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some revisions done 2/13/2014

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Forward Unto Dawn

Chapter 7: Much Needed Violence

David Coleman was strong, or at least he'd like to believe he was strong. He and his partner Veronica Lorang were both freelancers, but maybe today will be the last day of their job. It had started out okay, a group of nearly thirty magi hunting one apostle, it had been fine, but it turned out that the apostle in question happened to be quite the monster.

From the blood the pair had seen on the white haired vampire he seemed to have killed all other contacts. The fact that he left a trail which started from a bunch of brutalized corpses may also hold testament to that fact.

Like most other frontline magi David and Veronica relied heavily on high speed incantations. Unlike their researching counterparts who relied heavily on elaborate and fancy spells, frontline magi tend to hold the advantage with shorter cast time and better utility. The more notable exception being Barthomeloi Lorelei who was like a researcher but at the same time not like a researcher.

"Load, lock, fire." Veronica Lorang desperately shouted pointing her outstretched hand towards the albino vampire. She took the role as support with healing based mysteries and her water element spells. She gathers moisture from the atmosphere and expels it like whips, spikes of water sent towards her enemies.

David Coleman on the other hand is what a RPG would name "DPS tank". He invested heavily in learning the less trained art of reinforcement and uses a mystic code crafted in shape of a gauntlet. It doesn't do much, just increases his physical abilities even further and allowing him to activate it to expel a shockwave on contact. Of course like most mysteries there is a drawback, and the problem was it takes a lot of time to charge his hand-made mystic code.

From what he had seen Vladimir Brezhnev was what David Coleman would define as an artist. Through his many confrontations with Apostles, Sealing Designates, and other hunted creatures he liked to separate his targets into three categories: the artist, the king, and the man.

A king is someone with powers and feel self entitlement to use that power for their own purposes for example 'rule the world' which is where the classification came from. They generally disregard other people, and most of the time simply kills off their enemies without hesitance.

The man is someone who fell to the temptations of mankind, mostly found in sealing designates who fell to their fears of dying and researched into vampirism. Others are people who fell to their own greed and avarice, losing their humanity and becoming what society would call a monster. The last was the most fearsome, the most destructive, and unfortunately the mast majority of stronger beings tend to fall under this category: The artist.

The artists are like psychopaths. They do what they want out of boredom, they tend to have low morality, but at the same time tend to be strong. Most apostles fall under this category, apostles that torture humans, make creative ways to kill their prey, shit like that makes them monsters.

Unfortunately, Vladimir Brezhnev here is what David Coleman would categorize as an artist, a bloody artist (notice the pun?). Each strike only put the human magi at an even more disadvantageous situation, each trade he had with the vampire was not in his favor, each spell he sent out swatted away like flies. Veronica was doing all she could harassing the enemy, using her water whips to occupy Vladimir's attention, if not for her the blonde male would have been dead long ago.

The blonde took a step backwards to avoid a straight managing to avoid it by a hair's breath, then the human ducked under the open swing and lowered his center of gravity. Sweeping out he tried to catch his stronger opponent off guard.

Unlike the two human magi who had looks of concentration strewn across their faces the vampire in this dance of death was laughing, smiling as if this deathly waltz is nothing but a walk in the park. To him it may just as well be a walk in the park.

His mouth is split into a grin, "Yes, more, more. Give me more. The last team didn't entertain me so much. But you guys on the other hand…" He waved his arms up and down showcasing how much fun he is having.

"Hn." David grunted as he dashed in again to engage with Veronica covering his back. "Fuck you."

His first punch was dodged by Vladimir, his second punch knocked aside with a slap on the wrist. There was never a third punch as the blonde had to quickly step back to avoid being skewered by Vladimir's outstretched hand. The apostle had a slight pout at missing the human magi as he retracted his hand and stood still. His blood red eyes tinkled, his Cheshire grin splitting even bigger as he looked at his prey. "You guys have done well." He reached into his blue suit and retrieved a black dagger. "But." He paused for the theatrics. "But, you have grown quite. Quite dull." He absentmindedly glanced down at his short blade not even a foot long. Looking up again he smiled. "Maybe it's time to end this."

