Chapter 2: Bladed Path of Crimson.
His body was in great pain; he felt as if there were thousands of needles piercing his skin.
He felt fatigued and empty.
Avalon can heal fatal wounds fairly quickly, but that is about it. It does not recover one's reserves and does not soothe the pain of the said injury.
He winced when he tried to move; a similar feeling he suffered in that cave.
He fended off the beast for what he could assume to be hours on end with a futile result; the last sword he projected earlier was scattered on the ground in the form of shards with dried blood scattered throughout.
He gritted his teeth in frustration as he stared at the beast he failed to take down.
He was in a hopeless situation and knew that. But still he stood firm.
If he were to be defeated now, the promise that he made to the people he cared about would not come to fruition.
He stared at the creature as it howled in victory, frustration emanating from his bloodshot eyes.
He hissed when he clenched his broken and bloodied fists, wincing at the pain that traveled to his fried brain. Grinding his teeth, he took a step; one that pained him.
It surprised the massive beast; it should have already won. Curiosity and irritation it felt as it turned its attention to his pitiful form. Snarling in irritation, it cocked back its humongous arms to smash the human once and for all; a menacing and viscous smile then split its deformed face.
The nameless phantasm he held earlier had already taken almost all of his Od reserves, further multiplying the throbbing feeling of pain circulating within his body; a sign that his circuits were close to being permanently damaged. He knew that if his circuits were to be damaged in any way, there would be no way of restoring them. Therefore, the possibility of death was higher than it ever was. And even if he managed to survive, he would live a crippled life.
A fate worse than death was waiting for him.
He held salty tears from dripping down his face while he squared his faltering stance.
This was his last stand.
The beast growled as it brought down its humongous arm ravenously.
He widened his eyes after determining the attack's potency; upon impact, this would definitely kill him. At the last second, he evaded the attack, but the rippling effect of the beast's power prickled his skin with concrete.
He winced in pain as he skidded to a wall.
Seeing its failure, it snarled in anger. Shattering the earth beneath its feet, it took a step. It then swung its monstrous arm towards him at break-neck speeds, breaking the sound barrier.
He barely docked in time.
He saw how fortunate he was, seeing the attack utterly decimate the building to his right.
It then brought its arm upwards and then just like a heavy meteor, it brought its arm to the ground with bashful force. Upon impact, it formed a rather large crater; the resulting shockwave tossed the human like a ragdoll, his momentum only halted when he hit a building.
At the abrupt stop however, he fell; he was like a puppet cut from its binding strings.
He coughed up copious amounts of blood while standing up; the pain of regenerating organs hit him like thunder. He chuckled painfully, feeling more blood clog his esophagus.
Its failure aggravated it even further as its eyes then focused on him.
The stare gave off a feeling of certain death.
Composing himself, he squared his faulty stance. He intended to project his favorite pair of swords; the last time he would do so.
He smiled bitterly, ready to destroy his circuits to fuel the swords' formation.
"Trace o-"
[Don't be such a crybaby boy! Prove yourself that you're indeed worthy of this body!]
He widened his eyes at the voice that graced his ears.
"What the?!"
That voice was draconian; fierce, hardened, and proud.
He shook those thoughts away; he had no time to think about such trivial matters.
The beast's strike came like a blurring sledgehammer of flesh aimed at taking his life away.
The attack was simply too quick to be evaded.
Gritting his teeth, he conjured up the courage to face the pain of tracing the last of his Od away while standing firm in the face of imminent death.
The being earlier, whoever he was, was right.
This was not the time to cry.
[Boost!]
Suddenly, pure power flowed through his system. He widened his eyes, feeling that his strength was multiplied. No, it was not just multiplied, it was multiplied by itself. This granted him strength beyond the level he had before even exhausting his power. Even his reserves from none catapulted to levels that he would never think were possible for him; it was now possible for Shirou to project high-ranking noble phantasms as easily as breathing air.
He was amazed yet suspicious.
