Fate Stay Night - Medea Caster route

by AquilaBosniaca

You've read the title, this is Caster route. What would have happened if that night the one to save Caster had not been Kuzuki, but Shirou Emiya? Just how would Shirou change at the discovery of the Holy Grail War? How would Shirou change Caster? And how much would someone like Caster change Shirou? (Good End- Finished. True End- Work in progress)

34. Chapter 34

*5 years later*

Year 2004. Fuyuki City.

It was morning, and Medea found herself once again lying in her bed, her gaze fixated on the ceiling. Sleep had eluded her once more, and each passing night seemed to bring greater difficulty in finding rest. The exhaustion was taking its toll, both physically and mentally.

As Medea turned her head to glance at the clock, she realized it was nearly 9 o'clock. By now Shirou would have already prepared breakfast, and he was surely waiting for her to join him. However, she couldn't shake off the heaviness that weighed upon her, making even the simplest tasks feel daunting.

After a few minutes of contemplating her situation, Medea mustered the strength to rise from the bed and made her way to the bathroom. Standing before the sink, she met her tired reflection in the mirror, her eyes accentuated by deepening bags that seemed to mirror her weariness. A heavy sigh escaped her lips at the sight.

Medea knew she had to address the issue of her appearance. She understood that Shirou was already excessively concerned about her well-being, and if she continued to neglect herself, his worry would only intensify. She contemplated using her magic to conceal the telltale signs of exhaustion, but deep down, she realized it would be futile. Shirou and the girls would see through any superficial alteration she attempted.

…But she knew that she could do nothing about it no matter what. She did not need any sleep in reality. The cause of the bags was not the lack of sleep.

She shook her head, snapping out of her thoughts, and turned on the tap water, allowing it to flow over her hands. As she began to wash, she applied soap with a newfound vigor, as if trying to cleanse more than just her skin. The sound of running water and splashes echoed through the bathroom, the only audible presence for the next five minutes.

Medea's scowl deepened, her frustration evident as she remained focused on her task. No matter how much she scrubbed, no matter how much water and soap she used, she could never fully wash away the blood that stained her hands.

Sighing, she stopped abruptly, finally coming to her senses, and glanced around the now chaotic sink. Blood and stains adorned every surface, and she had even managed to splatter the walls and the mirror. A wave of guilt washed over her as she realized the mess she had made. Shirou, ever attentive to cleanliness, would surely scold her if he saw what she had done

With the intention of rectifying her mistake, Medea instinctively reached for a cloth to clean up the mess she had created. However, something within her suddenly halted her movements. It was as if an invisible force had frozen her in place, preventing her from addressing the mess before her.

Her eyes darted around the bathroom, searching for the source of this inexplicable interference. A momentary silence enveloped the room, broken only by her own erratic breathing.

It was then that it spoke:

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

Medea suddenly froze upon hearing the question, her gaze darting around the empty room. Realizing she was alone, she turned her attention back to the sink, recalling the haunting inquiry. Raising her eyes to meet her own reflection in the mirror, she found herself transfixed by a surreal sight unfolding before her.

On the other side of the mirror, within the depths of a dimly lit room, stood a mysterious hooded woman. Clad in ancient, regal robes, she cradled the lifeless bodies of her slain sons with utmost tenderness. Though the tragedy of her actions was evident, it was the undying love shining in her eyes, just barely visible beneath her hood, that struck Medea most profoundly.

As Medea's gaze met the woman's, it became apparent that their connection was mutual. The woman in the mirror, ever watchful, recognized Medea's presence just as Medea had acknowledged her.

At that, a smile appeared on the woman's face, as she simply dropped the bodies of her children to the ground, so that she could focus her attention entirely on her.

"And look who we have here. It has been a while, hasn't it?" The woman spoke with a satisfied tone.

"..."

Medea remained silent. What could she say? The woman's disregard for her sons had left her speechless.

However, as Medea gazed upon the lifeless bodies the woman had dropped, she finally noticed the other corpses scattered around.

Stretching out behind the woman were numerous lifeless forms.

Remember who you were? And what you did? Remember who they were? And what you did to them? You tried to forget. Didn't you?

Among them, she recognized many familiar faces.

Her brother Absyrtus, torn to pieces. Jason, with a noose tightly around his neck. Glauce and Creont, charred beyond recognition. Pelias, his skin stripped after being boiled alive.

And further back, Saber's corpse lay in a pool of her own blood. Rider, Sakura, and Rin reduced to ash in most of their bodies... and perhaps Shirou, an unidentifiable mess of carnage. Limbs and organs scattered everywhere, a grotesque scene.

It was surreal to see them like this, as she had never witnessed their deaths or laid eyes upon their lifeless forms before.

"Just how many years have passed since we last saw each other? Ten? ...Or was it five, when it all started?"

"...I'm not sure," Medea replied.

"...You look quite... ill," the woman remarked, finally noticing Medea's condition.

"..."

"What happened? Haven't you obtained everything you had ever desired?"

"...I... I did... and yet..."

"It was not enough?" She asked, her smile cunning.

"No... you misunderstand me. It's just that... You see... I've been so tired lately."

"Tired? Of what, exactly?"

Medea opened her mouth to respond, but she lacked the courage to utter the words.

"...Oh well, it is known that good times never last," the other woman nodded. "...It's only you and me left now... and... You have felt it too, haven't you? There is nothing either of us can do about it. And I'm sure you know by now that this won't end well... But that's okay... it was about time."

Medea gazed at the woman, her mind filled with confusion and weariness. She couldn't comprehend the woman's words, and now she felt even more exhausted and disoriented than before.

Her attention shifted to the lifeless bodies lying at the woman's feet. Overwhelmed by pain, she attempted to reach out to them, but her hands encountered an impenetrable barrier—the mirror.

The depth of her longing to hold them, to offer them a proper farewell and mourn their loss, could not be expressed in words. Her dear Phere... her dear Mermerus...

However, the woman on the other side scowled at her actions, offended by the mere thought of someone else touching her children.

"Don't you dare!" she nearly shouted, filled with immense indignation at the idea of another person laying a finger on her offspring.

Fear surged within Medea, causing her to retreat. She knew all too well who the woman was and the extent of her wrath. She had no desire to provoke her, so she had to tread cautiously.

After the outburst, the woman stared at her, bewildered by Medea's reaction.

"What happened?" she asked incredulously. "Is this what you've become? Where is the proud individual I once knew? Where is the person who had the strength to do whatever was necessary, even in the most challenging times? Where is the woman who would confront anyone daring to impede her? When the time comes, try to improve. Let's see if you can survive that ordeal."

"...what are you talking about?"

"You know it quite well. Do not feign ignorance," the woman asserted. "The time has come, my friend, so I think it is time for you to stop pretending."

"...I'm not pretending anything."

"Yes, yes, you are. If you haven't realized it, you've been pretending to be something you've never been."

"...No..." Medea weakly responded after a moment.

"The truth is undeniable, and reality cannot be denied. No matter how much you try to separate yourself from it, it remains unaffected."

"..."

"You can deceive everyone else, but not yourself. You were never a good person. You were never a good teacher... and above all, you were never a good mother..." She uttered, then looked down, kneeling to caress the head of one of her sons that lay on the ground.

"..."

"You know, just like me, that in the end, you cannot change. You will always be a witch."

"..."

Medea's gaze dropped in shame upon hearing the truth. Slowly, she raised her eyes again, only to find herself face to face with the woman, who was now emerging from the mirror.

"You believe that someone must pay for the things you've done. Tell me, who's it going to be?"

---

Medea abruptly woke up, finding herself once again gazing at the ceiling of her room, but this time it was reality.

Glancing at the clock, she realized it was almost 11 o'clock.

"Oh," she thought, realizing she had overslept. It was a rare occurrence.

She rose from bed, stumbling a little upon her feet. Almost immediately, a scowl formed on her face, and she grumbled to herself.

"Hugh. Gods," she muttered, feeling irritated.

As she stepped onto the floor, the coldness permeated her bare feet. But it wasn't just the floor; the air itself was chilly. Winter was approaching, after all.

Trembling slightly, she slipped on her slippers and housecoat. Still shivering, she made her way to the living room.

"What a strange dream," she mumbled to herself along the way.

In recent years, her dreams had become peculiar, even turning into nightmares. However, this was the first time she had witnessed and conversed with a version of herself. The fact that she had experienced a sense of detachment troubled her—the feeling of being two separate entities. Particularly unsettling was what her other self had said.

Everything felt so strange now. It was different from before. In the past, her dreams would revolve around the days spent with her children or reminisce about happier, simpler times before everything fell apart and ruin came to her.

After walking a certain distance down the hallway, Medea halted and turned her attention to the numerous photos adorning the walls.

One photo captured Shirou tenderly wiping the dirt off Sakura's cheeks after a messy meal. Another displayed Rin and Sakura engaged in a playful board game. Yet another showcased Shirou and Illya sharing a watermelon. And there was a photo of all the children studying together at a shared table.

Then, her gaze shifted to a photo of herself. There she stood, positioned in the center of the picture, wearing a smile while surrounded by the very people whose lives she had shattered and brought ruin to. Shirou, Rin, Sakura, Illya, and even Taiga—all of them wore smiles as well.

As she examined her once joyful expression, Medea was reminded of how much better things had been in the past. For the first time in a long while, perhaps even in her entire life, she had experienced the genuine feeling of being loved, cherished, and valued.

Every morning, she woke up with purpose and determination. Nothing felt futile. She eagerly pursued her goals and enjoyed carefree days spent with those who depended on her. She recalled the contentment she felt, a silly grin adorning her face at the end of each day. Being praised and admired, sought after for advice and wisdom, seeing the adoration in the children's eyes—she hadn't experienced such appreciation for far too long.

But now? All those things that once brought her joy served as painful reminders of the terrible deeds she had committed.

At that moment, she shook her head and continued her path toward the living room. It was undeniable that her pain and guilt had become overwhelming over the past years.

She had led a wretched life. She had been a wretched person.

She had endured immense suffering and inflicted unimaginable pain upon countless innocent lives.

For decades, her sole desire had been to find love and peace, but it always eluded her grasp. Instead, she faced relentless slander and abuse.

In this world, she was an absolute pariah. Abandoned and cast aside by everyone and everything she had once held dear... and rightfully so.

Yet, despite it all, fate had bestowed upon her a glimmer of hope.

Because, at the brink of her endurance, in the twilight of her existence, she bore witness to the tiniest of miracles...

A miracle that justified all those long years of darkness and solitude...

"Good morning, Nee-san," Shirou greeted as Medea opened the door and stepped into the room.

She turned her attention to him.

And there he stood, with a warm smile on his face. Her heart warming at the sight of her beloved red-haired boy in the prime of his youth. He was her hero, her savior, her everything—her Shirou.

"What's wrong, sleepyhead? Still feeling groggy?" Shirou asked, a teasing smile on his face, as Medea stared at him in silence, before he proceeded to prepare breakfast.

Ignoring his playful remark, she made her way to the table and wearily rested her head on it, allowing her heavy eyes to find respite.

Time passed, and even with her eyes closed, she sensed Shirou's gaze upon her. Only moments ago, he had been jovially smiling and joking with her, but now, his expression had turned serious. He carefully observed her, desperately searching for any signs of improvement in her recent condition.

Over the past year, she had let herself go, sinking into a state of depression. However, she didn't want to dwell on those thoughts upon awakening. Instead, she wanted to savor this fleeting moment of peace while enjoying the breakfast Shirou had lovingly prepared.

"You know, if you had slept for another 10 minutes, I would have woken you up," Shirou commented from the kitchen.

"...Really? But you yourself told me I should get more sleep," Medea replied, lifting her head.

"Well, yes, I did. But I can't let you sleep until noon, can I?"

"...Yes… Yes you can. " Medea answered.

Shirou just chuckled softly, amused by her response.

After that, Medea could hear the bustling sounds of Shirou in the kitchen. The clatter of pots and pans, the aroma of coffee brewing, and the sizzling of food filled the room. In a matter of minutes, he emerged with two plates of fried eggs and toast, a light breakfast to tide them over until lunchtime.

Medea couldn't help but notice that once again Shirou had waited most of the morning to have breakfast with her, but she chose not to comment on it. They sat down to eat, and as they did, Medea observed Shirou stealing glances at her every now and then. His eyes held a mixture of emotions and veiled concern, silently conveying his worry.

He appeared burdened with worry, far more than she was comfortable with. It was evident that he wanted to help, yet didn't quite know how. She understood his genuine care for her, and it pained her to see him in such a state. She had no intention of dragging him into the depths of her own self-misery.

Finishing the last bite, she looked at Shirou and spoke up, breaking the silence:

"Sorry if lately I've been such a burden," Medea uttered, her voice filled with remorse.

Shirou ceased eating, his attention fully captured by her words. He lifted his head from his plate and fixed his gaze upon her.

Without revealing his thoughts or emotions, he inquired, "What did you say?"

Medea chose not to repeat herself. In that moment, she realized her choice of words had been wrong, adding to her already mounting distress. She wanted to say something more, but inexplicably, she found herself averting her gaze.

Observing her reaction, Shirou promptly rose from his seat and circumvented the table to approach her. Gently, he cupped her face with both hands, tilting it upward, urging her to meet his eyes. "Hey, what's the matter? Why are you apologizing?"

Medea evaded his gaze and looked away, her discomfort apparent.

"You don't have to apologize for anything, let alone declare yourself a burden. What makes you think that? You can always confide in me, Nee-san. You know that," Shirou assured her, his voice filled with tenderness.

Her voice trembling slightly, Medea responded, "Well... it's just that in the past year, you've taken care of everything... cooking, household chores... while I... I've done nothing."

Shirou placed his hands on his hips, considering her words. "I can understand why you might feel that way to some extent," he admitted. "But that doesn't explain why you've been so… despondent and lacking motivation for much longer..."

A pause lingered between them as Medea summoned the courage to respond. "That's the problem, Shirou... I don't know either," she confessed, her words masking the truth.

He scrutinized her for a prolonged moment, aware of her falsehood, and she, in turn, recognized that he saw through her façade.

"...Oh well, no matter, you do not have to worry. You saved me and raised me for the past ten years. If it really bothers you that I'm doing everything, just think of it as me repaying the favor I owe you and thanking you for everything you did for me," Shirou assured her.

She remained silent, feeling utterly empty, saying nothing. She had nothing. She was nothing...

The only reason she continued to exist was that, for some inexplicable reason, ten years ago she had encountered her little hero who had shown her kindness... and then she lost him. The thought shattered her heart once again, as it had countless times before.

At that moment, a bitter phrase crossed her mind: "Those whom the gods love die young." She thought bitterly that he must have been well-loved before returning her focus to Shirou.

Despite knowing his future, she still pondered the negative impact she might have had on him. She was no role model, no teacher, no mother. She was a despicable monster.

But it didn't matter. His life would never be endangered again. She had transformed him into one of the greatest heroes humanity would ever witness. She had witnessed his future with her own eyes, and what a sight it was.

He radiated brighter than a thousand suns. His hands wielded blades unwavering, carrying the promise of restored peace. He stood as an gold adorned wall sent by the gods, untouched by the stains of violence. He was the final beacon of light in this forsaken world.

And he would not veer onto a darker path as 'he' had in the past. By now, he had recognized that war was a perverse and unproductive act, and he abhorred the notion of taking lives or risking his own. However, he had reached a level of maturity where he understood the necessity of certain actions.

He was her greatest success.

She had bestowed upon him unimaginable power and knowledge in this era. It was exactly what he needed, and the only thing she could offer him.

…But compared to Jason, she had given Shirou little to nothing, merely the bare minimum.

To Jason, she had given everything. Her youth and beauty. Her body and mind. Her heart and soul...

What else could she give Shirou that Jason hadn't already claimed? What else could he want or desire from her? What more could he expect? …She had nothing else to offer him...

She loved him, yet she knew that she could never be enough for him... no...

Was it even right to say that she had loved him?

For demigods like her, even a simple moment of passion could be overwhelming. Was she truly honest when she professed her love to him in the past? Or was it merely a fleeting sentiment, or perhaps something darker, resembling obsession?

Nevertheless, she refused to deceive herself any longer. After a life filled with pain and isolation, it was evident that she would easily become attached to the first person who showed her genuine kindness. Like a forsaken animal in need of nurture, she clung to the first individual who cared for her... ironically, similar to how Shirou had become overly attached to her after losing everyone and everything.

Yet, there was no denying her desire for him. She had longed for him, regardless of his appearance and form.

This selfish longing had been concealed beneath a noble cause of repaying the debt she owed him. Ha! Who was she fooling now? It had been a decade, and there was no longer any reason to-

"Hey, with that look, you won't convince me," Shirou said, snapping Medea out of her thoughts.

"...?" Medea refocused her attention on Shirou, her expression filled with confusion. She had drifted off while lost in her own thoughts, and now she had no idea where the conversation was heading.

Shirou gazed at her puzzled expression for a while before letting out a sigh.

"*Sigh* Come here," Shirou said, opening his arms.

Medea observed his gentle expression and noticed the way he looked at her.

...

...

'...Ugh, fine. One little hug won't hurt.'

She thought as she leaned forward.

She surrendered herself to the embrace and relaxed.

She still remembered how Shirou used to deceive her when her depression had just begun.

He understood that she possessed a strong, if not stubborn, character and that she would never allow herself to sink into a pit of despair... or at least, that's what they both believed initially... Whenever he witnessed her sadness, instead of comforting her or inquiring about her troubles, the cunning little fox would timidly approach her. Under the guise of having a nightmare or a flashback of the night of the incident, he would ask her to console him a little. Of course, she always fell for it, and while taking care of him and spending time together, she would typically forget of her own problems and negative thoughts, as she was more concerned about Shirou than herself. And just like it always had, sharing some time with him would bring a smile to her face.

Then, as time passed, she began to notice how often Shirou conveniently seemed to have a bad memory just when her thoughts started to wander into forbidden places, and she realized exactly what he was doing.

When she confronted him and he realized that his charade was exposed, he abandoned all pretenses and directly addressed her recent mood. His directness caught her off guard, but she simply brushed him off and claimed there was nothing to worry about... well, they had seen how that turned out.

Nevertheless, despite her best efforts to keep him at a distance, he persisted in his relentless attempts to uplift her spirits. And whenever she grew weary of resisting him, she would eventually give in and comply with his requests... like now... and she couldn't deny a certain level of satisfaction.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only problem.

Several minutes passed before the doorbell rang.

Medea released herself from the hug, and Shirou got up to answer the door.

He returned to the room, accompanied by Sakura and Rin.

"Hello," said Rin.

"Hi," said Sakura.

"Hi, girls," said Medea.

And before she realized it, the girls, like a pair of hyenas, had already encircled her.

They began asking about her mood and if she had been feeling better lately, to which she gave simple and brief responses. It was evident that she preferred not to delve into the details of her inner world, choosing instead to maintain a sense of detachment.

But of course, as always, they refused to be discouraged by her bluntness. They swiftly changed the subject and started discussing their days and their latest individual progress in their respective crafts, making sure to acknowledge or mention how it was thanks to her that they had achieved such power.

Once again, their routine had commenced. She was quick to recognize their ploys. They wanted to uplift her spirits. How foolish. Did they truly believe they could do so without her noticing or realizing their intentions? She had practically raised these two girls, and while she had to admit they had grown quite crafty, they did not know her the same way she knew them. But after falling for Shirou's tricks for so long, she felt her pride wounded, so she always maintained her defenses high when it came to those who sought to improve her mood.

