest onto his back, the loss of his leg making the task harder than before. He flopped back, the sudden smack of his wounds on the sheets underneath him eliciting another grunt of pain from his throat. Though he was used to pain, being in this state of constant soreness, with his entire body tender to the touch, was new to him. He was slowly getting used to it, but it by no means meant that he could get up properly, much less start walking. Staring up the ceiling, he wondered if he should fall asleep or not.

The same chandelier he had seen in his brief fit of consciousness hung above him, still glittering with the same dim light, rainbows of reflection hanging over the facets of the sharp crystal faces. Now that he thought about it, he had no idea where he was or who had brought him here. As for Saber, Caster and Kuzuki, all he had was word of mouth confirmation that they were coming here. He didn't really have any idea if they were even coming hre alive or not.

With confusion and questions accumulating in his heart, he sat up once again, this time with the determination to resist his pain, his eyes narrowed as his face scrunched up into a grimace. Lines of effort wrinkled his skin, beads of transparent liquid dropping from the pores of his skin. Slowly reaching out one hand to grip the side of the bed he was sleeping on, he hoisted the one leg he still had fully attached, the knees and joint creaking in protest after the short but intense period of abuse he had put his body through. Dragging the stubborn heel across the bed, he ignored the pain in his rear as he pulled his feet to the edge, slowly easing it over as it lowered, his calves whining as they pressed against the side of the bed while going to the floor, rubbing against the fabric incessantly. Doing his best to push himself, he leaned back with both hands and pushed himself to the front. He almost fell back on his right hands, the absence of several fingers and part of his hand making press his weight on air as he tumbled back onto his side, but he managed to slowly inch himself off the bed until he was half kneeling, half slumped on the side, his leg finally on the floor.

Panting slightly, he swallowed the aches echoing all throughout his body, putting his strength into his elbow to raise himself up to standing position.

*bomf*

He failed the first time, his body rapidly sliding back to the floor while his side was braced against the side of the bed as his one functional leg buckled under his waist, fire spreading within the muscles from the ankle upwards. His vision blurred for a moment, but he managed to blink back the tears, leaning his head on the white sheets to rest for a moment. Once he no longer felt that his other leg was going burst from agony, he cautiously pushed his elbow onto the bed again, and slowly eased himself back into a standing position.

This time, he tottered on one leg after painfully standing to full height, before losing his balance and collapsing with his back on the bed.

The third time was the charm, as he pushed himself off the bed, slowly getting his body to sit on the edge, before giving one solid push to bounce him off the mattress, giving his body the momentum to rise up into the air as he stood on one leg. By this point, his entire body felt like it was swelling to three times the size, so he was unable to adequately direct his limbs as he hopped forward on one leg in the direction he had pushed in, tripping and meeting the floor up close with his face before his hands stretched out, his palms taking the brunt of the blow.

Groaning, he slowly lowered himself to the floor like he was doing a push up, resting his cheek against the cold marble floor as the rest of his body laid there. The cold seeped into his body, making him shiver involuntarily, but it also stimulated it as he decided to settle on just dragging himself to the door. Bit by bit, he put his elbows in front of him like a soldier crawling through mud, covering the distance between him and the ornate wooden door slowly until he managed to get across the marble. Dragging the rest of his limp body there was taxing, with his elbows hurting so much to the point they felt numb, but he persisted, and finally he was able to prop his body against the door. With visible effort, he raised his shaking arm to reach for the door knob.

Abruptly, the door smacked into his cheek as it opened, sending him sprawling on his back, the back of his head knocking into the marble floor and making a worrying thud. As the door fully opened, it revealed a young girl and a woman in conservative maid attire.

"Onii-chan?"

She took a step back from the boy who was wincing on the floor, gingerly trying to avoid the numerous injuries on his body while pushing himself to a sitting position. It was difficult to watch as just shifting his body by a centimeter sent a wave of shivers running through his body, his limbs twitching with each move. Even though Illya was far from liking him, it was still pitiable to see him in such a condition.

Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes and twirled her finger, white thread spinning around it as it swirled and fell onto his body. The gossamer lines of near translucency scattered all over him, falling onto his wrist, his temple, his ankles, his knees and wrapping all over. The moment they touched him, they seemed to turn invisible, when in reality it was because they were strung taut, the lines turning thin as the tension dragged it into an ultra fine wire, mana pumped into it to serve as a superconducting material of magecraft, transmitting the caster's will into the puppet limbs.

It didn't take too much effort for Illya to prepare, and with a simple gesture, he was made to stand up.

This time, it didn't take any effort on his part. His leg was ramrod straight, his body not wavering in the slightest even though he was standing in a posture that suggested he still had both legs. Instead of having his body leaning to one side, he was standing perfectly perpendicular to the ground. Yet there were none of the telltale signs of exertion, of his muscles shifting beneath the skin, or sweat on his brow. It simply looked like he was balancing perfectly in spite of his center point being off.

Dumbfounded, he tried to shift his head downwards, but found that he couldn't. When he tried to look up, only his eyes obeyed him, with his head locked in a vice grip that refused to give. His body though felt no pain, with him feeling like he was hanging in the air instead of actually having the sole of his feet touch the ground.

"Thanks."

Illya was surprised the first thing he would say was to express his gratitude, a smile that seemed a bit too innocent for her tastes appearing on his face. Slightly caught off guard, she quickly made a rebuttal.

"It would be troublesome if you couldn't walk alright? I'm just helping you until you can move by yourself, oniichan."

He didn't seem to notice the tone of her voice, or he didn't care. The smile didn't fade at all.

"Not just that, but for treating my wounds as well. You're kind for helping me this much."

Illya just stared at him in silence. Did he even know what she felt at this moment, seeing his stupid face? While he was nearly unrecognizable due to his injuries earlier, she didn't feel so antagonistic, but now with his body patched up to a certain extent, she no longer felt so apathetic. An awkward silence fell in the room while Illya stared at him as he stared back after saying his thanks, until Leysritt broke it.

"Mistress, we should be bringing him elsewhere."

Snapping out of her reverie, she turned her eyes away from his face and walked back through the door, with the maid following slightly behind her. Before Shirou could start wondering how he was going to join them, his body started moving, his soles slapping against the marble as he started advancing in short hops like a chinese jiangshi.

They left the room and started going through the long and wide corridors lining the mansion's innards, with Shirou ogling a lot of the expensive-looking furniture, such as the heavy drapes, the marbles tiles with irregular grey lines across them, or the crystal lights on the ceiling that bathed the halls with a warm light. It was an extremely opulent atmosphere that he seldom had the chance to experience himself, one that he could only remember seeing in the high-class western hotel located in Shinto, which was called "Hyatt", if he remembered correctly.

With that being said, it was most likely the girl's home, or at least a residence that was being used for now. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she was a mage, and Shirou knew enough about mages from Kiritsugu to know that the majority were at the very least affluent, with some possessing fortunes enough to rival the likes of Hideo Morita, who even he knew was the ultra-rich head of the Sony corporation, whose devices he had been asked to fix before. It also wasn't too large a leap of logic to realise that she was probably a Master, and dense as he was, he could figure that out by himself as well. Still, didn't that mean that he and her were opponents?

"Where are we?"

It was probably best to start simple.

"You are in the Einzbern castle that the Einzbern family imported from it's homeland to Fuyuki as a base for the Einzbern's to operate from outside of the Tohsaka family's territory."

Well, that was surprisingly informative.

"I see."

Even in this state while floating, he could still move his mouth. In addition, he didn't feel the need to be on guard with them, since they did seem to have taken care of him after the battle.

"Don't you know, onii-chan?"

Her voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of steel, making him wonder if he had said something wrong.

She continued walking as if nothing had happened, but she grit her teeth at the thought of Emiya not recognizing her. Surely, Kiritsugu had told him about her during those eighteen years they lived together. It was impossible that he didn't know about Illya, not when she was so precious to Kiritsugu. To not even mention her after abandoning her like that was too cruel. Had she meant nothing to him?

Shaking off those thoughts, she realized he had already asked another question to change the topic.

"If you want to know what's going on, just be patient and wait. Don't worry, we won't put a single scratch on you~"

Her whimsical tone put Shirou on edge as she twirled her small body and smiled at him beatifically, but there was nothing he could really do. He was bound hand and feet, quite literally, and he doubted they would really do anything to harm him after treating him in this manner. Still, he felt like it would be best to have some mental preparation of something potentially painful happening.