How did he not find this dormant power earlier? This much power would put some servants to shame, perhaps even impress Archer, his rival.
Despite the insecurities he had, he decided to make the most of it; it might be temporary after all.
"Trace on!"
What he had visualized earlier came to fruition, materializing in his grasp in a glorious flash of light.
Upon holding Kanshou and Bakuya, he was taken aback by the sudden increase in quality, knowing that his mere projections could not be at this level of power. And yet, here he was, marveling at a power that might even give the original a run for its money.
A gauntlet then materialized, much to his surprise.
Its color is crimson and its nature draconian; a green gem adjourned the middle of the gauntlet, as well as its back. It had sharp claws for fingers and spikes of gold adorned its entirety. What surprised him was not the gauntlet itself, but the fact that he could not unravel its structure; it was as if it was a heavenly construct. It had its history blurred to the point of being unrecognizable; it pained him to even try to look at its painful swirling history.
...
The massive, once overconfident beast shook in terror after setting its gaze on the gauntlet; the ground then shook as it stepped backward, scared for its life.
But despite its newly discovered fear, it still swung its left arm; the sound boomed bashfully. Upon impact, the ground shook like there was a terrible earthquake; dust and soot rose from the crater it formed.
Thinking that it had won, a delighted face overtook its fear. But that feeling of ecstasy was short-lived.
With one arm, he blocked the massive plump fist with his Kanshou with no visible strain whatsoever.
The beast, no matter how strong, falls short of the strength of a genuine servant.
He furrowed his brows.
He waved his Kanshou with such rageful force that it threw the massive arm in the opposite direction, causing the beast's balance to be disrupted. Quickly, it balanced itself; the crimson eyes that once held dominance were now filled with fear. It did not let up though, as it, once again, cocked back its humongous arm, charging it with massive and booming force.
Seeing its attempt, he crossed his blades; sparks emanating from the friction it caused. He would not allow such an attack to land again or even give the beast a chance of living another day.
As fluid as water and as ravenous as a flowing river, he attacked.
A single cutting motion was all it took; the entirety of the arm fell off its socket. Blood then spewed into the alley, ultimately painting the alley blood-red. Upon seeing the river of blood, he brought his arms to his face to avoid being blinded.
Having lost its arm, it screeched in pain; hesitating after thinking of its possible demise. But after seeing Shirou's upcoming attack, it was given no choice. It cocked back its massive fist to attempt to deliver a devastating blow.
However,
[Boost!]
With the utmost speed and precision, he cleaved the beast as easily as cutting butter with a hot knife; two lumps of flesh impacted the ground with force, dust rising upon its impact.
He dismissed the sword while examining the gauntlet in his arms. He clenched his fists and then opened his palm wide, feeling the rare metallic material that it was made of.
He exhaled a breath that he did not even know he was holding.
As much as we wanted to find out more, he had to move quickly. In a greenish blur of light, he sped off to his house; the blood that stained his suit was blown off by the wind.
When he arrived at the Hyoudou residence, he, like an assassin, unlocked the window that led to his bedroom.
Then unexpectedly, he fell face-first into the soft mattress below; a relaxed grunt of relief escaped his lips. Suddenly and abruptly, he turned his body to face the ceiling while letting his tensed muscles relax after the encounter that nearly cost him his life.
But after being lost in a sea of worrisome thoughts, he stood up.
In a flash, he dismissed the body suit which unintentionally dismissed the gauntlet, much to his surprise. Though, he certainly did not expect fatigue to come back in full force.
Though weak as a stick of thin noodles, he still had the energy to wear his clothes. But after doing so, he plopped down to the bed, quickly drifting off to sleep while unaware that something was waiting for him on the other side.
The familiar stench of fire entered his nose.
He widened his eyes, darting around the scene that he was in.
Ravenous fire scorched the ground as far as he could see.
It reminded him of the blazing inferno that gave birth to him and yet, it was fundamentally different.
There were no perishing people, no ashes to be blown up by the wind, and there was no circular space ominously emitting the darkest of forces.