The look he gave made the two human freelancers shudder, a chill running down their backs.

The he disappeared.

"What the?" David instinctively turned back finding a blue shadow flashing into existence behind him. "fuck?"

A black point sped for the blonde man's neck.

His eyes widened in fear, at the suddenness of his inevitable death. At the corner of his vision see his partner's eyes opened in shock shaking her head refusing to believe his inevitable demise. Her long blonde hair glittered in the moon's light as she shook her head, allowing the silky material to flow in the air. He could see the smiling face of the apostle they were sent to hunt. Vladimir Brezhnev, his short white hair and red eyes. Pale skin and his perpetual grin that seemed borderline maniacal. David Coleman's last thoughts were as followed, 'fuck, dead, fucking artists.' But from the corner of his eyes he could see another flicker, this time a flicker of purple approaching his impending doom.

One moment Vladimir was there, another moment he disappeared.

Appearing several feet back there stood a man in a black suit. He had violet hair, short and cropped, a silver pendant adorned his left ear. He stood back against the blonde freelancer, the newest addition's gloved hands clenched in a fist in a boxing stance. His black suit had silver strips making him stand out in the moonlight, almost as if he was glittering, adding the light reflecting off his pendant he looked legitimately like a knight in shining armor.

"Fraga." This was the only word Coleman was able to mutter, to his utter disbelief he survived if only barely. The Fraga was here, that was good news.

Vladimir looked at the newest intruder with glee in his eyes. Hearing what David had said he chuckled a bit, "A Fraga? How absolutely fascinating." With quick movements he twirled his dagger changing into a reverse grip catching the light with its glasslike edge.

"You are dangerous." Aya Fraga had what would be deemed as a feminine voice, silky and smooth, a testament to his dignified upbringing. Despite his soft voice there was a sense of seriousness veiled within his words. It wasn't a question, instead it was a statement as if he was asserting his beliefs, making a fact known.

Still smiling Brezhnev looked at the violet haired Fraga. Then looked at his sword, then up again staring into Aya's dark green eyes. "Indeed I am."

Dust was kicked up as the apostle suddenly disappeared only to appear next to the Fraga, undeterred the violet haired magi only ducked to avoid an open swipe, returning with a punch of his own which the white haired apostle easily avoided. One second they were next to each other another second they had separated leaving a couple of meters between them.

Nodding in contentment the vampire evaluated the human in front of him. "Good reflects, good agility, very good indeed."

Not taking his eyes off the enemy the Fraga replied, "I'm happy to please."

The two circled each other slowly, both with caution but at the same time without hesitation if action was to take place. Without breaking stride Aya slowly removed the poster holder strapped onto his back. A cylinder roughly two inches thick and an yard long, black with silver stripes matching its holder's attire.

Raising an eyebrow at the human's movements Vladimir asked while pointing at the cylinder now in Aya's hands, "That is?"

Without answering Aya Fraga unscrewed the bottom of the tube allowing its content to spill out. As he unscrewed the holder three metal looking balls dropped, however, instead of hitting the ground like gravity intended them to, they simply floated in the air, ethereal blue illuminating its surroundings.

Vladimir looked at the levitating globes with curiosity, his blood red eyes twinkling with a twinge of insanity coming from his fascination. "Can this be? Can this be. Oh. My. God. Can this seriously be that?" The century old vampire waved his hands around theatrically. "Oh my God. It really is."

His eyes tightened into slits as he glared at the melodramatic vampire in front of him, letting his prana course through his body Aya flexed his muscles and cracked his knuckles. "Yes apostle, these will be the beginning of your end."

"Heehee, we'll see about that Fraga."

I was having a really bad day.

Where did everything go wrong? Wait, maybe it was because we all split up against an immensely powerful apostle, or maybe it's because none of us had a chance, even the Fraga. Maybe I had a bit of a chance if I went all out, but that's a really big "if".