They turned a corner and arrived at a short flight of steps leading down to an alabaster white door, this one undecorated, with simple paneling laid on the surface. There were no doorknobs in sight, but all Illya had to do was press her palms against the cool wood, and it swung open inwards to reveal a dim hallway leading downwards. The bracketed lamps lining the grey walls lit up without a command, flickering orange flames dancing within the glass shade. A whisper of wind went past them, bringing the scent of stale air past Shirou's nose. Showing no apprehension, Illya casually walked down the stairs with Leysritt in tow, Shirou gliding down behind them without touching the steps.

The air gradually grew colder and colder as he descended, causing goosebumps to break out on his skin. Besides stale air, the smell of something else also drifted up to him as they went lower, something close to plastic, yet more organic. It wasn't particularly unpleasant, but it made him associate with the image of hospitals, the scent of disinfectant somehow making its way into his mind.

It wasn't before they finally arrived at the bottom of the stairs, and he was met with the sight of numerous tanks lining the wall. They were all empty, circular glass walls covered with a thick layer of dust that made it difficult to see the other side despite them being made of glass. He couldn't tell what they were used for, but the memories of his father telling him about what mages were capable of resonated within him at the sight of them. There wasn't much else there, until they went deeper into the underground cellar.

At the very end of the cellar lined with glass tanks, a magic circle was inscribed on the ground. It was no rush job of chalk or powder, instead having been engraved on the stone floor with precise lines and careful workmanship. Within the depression of the lines created on the ground, a metallic liquid flowed through the veins of the formation, shining dully under the dim lights illuminating the darkness.

It wasn't very large, about twice the size of an adult male, but it was incredibly intricate with the amount of detail packed into that small space. More eye catching though, was the human body placed on top of it.

Shirou's eyes widened at the sight of the pale, lifeless body lying there with no sign of life. It was naked, without a stitch of clothing so much as covering a speck of skin, and he could see how the muscles curved, the skin unblemished like an infant's. The white hair was exactly the same as Illya's, and he was sure that if he tried to open the eyes, he was sure to see red irises. The body proportions all conformed to the ideal image expected by society, and it was similarly built to himself.

Without further ado, he was unceremoniously laid on the ground next to the body, the body pushed to the side by the maid to make room for him so that the two of them were shoulder to shoulder in the center of the circle. The bandages unbinded themselves, invisible threads unravelling them as the cloth fell off his body, loosening and then piling into a small hill of cloth outside the circle, leaving his wounds exposed to the air. He winced as the cloth rubbed on his skin and sharply scraped across the scarred tissue, but he kept any sounds to himself. In a few seconds, he was stripped bare, left with only the tattered clothes he was originally wearing over the bandages. The liquid they had been soaked in clung to his skin, producing chilly waves as he felt the cool air caress his bare skin, except for the few bits where clothes still clung stubbornly.

The maid left the circle, allowing Illya to initiate the start of the ritual. Raising a hand, the threads filled the circle, white lines falling into the grooves of the etched patterns that turned the entire magic circle white as it started to glow. Illya's body started glowing in response as well, red glyphs and runes fading in and out of her skin as she charged up her Magic Circuits.

The ceiling above him became bathed in white light as the circle activated, and he felt energy hum beneath him as the smell of fresh snow replaced the stale air of the basement, a crisp scent that completely woke him up and brought his mind to full clarity, his hair standing on end all over his body.

It was difficult to stay still, and he tried to struggle, but his body still refused to budge even a single inch. Even while a suspicious magic ritual was being performed on him by a girl he had only seen once, when they were fighting against each other no less. He thought that the fact that she saved him had meant she meant him no harm, but right now there was no telling what would happen to him if he stayed within the circle.

His struggles were futile though as mana gathered in the circle, previously hidden markings on the presumed corpse next to him appearing, curiously only on the body parts that he currently lacked. They shone an iridescent blue as they slowly appeared one by one, creeping across the entire limbs.