It was just a field of fire.
And even with the temperature that the gigantic embers of flames seemed to emit, when he touched them, he did not feel any pain.
It was, instead, quite welcoming.
A deep voice then grumbled, disrupting the field of fire.
This shook him. "Who?!" Turning his attention to the source, his skin paled.
A slit green eye focused on him; it was an eye of curiosity.
[It took you long enough to awaken me, Emiya Shirou, or should I say, Partner!?]
It was a dragon of enormous proportions, the peak of all phantasmal creatures.
Rows of razor-sharp teeth were hidden in a somewhat metallic scale. Ginormous crimson wings, with spikes of red at each end, and crimson razor-sharp claws. Its chiseled body was covered with metallic red scales that shone from the radiance of the dancing wildfire that surrounded them.
It was an imposing figure.
He stood frozen still; a familiar feeling of dread overcoming him.
Even so, he could not help but be curious.
The voice of encouragement he heard earlier sounded eerily similar to the being's voice that stood firm in front of him. Therefore, it could mean that there is a high possibility that it was the one who gave him overwhelming power in the midst of certain death.
…
But, even after coming up with a possible answer to his rather troublesome question, it still confused him to his core. "Why would the strongest of the phantasmal beings aid a weakling such as me?" he could not help but mutter; his tone was of confusion.
From what he knew, beings such as dragons were only capable of heinous events and massive areas of destruction; their strength was well known, as well as their undying confidence and pride.
Then why would the dragon in front of him stoop so low to help him, a weakling?
The imposing figure grumbled like a child before lousily impacting the ground with its massive body. Such a gesture caused dust to rise from the surface which forced him to cover his eyes fast.
[You do not know? I thought that you, a well-experienced hunter would have known of the existence of sacred gears…My rank is quite popular too!] The dragon groveled. It then brought its stout arms to cover its face while imitating a weeping boy.
Eh?
Seeing such a care-free attitude, he was rightfully confused. How could a proud being of absolute power be this carefree? That he does not know. But nevertheless, there was one thing he heard that he deemed too interesting to pass on unanswered.
"Sacred gear? What do you mean by that?"
He had no idea what "sacred gears" were, but instead, a stray thought immediately came to his mind.
Throughout the days he stayed in Kuoh, he felt several presences; some were dark as if it was a satanic force, some were concentrated, compacted, and seemed to dominate everything around it. It was likely that those energy signatures belonged to supernatural beings, perhaps to the so-called stalkers. "I sense unnatural presences around me all the time, observing…" Shirou muttered while cupping his chin in thought. "...What I hunted also emitted tainted presences. Are those the "sacred gear" you speak of?" he questioned with as much respect as he could muster.
The figure sighed, exasperated.
[Sacred Gears can only be used by humans and reincarnated devils. Though, it is very likely that some of those devils you deem as stalkers are reincarnated humans!]
"Why would humans-!?" He widened his eyes but shut his mouth close, remembering that he had no right to shout. Inside however, he was understandably disappointed by such a concept. Humans in this world are, it would seem, easily shaken by the devils' claims of largely exaggerated promises, therefore they allowed themselves to be reincarnated.
[Truly naive!] The dragon exclaimed in mild irritation. [You spend much of your time hunting those beasts, and yet, you don't even know how the moon-lit world works! How disappointing!] The tone was of disappointment.
Silence came soon after.
The figure itself was taking its time to converse with him while having the power to eliminate him without as much of a care; something that he knew that such phantasmal beings were not capable of. He should not have been worth an ounce of the figure's time, and yet he stooped to his level without as much of a "higher" being mentality, even scolding him because of his apparent naivety. The being even claimed him to be his partner while being unworthy of being called as such.
Could he be more carefree in the dragon's vicinity?