Then, as they drew closer to her, Shirou joined their discussion as well.

Suddenly, once again, Medea found herself surrounded by people who not only relied on her but were also grateful and content to have her presence.

Despite who she was...

Despite everything she had done.

After approximately an hour, Shirou returned to the kitchen, mentioning that it was almost time.

Medea glanced at the clock and confirmed that it was indeed nearing lunchtime.

'Now, who shall arrive?' She mused to herself, already aware of the answer.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Taiga showed up.

"Yooo~ everyone, your favorite teacher has arrived!" Taiga exclaimed cheerfully as she entered the room.

"Hi," the girls greeted her.

"Have you come to steal yet another meal from us, Taiga?" Medea asked with an amused expression, turning to face her.

"Of course! Why are you even asking?" Taiga replied, swiftly making her way to the kitchen. "Hmmmm. What a delightful smell!"

"Hi, Taiga," Shirou greeted her.

"What's cooking, good looking?" She asked, leaning her right elbow on the counter and placing her left hand on her hip.

Shirou snorted in reply, and Taiga earned a sterful glance from both Sakura and Rin. They couldn't see the extent of Taiga's grin. Those girls were too easy to make fun of.

"These aren't the kind of things a teacher should be saying to their students..." Shirou remarked, shaking his head with a grin on his face.

"I know, I know. But jokes aside, how are things going?" Taiga inquired, sneakily glancing at Medea. Her expression turned serious while maintaining a jovial tone.

"Fuji-nee, we're doing fine. Thank you for asking," Shirou responded in a relaxed tone, but his serious gaze met Taiga's.

"I see," Taiga quietly acknowledged before turning her attention to Medea.

She had her answer. After that, Taiga began to ponder.

Medea was someone she had known for almost her entire life, and she had grown to admire her alongside Kiritsugu. Their maturity, experiences, and wisdom often served as inspiration for Taiga to become like them.

In fact, it was because of them that she had become a teacher.

Medea's interactions with all the children who often surrounded her were what propelled Taiga towards teaching, and Kiritsugu's extensive knowledge of foreign languages was the subject that intrigued her the most.

When she discussed these ideas with them, they were incredibly supportive, and Medea even started offering advice whenever she could...

...That woman had always shown nothing but kindness to her since they first met.

And now, Taiga felt dismayed to see her in such a state, as she undoubtedly did not deserve to go through whatever was happening to her.

Medea was a good person, after all. She always had been. Taiga had witnessed firsthand all the people Medea had helped over the years.

She still remembered when they first met. After introducing herself and mentioning that she had just moved nearby after losing her previous home in the incident, Medea had kindly asked if she could visit or play with the child she would later bring from time to time, explaining that he had lost all his friends in the fire and that she didn't want him to always be alone. Taiga, of course, agreed.

It always brought a smile to Taiga's face to recall how Medea repaid this favor. Medea enjoyed spoiling her with the food she made, or finding excuses to bring her closer to Kiritsugu and make her spend time with him, knowing that Taiga had a crush on him.

That was something that still made her cringe from sheer embarrassment when she thought about it... But that wasn't what mattered now.

Medea and Shirou were people she cared about. She didn't know why Medea was acting this way, but she could see the negative impact it had on Shirou and the girls.

So, she had to do her best to uplift their spirits, assist them, and be the responsible adult she had always aspired to be.

"I know you wanted to be the one to help her... but don't you think it's time to take her to a doctor?" Taiga whispered after entering the kitchen and positioning herself beside Shirou, pretending to be interested in what he was cooking.

Shirou stood still for a moment, then turned to look at Medea, who was still engrossed in conversation with the girls. Normally, he would have no problem letting an expert take care of someone in need of help. However, for some reason, he felt a selfish desire to be the one to assist Medea and help her overcome whatever was troubling her, just as she had helped him.

Just like how she had saved him from the fire and healed him from his traumas, he wanted to save her from her personal problems, whatever they may be.

But then he sighed and shook his head. His love for her surpassed everything, even his own desires. He would do anything for her sake. Anything, if it was for her...

He longed to be there for her, to support her, and to help her rediscover happiness. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to try... but what progress had he made during all this time?

He took a deep breath and focused on what was right.

"...Yes, it may be time," he said with a serious tone. "Her condition is deteriorating, showing no signs of improvement... but I know for certain that she will insist not to bother. I'll have to talk to her and convince her... I'll let you know."

"I trust your judgment, Shirou. If you need help, don't hesitate to reach out to me."

Shirou nodded.

On the other side of the room, despite being engaged in a discussion with the girls, Medea had overheard the conversation between Shirou and Taiga thanks to her acute senses.

'Please, stop it,' she pleaded. 'Why are you being so kind to me? Why?... I got all of you killed... if only you knew...'

She looked at all of them. They were all so cheerful, wanting to bring her happiness.

But none of them were aware, not even Medea, of the guilt that lay within her, ticking away like a time bomb...

---

"We're leaving now. I should be back before dinner. Take care," Shirou said, while Sakura and Rin waved goodbye from behind him.

"Goodbye. Have fun," Medea replied as she waved back.

The door closed, and she stood there for a minute before turning.

There she was, alone once again.

For years, she had wondered what her punishment would have been like.

But no matter what she imagined or the theories she came up with, she was always left disappointed.

None of them ever came. Alecto, Megaera, or Tisiphone. None of the Erinyes arrived to bring justice upon her.

There was no divine intervention either...

...Nothing at all...

...

...

…

'Oh, the irony,' she thought as she let out a scoff.

She had finally found happiness, and there was no greater force to torment her.

No gods. No human will. No spirit of revenge.

...

It was none other than herself.

Her memories.

Her newfound sense of morality.

And the very people she held dear.

Every day, she had to look into the eyes of all the people she had wronged and got killed, being reminded of their horrible fate...

Every day, she would see either Mermerus or Phere in Shirou's eyes...

Every day, she would see a monster in her own reflection...

"No," she thought as she shook her head.

The day had gone well until now. She could not let her thoughts run rampant and ruin it again.

She decided to go to the kitchen and make a cup of tea for herself to relax. She then went to her bedroom and tried to drink it, but it was a bit too hot for her taste. So she put it on the table to let it cool down.

As she stared at it, waiting for it to turn cooler, she fell into deep thoughts.

She began to feel as if hours were passing her by.

The past became more prominent.

The future faded away.

Regrets were piling up…

Her mind always wandered to the past. It always did.

She was a foreigner. An intruder. And yet he had made her feel like a guest.

She still wondered why he did it. To save her, and aid her despite knowing who she was.

And she still wondered why she did that. To use the Grail and save Shirou, despite knowing she would ruin and destroy everything that had been done.

She did not know what possessed her.

After traveling back in time, she had taken the child. And cared for him as best as she could.

Truth to be told, she had struggled sometimes. The memories of Mermerus and Phere were still too strong in her mind... But for every hardship she had suffered, in equal measure, she was blessed.

The memories she had made with Shirou in the past years had been wonderful, something to always cherish... and there was little to nothing that she regretted about.

…

This is what she had been doing in the last year. Reflecting on her past and memories.

Even now, though the Holy Grail War was just a month away, she did not care about it. The end was secure. There was nothing to worry about. She had seen its end...

And so, instead of thinking about the war, she thought about these last years... about what she was not supposed to remember... all of her worst memories unlocked because of that damned Priest five years prior... and those poor children in the basement.

She had claimed Shirou for her own and raised him from childhood as if he had been her own son.

Yes, at that exact moment, in her grief, after losing him, she wanted him back, even as a child.

But where before she simply wished to have him once again, to possess him... then she got him... and... and then she realized that her desire may have changed. Perhaps that was what she wanted all along.

She didn't just long to be with her beloved; she yearned for the semblance of a family, something that fate had cruelly snatched away from her on numerous occasions.

Yet, even after she managed to fulfill this desire, she wrestled with it, deeming it foolish and hypocritical. After all, she was a witch, a murderer, incapable of being a nurturing figure who would only corrupt and distort him.

She was acutely aware that the afflictions plaguing her mind at this stage were depression and nihilism.

Once upon a time, she had been inherently good, but the atrocious acts she had committed left her bereft of words to describe the self-loathing she experienced. She never doubted for an instant that if anyone were to uncover her deeds, they would despise her just as intensely.

The fear of losing everything once again terrified her more than anything.

Throughout her existence, she relentlessly pursued something greater in life, with the yearning for a family of her own overshadowing all other logical and negative thoughts. She had long abandoned faith in destiny, as it had repeatedly betrayed her, leading to her downfall. Eventually, she realized that relying solely on fate would never satisfy her deep longing for purpose and love. She had to muster her own strength to discover what she truly desired.

And it was during that time she stumbled upon that "something more" in life, something profoundly meaningful.

Shirou, in surpassing all her expectations, became the embodiment of it.

Thoughts of him flooded her mind, especially after she had saved him from the incident.

He had become emotionless and empty, traumatized by the experience. The memories of Shirou looking at her with his blank expression, which she found incredibly endearing, brought a smile to her face. Nostalgia washed over her, and she wished to relive the past decade over and over again, to help Shirou rediscover his emotions and their significance.

But as she pondered on Shirou, her thoughts wandered elsewhere. After saving him, he became empty, but there was another kind of being that was also blank and empty.

As a writer once stated, human beings are born as tabula rasa, blank slates that are shaped by their experiences. An infant, cute, weak, helpless, and devoid of thoughts, lacking in life's experiences, fitted that description perfectly.

Flashes of a distant past appeared in her mind, and suddenly her children were safely in her arms, looking up to her and playing with her hair and ears with their tiny hands… those same hands that she had dreamed would take care of her in her elder days, and eventually lay her to rest…

Her smile faded, and her mood turned sour.

This constant shift of humor had not been healthy either…

…Not that she cared…

…Not that anyone would…

---

Shirou, along with Sakura and Rin, were now walking toward their destination.

While walking, Shirou held one of the most precious gifts that Medea had ever bestowed upon him close to his chest. It was a powerful and cherished object, created together by the two of them.

As he grasped it, he pondered how much she had given him and how much she had taught him. The very item he held exemplified her teachings.

Medea had imparted her knowledge to him, including the art of crafting similar objects to the one he had that could manipulate fate and casualty to his advantage—essentially, effective lucky charms.

He had come to realize that mages often underestimated the true strength of such items in the right circumstances.

But despite all she had done for him... what had he done in return? How could he convey to her that he was willing to do anything for her?

Surely, she knew of his admiration for her since their first encounter, when he had lost his memory. However, he doubted whether she fully comprehended the depth of his admiration... he would find contentment even if he could merely breathe in the same manner as her...

"You know, Shirou senpai, I don't like it when you get so lost in your thoughts," Sakura commented, bringing Shirou back to reality.

Shirou sighed, feeling the need to address the "senpai" Sakura used. It seemed unnecessary considering their long history together since childhood.

But that wasn't the most pressing matter at hand.

"I know... but..."

"...Is it about Medea?"

"...Yes, it is," Shirou replied. "Taiga mentioned something earlier that got me thinking... and I think she might be right. It's time I take her somewhere... to see a doctor..."

"...Oh," Rin said, surprised.

Both Rin and Sakura wore solemn expressions, and a heavy silence hung in the air.

"...Do you really think it's necessary?"

"...Is the situation that dire?"

Sakura and Rin asked in succession after some time.

It wasn't that they were opposed to Medea seeking help. Rather, it felt surreal for them to witness the person who had taught them everything about magic and had been a second mother figure in their lives reach such a low point…

And it felt strange to see Shirou "giving up," considering his character.

Could the situation truly be this bleak? …Could It?

Hearing their questions made Shirou's thoughts drift to a few weeks prior. He was aware that Medea's sleep had been disturbed, ranging from periods of restlessness to nightmares. Sometimes, he would find her in a state of sweat-soaked restlessness when he went to wake her up. However, one particular incident remained vivid in his mind.

On that afternoon, he entered Medea's room to check on her after not hearing or seeing her for a few hours. To his surprise, he found her asleep in her armchair. Initially planning to leave, he noticed that her blanket had almost slipped off. Silently, he approached to fix it but froze when he caught sight of her expression.

She was smiling in her sleep.

It had been nearly a year since he had seen her smile, and he stood there, motionless, overcome with surprise. As he observed her peaceful and happy slumber, he naively hoped that it signified a positive change, perhaps an improvement in her dreams.

While he drew closer to adjust the blanket, he noticed that she was murmuring in her serene sleep. Straining his hearing, he couldn't make out the words she uttered, but he could discern that she was mentioning two names.

Having fixed the blanket, he left the room. As he was stepping out and about to close the door, the wooden floor beneath him let out a loud crack, startling Medea awake. Shirou was prepared to apologize for waking her up, but he refrained when he witnessed her reaction upon being roused.

Medea's gasp echoed through the room as she abruptly awoke, her expression marked by visible confusion and alarm. Detecting that something had gone horribly awry, before she could fully emerge from her deep slumber, she glanced between her arms, and he observed her eyes widening in terror as she discovered them empty. Immediately afterward, she began frantically searching around, her movements steeped in panic, as if desperately seeking something she had just misplaced. He could hear her muttering those same things, now in a heightened state of panic. She almost rose from the chair to continue her search but abruptly stopped. Slumping back into the armchair, she appeared suddenly fatigued and gazed into the emptiness for a few moments before examining her arms and hands.

The realization that what she had dreamed was merely a dream slowly dawned upon her. Shirou witnessed tears welling up in her eyes, followed by a fit of anguish. She thrashed her arms and legs, tugged at her hair, and struck the armrest before finally ceasing her violent movements. With her hands covering her face, she began to sob and cry softly.

Shirou remained rooted to the spot, observing the entire scene unfold. Though he was nearly concealed behind the partially open door, had Medea bothered to investigate the source of the disturbance or glance around for any presence nearby, she would have spotted him. However, her attention was completely consumed by another matter.

In that moment, Shirou felt his heart sink into a deep abyss.

…What had Medea dreamed of? …What had evoked such a response from her? …What was he unable to provide to make her happy? …What had she experienced in her dreams that granted her such peaceful slumber?

He felt utterly powerless and useless.

He had attempted to engage her in conversation and make her confide with him. He had done everything in his power to bring her solace. Yet, regardless of his efforts, it all seemed futile.

He longed to go and comfort her, but he knew-

"...Shirou?"

Rin and Sakura gazed at Shirou, their eyes fixed on his expressionless face after he abruptly halted in his tracks. Snapping out of his reverie upon hearing his name, he noticed their scrutinizing gazes.

"Yes. It is necessary," he uttered with a voice devoid of any emotion.

Rin and Sakura narrowed their eyes, sensing that Shirou was withholding something from them. However, they recognized that if he chose not to disclose it, he must have a valid reason.

"...I trust your judgment, Senpai. Perhaps you will need our help or support... or maybe it is better that you spend some time alone with her... a week or two... considering we haven't been... very helpful..." Sakura spoke, bitterness tainting her words.

"...And I... no, we're sorry that we couldn't assist you as much as needed..." Rin added, her voice filled with sadness.

"No need to apologize or blame yourselves. I know both of you have done your best to help us for a long time... and I can't thank you enough..."

Shirou and Rin exchanged a glance, while Sakura kept her gaze fixed on the ground.

Sakura felt mortified.

Medea had saved her, and Shirou had saved her too... yet she found herself unable to help them. Even though they weren't her biological family, the peace and happiness they had brought into her life after rescuing her from the Matou household were unforgettable. She felt compelled to assist them, but her efforts proved futile.

Words failed to capture the extent of the help they had provided her since their initial encounter.

The initial unease she had felt upon moving in with them had carved a unique niche in her heart. She would always treasure those memories she had forged in that home and share a good chuckle over them.

And the mere thought of Shirou, it set her heart racing.

She acknowledged that Medea was the one who saved her, but she couldn't help but to think that Shirou had been the one who helped her the most.

During those days, she had been an introverted child, fearful of everything and everyone, including, and perhaps especially, Medea, the individual who had saved her from her abusive family. Initially, for some inexplicable reason, she had regarded Medea as wicked as Matou Zouken, if not worse.

On the other hand, Shirou felt different to her. She sensed it. They were kindred spirits. She could see and feel that he carried just as much pain as her, but he didn't allow his past to burden him.

Nevertheless, she remained a traumatized child, and her irrational fear convinced her that at any moment, they would subject her to abuse and insults, plunging her back into the same hellish existence. However, Shirou—no, he had been different. He occupied a special place in her heart.

The first time he hugged her had become an indelible memory. The reassurance she felt from that simple gesture and his words was difficult to put into words. The sense of longing and affection he evoked filled a void she had carried since being separated from her biological family.

She sensed his unconditional care and concern for her in that simple act, despite her being essentially a stranger to him. To this day, she had never expressed her gratitude, as it somewhat embarrassed her.

But now, her own feelings for him took a backseat. She needed to help and support him in any way she could. The question was, what could she do FOR MEDEA?

Her mother had endured a similar state for a much longer period, yet Sakura had never truly learned how to support her. Her mother appreciated and treasured every little thing Sakura did for her, always insisting she was fine. Sakura understood why her mother acted this way; she still bore an overwhelming sense of guilt for what had happened to her, and Sakura was certain she would never forgive herself. It didn't surprise her that her mother simply relished not being hated by her and found great joy in her daughter's care. But because of this dynamic, Sakura had never been able to figure out how to help her mother.

This same dilemma left her feeling lost in her efforts to assist Medea and Shirou in their current situation.

Sakura appeared deep in thought, while Rin's expression revealed that she partly understood what Shirou was going through.

Shirou and Rin had always been good friends, and over the years, they had grown even closer. From the moment they first met, they collaborated over their shared passion for magic and their desire to protect and help Sakura to fully overcome her traumas.

Rin had long recognized that Shirou shared certain similarities with her sister. She had learned that he had been involved in the incident and had witnessed traumatising things at a young age. He carried his own burdens and traumas, yet his character, determination, and dedication to helping Sakura heal were qualities that Rin both envied and admired.

Still, despite her admiration, Rin experienced a complex mix of envy and resentment towards him. Ten years earlier, Shirou had been among the people who had rescued her sister from the Matou family and aided in her recovery from the abuse. During that time, she had already resigned herself to never seeing her sister as family again, following Tokiomi's wishes. As if that wasn't enough, she also had to care for her mentally damaged mother, who had been entangled in Tokiomi's war.

She had always believed it should have been her duty to save and heal her sister as the eldest sibling. That responsibility should have fallen to her. Still, considering that Medea and Shirou were the ones to help her, it didn't come as a surprise to Rin that Sakura had begun to look up to them instead of her, her elder sister, or their mother. She never blamed Sakura for this shift in admiration. Instead, Rin aimed to better herself and become more like Medea and Shirou, hoping that one day her sister would also look up to her.

This desire to improve herself and gain Sakura's admiration was why Rin had started spending so much time with Medea and Shirou, even when Sakura wasn't around. Over time, her friendships with both of them deepened, and they got to know each other well.

As time passed, Rin began to understand why Sakura felt the way she did about Shirou. Her resentment toward him gradually dissipated, and the thought of Sakura and Shirou spending time together became less and less bothersome. In fact, she reached a point of comfort with Shirou where, one day, in a moment of vulnerability, Rin decided to share her secret with him. She explained why she felt so protective of Sakura, why she felt guilty for failing her, and why she envied him. She even admitted her selfish reasons for spending so much time with him.