The second mistake we made was engaging Vladimir Brezhnev in a forest. What. The. Fuck. A forest. Seriously? We're basically asking to get killed in such dense foliage. We're at a pretty big disadvantage considering the fact that our number advantage was our only advantage. That is however negated here where vision is limited and opportunity for ambush is too high. To tell the truth our immense number became a disadvantage here. He hunts us, rather easily if I may add. Our vision is limited unlike his, our movement is limited as a group, it's no surprise I've been hearing screams resounding in the forest this past few minutes, although it has reduced into sound of metal clashing, a welcome improvement from the cries of mindless slaughter.

I sped through the maze of tree trunks praying I'll get to my allies in time. I don't really wish to only have their dead bodies to gather, I came in here with more than two dozen teammates and I wish to save as many as I can.

I pumped my legs with od, near their limits before they shatter like weapons would. I could feel wind blowing strong against my body, against my reinforced suit which was acting as an aerodynamic surface. I had to pump my eyes full of od as well just to keep track of my surroundings, without the od in my eyes I'd only be seeing in blurs, believe me, I tried, and it wasn't fun. It involved lots of crashing and praying Avalon healed me right.

Roughly a minute passed after I started charging towards the direction of the screams I heard I approached a clearing, a welcome reprieve to the dense forest I had been in.

The moment I stepped into the clearing everyone seemed to pause. All eyes turned towards me, a group of humans and one very beautiful vampire. I ain't gay but I must say that person was beauty in man. It was almost like Gilgamesh, a seemingly perfect person, a perfect Aryan Hitler would say, exclude the red eyes of course.

A redhead who had been locked in a deathly dance also turned towards me, along with a pair of guy and girl standing near him and a man with a staff I recognized as the leader of the hunt. This pair I'm not sure who they are, but the one currently battling the apostle was the Fraga, and the other recognizable one was Nightingale. It seemed to be a losing battle, from what I can see.

Before my intrusion it seemed that Aya Fraga was taking point, sort of having a point blank competition with the apostle, Nightingale seemed to be supporting from the back with his familiar and mysteries whatever they may be. The other two magi were standing in the back supporting when possible, staying out of the way when necessary, that is most of the time by the way.

When I walked in on them everyone seemed to be stunned, but thankfully the first one to gather their wits is the Fraga, who shouted loudly with big swinging motion, "GET DOWN."

The reason for that was Vladimir pointing his dagger at me, slightly confused I immediately dropped to the ground and executed a role, only to enlightened as the trees behind me suddenly shattered as if struck by a wedge of some sort.

At the same time as my duck-and-cover maneuver I also drew my knife hidden underneath the back of my suit. In one fluid motion I whipped out a blade, a ten-inch length of sharpened steel. "dagaz, gyufu, sowilo." I uttered the names of the runes inscribed upon my blade. Pumping od into them, activating them. Empowering my words.

I dashed into the fray with my knife in a reverse grip, ready to parry the apostle's attacks. I did not understand why the Fraga had not won yet. He had Fragarach behind him floating in its spherical dormant state. Why haven't he activated it I cannot say, probably something to do with the apostle's mystery making it near impossible for Fragrach to activate, or his regeneration is enough to tank a noble phantasm. If it is the latter then we are in ver deep shit.

Vladimir Brezhnev looked me in the eyes. Then smiled.

It brought an uneasy chill down my spine.

Then he snapped.

And the world exploded in an burst of orgasmic red.

"Shit?" I instinctively called Rhos Aias into existence, loading it within the proverbial gun that is my projection, tracing it into existence to hopefully block Vladimir's technique.

The screams.

"AHhhhhh..."

The screams.

I couldn't stand the screams, for they are the testament of my failure. I wanted to be an ally of justice, a protector of all that is right. Their screams is proof that I have failed.

Rhos Aias remained strong.

The first petal still stands, strong if I may add. But their screams.

Charred bodies. Smell of burnt flesh. Crawling. Blackened bodies crawling on the ground. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Crawling. Bloody. Saving those who have already died. Human compassion. Death. Death. Death.

Ashes. Walking Aimlessly. There is no hope. No hope. Despair.