"I admit, I am naive…" Shirou sighed "I barely know anything. I simply have no resources to make it work." He paused while contemplating his next choice of words. "…The more I tried to find out more about them, it felt as if they were avoiding me on purpose." A barely audible sigh came out of his sealed lips. "That made things significantly harder, so I simply stopped trying; it wouldn't be useful in the long run anyway." He admitted boldly.
"Though that does not mean that I already gave up on doing so, I just saw no point." Shirou countered respectfully after seeing the being's face of disappointment. "Besides, I can't just reveal myself to the world that houses power that even I can't compete with." He could not help but sink his shoulders. "I've already experienced the moonlit world firsthand; thrown into the belly of a beast without so much as consent."
In the meantime, he seemed care-free; he simply did not want to remember.
…
The being wished no harm, seeing how calm it was. There is simply no need to be tense and hardened. As long as he behaves, surely, it will not bring out the wrath of a thousand suns from the one whose power exceeds even that of the strongest servants.
[It's the Holy Grail War, isn't it?] For a moment, despite its overwhelming sense of disappointment, it grinned while puffing its chest in pride. [A battle between 7 esteemed mages and their seven summoned familiars or "servants" summoned from throughout mankind's history! Each of these so-called servants was separated into seven types of cards: Saber, Archer, Lancer, Caster, Berserker, Assassin and Rider!]
Shirou's mouth was understandably agape at what he heard.
How does it know his past?
But before he could even speak, the being interrupted him.
[Before you could ramble on about anything, just know that now I know everything about you!]
"H-How is that possible?" Shirou stammered.
[Yours were practically "fused" with Hyoudou Issei's, so it'd be natural that I have access to yours as well!]
"But." He let out in confusion "I've already pushed his soul out of his own body with my own." He cupped his chin in thought. "So how were you able to access his memories?"
The being answered as if exasperated. [Even though you overthrew his soul, Hyoudou Issei himself is still alive. His soul was just transported into a realm that cannot be reached through regular means. That I mean is your soul, your reality marble!]
But after seeing Shirou's understandableface of confusion, it continued. [To clarify, he was just pushed out; the memories he had up to that point stayed in this body's mind!]
"His soul being transported to my inner world, it sounds surreal." he muttered while his head was craned downwards to the soldering dirt.
[…Before I was sealed away, an old man taught me that bringing the dead back to life was possible without the use of any wish-granting device!] It spoke upbeat. [He taught me about the intricacies of the soul and the fact that it could be molded and transported into an empty vessel, a doll. Sounds quite familiar, don't you think?]
"It does." Shirou nodded. "Because that's literally how a Heaven's feel ritual would usually go: The one blessed with the power of the True Third True Magic would manipulate the dead's soul and bring it to a suitable vessel…" He elaborated, "…In this case, it does apply to me quite a bit; the world within me acted as that vessel, trapping Hyoudou there while I controlled his body."
[Damn right you are, partner!] The being exclaimed as if it knew this beforehand.
But the second he heard that ritual, there was a name that sparked within; it was the Wizard Marshall; one of the first few to perform it. "...An old man, was it?" A sudden rush of hope overcame him; and such an emotion was only elevated further upon seeing the being's nod. "If so…" He let out. "Please tell me what he looks like!" He balled his fists in anticipation while showing respect.
Even though he had a general grasp of the jeweled sword's history and its owner, the records of its ability to let the user travel to different universes were blurred out of his conscience; possibly because its sheer numbers would overload his brain.
That means the old man could be the Wizard Marshall since he could have easily traveled here with the use of such a weapon, or just a regular old man who happened to coincidentally preach a ritual that did not even exist yet.
[…He was quite tall…] The being answered slowly as if thinking. [He had white hair styled upwards, and had red-ruby eyes; his uh, clothes were quite fancy. In fact, it was quite medieval-ly?] The words rolled off its tongue slowly. [The name was Zelretch, I think? I am not sure! And besides, I'd rather not remember that geezer's damned existence!]
"That is indeed him…" He was relieved; going back to his old world was not as far-fetched as he once thought. But even though he was relieved by such a great development, he had doubts. If it was him, then what was his objective in visiting this world?