Slowly but surely, he felt a tingling on his missing limbs that started small, but gradually grew into a tickle that magnified into the sensation of being slashed over and over. Before long, it felt a red hot poker was being repeatedly pressed into his skin where the stumps of his leg and hand were, blood swirling around in his body like raging currents as pain was incessantly transmitted to his brain. He couldn't open his mouth, but he couldn't close his eyes either as they remained wide open, his eyeballs trained dead straight on the gray ceiling now dancing with shadows and light from the glowing circle beneath his body, outlining his shape above from the lights of the ritual. His body remained stiff and unresponsive as the ritual progressed, the feeling of an electric current running through the rest of his body making him recall the times he had accidentally shocked himself while repairing appliances.

The energy continued building, Illya outputting a considerable amount of mana that would have already driven a weaker magus to exhaustion. Even now, only several droplets of sweat beaded her otherwise pristine face, and the maid merely stood by watching the whole process, ready to step in if anything went wrong.

Through the sharp sensation of agony permeating his body and mind, Shirou could vaguely feel the mana reaching a climax as the circle gradually filled up, the runes receiving enough mana to perform their function and obey the instructions that were coded into the very structure of the circle itself. At the precise moment it reached a crescendo, Illya spoke up, pale white lips moving lightly, knowing that a single mistake would result in failure.

"Äquivalenter Austausch, den Körper erreichen"

With a single line, she accomplished the results of a ten-count aria with little difficulty.

The energy within the circle fluxed, mana pouring into the predetermined places as it worked to achieve its purpose, fulfilling the directions engraved into the magic circle as it surged to obey the caster and accomplish her will. In a matter of seconds, it was able to complete its job, the circle glowing brilliantly for a moment at its peak, before slowly fading away as the threads lining the circle lost their luster, before being retracted back into Illya's care. As she stowed away the necessary ingredients, she viewed the results of her spell on the ground.

It seemed like the replacements were still of a drastically different skin color, but according to her research it would normalize and adjust to the host until it was indistinguishable from the original, or at least that was what the reports said regarding the previous results of this spell. More important than the cosmetic effects though, was whether or not they functioned properly. And that would be easy to test, assuming he hadn't fainted from the pain.

To her surprise, his eyes were still open, though she could tell they were glassy, covered by a thin film of fatigue after what he had been through. Showing no sympathy for his condition, she kicked him in the side.

"Stand up."

It was a sharp kick to his right shin that immediately jolted him as he let out a surprised hiss, but he automatically complied to her request even while nursing the pain in his leg.

Then it hit him as he stood up. He had two legs.

Staring down, his breath caught at the sight of a whole, albeit different colored, limb where there had been nothing but air earlier. Reaching down to touch it, he then came to another revelation as he saw his right hand pat his leg, the missing fingers and flesh restored to the previously damaged hand that had a chunk sliced out of it, courtesy of Avenger.

Before he had a chance to confirm the miraculous recovery any further, he felt his body move by itself as they started walking away from the circle, leaving the cellar behind. The invisible lines coiled around him and directed him like a puppet, keeping his mouth shut as well as he wordlessly followed behind the two like a mute person.

They passed through elegant halls of simple furnishing, the level of cleanliness unexpected for a building of such size, especially since he had yet to catch a glimpse of any other people besides the two in front of him. He had little idea what was going to happen next, and he was still in amazement that against all odds, the grievous injuries that he had expected to last for the rest of his lifetime were erased in a single night, like they had never happened before. Though there was incongruence in skin color, it was definitely far better than nothing. He could feel the sensation of air running past his skin, and after the brief absence of those body parts, he could keenly savor the air flowing past the pores of his skin even though he couldn't move them at all.

As the air grew chill, he realized they were nearing the entrance of the mansion, and soon they passed through a set of double doors etched with floral wood panelling, embossed with gold filigree to and ivory white to match the splendid entrance hall with a great crystal chandelier that hung above, a sight that was sure to beckon any visitors to stop and stare for a while. On the balcony that the double doors lead to, two stairs on either side connected at a marble landing in the middle with a crest on the floor, and a final flight of steps from there to the ground. Besides the chandelier, there was no other furniture decorating the place except for a plush velvet carpet rolled across the floor from the foot of the stairs to the magnificent oak doors that towered above Shirou. Outside, he could see some snow falling from the sky, but aside from that it was too dark to get a hint about the location that could be provided from the windows.