Die. I am dead. I am dead. Looking around. Dead bodies. Moving bodies of those who will die.

The smell. Putrid. Rotting. Burnt. The smell. No.

The screams. Of those who have dissolved.

Half screams, vocal chords burnt. Half screams.

Howling. Howling. The SCREAMS.

Rain. Salvation. Him. Smile. Hero. Ally of Justice. Happiness. Happiness.

The SCREAMS.

It always reminded me of that. Screams always reminded me of my youth. It had been years, decades. But it always bring back the memories. I can deal with death, I've always been able to deal with gruesome deaths. Why? Because my first recollection was probably a scene from a perverted and psychopathic painter. Exotic, beautiful? Disturbing. Yes, so very monstrous. I can deal with death because I lived death. It was me, a recollection of who I am.

It is the screams I cannot stand.

The screams that constantly remind me both of Fuyuki and those I have failed.

The screams.

I could feel my pupils expanding from my distress. My muscles twitching, screaming at me to kill, to destroy. To save.

But the screams.

When the screaming stopped I finally let down the shield. Only to see a sea of red and the air tinged with copper, the smell of blood, along with a mist of red floating above the pool. There were four bodies, almost unrecognizable, and a smiling man standing in the middle of all the anarchy. Him and his white suit. The blood that was once evident on his clothing only expanding, a red smear on seemingly perfect white.

I have failed.

Vladimir looked at me now that we are alone. His pale complexity added with his white hair made him seem so, exotic. So pure, if the blood staining his blue suit didn't indicate the killing spree he had just been on. I looked at him staring straight at his eyes. To tell the truth that was a bad move on my part since I had to force my od into my circuits to build up my magic resistance against his mystic eyes. There was derision stained in my voice. My hatred, my agony at failing "So what do you want?"

"There's a lot of things I want mortal, or the maybe-not-so-mortal Emiya Shirou." His slight chuckles built a feeling of unease within me. Whoever this apostle is, he knows me, he knows something about my demise and my return. "However what I want isn't the reason I'm here today, no no Emiya Shirou, if I was to have things my way you'd be down in the pits with me, a fight to the death. I would love to test those blades out, the blades that cut down countless brethren of mine, but that's not what I am here."

"Then why?" I could feel my eyes narrow into slits. His uncaring attitude. His apathy is something I detest.

"It is in our best interests if you learn a bit about the world you left. About the world that was altered, about the world that was changed."

Changed. Altered? Confusion assaulted my mind, I nearly snarled in animalistic rage at feeling helpless at my predicament.

He saw my confused look and continued, "Emiya Shirou, when you slew that NOVA, you only brought fourth an end to this world. Can you feel it? The ambient prana that surrounds us now. Can you feel it? Centuries ago it wasn't like this before you know? You are ignorant magi, of course you've never been much of a mana user, preferring od over mana. But changes are evident, the influx of energy, the way mysteries became easier to realize, do you know. Can you feel it? The strength that hums in the air, the heaviness of the atmosphere, it slows aging for magi, it fills our circuits, it strengthens us, but it will also kill us."

He is almost rambling, it didn't make any sense "Kill us?"

"It's like rain young mortal. Some rain is good, more rain is generally better, but when there's too much rain, the world rots, drowns, instead of fortune it becomes misfortune, that's what's happening now. This plane is being filled with mana beyond its capacity, this ambient energy, it's destroying us. It's like an dormant infection, we don't know we're dying until the moment we die."

"How. I defeated that NOVA, I was sure, if anything, I saved them, fucker, I saved them." My rage at failing brought irrational thoughts into my mind. My hatred of this apostle in front of me. My hatred at myself for my own helplessness. My hatred.

"Let me ask you, Emiya Shirou, where do NOVAs come from?"

"Fuck you?" I replied not really knowing the answer, yeah, where did NOVAs come from?
He looked at me with those unsettling red eyes, almost as if he was demanding an answer, a legitimate one.

"Another dimension?"

"Yes and no. They did enter through a tear in dimensions, but no, they are not really from another dimension."

"Then where?"

He pointed at the sky.

"Space?"