Shirou listened attentively, allowing her to speak at her own pace without pressuring her. After hearing everything she had to say, he didn't judge her. Instead, he understood her and offered to lend a hand in ensuring that Sakura would look up to her in the future. He also let her know that he would be there to listen if Rin ever felt ready to confide in him again about her family's past—a gesture for which she was very grateful.

However, she knew deep down that she would never take him up on that offer.

As Rin grew older, she couldn't help but notice the inconsistencies and lies that seemed to surround her family's history. These discrepancies gnawed at her until she couldn't bear it any longer. She knew there was a hidden truth that needed to be uncovered, and she resolved to find it.

Rin vividly remembered the night she confronted her mother, despite the desperate pleas and cries to spare herself from the painful knowledge. How could she turn a blind eye when it was her fault that Sakura had endured such suffering? She felt it was her responsibility to uncover the truth. So, with unwavering determination, she pressured her mother until she revealed the grim reality.

After all the harm she had inadvertently caused her daughters, Aoi found herself without the strength to deny them anything, not even once. It was under this heavy burden of guilt that she finally mustered the courage to reveal the truth.

The revelation shattered her world, and Rin began to connect the dots, understanding the disturbing secrets that had plagued her family for so long. It all fell into place, from the memory modifications her sister had endured to the true horrors she had been subjected to, as her mother spared no details.

From that day onward, just thinking of her sister always sobered Rin, serving as a constant reminder of why she had chosen the path she had.

She missed the carefree days of her childhood, but now she bore the weight of responsibilities and duties thrust upon her by Tokiomi's decisions, as he had chosen to uphold the magus tradition even at the cost of their family's well-being.

She would never forget the day she pleaded with Medea to teach her magecraft, discarding all the teachings of the man she once called father, just as he had discarded her sister when she was no longer of use to him.

After all, why bother with such rudimentary forms of magecraft when Medea offered mysteries far surpassing anything in the present age?

In this aspect, Rin resembled her father. She believed in discarding the unnecessary. That was the only true lesson she had learned from him. She found it ironic and somewhat amusing whenever she contemplated it. Just as her father had cast away her sister, she would cast away all his life's work. She wouldn't take pleasure in destroying and tarnishing his legacy, but she would relish in seeing it lost and forgotten entirely.

And Rin would forever remember the day when Medea bestowed upon her the first mystic code. It was a light and elegant necklace, reminiscent of the one Tokiomi had left to her in his will, a fact she would never come to know. And compared to the one Tokiomi had left, this necklace held not only superior quality and power but also a profound sense of responsibility for Rin.

The weight of being the Tohsaka heir bore down on her shoulders, a responsibility to make amends for the foolish mistakes of her predecessor—a legacy that had harmed her sister and perpetuated the ongoing war. With this mystic code, Rin carried the burden of ensuring that history wouldn't repeat itself, all the while completely unaware of its true origins and porpuse.

But that could wait. Right now, she had to assist Shirou and help Medea.

Both Sakura and Rin felt immense gratitude towards Medea. She had been like a second mother, doing so much for them over the past ten years. Sakura was particularly grateful that Medea had saved her, while Rin was grateful that Sakura had been saved by her. Not to mention that Medea had also rescued their mother from a severe mental state.

They were indebted to Medea in more ways than one. However, what concerned them the most was her appearance. She was starting to resemble their mother, if not in an even worse state.

They understood why their mother was trapped in perpetual depression, especially Rin, who held knowledge of nearly every aspect of their family's history. But when it came to Medea, they were completely in the dark. They had no clue about her inner struggles.

And it was for this reason that they also felt deeply sorry for Shirou. Not only did he have to witness the person who had saved and raised him turn in such a state, but unlike them, he couldn't rely on anyone else when there was no one around. While the two of them could always support each other in taking care of their mother, Shirou had only himself to depend on. They did their best to help and asked how they could assist him when they were present, but they couldn't be there for him all the time.

They had observed the growing distance between Medea and everyone else, despite their efforts.

Once Medea had been the person everyone looked up to—kind yet strict. She had guided them along the right path for the past ten years. But now, the very person everyone admired was sinking into a pit of self-misery and sorrow, and they had no idea how to help her…

While Sakura and Rin were lost in deep contemplation, Shirou's mind was also occupied with thoughts.

Just the reminder of that afternoon caused Shirou to relive, for the umpteenth time, the night of the incident. The memory rushed back as it always did, etched deeply in his mind. He would never forget that fateful night.

There he was, a mere child of seven, on the brink of death beneath the weight of rubble in a world that resembled hell itself. Abandoned, neglected, and unloved, he was left to suffer in silence.

Until she found him.

She saved him. She not only rescued him from that perilous situation but also provided him with everything he needed: food, clothing, shelter, education, love, and a home. She gave his life purpose, and he was forever grateful to her.

But then he thought about her expression. Ten years ago, amidst the chaos and destruction, he saw the sadness and despair on her face after she saved him. And now, a decade later, that sadness had returned with even greater intensity.

The thought infuriated him, and he clenched his fists in frustration. He couldn't bear it. The melancholy had to fade, and he longed to see her smile once more. Yet no matter what he attempted, that sorrow remained, growing deeper with each passing day.

Then, the dreadful and irrational imposition once again came to his mind. Could it be that what was happening to her was his fault? Had he failed her somehow? When? And why hadn't she said anything?

That thought almost made him panic, and he was lost in his own worries when Sakura began to speak.

"Anyway, Senpai, after we're done with that school project..." Sakura started to ask.

"What is it?" he asked, turning to his left.

"-Would you like to come with us to the shopping center?" Rin interjected, noticing Sakura's hesitation and grabbing Shirou's attention, causing him to turn to his right to look at Rin.

"Thank you," Sakura mouthed quickly to Rin before speaking again. "A-and we thought that you could buy her a present and that we could help you with it. It's the least that we can do to help you."

Rin almost rolled her eyes at that. Yes, she loved her sister with all her heart, but when would she grow up? If Sakura couldn't even invite a doof like Shirou to help him out without stuttering, how would she handle things by herself in the future?

"Oh, that's not a bad idea," Shirou thought aloud.

It was something he could do... but what did Medea like?

He turned to Rin and Sakura. He would need their advice. Together, they could surely find something that would make her feel better. After all, Medea loved cute things, but she also had a fondness for figurine collections…

---

It was now late afternoon, and Medea was still her room, her head weighed down upon the table. The cup of tea beside her had long turned cold, abandoned in the midst of her troubled thoughts. She was fixated on a letter she had rediscovered earlier while searching for a distraction, when her hands rummaged through the drawers of her table, eventually coming across that letter.

It was the last letter Illya had written, delivering the sorrowful news of Kiritsugu's recent passing.

Kiritsugu had died about a month prior, and the memory of their last visit to him still lingered in Medea's mind.

She vividly remembered the last time she and Shirou had visited him. They were aware of his deteriorating condition and his confinement to the castle. It had been a while since they had last seen Kiritsugu, but Illya made sure to visit them from time to time.

However, the reality they encountered was far worse than what they had anticipated. As Medea and Shirou arrived at the castle, an eerie silence enveloped the already isolated surroundings of the castle. They cautiously made their way to the master bedroom, where Kiritsugu resided, only to be greeted by a scene that could be described as macabre.

The room was dimly lit, with heavy curtains drawn shut, blocking out the sunlight. The air was thick with the smell of illness and decay. Medea and Shirou entered quietly, their footsteps barely making a sound on the carpeted floor.

Illya sat by her father's bedside, her grip tightly holding what remained of Kiritsugu's left hand. Her youthful face was contorted with grief.

When Kiritsugu had passed away in front of Shirou, he could still be recognized as a man. But now, he was nothing more than an empty shell, devoid of the essence of the person he once was.

The state of his condition could only be likened to that of a mummified corpse. Every aspect of his being had withered away and perished. It felt as if his very life force was being drained from him, slowly and mercilessly.

Upon their arrival, Illya wasted no time in asking Medea to assess her father's condition and speculate on how much time he had left. Medea obliged, but after a thorough examination, she could not provide Illya with an exact estimate, for he should have long since departed from this world.

The memories of his symptoms were not all clear to Medea, but she distinctly remembered being profoundly shocked by the fact that he was still clinging to life. His cellular structure had been ravaged beyond repair. His muscular system had wasted away, succumbing to atrophy. His skeletal system had been plagued by Osteopetrosis, Osteoporosis, and Osteonecrosis. All his limbs had turned a sickening shade of black, devoured by necrosis. The bone marrow had perished. The immune system had failed. Internal organs had shut down. Soft tissues, like his eyes, had withered and decomposed. Some arteries and veins had ruptured open, spilling their contents.

By all means, he should have succumbed to death. Yet, something inexplicable was keeping him alive, prolonging his agonizing suffering.

Medea then realized that while performing the surgery that had allowed Kiritsugu to regain his former strength and prolonged his life for a few more years, it had also exacerbated the effects of the curse that would have otherwise claimed him. The extended exposure to the curse seemed to have worsened his condition as a result.

In a cruel twist, it appeared that while the curse continued to ravage his body, it was also the very thing that had kept him alive during the past months. It was as if the curse harbored a consciousness of its own, purposefully prolonging his suffering until his inevitable end, perhaps as an ironic punishment for living far beyond what he should have.

However, the most harrowing aspect of Kiritsugu's condition lay in the impact it had on his mind. By that point, he had become a fragmented and incoherent mess, at best muttering incomprehensibly, and at worst, emitting disturbing whispers that could be interpreted as cries. As even his vocal cords had suffered significant damage and atrophy.

Prior to entering the room, Medea had learned from one of the maids that Illya rarely left her father's side, spending the majority of her time with him during his fleeting moments of lucidity. She knew time was running short, and she refused to leave him alone even for a second. In her heart, she hoped that amidst his deteriorating state, Kiritsugu was still aware of Illya's unwavering presence, knowing that she had never abandoned him.

As Medea conversed with Illya, catching up on the events they had both experienced, a casual question arose: Did Illya want Medea to euthanize her father, sparing them both from further suffering?

However, after a prolonged moment, Illya revealed that she and her father had already discussed such matters when he was still able to communicate. Kiritsugu had explicitly requested that Illya refrain from interfering with whatever fate awaited him, believing it to be a deserved consequence for his actions throughout his life.

Upon hearing this revelation, Medea studied Illya's expression, glimpsing the inner struggle that waged within the young girl—her conflicting emotions toward her father and his wishes. Whereas Medea had previously doubted Illya's knowledge of her father's past, she now realized that the girl had come to understand some of the deeds he had committed and the motivations behind them. It left Illya torn, unsure of what course of action to take. Her father was not a good person by any means, but Illya loved him nonetheless, and wished to spare him from further suffering, even while she understood why he wanted to die in such a manner.

During their stay, while conversing with Illya, Medea had occasionally heard Kiritsugu murmuring the names of unfamiliar individuals, beseeching them for forgiveness and pleading for redemption. His prayers and laments echoed with a fervent desire for absolution.

Medea longed for one last conversation with him, but by that point, he had lost his sight and hearing, rendering him unaware of their presence. Even if she employed her magic to briefly restore his ability to communicate, she doubted that his fragmented state of mind would allow for a coherent conversation.

She was certain that until his final moments on this earthly plane, Kiritsugu wept and rambled about the fires of hell...

Picking up the letter that had arrived some weeks earlier, Medea read it once more, its contents etched into her memory.

"Dear Medea and Shirou,

I hope this letter finds the two of you in good health and spirits. It is with immense sadness and a heavy heart that I share the devastating news of the passing of my beloved father, Kiritsugu. I write this letter today to inform you, our dearest family friends, as you have always held a special place in our lives and hearts.

The loss of my father has left me shattered and overwhelmed with grief. I knew that this day would soon come, yet, his departure has created a void that can never be filled. Although the pain I feel is indescribable, I take comfort in the cherished memories we shared and the profound impact he had on my life.

Despite the anguish I am currently enduring, I am resolved to fulfill my promise, my responsibilities, and honor the legacy my father left behind. He taught me the importance of resilience and perseverance, and I am determined to carry forward his teachings and make him proud. In the midst of my mourning, I find strength in the support of loved ones like you, whose presence and compassion have been a source of great comfort during these trying times.

Please know that I will be reaching out soon to arrange our visit with you and your family. Being surrounded by dear friends who have known my father so well will undoubtedly provide solace and a sense of normalcy amidst the turmoil. Your friendship and unwavering support are precious to me, and I am grateful beyond words for your presence in my life.

Once again, I thank you for your love, understanding, and unwavering support during this difficult time. I look forward to seeing you soon and finding solace in your presence.

With deepest gratitude,

Illya."

After reading the letter, Medea's thoughts turned to Illya. As time passed, the child had flourished into an exquisite young woman, adopting an uncanny resemblance to her mother, a point often noted by Kiritsugu. Alongside this development, she had become a skilled and powerful mage.

Influenced by both her father and herself, Illya had developed a disdain for the modern mage society and its doctrines. She despised their traditions and their disregard for the value of human life.

Illya was the first to truly grasp the brutal truth of being brought into the world as a mere instrument, fated to offer one's life for the progression of the family trade or to accomplish its objectives. This very circumstance was what caused her mother's premature demise during an ultimately futile war, a tragic episode of mindless bloodshed.

Though for the most part Illya was an affectionate and loving individual, both Medea and Kiritsugu had noticed a darker side dwelling within her. It was a side that exhibited pettiness and cruelty beyond their expectations. Nothing of grave concern, but there had been instances when Medea couldn't help but to do a double take when overhearing Illya's muttered remarks during training about beheading her enemies and engaging in further desecration.

And thinking about another can of worms that she had yet to address, Medea frowned whenever she read the portion of the letter where Illya spoke about carrying on her father's legacy.

When Illya would come to Fuyuki, Medea intended to have a long conversation with her, ensuring that Kiritsugu had not instilled in her any idea about becoming a "Hero of Justice." She refused to allow the girl she had essentially raised to throw her life away, becoming another fanatical and reckless individual roaming the world.

"Ah, that man..." Medea thought with a sigh.

When Kiritsugu was still alive and able to accompany Illya during their visits, Medea made sure to convey her concerns or issue warnings, emphasizing that she would become greatly angered if Kiritsugu said anything to lead Illya down the same path he had taken. She vividly remembered his emotionless expression, assuring her that she had nothing to worry about.

"...that stupid... stupid man…"

To Medea, Kiritsugu had been an ally. She never considered him a friend, but he was someone she could somewhat relate to.

…And now he was gone too.

"...What did he do this time?"

She didn't know how to feel. The sensation of loss was something she would never grow accustomed to, no matter what.

However, she could acknowledge a certain degree of happiness, knowing that he had finally been released from his torments.

Medea then let out a puff of air, feeling bored and uncertain of what to do. She didn't want to let her thoughts wander into the realm of loss once again, especially now that it had been brought to the forefront of her mind. She needed to do something substantial, not just distract herself.

With that in mind, she made a decision to look towards the future...

"...Aaagh... But that would require too much energy and effort..." she lazily lamented as she fell to the ground and stretched. She possessed the necessary energy, but the will to take action eluded her.

However, due to her inherent paranoia, Medea always felt compelled to check on the future of the children. After all, the future was not set in stone; it could always change. Yet, for the past two weeks, she had been too tired and unmotivated to do so.

Sharpening her eyes as she built her resolve, she refused to let her mental state triumph over the plans she had meticulously prepared for over a decade. She needed to confirm once again that everything was proceeding according to plan.

Rising to her feet, she glanced around the room and spotted a deck of tarot cards. Seeing them stirred a mix of determination and bitterness within her, as memories flooded back.

During the end of the war, she had predicted Shirou's death. But in her naivety and optimism, she had mistaken the death card as a symbol of change, of Shirou turning his life around, rather than a warning of his ultimate fate.

She picked up the cards and recollected how she had come to possess the deck.

It was a surprise when Rin and Sakura had visited one day, bringing the deck with them. They had asked if she could use the cards to read their futures. Unaware of the full extent of her abilities, they simply regarded her as a mage of greater power than most, oblivious to her divination gift.

Reflecting on that memory, she remembered how she had indulged their curiosity, using the cards to read their futures. Remarkably, the predictions had proven to be quite accurate.

A sly smile crept across her face.

"How fortunate," she thought.

She realized she could save herself the expenditure of energy by swiftly using the card to reaffirm the future of Shirou and the girls.

She approached her table with those card in hand and immediately checked Shirou's future. The cards revealed: The Weel of Fortune, The Magician, and The Moon.

Observing the first card, she felt a surge of pride for the first time in months. Instead of the tower, the fortune card symbolized Shirou's past. It appeared that, despite her own reservations, she had indeed been a positive influence in his life. Fate had deemed him fortunate.

Moving on, her attention turned to the next card, which triggered a sense of recognition. The magician represented his present. It embodied activity, self-determination, and the ability to shape one's own destiny. It signified his role as an initiator, one who takes action and achieves results.

However, her brows furrowed when she laid eyes on his future card: The Moon. Its iconography clearly conveyed a foreboding and dark atmosphere, a harbinger of deception. Without due care and attention, one could easily fall into error. External circumstances would be unfavorable, tempting, and deceitful. Navigating this treacherous terrain would not be easy. The moonlight concealed hidden dangers and pitfalls, posing the risk of being deceived or betrayed. Unfavorable circumstances, disguised enemies, and deceitful individuals lurked in the shadows.

Medea silently contemplated the card before her, mulling over its implications. This was both the strength and weakness of the cards. They had the ability to unveil hidden aspects that even her divination could not forewarn. Yet, their meanings were often open to interpretation, as they held multiple significances that depended on the context.

If one wasn't cautious, misinterpreting the card's message could lead to hasty decisions that inadvertently brought about the very outcome they had hoped to avoid. It was a paradoxical situation where the fear of a predicted event becoming reality led to actions that ultimately made it come true.

...However, who could possibly betray or deceive Shirou?

After pondering the question for a moment, she simply shrugged. Perhaps it was somehow connected to the Holy Grail War. She had already witnessed its conclusion—the defeat of the enemy Masters and Servants, and the destruction of the Grail itself. There was truly nothing to worry about.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder if she could have assisted him further. Apart from training him and imparting all the necessary knowledge, she had a desire to provide him with additional help. This same desire was what had led her to create a magic crest, which she bestowed upon him.

The magic crest contained a sufficient number of circuits, but it didn't house the most potent spells from the Age of the Gods. Instead, it held just one spell that could be utilized even in the modern era, and in Shirou's hands, it could be monstrous: Animate weapons.

Initially, when she contemplated the type of Magic Crest to bestow upon him and its potential power, the idea of using this spell almost crossed her mind without consideration. She believed there was no reason for him to utilize it. Even by current standards, Animate Weapon was not a formidable spell. Its effect was limited to granting life to the chosen weapons, rendering them akin to familiars. And while other familiars served various purposes, the weapons Shirou would summon were restricted to cutting and stabbing, lacking versatility.

However, upon deeper reflection, she experienced a revelation that left her on the brink of perspiration, accompanied by an excited smile. The weapons Shirou would summon were noble Phantasms, but their true value lay elsewhere. Even the mightiest of weapons would prove ineffective in the hands of the inept. In other words, even with the gift of life, their limited intelligence and abilities as ordinary familiars would not make them remarkably dangerous or useful. In fact, they could become a liability if they fell into enemy hands.