He was distracted from gawking at his surroundings when the doors protecting the entrance soundlessly swung open, the warm lights of the chandelier spilling outside as Illya admitted the people that were waiting outside the door. Familiar faces met his sight as they walked in, eager to escape from the frosty air constantly consuming their warmth. One of them let out a breath of relief, which was soon cut short as she saw Illya standing at the balcony above them, while another put down the person she had been carrying all the time, gently laying the man on the marble floor before taking position in front of him as the doors behind them swung shut just as silently as it had opened.

"Greetings, Masters from Ryuudou Mountain. I am Illyasviel von Einzbern of the Einzbern family, Master of Berserker in this war and mistress of this mansion."

Accompanying the short but concise introduction, she raised her dress on either side with both hands and performed a picture perfect curtsy. Before the two Servants had a chance to ask a question or respond, Illya continued on in a single breath to prevent them from speaking up.

"As you can see, onii-chan's injuries behind me have been healed, but the new limbs are inscribed with spells that will allow me to kill him on a whim. If you don't want him to die, sign this geis."

Saying so, she tossed a sheaf of paper over to them, the parchment floating unnaturally straight until it landed neatly on the ground, right in front of Saber's feet. Keeping her eyes trained on Illya and her maid, Caster knelt in front of Saber and slipped her hand over the paper, lifting it up to her eyes to inspect the contents as Saber kept watch on Illya to ensure they made no sudden moves. Scanning the words from the top of the page, her eyes gradually narrowed as they travelled downwards, going through the list of conditions and wording of the various clauses contained within the binding document. She was seized by the urge to dump it after halfway, but she willed herself to keep reading the steadily growing amount of outrageous demands.

Absolute obedience to Illya. Transference of Command Seals to Illya. The standard terms of self-protection that prevented them from harming Illya or performing any disadvantageous actions against her, perfected through years of magi struggling to backstab or kill each other while circumventing geass scrolls. Granting the use of all resources under their command to Illya. Last but not least, a concession that stated they would be exempted from all the above terms if the Greater Grail was either destroyed or dismantled in any way.

Caster's eyebrows rose briefly, but her expression quickly turned neutral again after a moment of schooling her features to conceal her response. Handing the contract to Saber, she went behind her and knelt down to check on Kuzuki's condition. Saber took the geis and looked through it, a frown spreading across her lips as she glanced at the agreements listed out.

Fundamentally, the only person who would be directly affected by Shirou being held hostage was Saber. If he died, her source of mana would disappear, and she would disappear after losing her anchor tying her existence to reality. That however, could be easily rectified, simply by making Kuzuki her substitute Master by forging a contract with her right after Shirou died. There were problems there though, such as Kuzuki being in a critical state that would make doing such a thing difficult, and there was also the fact that while the Grail would support the majority of the mana supply, he would still have to bear a burden, no matter how small, and combined with Caster's needs, that meant he would have very little to spare. There was also the question of whether they would be given the chance to do so in the first place. It was questionable whether Illya would just stand by and watch them forge a contract while they were right in the middle of her territory, standing in her Workshop.

Above all though, Caster was sure that Saber wouldn't betray her Master, and so that left her to consider whether she had to follow Saber or act on her own and try to withdraw from this place, as impossible as it seemed.

That would, of course, mean that she would have to cut ties with Saber as well. The moment she tried to escape with Kuzuki, she was choosing to abandon Saber and Shirou to their fate. In the end, it was obvious which option she'd choose.

Pricking her finger, she picked up the quill Illya had thrown with the parchment and dipped the tip on the blood welling out of the hole on her thumbpad. Deftly, she placed her signature at the bottom of the list, with only a few minor trembles in her hand from the exhaustion still plaguing her body after their scuffle with Avenger. As Saber watched, she knelt down next to Kuzuki, whose chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. Showing no signs of waking up anytime soon, she gingerly raised the left hand that had been crushed by Avenger, placing the quill into the palm of his hand and wrapping it in a crude grip that caused him the least pain. Keeping her hands on his to ensure the quill stayed in his grip, she whispered under her breath.