He nodded, "Like our lord Crimson Moon NOVAs came from the skies."

"What does that mean?"

"There is a being on Earth, I believe you've met it yourself, something that hailed from somewhere not on this Earth."

I remained silent.

He shook his head, "Your ignorance astounds me mortal. You've seen Type-Mercuryhaven't you, the unnaturalness that it contained. The fifth apostle ancestor, possibly the strongest being on Earth at the moment. Surely you've felt its presence."

"It can't be, you're implying, that NOVAs are like ORT?" This was bigger than my current worries. I need to let my rational side take over.

Breath in. Breath out. I looked at him with my slitted eyes. Then closed them to breath again. Slowly I felt the blades shift within my body. Bringing coldness back into my consciousness. Expelling the bloodlust that came from my human mind, when I opened my silver eyes colored with gold, letting the steel in my body take over. Feeling myself again I looked at the apostle in front of me not as Shirou Emiya, but as a sword.

Sighing he shook his head, "Foolish mortal, if NOVAs are like your so called 'ORT' you wouldn't be alive. No, they are similar, but at the same time so different. So vastly different."

"Then what?"

"You lowly mortals are ignorant of the threat, only some of your higher-rankers have access to knowledge. To the 'prophecy in the 2000th year', to tell you the truth I'm not so sure what it is either seeing that I was sleeping, but I know what it details."

"What?"

"Easy, it details the destruction of mankind, the end of the Age of Man, much like how the Age of Gods have ended, the ones who have their time ended will be beaten, hunted, destroyed."

"The end of the Age of Man?" I was flabbergasted, it was hard to imagine such an age, the time of man would ever end. What would follow, what would come next. I didn't want to imagine the result of the mass extermination of the human race.

"Yes. The end of your time, and the rise of monsters beyond your comprehension. Mankind will be hunted, destroyed, wiped to extinction."

"Impossible. Impossible, it can't be." I held my head refusing to believe such a revelation, how could it end, but the Gods probably thought that too.

"The NOVAs are only the beginning, they have come to begin the end of your time. Gaia calls them, she is weakening, her will is losing to Alaya, the reason your magecraft is becoming more successful is her weakening hold on the universe."

"Gaia is dying?"

"Well not exactly, you can't exactly kill what was never alive. Gaia is the will of the planet, a consciousness, so I guess you could put it as nature dying, and there is an old saying you know?"

He paused, "What?"

He chuckled, "When nature calls, run."

"But why?"

"Your lost grail is the reason to human's demise."

"What, the Grail? Like 'the' Grail?"

"Yup."

"How?"

"It's corruption, its taint contaminated the leylines of Fuyuki city, and let me remind you that is one of the bigger leylines on Earth. Despite you guys removing the grail in the end the damage was already done, the nearly unlimited amount of prana within the grail entered the Earth's system. That was the first step."

"The first step?"

"Yes, the first step. It took a while, but the prana circulated the world, distorting reality."

"But the NOVAs?"

"Think of them as shock troopers setting up communication with the other Primordial Ones, the 'Types'."

"Like Type-Mercury?"

"Exactly like Type-Mercury, Aristotles they are called. But they can't cross until reality distorts enough for them to cross from their planets. But trust me, when they do your world is fucked."

"How can they cross?"

"What they would need to do is slowly thin the natural defenses Alaya had set, a sort of boundary field like perimeter that prevents most things from actively trespassing into our realm, Zelretch being the few exceptions to the rule." Before I asked what thins the perimeter he held up his hand to halt me, "Before you ask, the boundary thins as the level of mana rises, the ambient energy that we prosper from now is actually the key to our eventual doom. The first NOVA that crossed is different, very different from the rest of its race. It carries within itself some sort of mechanism that drains mana from its victims and expels it as ambient energy, in effect its degrading our world by killing and releasing the mana back into nature. The other NOVAs can't do this, but now that the first NOVA was retrieved they can start their goals again."

"What about the other NOVAs."

"What do you think I am, an Oracle? Let me remind you I've been sleeping until very recently and everything I'm telling you is knowledge from others that wish for me to pass the knowledge to you."