No, their true danger lay in the experiences and memories they carried. It was the memories and techniques embedded within them. If Shirou were to cast the spell on one of these weapons, it wouldn't merely grant the Noble Phantasm the ability to swing autonomously within its limited sentience. Instead, it would be as though he had summoned the very owner of the weapon. By breathing life into the weapon, he would revive not just a powerful armament but an embodiment of legend itself. This would unleash a lifetime's worth of combat experience contained within.

It took her years to create it, and every time she worked on it, she couldn't help but wonder how the war would have unfolded if Shirou had possessed this enchantment back then. She envisioned the King of Heroes, not only facing Shirou and Saber, but also being assailed by Gáe Bolg's lightning speed and precision, along with Heracles' mighty ax-sword. Victory would have been assured.

Considering Shirou's future potential, describing him as a monster would be an understatement. With all those weapons by his side, he would never have to face solitude again, as they would protect him from any adversaries.

But that wasn't all. Due to his innate nature and origin, Shirou was a sword both in body and spirit. Utilizing her skill of item creation to its fullest extent, Medea had also implanted 73 artificial magic circuits, generously provided by the Einzberns, into Shirou.

Although his true nature remained somewhat enigmatic to her, it didn't alter the fact that she could employ her skill of item creation on him as if he were an actual sword, an object. Unlike Kiritsugu, Shirou experienced minimal problems or pain after the implementation of the magic circuits and magic, granting him ownership of 100 top-quality magic circuits.

Certainly, she had also assisted him in establishing the foundation for his Reality Marble. However, since each inner world was distinct and unique, aside from aiding in its initial formation, she couldn't contribute to its further development, as that was a task only he could undertake.

Nonetheless, as the war approached and Shirou encountered Archer, witnessing his Reality Marble, he would gain a much deeper understanding and be able to advance his own inner world.

Speaking of Archer... To ensure their encounter would occur without her needing to reveal herself to the other Servants, she had casually shared some information with Rin about the nature of Shirou's magic and its uniqueness, while keeping certain details concealed. Although intrigued by the nature of Shirou's exceptional magic, Rin found the revealed information complex and somewhat confusing, unable to fully comprehend it. However, Medea knew that Rin was intelligent and she believed that Rin would eventually piece together the connection between Shirou and Archer after observing her own Servant's actions.

While contemplating the girls, Medea decided to peer into their futures, hoping to occupy herself for a while longer. After a few minutes, Medea confirmed that Rin, Sakura, and Illya's futures aligned with her predictions. Having completed her task, she found herself with nothing else to do but to ponder once again. However, she realized that dwelling on the past would not be productive and decided to focus on something else instead.

"Let me explore my own future," she thought.

Reflecting on her previous experience of using tarot cards to glimpse into her future, Medea remembered that the predictions had been somewhat accurate, although not as she had anticipated. This time, she hoped for a more favorable outcome.

After shuffling the cards and performing a brief purification ritual, Medea drew her cards. The first card she unveiled was the Devil, symbolizing her past. It came as no surprise, considering the horrendous acts she had committed throughout her life.

Next, she drew the Hanged Man, representing her present. This particular card left Medea deep in thought, as it carried a unique significance.

Upon initial examination, this card may appear to represent a negative state of immobility. However, upon closer inspection, one can grasp that it actually depicts the situation of those who refrain from making futile efforts and instead await the unfolding of events, knowing that the unfavorable circumstances are temporary.

The card symbolizes sacrifice, the endurance of unfavorable conditions in pursuit of a goal. It demands significant effort, sacrifices, and overcoming challenging trials. One must make the most out of an unfortunate turn of events by responding instinctively and avoiding ill-advised reactions, as the temporarily difficult situation risks becoming permanent.

It necessitates self-sacrifice, clear-headedness amidst adversity, and the ability to endure. A temporary sacrifice is required to ultimately improve one's situation. However, it could also signify an improper response to temporary difficulties—a futile endeavor to change a situation where waiting is the only viable option.

...Considering her current state, it made sense why she had picked this card.

She sighed tiredly as she retrieved the third card, hoping for a positive symbol or a sign of liberation from her depressive state.

However, when her eyes fell upon it, she found herself staring intensely...

It was that cursed card—the thirteenth card: Death.

After a moment's pause, she placed it on the table with the others and stood still, contemplating the implications. Then, gathering all the cards, she shuffled them once again, a chill running down her spine, though she couldn't fathom why.

"It couldn't be," Medea thought, a tinge of panic creeping in. Determined to gain further insight, she decided to delve deeper into her life by drawing additional cards.

Love and Devil.

She refrained from delving into the specifics of these cards she had drawn, as they represented her past—a tumultuous mix of unbridled passion and heinous crimes and sins.

Next, she revealed the Moon and the Hanged Man, cards embodying uncertainty, insecurity, and stagnation, reflecting her present state.

Having observed them, Medea carefully selected the first card that would unveil her future. Slowly turning it to face her, her gaze met the twenty-second card: Justice.

Justice encompasses principles of equity and moral integrity, a moment of reckoning, and a call for responsibility, validation of truth, triumph over obstacles, and the embodiment of virtue. Conversely, when inverted, this card signifies a disturbance in equilibrium, injustice, an undue harshness, and an unfavorable judgment.

As Medea laid her eyes upon that card, her breath quickened and beads of sweat formed. With trembling hands, she reached for the final card that held her future, only to be met with a horrifying realization.

...

Death.

After briefly holding the card, it slipped from her grasp, causing her to quickly rise to her feet while keeping her gaze fixed upon it.

"...Justice? Death? What does it mean?" Medea's mind raced with confusion and panic. It wasn't as if she would die of old age anytime soon... If death awaited her, it would be by the hand of another.

How? No, that wasn't the crucial question.

By whom?! Could it be a potential betrayal...?!

Her thoughts raced, leaving her unsure of what course of action to take. Despite her past experience five years prior, once again Medea found herself ignorant of her fate, as she had not seen her own future in a long time.

But there was no reason for her not to see it! She had witnessed herself standing alongside Shirou and the girls during and after the war!

Could this event be destined for a distant future? If so, why did the card appear now? Wasn't it evident that she would eventually die or cease to exist?

...Or...

"...Could it be… that it is her?" Medea voiced her thoughts aloud.

That was a... possibility.

But speculating about her future was merely a waste of time. Medea knew she had to witness it firsthand. Her eyes shimmered with arcane potency, and her resolve intensified as she shut them, pursuing a vision that startled her, elicited a gasp, and impelled her to swiftly reopen her eyes in horror.

It was only a brief glimpse, but she had seen it—the inevitable confrontation, the moment of truth.

Standing in silence, her eyes now wide open, horror and shock washed over her entire being.

Having witnessed her own demise in the vision, Medea found herself in a state of uncertainty.

Initially, she grappled with denial, attempting to convince herself of an error. Yet, despite her inclination to reject the vision, its coherence was undeniable. Beads of sweat adorned her forehead, and her heart thudded incessantly.

While inaccuracies in tarot readings were one thing, her own divination held a different weight. Reluctantly, she had to embrace it as reality, even if it propelled her into a pit of despair.

…

If what she had witnessed was her destined fate, then she had to take action.

Upon reflection, such an outcome appeared nearly unavoidable given the scope of her actions, yet the manner of her demise had eluded her expectations.

A wave of depression and anguish then engulfed her—a depth of despair she had never experienced before. However, Medea remained 'calm', devoid of emotion. Yet, she needed an outlet. Casting her gaze around the room, she focused on her desk. Retrieving her diary, she poured her thoughts onto its pages, for she had no one else with whom she could confide.

She had seen where it would occur but remained uncertain about when. However, if her other theory held true, the one that made sense and justified her past visions, then the event would unfold relatively soon. Time was of the essence, and she had to act before it was too late.

Leaving the room behind, she made her way toward the backyard. A new objective had formed in her mind, as ruthlessness began to consume her being.

Every loose end had to be severed.

She had never been one to leave any loose ends, but there was one "exception" in particular that could be considered as such—a potential liability for the distant future.

"Zolgen, come. We need to discuss an urgent matter," Medea communicated through their mental link.

She waited in the backyard, seated on the porch, for Zolgen's arrival. As soon as he appeared, she gestured for him to join her.

"I apologize for reaching out to you unexpectedly, but come, Zolgen, sit by my side. There is something I must discuss with you," she beckoned.

Zolgen stood still for a moment, observing his master. He sensed that something was amiss. Medea seemed different, and the atmosphere hung heavy with silence. The way she looked at him unsettled him.

"What is it, Miss? I was about to inquire if you were feeling better, but I sense a disturbance within you," Zolgen said, growing uneasy as he surveyed the surroundings.

"...It is more than just a disturbance, my friend. For I fear that, despite all my abilities, I have made a grave oversight," Medea spoke, her gaze fixed on the darkening sky.

"An oversight?" Zolgen questioned, intrigued, as he took a seat beside her. "What could it be?" His eyes followed Medea's gaze towards the sky.

"...My time is drawing near, Zolgen. Soon, I cannot pinpoint exactly when, but I will meet my end," Medea calmly revealed, despite the gravity of her words.

"What?!" Zolgen exclaimed, shocked, turning to face her. "How is that even possible, Medea? Are you certain of the authenticity of this vision?"

"I am..."

"Then tell me how I can help you prevent it," Zolgen responded calmly, the initial surprise and shock replaced by a composed demeanor.

"There is nothing either of us can do. And before you inquire further, I am certain of its authenticity, Zolgen. However, I cannot disclose the specifics of my impending demise. It is a burden I must bear alone..."

"...," Zolgen stood still, observing Medea intently. He didn't know what to say—the news had come abruptly, catching him off guard. Medea refused to share any further details, and now she stared fixedly at a particular spot in the backyard.

Zolgen found himself profoundly shocked and disoriented at that very moment. To put it more precisely, he had been utterly blindsided. Nearly six months had passed since his last conversation with Medea, and now she had surprised him with a call, unveiling distressing news. Could her visions be the root of her decline in recent years?

However, the most crucial inquiry weighing on his thoughts was not that.

Why did she refuse to speak? Why had she summoned him? They needed to take action! He couldn't simply stand by and watch her die after everything she had done for him! And he...

"...Remember when we first met, Zolgen?" she interrupted, bringing him back from his thoughts.

"Yes, I do," he responded.

Why was this relevant? Shouldn't she be preparing herself to avoid her fate? She possessed all the necessary capabilities to do so!

...No, wait. Could it be that she had already attempted to change her fate but failed? ...But that couldn't be true. It could not be possible. Perhaps all she needed was his assistance. Yes. The shock of what she had seen had left her uncertain about how to proceed. That's why she had reached out to him. She sought guidance and support, and he was ready to provide it.

"...Then you should recall what I told you. I expressed my desire for a quiet and peaceful life," she said, her gaze fixed on the ground.

"...Indeed, I remember... And... you have lived a quiet life," Zolgen said before falling into deep contemplation.

Many times his master had asked him to watch over Shirou and the Tohsaka heirs when she couldn't accompany them. He didn't know if she had ulterior motives, but since regaining his sanity, a profound sense of shame lingered whenever he observed the young Sakura. He was reminded of the terrible ordeals he had put the poor girl through for his sick and twisted plans... Seeing their peaceful lives, witnessing their tranquility, sometimes evoked a longing within him, but he had a greater purpose...

"...But, as always, circumstances have changed," Medea interjected, breaking Zolgen's train of thought. "And it should come as no surprise. In the end, I have always been profoundly selfish. Despite finding my own happiness, it seems I am still unsatisfied."

"What is it that you seek, other than a means to evade your own death?" Zolgen inquired.

Upon hearing his question, she shook her head slowly.

"No... you misunderstand me, Zolgen. Now, all I truly desire, my friend, is peace," Medea stated, her gaze fixed ahead, on that same spot in the backyard.

Zolgen turned to her, horror etched across his face, realization sinking in of the deeper meaning behind her words.

"And unfortunately," Medea continued, turning to face him directly, "as long as you live, I will not find it."

"...Miss?" Zolgen spoke, perplexed, while Medea stood up.

Zolgen gazed up at her, awaiting an explanation, but Medea simply stared down at him, her expression devoid of any emotion. Her eyes were sharp and cold, revealing nothing.

Zolgen made a motion to rise, but he noticed the activation of the bounded field and the appearance of magic circles surrounding him. The air grew heavy, as if it were shifting.

"...Is there something I have done to make you doubt my loyalty?" he inquired in a neutral tone, understanding that resistance was futile.

He didn't even attempt to defend himself. She held his life, quite literally, in her hands. She possessed control over his very soul. Yet, if she desired his demise, why summon him here? Why not simply kill him instead of orchestrating this elaborate display? Did she want to witness his death with her own eyes?

"No, Zolgen. You have been a remarkably loyal servant, someone who has always carried out my requests admirably... I couldn't have asked for a better companion... But the issue concerning you arises after my death."

'Ah, I see,' Zolgen thought, feeling a sense of relief. She had at least shown him the mercy of explaining her actions.

"...You believe that I might turn against those you hold dear? ...Or that I would participate in the war if you were to perish before its commencement?"

"Neither. I know you would never act against me in any way, as I have ensured it. However, I am also aware that you have regained your sanity, returning to the good person you once were... Yet, this does not absolve you of your past actions, does it?"

"...," Zolgen fell silent.

"Zolgen," she began, "what do you envision for yourself in another five-hundred years, when my sway over you will have long dissipated? Will you be able to maintain your sanity and find what you seek, or will you once again devolve into a decrepit and deranged lich? ...And what would happen if you were to transform in such a way, possessing all the power and knowledge I have bestowed upon you?"

A lengthy silence hung in the air.

"...It would be catastrophic," he whispered, clenching his right fist and bringing it to his mouth, contemplating the horrors he might unleash.

"Indeed. I knew you would come to that realization. And you will also understand that, since I am the one who granted you these newfound powers, I bear the responsibility for how you wield them."

"...I see. As much as it pains me to admit it, your concerns are justified. It is true. I am not someone who can be trusted with this kind of power... I must be kept under constant scrutiny... and since you will... soon, disappear, there will be no one to fulfill that role."

"Now that you comprehend, I hope you will not harbor any resentment for what I am about to do," Medea stated, her right hand producing his Crest worm.

"I apologize for the abruptness... You know how highly I regard you... But I am left with little time... and no other options."

"...There is no need for you to apologize... and...Thank you, Miss. Thank you for everything you have done for me and for saving me," Zolgen expressed with a small smile.

"...?" Medea raised an eyebrow upon hearing his words.

"...I suppose you have never considered my perspective. Nonetheless, know that I am eternally grateful to you. Since you transformed me into your follower, granting me some of your power and wisdom, I have slowly regained fragments of my sanity... and memories. You saved me from what I had become..." Zolgen spoke before his gaze wandered into the distance.

"...The truth is, I have long remembered my original aspirations... but witnessing the depths of my own depravity and madness... it horrified me. I feared repeating those same mistakes once more..."

"..."

"In these past ten years, I have sought something that would ensure I never become that again... but the things I have done to my family... the atrocities committed against innocent people... even children were not spared..."

"..."

"I cannot even fathom if she witnessed my descent into madness and cruelty..." Zolgen turned his head towards Mount Enzou. "...In the end, I have amounted to nothing but a worthless being. Despite my aspirations, death and destruction are the only legacies I have left behind. It is better for abominations like me to vanish from this world..."

"..."

"My wish was to attain the Heaven's Feel, to aid humanity, alleviate its suffering, and elevate it to a higher plane of existence. I firmly believed that, for the greater good, no 'sacrifice' was too great... no life was too precious..." Zolgen spoke, the death of his loved one flashing through his mind.

"..."

"Yet, despite the passage of time and all that has occurred, my conviction remains unchanged. If there is even the slightest chance that my death will prevent any further tragedies, then it must be done."

"..."

"Do what you must, Miss. After all I have done, someone like me deserves no mercy." Zolgen turned to meet Medea's gaze, taking note of the way she regarded him.

"...I never thought I would find such a connection with another, especially not with you..." She spoke, her words tinged with admiration and inspired by Zolgen's unwavering determination.

Zolgen nodded. He had long sensed her pain and felt a sense of familiarity within it. Truth be told, it was comforting to have someone who understood him… in the end.

"It has been a pleasure knowing you. I only wish we had conversed more during our time together. That will be one of my last regrets. Farewell, Zolgen. May you find solace in whatever afterlife awaits you," Medea said before crushing the Crest Worm in her hand, extinguishing the life of the ancient mage.

Slowly, Zolgen's eyes lost their vitality, and his body grew limp, collapsing to the ground. It swiftly disintegrated as the familiar that once inhabited his form dispersed and perished on their own.

Silently, Medea observed the entire scene unfold. Before turning away and making her way back to her room, she cast a final glance at that same spot in the backyard.

---

It was now evening, and Medea sat in her room, occupying her chair while holding a photograph in her hands.

As Medea sat there, she keenly sensed the unstoppable flow of time, drawing her ever nearer to her impending demise. Unlike the swift current of countless years that had shaped her long existence, these final hours stretched out before her like an expanse of serenity, akin to a river gracefully converging with the vastness of the sea. Time at this juncture unfolded with a steady and deliberate rhythm, carrying within it the weight of uncertainty and possibilities, while remaining resolutely bound to a singular path.

Soon, she would meet her end... just as she had always… feared.

But Medea felt no impatience. She remained calm. In truth, this was something she had long looked forward to... for many years, she had pondered how she would be punished... and now she knew.

Yet, She wondered, when did her fixation on justice begin? Had it truly commenced five years prior, or was it something she had harbored all along deep inside of herself?

After saving Shirou, she had managed to suppress the memories of her past and her sins. However, the sight of those children and her subsequent act of killing shattered her resolve. Even in death, the priest had provoked her, fueling her disdain.

Since then, it had been a gradual decline, almost imperceptible. Yet, this year had become unbearable. She understood that something was amiss, but what choice did she have other than to persist? The echoes of the dead she had left behind wailed in anguish, while she grappled with shame and self-loathing. She had always wondered how much longer she could endure...

But now the time had come. It drew near. After everything she had done, it was too late for tears.

Medea shifted her attention back to the photograph she clutched in her hand. The picture portrayed her and the children in a harmonious moment. Little did they realize the intricate tapestry of deception she had spun around them. The delicate structure she had erected was now on the verge of crumbling, a threat that extended beyond just herself to those unwitting souls ensnared in her elaborate masquerade.

The weight of her transformation struck her. What had she evolved into? This façade needed to crumble, the illusion needed to shatter. She had to face the truth and dismantle the lies before they consumed her completely.

Until then, all she had witnessed was bloodshed and suffering. The armor she had forged from her transgressions had grown burdensome, its jagged edges encasing her soul like a prison.

But then, he appeared—an ember amidst the ashes. Her bloody path had led her to this moment, facing a pale and fragile being. Her thorns failed to inflict pain upon him.

She recalled the time she had saved him. The boy had been crying, isolated and alone. Strangely, his pain resonated with her own. Solitude. Abandonment. Self-condemnation. In him, she discovered a new purpose to live for. He bestowed meaning upon her anguish. He became her judge... her salvation.