Or more specifically, what did he want from the being that stood firm in front of him?
[But I must admit, he was quite formidable; defeating me is something not even God can do, much less with such ease!] Even though he knew of the Wizard's level of power, it still sounded surreal to his brain.
Defeating the strongest of phantasmal beings was a feat that barely anyone has achieved in their lives and yet, he did so, apparently, with ease.
Such a powerful combatant.
Although, that revelation might have hit harder if he knew its name.
"Even though you are the strongest I've ever met..."
It raised its metallic eyebrows in curiosity.
"…I don't know who you are." Shirou admitted truthfully and then paused in contemplation. "…Can you tell me?" He had forgotten to ask the figure and as such, this was a perfect opportunity to ask. Though it was quite laughable, asking a figure that could very well burn him to nothingness, quite casually.
[…I am Ddraig Y Goch the Heavenly Dragon of Dominance!] But then suddenly, the dragon's upbeat tone was replaced with that of disdain. [The other half of…Albion, Gwiber, my arch nemesis, and Rival.]
[Though from what I saw, you're quite versed in history!] Ddraig grinned in praise. [Impressive, since my previous host had no idea who I am in the slightest!]
"To think that he defeated you…" Shirou cupped his chin in thought but continued, nonetheless. "…That jeweled sword gathers energy from all infinite dimensions and universes, so it's not so far-fetched."
"But." He let out, as if he were going to ask something undesirable to the ear. "I must apologize for what I am about to ask."
[Hm? It's fine! You are my partner; a human worthy of wielding my power!]
"What happened after you got defeated?" Shirou spilled carefully.
Ddraig sighed in exasperation. [You must know the reason why he fought me first, Partner.]
Shirou hummed as a response. Though he was surprised at how the being took it lightly; much less tolerated it.
[That bastard of a geezer just appeared out of nowhere!] Ddraig snarled in anger. [He interrupted my peaceful slumber; to think that a lowly creature would be that carefree after doing such a thing!]
Shirou simply nodded in acknowledgement, though shaken by the being's blatant show of bashfulness.
[The events went by so fast! But the gist of it was, we agreed that if he defeated me in a battle, which I thought at that time was impossible. But of course, I was mistaken.] Ddraig sighed. [And then, he babbled nonsense…and…well, the rest is history.]
"That's how it all went down, huh?"
Exasperated by his wielder's uncanny reactions, Ddraig continued. […Back to the main topic now, Partner!] The being paused in contemplation; planning to make his loss more bearable to his metallic ears. After he defeated me…] His tone deflated while muttering those words.
[He preached to me a lot of outrageous things that he claimed to be real.] Ddraig elaborated, irritated to even recall what transpired that day. [...Some of which already happened as far as I can remember!]
Shirou nodded while having his eyes filled with hope.
[...An otherworlder overtook my wielder's soul in this era…] Ddraig murmured. [It was strangely you, Emiya Shirou.]
Shirou widened his eyes, taken aback by the statement.
It was outrageous.
If the old man already knew what situation he would find himself in, why didn't he help him go back to his world?
Shirou gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, shaking in an uncontrollable fit of thinly veiled rage. At that very moment, he realized how much of a bastard the Wizard Marshall was.
[…And then he proclaimed that person was the only one capable of stopping the calamity looming over our heads. Something like that.] Ddraig continued slowly as if careful not to break his partner's spirit.
[Of course, it piqued my interest, but when I tried to confront the bastard more about it, he dismissed me!] Ddraig grumbled. [He was even more of a bastard than Albion ever was!]
"What was his purpose?" Through his closed and gritted teeth Shirou hissed, frustrated.
[He never said much.] Ddraig sighed in disappointment. [Though, you should wake up first! You have things to do!]
Shirou composed himself, not letting the rage boiling within him to overcome his thoughts. "...When could we continue? This is an important matter."
[Hmm. We can still talk inside your mind even if your body is conscious.] Ddraig answered wisely. [Think of it like a servant-master relationship from your world.]