"Why me?"

"Because you are marked."

"Marked? I don't feel marked in any way."

"No shit smarty, Alaya marked you somehow, no one really knows how the consciousness of mankind operates, but she did something, she removed you, in essence you're not really Emiya Shirou. Emiya Shirou died during the clash, what you are is this sort of heroic spirit but at the same time not a heroic spirit that is summoned into a vassal not much different from how heroes were summoned during your Grail Wars."

"So I'm not really me?"

"Alaya took your body and expelled it, if that answers your question, you are you, just not you at the same time."

"I am confused."

He laughed, "You should be."

"Why are you telling me this? Last time I checked the apostles weren't so friendly with humans."

He scoffed at my remark, "Don't you see? When the Aristotles come, it's not just you that's going to be wiped out. Not just humans Emiya, no. Not just you guys, no. Everything will be wiped. This planet will be no more. The wrath of Gaia is unstoppable, if the end happens then most likely there won't be a planet for us to stand on anymore."

"All of us?"

"Yes, and it's only logical that we tell you, the marked on, of the fate of mankind. No pressure of course, we're gonna do what we can to stop it, but it seems like you're the one that's gonna need to do something big."

"So allies?"

"Nope, I'm just the messenger here, the next time we meet I'm gonna take your head, we apostles will do things our way and you need to get the humans to move. The NOVAs need to be stopped, no idea how, but something needs to be done."

"No pressure." I laughed dryly.

"Yup, no pressure Emiya." He looked at his watch, I looked at mine. It seems that daybreak will be here soon. "Sun's almost up, I should go." I tried to stop him, but before I could do anything with the knife in my hand the apostle exploded into a burst of red mist, from the coppery smell of it I could assume it's blood.

The fate of the world rests on my shoulders? Well not really, just kind of. Like he said, no pressure.

It took three hours of running before I even got close to Tokyo. Three hours of running at nearly 100km/hr, nearly 300 kilometers, it seems like I underestimated the distance we traveled with the mystery that carried us out here into the wilderness.

I smelled of death, a twinge of copper, the smell of blood. If I looked into a mirror I probably won't be able to recognize myself. I was not only defeated physically, but also mentally. It was difficult, but to tell the truth I've seen worse, and persevered. After the battle I stayed and buried the dead, the ones who survived helped, but ultimately we all left in silence. It was nearly unbelievable, a Fraga defeated so easily, rendered useless, his body lefty in nearly unrecognizable lumps of flesh.

Blood. It is everywhere. Blood on my hands. Blood on my blades. Blood. It is everywhere.

I was shaking when I stopped running. It wasn't the chill that ran across Japan even in summer nights. It wasn't the wind, instead it was my uncontrollable shivering, my hatred at being nothing. The apostle seemed to hold my strength in high regards, but I'm not sure about that. True, if I went all out I had a pretty good chance at defeating the apostle, but going all out with so many witnesses really isn't my style.

I should have though, maybe it would have spared the four that were present. Maybe, maybe not, but it was worth a try.

However, what he revealed to me was much more disconcerting then a few deaths. The end of the Age of Man, how disastrous. Eight billion lives, all destroyed, how absolutely frustrating that I need to take a part in interfering with this eventual apocalypse.

Part of me wished to just go on with my life, but I know I can't. I never really knew why, but I love mankind. Maybe it was my father's smile deeply etched into my memories, maybe it was Sakura's beauty radiating within the deepest abyss of my mind, but I love humanity. Despite being betrayed countless times my affection for my own race had never waned, never faltered, how sad.

'What is a hero.' I've always asked myself that question. Is it the one who saves? The one that fights for justice? I've looked into many dictionaries, and the most concrete yet abstract definition I got was 'Heroes are those who perform heroic deeds.'

So what is a hero? What was it I strived to become. Did I wish to become hero like those of the legends? Or was it an ally of justice, a superhero no different from Superman, from Batman, and from Spiderman.

But they are all lies.

If this world was filled with liars, then I am the biggest lie.