Yet, the darkness had not completed its grasp on her. It reached out like sinister claws, poised to seize her final breath. Her transgressions couldn't be effortlessly wiped away. The burden of her obligations pressed upon her, a relentless specter that lingered until the very end. Having discovered a semblance of solace, she now confronted the reckoning. The toll had to be paid.

Why? Was this her predetermined fate? Her mind and spirit were shattered... exhausted...

Oh... was it wrong for her to crave peace and love? Her life had always been steeped in pain, so it seemed only natural that it would also culminate in-

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of keys sliding into the entrance door, shattering the absolute silence that had enveloped the house. It sent a chilling shiver down her spine.

"I'm home!" Shirou's voice echoed through the house.

...

...

...

"...he's here," she whispered to herself in a hushed tone, her gaze fixated on the door of her room, as if anticipating it to be violently breached at any moment.

Medea's eyes widened slightly, her breath becoming unsteady. She clutched her housecoat tightly around herself, seeking a futile shield from the impending fate that awaited her.

Time passed, yet Shirou did not appear. So, Medea mustered the courage to go and confront him.

As she made her way towards the living room, she paused momentarily when she passed by the backyard, the place where it would all unfold. With a mixture of fear and trepidation, she cast one final glance at the scene. She had seen it. That serene yet macabre tableau.

Shaking off her contemplations, she continued on her path towards her inevitable end. As she drew closer to the living room, she could hear the sounds of Shirou cooking.

'Tch. Does he think I'm a fool?' Medea thought to herself.

She had glimpsed how it would all conclude, but the details of what would transpire before that remained unknown, and the uncertainty frightened her. For all she knew, he could be lurking just behind that door, or even the walls, ready to strike.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob. Her breath grew heavy, her face drenched in perspiration. She stood there for a full minute, wavering, unsure if she truly wanted to proceed.

'No! This is not who you are!' Medea admonished herself angrily. 'You will face your end with pride and dignity! You have committed unspeakable acts without hesitation! I forbid you from succumbing to this fear, Medea! I FORBID YOU! For the past year, you have been dead in every way except the one that truly matters! It is time to confront your fate! Embrace the end you have earned!'

Summoning her resolve, she swung open the door and beheld Shirou... in the kitchen, engrossed in his cooking.

"Oh, hi Nee-san," he said casually, turning his face slightly while still focused on their dinner.

"...Shirou... what is that?" she asked, her attention drawn to the object on the table.

"Oh, that?" Shirou replied. "It's a present for you."

Medea looked at the bag, her initial surprise masked by a pensive expression.

...

...

...

"Is today a special day?" she thought aloud, briefly questioning the significance.

'Could this be some kind of scheme or ploy?' she immediately pondered.

"Uh, no. I just saw it and thought it would look good on you. Hope you like it," Shirou explained.

With that, Medea slowly walked to the table, ready to react at any sudden movement… and took the bag.

"Oh... this..." she murmured as she opened the bag and pulled out the purple velvet triangular shawl.

The fabric felt soft to the touch, and her keen eye could discern its fine craftsmanship. As she examined it further, she noticed the floral design along the edges and the deep purple rose in the center.

'This is not what I foresaw,' she thought, taken aback by the unexpected gift.

She held it in her hands, inspecting it closely, before draping it around her shoulders and catching her reflection in the living room mirror.

It was a lovely present. It suited her... it suited her perfectly. It was a beautiful shawl that accentuated her beauty and elegance…

...But this was not what she had foreseen. It was not what she deserved.

Caught off guard, Medea's mind snapped back to reality, as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over her. Her heart ceased its frantic pounding, and reason slowly began to return. After a few fleeting moments, she regained her composure, as though she had not glimpsed her impending demise.

In that instant, her gaze sharpened, and she realized she had yet to fully comprehend what she had done to potentially alter her fate or why circumstances had taken a different turn. The notion that it might still be a ploy on Shirou's part to lower her defenses lingered, but she needed to discern where this was leading. To avoid arousing suspicion, she decided to act as she normally would.

What was her usual course of action in moments like these? Part of her considered that a simple expression of gratitude might suffice, but their relationship was neither simple nor formal.

She delved deeper into her thoughts.

Shirou wasn't typically driven by materialism. She wouldn't label him as inconsiderate, as he consistently extended himself to aid others in their times of need. However, the notion of purchasing her a gift solely to uplift her spirits struck her as uncharacteristic of him.

She swiftly deduced that it must have been the girls who had proposed the idea. But which one? Both of them, or maybe just one? Or perhaps...

"So, let me guess. Sakura was too shy to ask you on a date, so she came up with an excuse to stroll around with you and Rin. And instead of thinking about her, you were more concerned about me? You're such a mama's boy, Shirou," she teased him.

It had been some time since she had playfully teased him, but such banter remained well within her character. In the present moment, such comments seemed fitting and helped her maintain a facade of normalcy.

"Argh! It wasn't a date, we just took a walk in the city!" Shirou protested, a tinge of embarrassment coloring his words, while also omitting the truth. "And stop saying that Sakura is in love with me. If that were true, Rin would have skewered me ages ago."

"Heh. Trust me, Shirou, if you were to get engaged to Sakura, Rin would be furious, but not for the reason you think..."

"*Sigh* Here we go again..." Shirou mumbled, his head dipping slightly.

"Come on, are you truly that clueless, or are you pretending not to notice?"

"..." Shirou remained silent, and Medea looked at him.

Perhaps he had long been aware of the feelings the girls harbored for him. He was the only boy their age with whom they shared a deep bond for the majority of their lives. Their connection was strong. Shirou saw Sakura as someone to protect and care for, while Rin was a close friend and equal companion. Maybe he had no intention of risking or jeopardizing their friendship.

But at that moment, those considerations were secondary. They were merely a facade.

For the next thirty minutes, Shirou cooked, and after dinner was ready, they silently ate. As Medea ate, she thought to herself, carefully eyeing Shirou from time to time.

Despite her composed exterior, her mind was a tempest of disorder. Theories, plots, and schemes swirled into existence only to be swiftly discarded.

Now, she found herself utterly unsure of how to proceed. She had been caught off certainty of her imminent demise had driven her to the extent of slaying Zolgen and marching resolutely towards what she believed to be her end. Her conviction in the vision's accuracy had been unwavering... and yet...

"How foolish I've been," she thought to herself. "How could I ever entertain the notion that he might uncover the truth and pose a threat to me? I took great care to cast a spell on his mind, blocking any knowledge about my past, especially to forestall any potential harm." She contemplated further, her mind racing.

"But then, how did that vision manifest? The cards are one thing, but I've witnessed it... my divination couldn't have been mistaken," she whispered in the recesses of her thoughts.

Medea had no doubts in her mind that it was Shirou who would slay her.

In her vision, she saw herself wounded, bloodied, with tattered robes, barely standing in the moonlit backyard, while Shirou approached her with a blade in hand.

However, she couldn't understand how they had reached that point.

…What had she done to make it a reality?!

And despite her knowledge of the future events, Medea could see that Shirou truly didn't know. He remained ignorant of the truth, just as he had been in the past.

A strange dichotomy then seized Medea's heart as she wrestled with conflicting emotions. While part of her dreaded the horrific outcome she had foreseen, there was an inexplicable, clandestine desire within her—a twisted longing for that vision to manifest.

It was a disturbing realization that had surfaced in her mind, this secret desire both terrifying and enthralling her. As much as she feared the dreadful outcome she had foreseen, a part of her secretly yearned for it, longing for the release from the guilt and burden that had haunted her for so long.

The realization sent shivers down her spine. How could she entertain such dark thoughts, even for a moment? Medea recoiled from the idea, ashamed of herself for even considering it. Yet, the flicker of curiosity remained, haunting her every thought.

The darkness within her, fueled by her past deeds, whispered sinister thoughts in her mind. It whispered that perhaps this was her deserved punishment, a grim fate that matched the depth of her transgressions. The guilt she carried like an unyielding burden seemed to drive her towards this self-destructive path, where the sins of her past would find their ultimate reckoning.

But if it wasn't him who would confront her about all her crimes… then…

…

…

…

"...Heh..." Medea chuckled, as it clicked in her mind.

Shirou's gaze shifted immediately when he heard Medea chuckle.

Did he do it? Did he make her feel better? Did his simple present actually bring her some relief?

In that moment, a rush of hope surged through him, filling his heart with warmth. The thought that his small gesture could have made a difference almost overwhelmed him with genuine joy.

'...It was me... wasn't it?' Medea thought. '...I will ruin everything once again because of my selfish and reckless desire...'

The realization tormented her, making her fall into a spiral of torment and depression. Her head started to spin and feel heavy.

She looked up and managed to glance into Shirou's eyes before he quickly glanced down at his plate.

'Just look at you, Shirou... you are so caring... so concerned for me... while I... I'm so sorry. I have only ever deceived you...' She confessed to him in her thoughts. 'I always complained about the gods and how I wasn't able to choose my own path and my own decisions... but it turns out, though... that I'm just like them. Look at what I've done with my freedom... And look at what I am about to do...'

Medea looked down at her plate.

'It wasn't a reckless impulse that guided me. I understood my actions... always have... a decade ago when you perished... countless eons past when Jason's betrayal unfolded... I was aware... fully conscious.'

…

…

…

"...Shirou, what am I to you?" Medea then asked, as she glanced up from her plate, her gaze fixed on him.

As soon as he heard those words, Shirou started to think of the best answer he could give.

He had recognized the serious tone in Medea's voice and knew he had to respond quickly to avoid any negative reactions.

He pondered on it. Medea had not only saved him but also adopted and raised him. She played various roles in his life—teacher, friend, sister, and mother. She had imparted her knowledge, teaching him magic, life skills, and everything in between. With each passing moment, his respect for her grew. Although she was his family, he felt deep respect and reverence towards her.

Moreover, she inspired him to become a Hero and served as his role model. He aspired to be like her in the future. In essence, she meant everything to him.

However, Shirou understood that giving such an answer could have the opposite effect in Medea's current condition and potentially worsen her mood. He needed a response that was both simple and true, without any excessive praise.

With a measured breath, he chose his words carefully, understanding that the delicate balance of their conversation hung in the balance.

"...You are my family," he said after a brief moment, making it appear as if he hadn't pondered the answer at all, before he resumed eating.

Medea remained silent, seemingly lost in thought.

"...Have I... have I been a good family?" she asked after some moments.

"...Of course you've been," Shirou replied, as he set down his fork.

A pause hung in the air before he pressed on, unable to suppress his emotions any longer.

"You know... That night... the night of the fire... after I left everyone I knew behind to save my life, but then collapsed, I believed I was all alone, left to perish... but you were there for me. I... I can't find the right words, but having someone to save me when I needed it the most made me incredibly happy... so much that it still overwhelms me to this day. I can't adequately express how grateful I am to have you in my life."

"..."

"I... I should have known that you would never have abandoned me, Nee-san," Shirou commented, a small smile forming on his face as he looked at the table.

However, his attention shifted to Medea as he heard a sob. He looked up and saw her covering her face with one hand, her gaze averted. It was evident that she was either crying or on the verge of tears.

"..."

'Shit. What did I say?' Shirou pondered before rising from his seat and approaching her.

"Nee-san, if you're not feeling well, maybe you should rest? Sometimes, things work out better when you don't push yourself too hard. No matter who you are, carrying too much burden eventually leads to everything crumbling."

"...You're right... It's overwhelming... I... You are someone else... while I'm still right here," Medea uttered, panting heavily and struggling to catch her breath.

"..."

Shirou felt perplexed by her response and behavior, but he set that aside. His priority was to offer his support.

"Nee-san, please tell me what's troubling you..."

"Why should anything be wrong?... I'm fine, Shirou. Why do you ask?" she replied, removing her hand from her face and forcing a smile, though her gaze remained distant.

"...Tell me the truth. You appear pale... and you're sweating profusely," Shirou insisted, stepping closer to her.

"I've told you I'm fine, Shirou," she insisted, distancing herself from him.

Shirou froze at that moment. Previously, Medea would either try to shoo him away or tell him not to bother, but she had never distanced herself from him like this. It was not a promising sign. He understood that it was something he could not disregard.

"What is the issue, exactly? Please, tell me. I want to help you," Shirou pleaded, placing a hand on her shoulder.

...

...

...

"It's just that…"

"What is it?" Shirou inquired, wearing an understanding smile. He hoped that she would finally open up and reveal the truth.

"..."

And she did.

"...I'm... I'm finished. Completely. Physically and mentally. The damages I've done… the pain I've caused… they haunt me. Like all the dead I've left behind, they come looking for me at night. And they scream, Shirou. I've got no peace. The constant reminders of all the horrible things I've done have made it impossible for me to enjoy the majority of those moments that made life worth it, and facing every day all the people who have died or life has been ruined because of me has put me in a constant urge to... disappear. I ruined everything. I lied to everyone. I even ended up convincing a mentally damaged child that I was the last member of his family, for Zeus's sake! When will this hell stop?! ...I can't take it anymore..."

Medea turned her head to watch him for a moment, before taking a deep breath and then sighing with relief.

"...After all these years, I was finally able to say it," she said with a relaxed tone and expression, something that Shirou had not seen in years.

"...Nee-san… what did you just say…?"

"Do not misunderstand my words, Shirou. These ten years have been the best period of my life. I never needed to do anything to assure happiness both for myself, and the people I cared about. And you brought joy to me every day. It may not seem much to you, but there was no need for me to plot or scheme anything, I had no need to fear being betrayed or abandoned, no need to hide or run away… for all this time I was secure... I was safe," She confessed with a composed tone, a hint of shame tingeing her expression.

She briefly looked away, her voice softer and contemplative.

"I would like to say that everything was perfect and that there were no problems... but I have to say that I had too much free time even for my own good... I used a lot of that time to think and meditate... and often, my thoughts drifted toward the past." Medea said as she closed her eyes.

"...I first thought that I could have left everything behind, like 'you' had advised me to do... but in the end, it was impossible for me to do it. When you were a child, every time I saw you smiling at me, you always reminded me of both Mermerous and Phere... and each time, I felt the guilt and the pain of my terrible sin... each time, I felt so bad that I thought that I shouldn't be allowed to live," Medea said as she lowered her head to watch her hands, before she clenched them. "...but then at one point, I convinced myself that everything would have changed once you would have grown. I convinced myself that with time, those thoughts would have gone away... but things only got worse. Not only as you grew up, I started to constantly wonder how my sons would have looked if they reached your age, but as time went on, you grew up, and you became almost like... yourself. The you who I left to die... Gods... you were just seventeen... you were such a sweet, young boy who had an entire life full of hopes, dreams, and opportunities in front of himself... but you ended up being torn to pieces because of the war I involved you in..."

Shirou remained silent, unable to comprehend the direction of Medea's ramblings. However, the weight of shame in her voice was evident to him. Uncertain of where this seemingly aimless and absurd "confession" was leading, he allowed her to continue, observing and listening attentively in an attempt to grasp the inner workings of her mind.

"...I can't help but question why I viewed everyone around me as mere tools... There were no distinctions, really... my allies... my friends... even my own sons... all of them were treated as objects for my own purposes. But how... how did I become this way?" She inquired with genuine wonder, even though she understood that he couldn't provide her with an answer.

At that moment, Medea slowly lifted her head, meeting Shirou's gaze.

"It's perplexing, Shirou, something you cannot fathom... How... how is it possible that, in the end, I ended up loving you more than my own sons?... Was it because I never truly loved them?... Was it because I harbored hatred towards them?... Was it an attempt to somehow redeem myself?... Was it because you held a special place in my heart?... Or could it be that I am not the real Medea, but a mere replica, thus not their true mother?... There are countless possibilities that I... I... I simply do not know..." She spoke with genuine confusion and a profound sense of being lost.

"I swear, Shirou, despite the things I did and said, I truly loved them... I still love them... my love for them is genuine… Is it real…" Medea's face contorted in pain, tears welling up in her eyes. "...but it's real, just like that dreadful resolution I had come to... Gods... What have I done?!" Her voice trembled with agony and remorse. "I should have fled to Athens with them! Even if it meant a life of hardship as beggars, I'm certain we could have found a way to be happy... but just like Jason, I proved that I never truly cared for them... No! I was even worse than him in the end!" Medea's voice grew louder, bordering on a shout. "I was too proud! Too consumed by vengeance! I couldn't let a single one of my enemies mock me from behind! I couldn't even spare my sons from my wrath! ...and it's because of this, that I became what everyone feared me to be... a witch!" She exclaimed.

Shirou simply looked down on her in silence, more confused than ever. The weight of Medea's words settled heavily upon him, their meaning intertwining with his own inner turmoil.

"...From that moment on, I never thought that someone like me could ever find peace... but then you arrived, and things started to... change a little. You... you saved me. You offered me your help. You trusted me. You became my ally... thanks to you, I discovered that even someone like me could do good actions and help others... you did something that no one had ever done before, you made me find a bit of redemption," Medea's voice trembled with a mix of gratitude and regret.

A deep sadness washed over her face as she continued, her words heavy with remorse. "But how have I thanked you in the end? I'm sorry... I'm so sorry that on that night, when you remained alone to fight and die, I wasn't there to rescue you, just as you had once rescued me... I'll never forgive myself for having left you alone at the moment where you needed me the most... but I believe that in the end, I've repaid my debt. You, and all the people you cared for, lived the life you always deserved, and in the future, you will become the hero you always wanted and hoped to be…"

Shirou's confusion and worry grew as Medea lowered her eyes, focusing on the ground before speaking.

"...Heh... I served my purpose... and now it is finally time, isn't it?" She asked, a small, genuine smile appearing on her face.

"It's finally time? What do you mean?" Shirou inquired, his voice filled with confusion.

"It means that my time with you is over," Medea replied, her tone resolute. "No more lies."

"I don't understand... What are you talking about?" Shirou's confusion deepened, now tinged with worry.

This entire conversation seemed to be spiraling into madness. He couldn't fathom why she was uttering these absurdities. Had she become hysterical? Was she experiencing hallucinations, unable to distinguish reality from her imagination?

His knowledge of her past was limited, but he couldn't believe any of the things she had said about his own death or any of the other absurd claims she made. Her mental state must be far worse than he had ever imagined, reaching such a point. How foolish he had been. He should have taken action sooner. He felt like a failure of a human being for allowing the person he cherished most to deteriorate to this extent.

Shirou scolded himself internally, realizing that self-reproach could wait. For now, his focus needed to be on Medea's well-being.

Instead of labeling her as crazy or urgently in need of help, Shirou knew he had to keep her calm and reassure her that everything would be alright. Perhaps by doing so, he could guide her back to a state of reason.

If things took a turn for the worse, he resolved to call Taiga for assistance. However, the thought of Medea resorting to magic and potentially causing harm to others made him reconsider. Urgently, he needed to reach out to Sakura and Rin. Yet, he couldn't afford to divert his attention from Medea. He would have to leave them a message, but the phone was in the hallway. Could he leave her alone even for a few moments?

But out of the corner of his eye, Shirou noticed Medea's movements, causing him to swiftly turn his focus back to her. Until that moment she had remained silent, refusing to speak further, yet he could notice a strong frown forming on her face as she slowly turned to face him. And now, as he looked at her, he realized she was snarling at him.

"...Shirou, you wanted to become a hero, didn't you?! ...Let me test your resolve then," Medea's words carried a tone that seemed to emanate a long-repressed resentment, as she rose to her feet.