"Oh, it's only that simple…" Shirou murmured, relieved. "How do I wake up?" He asked.
[Just imagine your eyes fluttering open. It should work!]
"Thank you." Shirou bowed with respect, earning a chuckle in the form of an enthusiastic growl.
[Knowledgeable, formal, and experienced, unlike my previous wielder who only had potential. Your feelings of fear and dread dissipated much sooner than my previous wielder's...]
[You are interesting, Emiya Shirou. You always have been ever since you overtook this body.]
…
The world around him fluttered; it was as if reality shifted from the fiery inferno to the room he was familiar with. Tired eyes that lacked the modesty of sleep examined the surroundings; the eerie light pierced the window's opening, reflecting on the floor. The sun's heavenly glow was covered by the night's heavenly void, nullifying its entrancing light.
It was dawn, and the day was approaching quickly.
He had to make his body adapt to his harsh routine. As such, he regularly started to wake himself up at approximately the same time he woke up in his previous world to rigorously train.
Instead of wallowing in his thoughts, he stood up, revealing his disheveled clothes and messy brown hair; the red strands reflected the eerie glow of moonlight. However, he could not help but wonder how his body was sore despite the stress it had gone through.
Perhaps awakening his sacred gear was the reason his resilience was high?
He exhaled while stretching his stiff bones; a satisfying pop resounded from the clogged joints.
Woken up completely, he went on with his usual warm-up routine.
He kneeled then spread his palm wide on the ground, straightening his posture to form a plank. Inhaling air, his upper core muscles and arms clenched as he brought his body up and vice versa. After doing a hundred repetitions, he brought one of his arms to his back while doing push-ups, counting up to a hundred. After pulling that off, he let his other arm do the work. He let the first rest on his back, again doing it in a set of a hundred.
When he finished, he laid his back on the floor to resemble a plank, bringing his arms and hands at his back to support the head. He clenched his lower body muscles, his legs planted in the ground as hard as he could manage. Then, he brought his upper body upwards and back to the original form, exhaling air with each repetition. It totaled up to a hundred once more.
He let out air while standing up; the accumulated stress in his body showed that what he had done up to that point was effective. Not wasting any time, he brought his arms and hands together, crossing the two together. Slow but precise, he brought his body up and down, his calves clenched.
After he finished a hundred repetitions, he stood up. Then, he straightened his body posture while approaching the hanged, battered, and worn-out bundle of sacks filled with hard sand; his eyes never left the object as if he was eying a vulnerable prey. He discovered that some of his blades, particularly the black keys that once belonged to the fake priest he fought once before, provided him with memories of how he trained his body, more importantly, that of hand-to-hand combat.
Such precious information.
He inhaled a handful of fresh air and then squared his position. As if he was lightning, he struck with impressive speed. He hit the "target" with technique and precision, visualizing the inanimate object as an organic, pulsing target, attacking its possible weak points as if it were alive.
Slight scarring slowly became apparent in his fists and shins, but he paid no mind.
Landing the last blow, he exhaled the air he did not know he was holding. He examined his bruised and battered hands and sighed, remembering that his circuits might overheat.
So that means, for now, he cannot train his magecraft.
Understandably, he was disappointed; he had no choice.
He approached the door and turned on its handle. Swiftly, he stepped out of his bedroom and descended the stairs.
It took a bit of hassle since he had to be quiet. But in the end, it was worth it as it allowed him to determine that his "parents" were still asleep.
He was overjoyed.
Not wasting any time, he prepared and ironed Hyoudou Issei's preferred style of the Kuoh Academy uniform composed of a black blazer, a red shirt, and a pair of black pants. He knew that the required Kuoh Academy uniform was more formal than this. But he chose not to change it to show respect for the previous inhabitants' fashion choices.
After doing so, he went to the bathroom to bathe himself.
Refreshed, he headed to the kitchen to immerse himself in the only thing keeping him sane.