I am a faker. Everything I have is a replica, a fake. My blades, my skills, even my ideals. Everything was fake. I am a lie, a lie built from the image of a smiling father. He seemed so happy, crying tears of happiness at my survival. I am sure he felt saved at my survival, some sort of salvation. Unfortunately this was something I was never able to experience.

When I save, I look not at the ones I save, but those I have killed.

When I fight, I fight not for those that is right, but instead those that is more.

My philosophy is simple, kill less, save more. I may not agree, but as long as I save…

It is a damned cycle, an endless gyre I experienced as a warrior, as a guardian, and as Emiya Shirou.

That distant memory of my smiling father.

Buried deep within my soul. It drives me, it moves me forward, I want that salvation my father received, something that belongs only to me, yet I have never received such a gift.

What is a hero. I can never answer this question. To me being a hero is simple. Being a hero, an ally of justice, is simply being a sword. A sword that surgically removes cancer, removes disharmony, removes dissension.

I am a sword, and therefore I am a hero.

It was way past midnight when I reached Izumo Inn. As I approached the Inn sweating I was surprised that the lights remained on. It shone like a beacon in the night, a place of reprieve for my earlier failures.

"Tadaima." I called softly as I stepped through the sliding doors of Izumo Inn.

Immediately, there was the sound of shuffling steps and a reply "Okaeri". Miya stood there at the end of the hallway peeking through as I took of my shoes before walking in, her voice was music to my ears. A welcome change to the screaming that seemed to resound in my mind.

"Asama-san." I bowed respectfully to the lady of the house, likewise she returned the gesture with a bow of her own.

"Shirou-san, what did I say about my name?" Her eyes were narrowed in mock glare, pouting slightly I could only laugh in response to her childish behavior.

"Sorry Miya-san."

"You should be." She made a sharp spin before grabbing my sleeves and pulling me towards the dining room. "Come, I have some food saved up from dinner, you must be hungry yes?" She probably wouldn't take no for an answer.

Pulling me for a while she suddenly spun again to face me, smiling a warm smile she chuckled. "Before you eat bath. You smell." She waved her hand up and down in front of her nose to emphasize my bad smell.

Unable to fully play through with her childish gestures I asked her, "What do I smell like Miya-san?"

Her eyes narrowed again, this time into a real glare, "Smell. What does it smell like." She almost spat the next word, her facial expression changing into a similar expression during our confrontation several nights ago, "Blood. Is it blood, Shirou-san."

I softened my expression apologetically, it seems like I treaded on a landmine I should have avoided, blood was probably not a happy memory for her, then again I can't say blood would be a happy memory for most people. "Yes Miya-san, it's blood. A whole lot of blood."

Her sharp looks faded in a split second back to her normal warm visage, "Mind if I ask, how was your work?"

I could only chuckle lightly, "Twenty-seven people went in, only five came back alive."

Her red eyes widened in shock, maybe she never realized I was playing with my life all along. No, she must have known, just not comprehend the true seriousness of my work and my situation. She didn't realize the high mortality of being a bounty hunter, her widened eyes were a testament to that fact.

"Dead as in not coming back dead right?"

I could only give a small laugh. Even after realizing the seriousness of my situation she still could not bring herself to believe the gravity of my job. "Yes Miya-san, dead as in not coming back, is there any other form of dead?" I spoke to her gently, she must feel unbalanced, realizing I throw myself into harm's way, and for what?

To my surprise she grabbed both of my shoulders with her delicate hands. Our height difference made it impossible to look each other in the eye with equal elevation but even as she looked up into my sight orbs I could feel her intent.

Her crimson eyes glowed.

Yes, glowed, that was the only way to describe it.

It glowed.

Her eyes narrowed, her crimson locking into my gold. "You. Will. Not. Go. Again. Understand?" She shook me every single time she spat out a word. "I forbid you." There was a dark aura surrounding her, prana seemed to flow out of her as the originally brightly lit room dimmed. A smoky substance seemed to emit from her body, slowly. Slowly forming into reality, becoming solid, the mass of dark substance formed into a Hannya mask. Forming into a red demon full with two large horns and a mass of hair behind it. Floating in the air, levitating, looking meanly at me with crescent eyes. It seemed angry, seeing as if it mirrored Miya's emotions it would be safe to bet it probably was.