A shiver ran down Shirou's spine, causing him to instinctively take a step back. What was unfolding before him? Just moments ago, Medea had been in a state of confusion and self-loathing. Why was she now directing hostility towards him? Had she descended into complete madness? How should he react?

"Now I would say that I'm betraying you... but the truth is that I've already betrayed you... a long, long time ago."

Abruptly, the lights in the room extinguished, plunging them into darkness. In that fleeting moment, Shirou caught a glimpse of Medea's eyes reflecting in the blackness before she vanished without a trace.

Then, a single footstep broke the silence, emanating from behind him.

His survival instincts kicked in, prompting him to act quickly. With a swift movement, Shirou sidestepped just in time, narrowly avoiding Medea's jagged dagger that sliced through the air. Yet, he wasn't completely unscathed. The blade managed to graze his chest, leaving a searing wound.

In that instant, despite the sting of the peculiar dagger cutting through his skin and flesh, a sensation of lightness enveloped him. He felt a subtle release, a loosening of constraints, as if he had been unburdened from something that had held him captive.

Retreating a few steps, Shirou maintained a stoic expression as he stared at the gash on his chest. After a moment, his gaze locked back onto Medea, ready for whatever would come next.

"...What are you doing?" Shirou asked, his voice filled with disbelief, as he instinctively took another step back from Medea. His attention momentarily shifted to examine the wound on his chest, processing the reality of the injury.

He couldn't fathom the fact that she had seemingly descended into madness. What was happening? Why did it have to unfold this way for her? Why did this—?!

'No,' he internally admonished himself, recognizing the need to remain calm. Giving in to panic would only exacerbate the situation and achieve nothing.

"You don't see it, do you?" she asked, her expression filled with a sense of pity for him. "Shirou, I'm offering you my final gift. Now that you are finally freed from the spell I cast upon you, you will receive a new weapon in your arsenal, and you will also come to know the truth," Medea explained, gently raising the dagger, now stained with his own blood, towards his face. "Now, take a closer look at this blade. Absorb its power into your inner world... and uncover its bloody history."

Shirou's heart sank, a sense of dread washing over him. He couldn't comprehend what Medea was talking about, but the implications weighed heavily on his mind.

Shirou's eyes involuntarily lowered, fixating on the blade as his mind was engulfed by a torrent of memories. The flood of images consumed him, unraveling a series of fragmented scenes, each one etching itself deep into his consciousness.

He saw it all—the girl, once filled with hope for true love, taking her brother's life in a twisted act of devotion. The disdainful gaze of a witch, offering liberation from her sins. A man boiled alive by his own daughters, a result of her contrivance. And then, her two sons, blissfully cradled in her arms, with her beloved at her side. It seemed like a perfect existence, one she couldn't have asked for more.

But then came the betrayal, her loved one forsaking her for the allure of a brighter future. The girl, now a woman, alone in her room, weeping, praying, and pleading for vengeance.

And then the vengeance came when he saw the princess and the king consumed by the flames of their own demise. Her sons, once pleading for mercy, meeting their tragic fate at her own hands. The man who betrayed her, crying and begging, his eyes fixed upon the lifeless bodies she held. A hanged corpse.

The subsequent recollections grew hazy and indistinct, branching into various paths. From a new life in Athens to punishment by the gods for her crimes, or a continued existence marked by a never-ending cycle of murder and betrayal on the road.

Then clarity returned to the visions. She wandered through woods, weary and wounded, until she stumbled and fell. And then, someone appeared, rescuing her. Shirou struggled to comprehend the familiarity of the boy—it was himself. He witnessed the woman and the boy conversing, training, summoning other servants, and engaging in the war.

However, the image of this dying, tanned man, who bore an uncanny resemblance to someone he knew, left him utterly bewildered.

But then the boy died, leaving her once again alone. The woman couldn't bear the weight of such isolation. And then, he saw a golden cup materialized before her. Following that, a blonde figure—a girl, immersed in a pool of her own blood. A very young Illya, lifeless on an altar. The Tohsaka residence reduced to ashes. The shattered golden cup, now filled with malevolence. The world transforming around the woman. A burning city. And finally, he saw himself, buried beneath the rubble.

Shirou snapped back to the present, bewildered and shaken, blood trickling from his nose. "What... was that?" he questioned aloud, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of the memories that had overwhelmed him.

Overwhelmed by the weight of the revelations held within the blade, Shirou found himself grappling with the sheer magnitude of the information presented to him.

No, it wasn't merely the quantity of information that troubled him, but the very nature of what he had witnessed.

Had he truly seen different versions of himself? What was the meaning behind these visions? Was it some sort of illusion or trickery? No, he couldn't deny the veracity of the blade's history. It couldn't be manipulated or distorted! What kind of paradoxical reality had he been exposed to?!

"That was the truth," A voice echoed, simultaneously recognizable yet eerily unfamiliar, as though he had never encountered it before.

In the now silent room, the only audible sound was that of air gently brushing against flowing robes. Shirou's gaze shifted, and before him, suspended in mid-air in the middle of the room, was the figure from whom the voice emanated.

"You have seen him, right?" The witch inquired. "There is no witch here," He said. "You're the person I trust the most," he had once said. Heh. Shirou, have you seen how much damage stupidity and naivety can cause?"

Silence hung in the air, leaving Shirou without words to respond.

"That fool trusted me, and look at what has happened. Look at the consequences of his actions!" she exclaimed, frustration, anger and regret evident in her voice. "But I can't really blame him. I had deceived him, like I have done with so many others... he was not the first... he was but one of many."

Taking a step back, Shirou closed his eyes and focused on practicing Square Breathing—a technique Medea had taught him as a child to control his breath and find calmness after his nightmares. He inhaled deeply for four seconds, held his breath for four seconds, exhaled slowly for four seconds, and paused for four seconds before repeating the cycle. Gradually, his racing heart slowed, and his frayed nerves began to settle. It was a practice ingrained within him, a tool to maintain composure during moments of intense stress.

"But you... no, no, no... hehehehe... you're not like him at all. I made you better. I made you stronger. I made you wiser. You... yes... you can make things right," she rambled, her voice turning almost into a whisper.

'She had gone mad... she's dangerous,' Shirou thought to himself, his concern growing by the second. The realization struck him that he could no longer involve Rin and Sakura in this situation. Knowing Medea's true identity and power now, far greater than she had let on, it would only put them in grave danger. He had to face this on his own.

"...I wonder just how much anger and indignation seeing all of the things I've done has caused you to feel. You must hate me for all the innocent blood that I have spilled, don't you? Hehehehehehe..."

Shirou maintained a stoic silence, his eyes locked onto her with an expressionless gaze.

A faint smile curved upon Medea's lips, sensing her inability to read his thoughts. "Yes... Yes... You're just like I wanted you to be. Even in the face of adversity, even in the face of the worst of betrayals... you look so calm, so controlled... your breath is so still," she remarked, her voice trembling, quivering with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

Shirou's fists clenched tightly, his frustration and anger building up within him.

"Oh?! Do I sense a surge of anger within you? Come on, be honest with yourself. There's no need to deny it; deep within, it's undeniable. I can sense it, I can see it - you yearn to strike me down!"

Shirou's shock and anger collided within him, stirring a fire of emotions that clashed against his typically composed demeanor.

But as much as he now hated to admit it, Shirou couldn't deny that he hadn't been groomed to be quick to anger or hatred. He had been taught to maintain complete control in every situation, to have mastery over both the external circumstances and his own emotions.

And while he couldn't condone the atrocities he had witnessed, Medea perhaps hadn't anticipated that he might hesitate to act against her due to their current situation and the bond and relation they might have anticipated that his fury and indignation, provoked by what he had witnessed, would surge to the forefront, driving him to strike her down in a blaze of hatred. However, having shared the majority of her life's experiences through her perspective, he found himself unable to escape the pull of empathy. He comprehended her thoughts on a profound level, far deeper than she could have possibly realized.

And no matter how much she lied or tried to manipulate reality, he now knew the truth after witnessing her blade.

This, was the culmination of her pain.

The betrayal of her family, Jason's abandonment, the murders of countless innocents, the manipulations and betrayals, the heart-wrenching loss of her children by her own hands… even his own death, and the murders of their allies…

It had all caused her an immense sense of guilt, a guilt that had consumed her and driven her to madness over the years.

And now, standing before him, was the result—a bomb that had already exploded. The timer had run out.

He had experienced her life and had glimpsed her overwhelming divine emotions. He understood their strength. The fact that Medea had endured for ten years spoke volumes about her mental fortitude.

But even after witnessing everything she had done, he knew that she had changed and genuinely regretted her past actions. Seeing Rule Breaker had allowed him to witness the past ten years from her perspective. He saw and felt her transformation, experiencing firsthand how tormented she had been. It couldn't all be lies.

But even if Shirou attempted to dismiss all of this, even if he strived to distance himself from her on every front and aspect, there remained one solitary and pivotal truth he couldn't overlook even in a case of most blind righteousness: She had undertaken all of this for him.

In some measure, it was his responsibility that this intricate web had been woven, that this convoluted tale had unfolded.

The weight of that realization settled upon him like a heavy shroud. He couldn't escape the fact that her actions were, in part, a response to his presence, his influence, his existence in her life. The magnitude of her sacrifices and deceptions, the intricate dance of fate that had played out, was a testament to a connection he couldn't deny.

…Nevertheless, he needed to concentrate on the present moment. Medea was now hysterical, and in the face of her escalating madness, he had to remain as calm as possible.

What truly infuriated him, however, was the sudden realization of what she wanted from him—the truth that dawned upon him as soon as he questioned her intentions.

"Come on, Shirou. Now that you know everything, be a hero... do what you must. Show me that you're ready."

Medea wished for him to end her life.

He couldn't fathom why she desired it or what led her to believe he would fulfill such a request... But he needed to deescalate the situation, to find a middle ground that would satisfy her without succumbing to her madness completely.

Yet, Medea remained deranged and unpredictable. Aware of her volatile state, he knew he needed something to defend himself now that he understood her true identity and the depths she was willing to plunge to achieve her desires.

Projecting a sword with anti-magical properties and strong magical defenses, he carefully observed her reaction. A smile formed on her face, an eerie delight in his choice, as if she considered it a fitting response to the current situation.

Shirou noticed the satisfaction in Medea's expression, but he couldn't help but frown. He was complying with her demands for the sake of appearances, yet his true emotions were far from anger—he was growing increasingly desperate.

"Why is he not attacking me?" she muttered aloud after some moments, leading Shirou to believe that she had seen through his facade.

"...Oh, wait. He must be waiting for me to make the first move, isn't he? ...Yes, after all, I've trained and taught him everything he knows... so it would be quite easy for me to predict him. Good. That was a wise decision, one that, in fact, I had not anticipated. I thought he would pounce on me at the first opportunity," she spoke with a proud smile, but it quickly faded into a frown. "But does he really think he can withstand even one of my attacks?"

Hearing her words sent a chill down Shirou's spine. He had little doubt that Medea would go to extreme lengths, even to the point of severing his limb, in order to force him to harm her. He needed to be in his best possible condition if he hoped to restrain her. To defend himself, he would have to summon his weapons and give them life. However, he knew that even if he commanded them not to, his weapons would prioritize protecting their summoner, which could inadvertently harm or even kill Medea.

Shirou contemplated the unfolding situation, already aware of where it was heading despite Medea's intentions yet to be fully revealed. He knew she would present him with a choice between two evils—to either kill her or witness innocent lives being harmed in her subsequent rampage if he refused to comply. However, he was determined to find a third path, an alternative solution that would avoid both options. No matter what it took, he would strive for that.

This kind of scenario was precisely what he had been trained for throughout his life. He had been prepared to face and combat mythical heroes from any era, to achieve the impossible and emerge victorious against insurmountable odds. And ironically, it was Medea herself who had imparted this training upon him.

In situations like these, his first instinct was to recall everything he could from "The Art of War," a book Medea had given him after he made a promise to become a hero. She had emphasized its potential importance in the future, and it had indeed proven useful in various sparring sessions and exercises.

It wasn't a complex treatise on war like Carl von Clausewitz's "On War," nor would it provide him with a foolproof plan. But often, it served to remind him of the most obvious paths, the strategies he might overlook in moments of haste or under pressure.

He remembered some of the quotes:

"Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night. And when you move, fall like a thunderbolt."

That was crucial. If Medea knew the true direction of his plan or its underlying purpose, everything would be lost.

"One mark of a great soldier is that he fights on his own terms or fights not at all."

Engaging in direct combat with Medea was a terrible idea from the start. It was something he wished to avoid, but if he was forced into it, he would have to exploit any advantage or consider alternative methods of fighting her.

"Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance."

No, this tactic would not work against her. She knew his capabilities too well. It might prove effective against other Servants who perceived him as a mere human, but Shirou had become the person he was precisely because of Medea.

"Know the enemy and know yourself, and in a hundred battles, you will never be in peril."

That was it. He knew himself and Medea better than she realized in the current situation.

He began to survey his surroundings. The room appeared narrow, leaving little room for movement. Engaging in close quarter combat was not her strong suit, and he doubted she had set any traps or rigged the place. His objective was simple: find the opportune moment to catch her off guard.

He carefully observed her. The adversary's strength was not the sole factor at play; their intelligence mattered as well. In that regard, she surpassed him in that aspect as well, but there was a crucial weakness in Medea's current state. Despite her remarkable intellect, she was evidently emotionally and psychologically vulnerable, which would undoubtedly impede her reasoning.

He needed to exploit this vulnerability to his advantage in any way possible. However, first, he had to gain a clear understanding of her mindset.

Recalling the image of Rule Breaker, he revisited the owner's history, focusing solely on the last ten years. Evident indications of hysteria, imposter syndrome, personality disorder, cognitive dissonance, depressive disorder, identity crisis, and even tendencies toward suicidal behavior raced across his thoughts.

Shirou concluded that Medea's mental state was probably ensnared in a condition of intense inner conflict, yet he couldn't definitively determine whether these disruptions covered all or only a portion of the struggles afflicting her.

Nevertheless, even in such a state, she should not be underestimated. Medea was still one of the best mages from the Age of the Gods. If she truly desired his demise, he would undoubtedly meet his end.

A mere whisper from her could halt his heart or turn him into a bloody mist, but this was just the beginning of what she could do in a direct fight where she was supposedly weakest. If she had rigged the home, escape would be impossible. However, she had a different agenda now—to toy with him and provoke him into killing her.

"Shirou, always keep in mind that excessive confidence can gradually and subtly lead to downfall," a memory surfaced in Shirou's thoughts—words once spoken by Medea.

Observing their present predicament and Medea's attitude, he comprehended her significant underestimation of him. She believed she could effortlessly manipulate him into compliance, assuming he had no alternatives. She regarded him as a mere puppet at her mercy, denying him any genuine agency in the situation.

But he was determined to prove her wrong, no matter what, no matter how.

Unlike his predecessors, he understood when it was necessary to cast aside restraint...

So he had to use this opportunity to his advantage, making sure not to make a single wrong move, as everything depended on it.

But first, he needed a contingency plan should everything take a turn for the worst.

Drawing from his observations of her history, Shirou had come to understand the mechanics behind her abilities. Medea's High Speed Divine Language granted her the privilege of activating magic devoid of the need to engage her Magic Circuits or utter intricate incantations. Remarkably, even spells of substantial magnitude could be set into motion through a mere singular action. This language hailed from an era of gods, rendering it beyond the reach of contemporary humans to articulate.

Thankfully, modern times limited her from unleashing the most powerful ones. But still, she could manipulate the surrounding mana without cessation, ensuring a continuous barrage of magic regardless of the fight's duration.

How could he efficiently disarm her if things took a turn for the worse?

Breaking both her arms and silencing her would be a good start. While cutting or breaking her arms seemed feasible, dealing with her tongue posed a challenge. A reinforced uppercut while she chanted her spell might make her bite it off, or perhaps shattering her jaw could suffice. Yet, even in such a state, she would remain a dangerous threat, possibly requiring him to blind her too.

However, he also needed to consider her innate ability to regenerate. Although he questioned whether she retained the capacity to fully regrow a limb after transitioning from her spirit form, he held no uncertainty that almost any injury, regardless of its severity, could swiftly mend due to her divine lineage nad magical nature. The only exception would be if the injury bore a potent curse. He had not yet come into possession of weapons of such caliber. The ones crafted by Medea were not potent enough to possess such powers.

Such wounds might be fatal to others, but as a supernatural being, Medea would endure. And even if he was somehow able to mortally wound her, with the use of Avalon, he could slow the bleeding and keep her from dying. The house was equipped with curative potions, balms, bandages, and various trinkets, providing the means to heal whatever damage he caused.

His determination was unwavering—to save her from herself and protect the city.

He would not falter. He would not fail.

With the last resort plan settled, he now focused on the main one.

As he had observed, she was mentally weaker in her current state than physically, making it easier to defeat her in a psychological fight. If he chose his words carefully, he might be able to calm her and defuse the situation entirely.

However, he could also capitalize on her cognitive dissonance to create an opportunity...

Cognitive dissonance is the discomfort caused by holding conflicting ideas simultaneously.

Her self-hatred was immense, and she wanted him to kill her, but to what extent was she willing to hurt him? She knew that he genuinely loved her as a mother and sister, and putting him in this situation had taken a toll on his mind. Yet, in her self-hatred, she had convinced herself that he now hated her just as much, without a second thought or doubt.

He could use this to his advantage.

If he managed to make her realize that she was mistaken – that he didn't harbor hatred towards her – would it lead to her confusion? Could it instill doubt and hesitation within her? Or might it trigger an episode of blind rage?

All he required was for it to buy him even the briefest moment of distraction.

In her present condition, she had failed to take into account the knowledge he possessed about her motivations. Even amidst his justified indignation, he couldn't disregard the undeniable reality that she had rescued him and dedicated the preceding decade of her existence to him. Beneath the weight of her own remorse over raising a child, she had still persisted.

Some intrinsic significance had to be inherent in their bond. If he delved deeply into his comprehension of her, he could perceive himself as akin to a son in her eyes, a figure she cherished profoundly.

He wasn't entirely sure how to process everything he had discovered, but outright killing her wasn't the option that came to mind. No, what he knew he had to do now was to deescalate the situation.

For now, the best course of action was to wait for whatever had come to her mind to subside, and then he would deliver the decisive blow.

He began to pace back and forth, and Medea readied herself for the impending confrontation.

But as minutes passed, Medea noticed something unusual. Shirou wasn't preparing to attack or waiting for her to make a move; he seemed to be doing… nothing, wasting time. Familiar with his thought process and actions due to her training, she knew Shirou would never waste time in similar circumstances. He was always either planning something or...

Medea's mental rambling was interrupted when she asked, "...Are you hesitating?" Her tone was tinged with disgust.

Shirou flinched, acting as if she had seen right through him. They locked eyes, and Medea appeared genuinely confused by his lack of action. She couldn't comprehend why he hesitated to strike down a wicked murderer like her, despite witnessing everything she had done.

"...If you cannot kill the absolute evil that stands right in front of you, then how can you even hope to become a hero in the future? The truth is simple, Shirou. Why are you having so many difficulties accepting it? Should you refuse, you'll find yourself losing everything once more…" Medea spoke, her tone cold.

Struggling to find the right words, Shirou interrupted her, fearing that if he didn't comply with her desires, she would resort to something horrible. He needed to create a facade of fear, confusion, and insecurity. "I... I can't do it," he stammered, his voice trembling. "If I kill you, I'll lose myself here and now... so please, don't do this to me... mom."