Kuzuki's eyes snapped open as if he had been awake the whole time, his eyes travelling to Caster's face creased with worry, then to Saber's brief twitch of surprise before going to the two conspicuous figures standing on the balcony far above them, with Shirou standing some distance behind the duo. Caster raised the geass, drawing his attention to it, and he scanned through the contents. A raspy hiss utterly different from the calm, collected voice she was used to hearing strayed into Caster's ears.

"I understand."

Without having anyone say a word, he had grasped the situation, and acted.

Clumsily, he slowly dragged the quill across the bottom of the paper, doing his best to create an approximation of the signature that he had used ever since he entered Homurahara Academy, something that had originally meant to be a single-use forgery for signing documents as an assassin, but later turned into a tool that he utilized every day in his role as a teacher. The signature was simple and plain, easily written with a conventional form that was still unique in it's own way. Even with his hand mangled, he was able to write it due to it's design, which he had created to be functional above all else, as well as to make it convenient for him as a teacher.

With his signature finished, Caster muttered again, and he went limp like a puppet with its strings cut, the Servant catching him before his head fell against the marble floor, slowly laying him back down while Saber picked up the geis from his hands as it fluttered away from his loosened fingers.

Geis came in many varieties, with different penalties and attributes depending on how harsh the agreement needed to be enforced, and in this case the self-geis scroll was one that would bind the soul. In a sense, one could call it a Command Seal of a sort in regards to its ability to restrict another being, but it was much more specialized than a Command Seal, as well as unable to provide boosts like Command Seals, as at its core the Seals were simply vaults of magical energy which showed up as several tattoo like marks on the skin. On the other hand, geis were a curse, one that was agreed upon by the parties stipulated within the mystical contract, and in this case the scroll was actually classified as a self-geis scroll. Instead of having an agreement with Illya regarding an exchange, this was more of them willingly giving up their rights by themselves. But where self-geis scrolls usually targeted the Magic Crest, Illya's version instead directly targeted the soul, a realm that the Third Magic dealt with, which her family was intimately related to. While her family might not be able to replicate the True Magic, their research had developed much insight into the soul, and creating a geis that was usable against even Servants was possible.

Tapping into the Saint graph, they would be snuffed out of existence if they broke a single term, a curse entwined with their core that would crush their Saint Graph in less than a heartbeat. Of course, Kuzuki was also under a similar restriction as well.

Once Saber finished her signature, the infusion of magical energy from her automatically triggered the completion of the geis. A thread hooked onto the parchment as it glowed, returning it to the hands of the person who had drawn up the terms.

A small smile played on her lips as she mockingly bowed to them.

"Thank you for being cooperative. I will have Leysritt show you to your rooms, while I deal with the crippled Master lying on the floor. Do not attempt to escape, destroy the premises or harm Leysritt."

"Can I-"

"No."

Caster was shut off before she even had the chance to fully vocalize, and shutting her mouth, she felt the compulsion within her as she became unable to open her mouth by even a sliver to voice her protests to accompany Kuzuki. Mutely, she watched as Kuzuki was carried off by thin wires, levitating him off the ground behind Illya as she disappeared into the depths of the castle.

At the side, Shirou watches the entire proceedings, mortified at his role in the fiasco. He couldn't even clench his fist in frustration, the enchantments that he had received in exchange for being healed binding him to Illya as her slave, hence why he didn't need to sign the geis. The only signs of his inner turmoil were the shifting lights in his eyes, and the minute trembling of his body as he stared straight ahead, unable to turn his head to look as Kuzuki floated past him.

Once Illya turned the corner and disappeared from sight, the maid who had been silent up until now turned towards the two Servants and spoke up.

"I am Leysritt, a maid serving Lady Einzbern, and I will serve as your guide through the mansion for today."

Curtsying in the much the same way as Illya, she waited until Saber and Caster joined her on the balcony, then turned and walked through the double doors that led into the castle, with Shirou automatically moving to follow in her footsteps as she moved, receiving commands from Illya and obeying them like a robot. A light rumble occurred as the double doors leading to the entrance hall slid shut, and the lights of the entrance hall dimmed before shutting off completely, returning the scene to an austere, cold place devoid of any human beings.