But I couldn't promise her.

It was my duty.

My duty as a sword, I have to fight, I cannot be left to rust in an armory.

A blade's duty is to be used, to slay, to kill.

I cannot betray all that I am. I am a sword, this is the only thing true about me, the only truth I know.

With a pained smile I looked away, her Hannya immediately evaporated, her eyes filled with pain and hurt. She knew my answer, she knew what I will do, she's seen it before in others. Glancing at the shrine near the opening of the hallway, the faces of those young ones I could only shake my head.

She embraced me, and at that moment I could feel a certain wetness run down my chests. As she cried into me I was sure that when they didn't return, Miya was broken. She projects her loved ones image onto me, she hopes to protect me, to find salvation through making me stay, imposing onto me what she couldn't impose onto those young ones in the shrine.

That night I didn't sleep, I did nothing more than returning her embrace and let her cry into me even after the sun rose.

A/N:

This is shit.

I know.

This is shit.

And I'm ranting about how it is shit. Completely shit.

I originally wanted a fight between Vladimir and the magi, and then no one really dying and Shirou and Vladimir having some alone time somewhere else. But I just can't. I didn't want a fight scene. I wanted slaughter. And slaughter we have.

Shirou's always shown a sort of apathy towards death, I expanded that. Tell me how I did.

This chapter was long overdue. I have no excuses, I just didn't feel like writing.

The dialogue was derp.

This pretty much staples out the main storyline.

I bs-ed most of it yeah.

But I'll provide some evidence now (yes hardcore Nasu fans, please flame me)

A lot of it is from NOTES, how the Aristotles appeared during a war between A-Ray (stronger humans) and humans. Some time in the future A-Ray fight humans, and Aristotles came, the sisters sacrificed themselves to create a field above Earth to prevent further impacts from more Aristotles.

This was the basis for how a lot of ambient mana distorts a boundary field (parallel the one the Sisters set up) Okay, I lied, them killing Type-Pluto created a field from blood, but yeah, the concept remains.

So I assumed/speculate(bullshitted) that the reason for the entering of Aristotles is ambient mana, too much mana distorting reality or some shit like that. It made sense to me at the time but prob not to you guys.

So to me the NOVAs come and distort reality for the Aristotles to eventually come

So Aristotles came and killed everyone A-ray or humans, all gg, so I'd say the apostles should be scared (provided they still exist at the time). Although I believe Apostles are creation or connected with Gaia, but yeah.

So Gaia is dying, or fading, whatever. Notes said that it is Gaia's last wish that summoned the Aristotles. So my theory somewhat is valid. Dying could be ten thousand years, can't say. And since Gaia's control is waning the mysteries/spellcraft is easier to actualize, a serious speculation but from what Notes described the A-rays(they were seriously buff, and the sisters were like godlike), probably correct to a certain extent.

Bad mana flooding the world from Fuyuki is completely bs. I just made the assumption that leylines should be connected to like...Other leylines? And since they used the leylines to summon some grail it's logical that it can spread from where it is summoned? Probably wrong but yeah, that's how it'll go.

Prophecy of 2000th year. Yeah, Notes wasn't so clear on that either. SOme prophecy that could have saved humanity, something like that?

That should wrap up my explanation for bs making to link it with Freezing, it's gotta happen one way or another.

Anything I need to add PM me or smthing and I'll edit the A/N

Yeah, this chapter is utter shit, and short. I'm just not in the mood to write about fighting.

As for why Fragarach didn't work, well, it just didn't, I dunno.

This isn't my best work and I was really thinking of scrapping it but yeah. It was long overdue so I'll post what I have.

I actual wrote most of it a long time ago, just the theory was utter crappy and illogical so I held on to it.

Tell me how I did.

R&R

-wiltheavatar

2/14/13

2 passage updates, becoming a much more respectable length, It was both supposed to be in the next chapter but I thought it might end the chapter better