Whatever words were poised on Medea's lips to follow, they perished unspoken.

A heavy silence enveloped Medea. An inexplicable chill raced down her spine the moment that cursed word reached her ears.

Her heart clenched in anguish. She brought a trembling hand to her forehead, feeling the ache radiate within. Echoes of Meremrus and Phere's calls reverberated through her thoughts. The countless instances of Shirou innocently addressing her as "mom" during his younger years surged to the forefront of her mind. An inundation of joyful memories, each a source of torment, inundated her consciousness. Amid the tide, the haunting remembrances of her past misdeeds inundated her soul, each a searing pang of pain. Overwhelmed, she found herself unable to bear the weight of these memories and emotions, a tempestuous storm within her as she grappled with the unfathomable depth of agony that surged through her.

But what cut her deepest was the dawning understanding that, despite all, Shirou's affection for her persisted…

Gods, what had she come to?! What was she doing?! Was her desperation truly this profound?! Could she truly be…-!

Then, a sudden stillness swept over everything.

The ache in her stomach, the teardrops in her eyes... they simply ceased to be, as if extinguished.

Abruptly, once more resembling the pattern of the past, Medea's mind transformed into steel.

She could not permit transient things like her emotions to obstruct her path. Her objective demanded fulfillment, regardless of the toll. She wouldn't go so far as to end his life, but if Shirou wouldn't act as necessary, she would compel him. The choice lay between her and someone else dear to him, destined to perish. Medea knew Shirou could never stand idly by.

Briefly, Medea contemplated who held the closest ties to Shirou.

Rin or Sakura... Which of them should I target first? And who should meet their end should he hesitate?

Her eyes, brimming with a cruel and monstrous determination, opened wide, devoid of kindness or mercy... yet they widened further as she found herself face to face with Shirou.

In a fraction of time too swift to comprehend, she found herself face to face with Shirou. Then, his forceful impact crashed into her, stealing her breath and sending her sprawling to the ground.

Before Medea could even gather her bearings, Shirou swiftly began to subdue her. She wasn't mentally prepared, nor was she an adept in physical combat. The advantage was firmly in his grasp. This needed to end promptly.

"AGH! GET OFF! LEAVE ME!" she screamed, voice laden with desperation. "Aεp-!"

But her incantation was cut short, replaced by a searing pain erupting within her chest, causing her to gasp for air.

Her gaze lowered, fixing on a short dagger deeply embedded in her chest, piercing through her right lung. In an instant, she recognized the dagger – a magical creation she had crafted for Shirou. Designed to amplify the pain of its inflicted wounds manifold, disrupting any focus or concentration. Ideal for facing formidable mages. Ideal for their current dire situation.

And indeed, it functioned as intended. Her concentration shattered, and she was consumed by a primal, piercing agony. The pain wrung from her a guttural scream, each breath a struggle that only exacerbated the torment inflicted by the blade.

However, just as Shirou had feared, it wasn't yet enough.

"Αεpo!" Medea managed to rasp amidst ragged breaths, the syllables escaping her lips despite the excruciating suffering.

In a split-second maneuver, Shirou leaped away from her, narrowly evading the spell that would have likely obliterated his right arm. However, he wasn't unscathed, as a deep gash marred his forearm.

In that fleeting interval, Medea attempted to rise, but her movements were sluggish, hampered by the lingering impact of the initial blow. Shirou capitalized on this vulnerability, swiftly hurtling back towards her, propelling her into the wall behind her with a forceful collision, her head absorbing the impact.

Disbelief coursed through Medea. Given her capabilities, she should have been capable of contending even with Servants like Saber in confined spaces, let alone Shirou.

Yet, she found herself unprepared for a full-blown confrontation with him, neither mentally nor physically in peak condition.

Before she could regain her footing, Shirou was upon her once more, ensuring the dagger he had plunged into her was agonizingly twisted. The pain shattered her concentration, thwarting her attempt at recovery. With her hands restrained and avenues of attack blocked, she was left with raw physical strength as her sole recourse against Shirou's dominance. As they grappled, during a moment of their struggle, her eyes locked onto his. In that gaze, she discerned an absence of hesitation or uncertainty regarding his course of action. His eyes still bore that unmistakable iron will.

'...Good,' she thought, breathless, in a fleeting moment.

He remained exactly as she had crafted him—ruthless to those who opposed him, a master of any battlefield, unflinching in the face of adversity.

Medea had always pitied those she foresaw opposing him in the future, for he possessed an unrelenting spirit. He knew no exhaustion, no hesitation, and no failure. He would overcome every obstacle to secure his rightful victory.

…But for this night, she was determined to withhold that victory, to make him savor his first and most bitter taste of defeat.

Still, Medea had to acknowledge that she was in a precarious position, uncertain of how events would unfold from this point onward. They remained distant from the backyard, where this all would ultimately culminate. She observed Shirou's current restraint, yet she harbored the conviction that, regardless of the circumstances, it would ultimately conclude just as she had foreseen...

Amid the ongoing struggle, as Medea relentlessly battled to repel Shirou, her attention was drawn to the pool of blood that stained the ground. In that instant, an idea formed within her mind. Her composure faltered too swiftly for her to weave complex spells, her hands were restrained, preventing her from casting without risking self-inflicted harm, and her wound continued to escalate. Given these constraints, she considered utilizing her own blood as a catalyst for magic.

In the midst of her dire circumstances, what would be the most strategic application for this unconventional resource?

Before the blood could coalesce into meaningful runes or harness any energy, unexpectedly, a jagged dagger impaled the puddle, instantly disrupting their magical potential.

Horror etched across Medea's features as she witnessed Rule Breaker detach from the ground and returning to levitate in the air. She realized that at some point, Shirou must have projected it and triggered the power of his Magic Crest.

Now, Medea confronted not only Shirou, but also a facet of herself intimately familiar with her thoughts and actions.

For more than five agonizing minutes, she fought, grunted, and wailed. Yet, the situation remained unchanged. Despite her supernatural strength, Shirou effortlessly maintained control. Each attempt to rise was met with forceful opposition, each effort to remove the knife that intensified her pain with every movement was thwarted as Shirou repeatedly plunged another one back into her. Escapes from his holds were swiftly countered and quashed.

And as she teetered on the brink of casting magic that could potentially reverse her dire circumstances, her own enchanted blade interjected, while Shirou inched closer and closer to victory.

---

At a juncture she couldn't precisely pinpoint, Medea's eyes fluttered open as consciousness trickled back into her awareness.

Her gaze meandered sluggishly, revealing to her that she must have succumbed to unconsciousness at some indistinct moment.

Yet, the paramount realization was the gradual resurgence of her rationale and lucidity, intertwined with her regained consciousness.

Surveying her immediate surroundings, she recognized a profound ache permeating her, a visceral exhaustion consuming her both physically and mentally. Movement and thought seemed onerous tasks.

In her supine state, it dawned on her that Shirou lay atop her, the grip of an arm-triangle choke loosened enough to restore blood circulation to her head. The weight pressed the embedded dagger deeper into her abdomen, and her dislocated right arm was painfully confined behind her back by the combined pressure of both of them. The space between them was minimal, their faces almost aligned.

She shifted her eyes to meet his gaze, finding his stare reciprocated.

She then redirected her gaze to the ceiling, a mental sigh escaping her. Medea understood that her efforts had come to naught.

'...This... cannot be. My vision could not be wrong…' she thought in disbelief.

Despite her conviction, reality unfolded in stark contrast to her predictions. The course of events had taken an unexpected turn, casting doubt upon the certainties she had held. Medea grappled with the unsettling notion that perhaps, for the first time, her foresight had faltered.

At this juncture, she had lost all motivation to continue the fight. Her current state left her devoid of the strength and will required to repel Shirou or to devise any strategy to compel him.

Yet, she grasped the fact that Shirou, for reasons known only to him, harbored no intention of ending her life. And while it was unlikely that he had intentionally orchestrated this, his struggle against her, his blows, and the use of that cursed dagger that brought unimaginable pain – they all coalesced into a form of affliction she had always secretly craved.

Through these agonizing actions, he had wounded her in a manner aligned with her deepest desires. The excruciating torment was akin to a penance, a torturous expiation for her grievous sins. Strangely, it felt like the punishment she had long yearned for, granting a measure of solace.

In this configuration, they lingered for a minute or so, from the moment Medea regained consciousness.

"...Tell me, boy, are you treating me like this because you have seen my suffering? Do you understand my pain?" She inquired after several minutes of tense silence.

As she reevaluated everything, Medea arrived at a conclusion she should have already foreseen, given her extensive knowledge of his abilities. However, in her previous delirious state, more pressing matters had occupied her thoughts.

"I did," he replied, his tone frigid.

"...And you believe that justifies any of my crimes?"

"No. But that's a matter we need to discuss, Medea. I am neither a judge nor an executioner. You should know this."

She knew he was right. This wasn't how she had raised him, after all.

Several minutes elapsed in silence after that revelation. Medea couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort, not because she had been defeated, but because she sensed the futility of prolonging the battle now that it was over. However, after her actions, it took her some time to gather the courage to ask him the question that lingered on her mind.

"Could you... let me go?" she inquired after a pause.

"Have you calmed down?" Shirou immediately countered.

"...Yes," she replied, noticing his swift reaction. She wasn't sure if it stemmed from his heightened alertness or anticipation of her request.

"Can I trust you to refrain from doing anything stupid?" he pressed further.

"...Yes," she answered honestly. With uncertainty clouding her understanding of where things were headed, she chose to observe.

"Very well, then," Shirou replied after a moment.

He complied with her request, surprising Medea with his actions and demeanor. She almost couldn't believe that he had actually released her. However, despite his trust, it was evident he remained vigilant and prepared to act at a moment's notice, his body still reinforced.

Medea sat up and, after repositioning her arm, she began to regain feeling in her right limb as blood flowed back into it. After a while, she removed the dagger from her belly, wincing in pain. Her robes were marred by cuts, tears, and bloodstains, while the exposed parts of her body bore dozens of scars. She noticed her natural regeneration still functioned, even though she was no longer a spirit.

With a simple wave of her hand, the wounds closed entirely, and the scars vanished. She then touched her face and detected a busted lip and a broken nose, from which blood continued to trickle. These injuries she healed as well.

Without the strength to rise, she remained seated on the ground before glancing up, finding Shirou looming over her, his fists planted on his hips. Now, it was unmistakable. He was furious.

"I... I have no words. I don't even know where to start with you..." Shirou's voice quivered with a mix of anger and disappointment as he began to speak.

Before Medea could utter a word, Shirou launched into a tirade, his voice thick with anger and disappointment. He berated her for her inconsiderate, irrational, and reckless actions. Medea chose to remain silent, absorbing his words like blows, fully aware of the validity in his chastisement.

"-I love you, Nee-san! You're my family! You're all I have! H-H-How could you ever think that I would harm you?! I'd do anything for you! Do you understand just how much you've frightened me?!"

As Shirou's thoughts poured forth, Medea felt an overwhelming sense of shame wash over her. She despised herself even more in that moment, realizing how foolish she had been to entertain the thought, even hope, that he might simply kill her.

But beyond her selfish desires for an end to her suffering, she couldn't escape the reality of what she had done to him in their battle as she looked him. The wound that slashed across his chest was the first undeniable evidence of the pain she had inflicted, not to mention the numerous cuts and burns that marred his clothes and flesh. Glancing around, she widened her eyes in astonishment as she took in the devastation that had befallen the living room and kitchen. It was a chaotic scene of almost total destruction.

And now, instead of tending to his own injuries or attempting to rectify the mess she had caused, Shirou's unwavering focus was solely on her...

She knew that Avalon in its current state could only halt the bleeding, and even her magic couldn't mend the damage fully. Those scars would be etched into his flesh for the rest of his life, a constant reminder of the pain she had inflicted.

…

…

…

However, just as it had happened before, those dark and selfish thoughts invaded her mind once again...

...Did she truly care about him? Or was she still wrapped in her own selfish desires? If she genuinely cared, wouldn't she have avoided this confrontation altogether? Wouldn't she have refrained from attacking him?

The confusion gnawed at her. Shirou had witnessed everything. By now, he must have understood her just as well as she did herself. So why did he harbor such pity for her? Were his feelings for her that unshakable?

"...Despite everything you've learned... you still love me?" She asked, her voice carrying both hurt and disbelief. The question baffled her.

"Yes, more than anything else! I'd do anything for you!"

"...Would you really do anything for me?" She repeated, her tone tinged with sorrow.

"Of course! How can I make you understand!? What do I have to do to prove it?!" He responded, his desperation evident.

...

...

...

Medea lowered her eyes, as a sinister and cruel idea, befitting of her character, slithered into her mind. She decided to wager everything on it.

After all, he had declared that he would do anything for her.

"Shirou... if I asked you to end my life, would you do it?" She asked, locking her gaze with his.

"...What?" Shirou finally spoke after a long, profound silence.

He felt defeated, speechless, and almost hopeless. His arms suddenly felt leaden, as though they might fall off.

"Listen, I'm... I'm not asking you to do it for justice, vengeance, or any grand, noble cause. It was foolish of me to even think that you would consider such an act in the first place... but... if it's for me... would you do it? Because I truly desire it..." Medea's gaze fell to the ground before rising to meet Shirou's. "...And you said you'd do anything for me..."

Hearing that, Shirou clenched and ground his teeth. How could she dare to wield his own words against him for something as abhorrent as this?!

"...Would you be able to do it if I asked you? ...Or do I have to get on my knees and beg you?" She asked, stretching her arms and grasping his shirt to pull him closer.

But Shirou remained immovable, a statue gazing at her with a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

What truly horrified him in that moment was the calmness in her voice. This wasn't a sudden whim or a moment of madness like before. This request was too calm, too deliberate, as if it had been... expected? planned? prepared? He couldn't find the right word. How long had these thoughts brewed in her mind? How much time had she spent contemplating that very question?

"...J-Just look at you! You're not yourself! Whatever is plaguing your mind has changed you! This isn't you! You're being overly emotional and irrational!" Shirou tried to reason with her.

"You're the irrational one!" Medea snapped back. "If you truly understand my pain, then why are you being so selfish? Why won't you show me mercy?! You know I can't bear the weight of what I've done!"

He stared at her, flabbergasted.

Shirou had succeeded in deescalating the situation and averting a potential tragedy. But now, doubt began to take root in his mind and worm its way into his very core. He found himself reflecting on everything he had witnessed.

All of it.

...How... How could he help her?

What could he possibly do for her? She had committed so many heinous acts, too many to even begin comprehending. How could he ever guide her toward inner peace? How could he aid her in seeking redemption?

As he stood there, Shirou's mind felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

Shirou felt overwhelmed by the weight of Medea's terrible past, and his mind raced with thoughts of redemption. It was a difficult truth to accept, learning about the things she has done, the choices she made that caused so much pain and harm to others.

His heart ached as he grappled with the realization that the person he loved and admired deeply for all of his life was also capable of the most depraved and cruel acts that he had ever seen.

And amidst that despair, he can't help but wonder just how he could help her find any kind of redemption… or if there was anything that he could do.

First and foremost, he knew that any kind of judgment would not serve them well. Instead of condemning her, he would need to offer a non-judgmental space where she could confront her past and take responsibility for her actions…

...But how could he accomplish it?! She had already confronted and regretted her actions, reaching the point where she viewed suicide as her only escape!

It was obvious that no matter what, It would not be an easy journey, but perhaps he should believe in the power of… positive acknowledgment and self-reflection.

Next, he would encourage her to seek forgiveness from those she has wronged. But It was not possible because everyone she had harmed had technically died. It was not a simple matter such as trust that could not easily be regained.

Sure, genuine remorse and efforts to make amends can pave the way for healing and restoration. But her actions could not be amended, and he knew what kind of amendment she wished to have.

But perhaps he should stand by her side, and guide her towards understanding the impact of her actions and helping her find meaningful ways to make reparations.

…The best thing he could do was to advocate for her personal growth and transformation.

Everyone has the capacity to change, to become better versions of themselves. And while Medea had already regretted what she had done, he had to help her live with herself.

He would support her in seeking therapy, counseling, or any other means necessary to address the underlying issues that led to her past actions… but those were not matters that they could go speaking about.

No, he needed to focus on personal development, so she can learn from her mistakes and actively work towards becoming a force of good in the world in the hope for her to find peace with herself.

But he... he was in dire need of help now.

Desperately in need, he recognized that he couldn't bear this burden alone. These were not the kinds of challenges he had been prepared to confront.

Could he turn to Rin and Sakura for assistance? Perhaps just Rin, as she seemed more mature and capable of...

...No...

First and foremost, could he trust either of them with such a dark secret? The weight of Medea's actions pressed down on him like a boulder. What she had done was beyond forgiveness, but he had managed to understand and forgive her to some extent.

However, if Sakura and Rin learned the extent of her deeds, they might refuse to help her, or even become hostile...

...and if they did turn against Medea for what she had done, what would he do? How should he handle them if they reached that point? The mere thought of raising arms against them sent Shirou's head spinning and his stomach churning...

The entire situation could escalate from bad to worse if things went awry, and he acted too hastily...

...For now, his only option was to concentrate on Medea. The rest could be contemplated at a later time. He had to manage this on his own, for the time being.

"No, I will not have 'mercy' of you. I don't want to hurt you, let alone kill you... but I have to admit that our current situation is difficult. We do not have many alternatives."

"So just do what is righ-"

"You also have to know that I know what made you like this, and what pushed you to do the things you did. So for me, as much as it is hard for you to believe, it is hard to hate you. You understand?"

"…"

"I… I know that you will never be able to make up for any of the horrible things you did… but maybe, if we work together, we will be able to change you for the better. You will be able to become a better person," Shirou said as he kneeled and placed both of his hands on her shoulders. "Nee-san, you do not have to be alone in this. You do not have to think that death is the only remaining option for you. Please, let me help you."

"...I'm sorry, but no... no... it is far too late for that now," she said as she got up, gently moving aside Shirou's hand. "There is nothing I could ever do to redeem myself, and you know it..."

Shirou said nothing as he stood up, his mind racing for the right words.

"I'm sorry that it had to come to this..." Medea then said.

Shirou raised his eyes to look at her, puzzled. Why was she apologizing? Didn't she want him to harm her? Then why seek forgiveness for what she was doing…

"Do not say you're sorry... being sorry will not undo all the things you've done… and all of this," he said with a bitter tone, wondering if Medea had any idea of the position she had just put him in…

"I know..."

"...You know? So, now that you're starting to regret everything you did, you think this is the opportunity for penance?! And you're even asking me of all people to-!"

"No," Medea interrupted him. "I'm not looking for penance, Shirou, and if you want to know the truth, I will never regret the things I had to do to save you. I… I just regret everything before it."

"..."

"...And what about that other matter? Who else should handle it?" she inquired. "Should I tackle it alone? I'm nothing but a coward. I could never bring myself to do it, no matter how dire the circumstances... but you, you are the sole source of joy in my life, the only person I've ever truly cared for... you mean everything to me. Just as I once wished for you to care for me, now I wish for you to bury me," she conveyed, gently guiding his right hand to her cheek and gazing at him with tender eyes.

Shirou yearned to be astonished, to be taken aback, but he found himself strangely unfazed. After all, what else could he expect from the woman who had, out of both love and a desire to spare them from the grim consequences of her own actions, taken the lives of her own sons? And who had also acted out of hatred and vengeance, seeking retribution against their father, Jason, for his betrayal?

"...Please, Nee-san, I implore you, release yourself from the burden of guilt that weighs you down, for it can bring no good to either of us. Henceforth, the only decision that matters is the kind of person you wish to become," Shirou stated before pausing momentarily. "...if... if you cannot do it for yourself, then do it for me," he continued, closing the distance between them.

"For me?" Medea responded, her tone almost derisive. "If I truly cared about your desires, I would never have taken the lives of everyone you held dear. You truly do not understand me, Shirou. These past ten years have been nothing but a facade. The true me would sooner see the world reduced to ashes than continue living in it, drowning in misery and self-pity!"

Shirou's patience was wearing thin, and the contradictions in Medea's words were becoming increasingly frustrating. He was the person she claimed to care for the most, yet it seemed she didn't care for him at all. She had once dedicated herself to molding him into the best version of himself, but now it seemed she was determined to dismantle the very essence of who he was. Her love for him had been unwavering from the moment she had rescued him, but now she showed no hesitation in attempting to maim him. Did she even comprehend the conflicting messages she was conveying? But then, a troubling thought crossed his mind—a thought he loathed but couldn't ignore, one that might explain everything..

"These ten years have been a lie?... Then... you don't care about me at all? ...Am I just a replacement for you? ...Could it be that you raised me just to have me end your life? ...Do you miss 'him' that much?"

Medea fell silent, but Shirou's questions had struck a nerve.

"..." Shirou withdrew his hand from her grasp and took a step back.

"No. Please, Shirou, don't say such things; you're misunderstanding..." Medea stammered, her eyes pleading with him.

"You underestimate me, Medea. I understand more than you think. You admitted yourself that 'I' was someone else," he responded, his stare now bitter and cold.

In this moment, despite her desire to be relieved of her guilt and to die by his hand, Medea couldn't bear the thought of Shirou hating her in that way. It went against her objectives and everything she was currently attempting to achieve, yet, she couldn't accept to let him even think that her love for him might have never been genuine.

"Please, Shirou, try to understand that I was becoming delirious... I didn't mean to say anything that would hurt you... I was just confused..."

He remained silent for a moment before speaking again.

"No matter what I think, I still don't see how things can end well... Is that really my only option? Do I have to become that Shirou who values everyone's life above his own for you to care about me?"

"What?" Medea was taken aback.

"Do I need to prioritize everyone else's life over mine? Do I have to risk my life just to find out if you truly care about me?" he asked.

Medea could see the determination in his eyes. She understood that he was willing to go to such lengths just to ascertain his importance to her.

"Don't say such hurtful things, Shirou... you're hurting me..."

"Oh... am I?" He asked while wiping the blood from his left eye that had been stained by a trickle of blood that had come from the top of his forehead.

Medea clenched her teeth as she realized the hypocrisy of her actions. The bleeding might have been staunched, but at this point, he was drenched in both his own blood and hers. She had wounded him and placed him in this position because of her selfish desires. But what he was contemplating was too much. She had gone to such lengths to ensure he would never become that kind of person again.

"Shirou, I can understand your anger and lack of trust, but for me... it's difficult to explain, but for me, you are all the same person. Can you understand?"

"...How can I trust you? You would never have done such a thing to him, right?"

Medea was left speechless for a moment, then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to regain her composure.

"... Shirou, even if I were lying, you have to understand that I loved that boy for maybe a month at most... but I've loved you for ten years at least. There's no comparison or competition... can you see that?"

After a moment, Shirou averted his gaze from her, clenching his teeth and fists. His heart ached intensely, making it impossible for him to meet her eyes.

"I don't understand. You say things like this and expect me to kill you?"

His doubts and fears about being a replacement had vanished, replaced by an indescribable fear that gripped his heart.

"Yes, I do. I've revealed my true nature to you, and you know what I am now. I'm a witch who, no matter where she went, brought only death and disgrace. Due to my misguided actions and selfish desires, I ignored your wishes and pursued my own path. I desecrated the memory of your nonexistent grave. I took the lives of your loved ones. I brought shame to all your efforts and rendered them meaningless by causing the deaths of who knows how many people... I... I became the very thing you despised the most."

"..."

"The time has come, Shirou, and you have to act. Be a hero, kill me, and make this world a better place."

"How could I?"

"You saved me. You did everything in your power to help me... and yet I've condemned not only you but also everyone you loved to darker fates. So, for the greater good of everything and everyone, kill me. End it now before I somehow ruin everything again... you have to do it."

...

...

"Can't we just forget what just happened and... go back to our normal lives?"

"No."

He could feel the finality in her response. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

"Can't you just forget your past?"

"I've already told you that I can't."

"Then... can't you just... like... run away from it? Ignore it?"

"For my entire life, all I've done is run away from the consequences of my actions... but now, I'm tired of running. I can't run anymore, and I don't want to. It's over."

Shirou tensed at hearing those words. It was over? How could it be over? It couldn't end like this!

"Nothing is over! You can't take back what you've done, but-!"

"No! I knew what I was doing, Shirou!" Medea declared as she grabbed his shoulder and drew closer to him. "I was free! And this world that yearned to witness your failure, your demise, and your oblivion... I reduced it to ashes!"

"But I can't let you-!"

"Shirou! I've told you numerous times the harsh truth: some people must die to make this world a better place... and... that night, you promised me that you would become the hero this world needed, isn't that so?" She told him, wearing a genuine yet sly smile and wide eyes, fully aware of just how much that promise meant to him and the effect its mention would have on him.

Shirou gazed at her with disbelief, feeling the weight of her words and the manipulation of his sincere promise weighing on him.

"Are you my little hero... or not?" She asked again.

"I... I made that promise because I wanted to make you happy! I wanted you to be proud of me! Because I wanted to be just like you!" Shirou finally lost his composure, and anger surged within him. He had reached his breaking point. This level of stress was something he had never been prepared to face. How could she dare to manipulate him? How could she twist such a pure promise filled with happiness and childlike naivety for her twisted and selfish purposes?

"I've always been proud of you. So there's no need for any of that," she coldly rebuked, concealing from him the fact that he would, in some way, become like her whether he liked it or not.

"How... How can you be so selfish to ask me to do something like this?!"

"...You think that what I desire now is selfish? Hah! Then what were all the other things I ever did?"

"..."

"I know that the truth is hard to hear, Shirou. But it's time. I'm all that's left. And we can't live this lie forever."

"...But we-"

"SHUT UP, SHIROU! MAN UP! AND DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO!" Medea suddenly screamed, her voice wild and hysterical.

Shirou remained shocked, his mouth agape, unable to respond. In that moment, he realized that never in the past ten years had Medea ever shouted at him. Even in comparison to what had happened just minutes earlier, he had never seen her reach such a breaking point.

As Shirou reflected on the earlier moment when Medea had smiled while declaring that it was her time, he finally grasped the depth of her emotions. Never before had he seen someone exhibit such a mix of delight, anger, and desperation, all in the pursuit of their own death.

How could he help her? What could he possibly do for her?

Lost in his thoughts, Shirou didn't notice when Medea walked away and approached the door. However, as she stopped just short of leaving, he turned to look at her and saw the shame in her eyes, along with the clear hurt she was experiencing.

"Look... if... if you truly want to save someone who's worth the effort, you should know that two weeks from now, in the forest near the Ryuudou temple, there will be someone who will need your help... and I ask you to take care of her to the best of your ability, as she's someone who truly is not guilty of anything," Medea said, hesitating as she prepared to leave.

Shirou's eyes widened as he comprehended the gravity of her request.

At that moment, he wanted to chase after her, to ensure she wasn't left alone. But he questioned what he could achieve, what he could accomplish, and his legs felt as if they were weighed down, immobilizing him.

And so, Shirou remained frozen in the midst of his tumultuous emotions, watching as Medea departed. But before she disappeared from his sight, she glanced back at him one final time, her expression filled with sadness, leaving a haunting image etched in his memory.

The echoes of that unexpected violent episode reverberated in his mind, each thud of his racing heart mimicking the chaos that had unfolded just moments ago. The world around him seemed to blur, his surroundings fading into an abstract mix of colors and shapes, as his thoughts swirled in a maelstrom of doubt and fear.

He replayed the violent episode in his mind, the way his Medea's eyes had lost their warmth, the harsh words that had escaped her lips, the lack of hesitation in casting spells that would have maimed him, and the sense of helplessness that had filled the air.

Now, she had departed, wearing that same heart-wrenching expression she had worn ten years prior. Shirou couldn't bear to see her like that; he couldn't endure that expression. It was something he had never been able to tolerate.

…But he also feared the unknown path that lay ahead. What if he chased her and only made things worse? What if his efforts pushed her farther away?

Shirou's chest tightened as he battled the torrent of questions flooding his mind. Could he truly make a difference? Would his presence be a solace or a burden to Medea? The weight of his responsibilities pressed down on him, holding him captive even as his heart pleaded for action. He wanted to be her anchor, to ease her pain, but the path forward was shrouded in uncertainty.

As he stood there, lost in the storm of his emotions, a distant voice within him began to surface—a voice that whispered of resilience and courage. Memories of Medea's comforting embrace, the laughter they had shared, and the warmth of their bond began to seep through the cracks in his doubt-ridden mind.

He realized that even if he couldn't foresee the outcome, taking action was better than succumbing to the inertia of his own hesitations.

With a surge of determination, Shirou's mind sharpened as he passed his right hand across his body, bringing it in front of his eyes.

His right hand was tainted with blood, a vivid proof of the brutal conflict he had just endured. And as he examined his own battered form for the first time since the fight's conclusion, the extent of his injuries became painfully evident.

It was a testament to the cost of Medea's unwavering pursuit of her objective.

But now, it was his turn to reveal the depths of his resolve.

Shirou's expression hardened, his countenance steeling against the tumult of emotions.

Her voice, dripping with spite and hatred, continued to reverberate in his ears, serving as the fuel for his unwavering determination. It was a haunting reminder of the task that lay before him—an endeavor that allowed no room for hesitation. He understood that he could not falter; he could not permit her actions to remain unanswered.

In this pivotal moment, Shirou's mind transformed into an unyielding fortress, his thoughts resolute and unwavering. He had pledged to do whatever was necessary for her, and his conviction in those words was absolute.

His iron will hardened, and he pronounced his verdict.

"...You leave me no choice, then," Shirou declared aloud, the edge of his determination slicing through the shroud of uncertainty and doubt like a blade through the darkness.

Confronted with adversity, he unearthed his unyielding resolve. It was a path he had sworn to tread, one that demanded unflinching determination.

With every fiber of his being, he was committed to fulfilling that vow, and his iron will fortified him to face the daunting mission through to its bitter end.

---

'...Oh, Shirou, if only you could understand me…' Medea thought as she exited her home and walked to the middle of the backyard.

Medea walked slowly, her steps filled with determination, heading toward the very spot where she had witnessed her own destiny unfold. As she reached that precise position, she understood that her vision had been realized, and that her fate had been sealed. That was the moment. Soon, everything would come to an end.

'...You already saved me. Not that night. But in these 10 years, you saved me. My heart had become stone, a cold monument to my sins. I never thought that I could ever love again, that I could be redeemed in any way possible. But through you, I've found my redemption: I finally regret.'

In the tranquil garden, she stood motionless, the stars above casting a mournful glow.

'...I know that you may hate me for pushing you into doing it… But you have to understand… how can I prove it to everyone… to everything… to the world… to myself… that I actually regret what I did… if not through death? It is my only way. The only way to redeem myself.'

Her words carried a weight that mirrored the darkness that enveloped her. The breeze whispered secrets of her past, chilling her to the bone as she continued her vigil.

'...How funny. I always deemed that Jason was a weak-willed man when he killed himself… But now I understand the sorrow and the genuine regret of one's actions that would lead to that. And yet, compared to him, I'm too much of a coward to take my own life… and I had to resort to you, Shirou.' Medea thought, her eyes growing heavy.

Poor child. Just what was she pushing him to do? He would ultimately be the one to bear the consequences of her actions, enduring the most profound of sufferings...

From the center of the backyard, she surveyed her surroundings. The garden felt like an abandoned realm, and the burden of her past pressed heavily upon her.

'But this had to happen. I do not belong here. Not in this place… not in this time… not anywhere…' Medea's thoughts whispered into the night, her words swallowed by the all-encompassing darkness, as if the very universe conspired against her.

"But I always dreamt about it. I always wanted a life like this. And I never cared for what I had to do to have it. I alone deserved it because of everything I've lost..." Medea said, her voice carrying the weight of years of longing and sacrifice. Her words hung heavy in the still night air.

As she paused and turned around, the garden around her seemed to wither, mirroring the forsaken realm within her heart. The burden of her past, like an unbreakable chain, bore down upon her, a relentless weight that threatened to crush her very soul.

"...And I've done everything I could to obtain it," she finished, her eyes meeting Shirou's unwavering gaze as he stood on the veranda, a steel resolve etched into his eyes, a cold steel sword gripped tightly in his right hand.

"...You sure took your time," she remarked, her voice trembling with anticipation.

In the depths of her thoughts, Medea acknowledged her earlier doubts about her divination. Everything was unfolding precisely as she had foreseen, yet, and her heart ached with the inevitability of it all.

"...You left me with no choice," Shirou replied dryly, his footsteps echoing as he advanced toward her.

Her heart quickened its pace, and she took a hesitant step forward. "...I'm glad that you have finally understood."

"Yes. I understand what I have to do." Shirou's voice held unwavering determination as he continued to close the distance between them. "I understand that I have to save you…"

"Stupid, you can't-!" Medea's words were bitten off sharply, her teeth gritted, as she contemplated stepping back to flee from him.

"…From yourself." Shirou's voice was unwavering, his words piercing through her defenses.

Medea froze, her heart seizing in her chest. She had heard those words before, knew their implications, but now she hesitated. Did he truly mean it? …Would he genuinely go to such extremes to grant her desire?

"...After all the things I've done… Do you still want to… save me?"

"Of course." Shirou's voice was gentle but resolute as he drew closer.

"…Why?" Her voice trembled with vulnerability, though she already knew the answer deep inside of herself.

"Because I love you." His words hung in the air, a confession of the deepest emotions, as he stood before her.

Tears welled up in Medea's eyes, and she began to cry, overwhelmed by a mixture of happiness, disbelief, and relief.

She had always wondered how she would face the end. But now, in Shirou's embrace, she felt only peace.

---

"Thank you Shirou. I'm so glad that it was you."

---

THIS IS NOT THE END! Read everything pls.

Author's notes: So, huh, I finally did it…I have (almost) reached the end. As you can guess, there are two different endings, and you can pretty much guess what they are about, but if you prefere a vague ending compared to a definite one, you can stop reading here.

In the first ending I will write we will see Shirou actually saving Medea from herself, and how they will try to make everything right. While in the second we will see the consequences of Shirou granting Medea's wish and what it lead to it.

"Wait? Shirou spared her in one of the endings? It make no sense, it is pretty clear that he is about to kill her."

My brother in christ, what did Medea see in her vision? Shirou killing her? Nope. She just saw a flash of their confrontation and jumped on the conclusion… at least in her "good" ending, that is.

Now, jokes apart, if you have noticed a dramatic improvement in my writing it is thanks to chat gtp. Before using chat I used a mix of Grammarly and Quill bot, while now I use chat to bot fix the most simple of grammatical mistakes and sentences errors, "rewriting" what I had written, and also improve the original text by adding more depth, flavor, or simply extending it where I deemed it to be more extended. Like, 95% of this whole chapter has been written by me, while the remaining 5% had been later been added by chat gtp.

And since I have almost reached the end, I am already thinking of the re-write. I intend to improve it in almost every aspect and making it more faithful to the original VN. And I was also thinking about changing the title. Seeing the stand the characters take and their type of personality I thought that "Fate stay night; Iron will" Could be fitting, but I'm not too sure about it. What do you think? Nice title? Definitely better than the current one.

Focusing on the chapter itself, I hope you have liked the way things have turned out, as, from my point of view, this was the ending that someone such as Medea deserved.

What I wanted to give to Medea was a redemption, something already difficult to achive given the things she had already done in her original story, and made even more difficult after the things I later made her do... or is it?

Now, i do not want to start any discourse about morality and any other things such as that, but what kind of morality can someone expect Medea to have, given her actions? Can we really be surprised by the things she had done to save Shirou, when she had done something much more despicable and endlessly much more cruel and pettier at Jason betreyal? Can we really expect someone like Medea to care about other people she barely knew, when she barely hesitated in killing their own sons for the sake of revenge?

Given that the version of Medea I have utilized in this story is the one who had killed her sons only out of revenge, I wondered: what kind of redemption could I ever give her? What kind of path would she have to go to regret her actions?

Then, it came to me: Shirou. A young Shirou.

The reason I made her save Shirou from when he was a child, in short words, was to make her feel once again what it meant to be a mother, make her see and understand what kind of people her sons would have grown up into if only she had not killed them and she had given them the chance to live their lives, and make her remind, or truly realize, what she had done to the only people who truily loved her in life.

At the beginning, when I had started to write this story, I simply wanted to ship Shirou and Medea, but, despite liking her character, I could not forget the whole child murdering thing and her (Fate Canonical) neutral-evil morality. It was for this reason that I wrote two different endings. One to simply see what I had always wanted to read, and another one to see what it should happen to a character like hers, make her mature and reach a proper ending for her character.

A simple redemption where she said that she was sorry was not enough for me. I mean, I did not see her crying, saying something about how unfair everything had been, crying about something lasting ten years at leats, Shirou thanking her for commiting infanticide and genocide for his sake, and then make her die and turn into a bird or something (If you know, you know.).

Medea was a terrible person, therfore, she had to give her best in showing her regret, her pain, and guilt, in ways only she could: through destructiveness, intense emotions, irrationality, and selfishness.

A tiger cannot change its stripes, isn't that right? So just as she did not care about her sons thousands of years prior, in the present time, she does not care about Shirou... up a certain point, that is. I had to also show that she had also changed in that aspect as well, even if just a bit. It is way better to simply lose a foot or a hand, than you life, isn't that right? Lol.

As I was saying, I wanted Medea to change for the best, but to keep it inherent to her character, I had to make her take the path of self destruction.

Just as she had said in this last chapter, after all the things she had done, I do not see how she could show her regret in any other way other than through death.

And that is enough for me. To see her reach her resolve, to walk in the face of death, to show to everyone and to herself that she truily regretted what she had done is enough for me, regardless of the decision Shirou would take, to save her or to put her out of her misery. I have reached my goal, and now I am happy.

So, saying all I wanted to say, I know that in the last chapter I said that to write this one I should have taken less time since I should have been much shorter, but as you can understand, I could not simply make medea simply go crazy, feel bad, and die or what else. I had to buld it up, and make it reach a nice conclusion. And I hope I did it nicely.

Still, now I have to "simply" write the two endings. And they "SHOULD" Be very breif, not very long. Maybe even Shorter than 5k words. I don't know. If you have read all of my notes, you may have noticed the particular trend of me promising certain things, nad tose certain things getting way out of hand far too much. Therefore I do not promise anything, but by the end of the year the story should be over and I should have started my rewrite.

I hope you liked this chapter. Stay safe guys, and good luck.