Fate: Oppression

by Gavius

Alaya is gone. The Counter Force is gone. Without them, the Throne of Heroes released all the Heroes on Earth against the planet's will. When Gaia sensed that the World is on the brink of collapse, she sent its First Hero to fix the mess. Now, Shirou Emiya has to save the day once again. What can a Retired God, a Treacherous Knight and a Boastful King do to save the planet? [AU]

17. Chapter 16 - Arc IV

DISCLAIMER: I do not take credit from the Fate universe and its characters. The rights and credits go to the original authors.

Read the notes in the first chapter if you haven't done it already.

This is my very first story. I'm confident in my grammar, but if there are any mistakes, then let me know and I'll try to figure out how to fix them as soon as I have time.

Hope you enjoy.

---

FATE/Oppression
-Arc IV-

Chapter 16

It burns.

The sky is red. The ground covered in flames. The air thick with smoke.

Everything around him burns.

The fire and flames are destroying everything. The houses collapse, the ground trembles, the air vibrates. The explosions are incessant, shaking both heaven and earth.

The corpses around him are innumerable. Blackened, burned, steaming. Too many to count.

Still, despite the screams and chaos around him, he continues to walk, undaunted. He only stops when he arrives in front of the gigantic city walls. He raises his eyes, his gaze impassive. The surrounding walls are high, made of marble and metal, defended by spells and magic. Still, they are ruined and full of damage now. The hails of blades doesn't stop, and the raining swords kill and skewer all the enemies on top of the walls.

Today is the day, he decides. His revenge will not be denied. The Gods will pay. They'll remember the defeat of Atlantis and Aztlan all over again. The enemy will die.

Today, the Holy City Xibalba will fall.

The drums of war begin to beat. The gate is raised, and the enemies filter outside. First are the barrel-chested homunculi with arms as thick as tree branches. They heft heavy square shields in front of them, armed with shortswords strapped to their waists. Behind them, tall pikemen armed with spears that have vicious, serrated spearheads. And behind them, common infantrymen with blades and swords. They are – all of them – homunculi. The Gods, ever the cowards, do not deign to leave the walls and lead the charge head on.

No matter. They would all die soon enough. He couldn't care less for the homunculi in front of him, but he smiles faintly when he hears their roar. He can hear the pounding of sandals on dirt and stone, the slowly rising roar of battle cries, the sharp chime of swords being drawn from their scabbards, the stretching sound of bows being drawn back. Then, like the clap of thunder, the battle begins once again.

Arrows are released overhead. The fake humans scream in rage and desperation. He merely raise one arm, and the Unlimited Blade Works rain down on them mercilessly, like a rain of metal and blood. The attack breaks the invaders' shield wall in front of him, swords and spears impaling them alive with little to no effort. Spearmen push their weapons forward, over their comrades' shoulders and heads, but the attacks fail to reach him. In less than three seconds, the first four rows of enemies are completely demolished like nothing. They collapse to the ground, their bodies skewered by swords, spears, arrows and weapons of any shape and size.

Utterly pathetic.

He feels his feet grow damp. Blood is pooling underneath his feet, fleeing from the slaughter around him. He snaps his head upwards as he hears the cries of the dead and dying. Somewhere, a powerful voice is barking orders relentlessly.

"Stop him! KILL HIM!"

He smiles ferally, recognizing the voice. His target is close.

The God of Death, Cizin.

A pair of twin blades appears in his waiting hands, sparkles of black and white.

He doesn't know how long he fights for. Time has no bearing on the battlefield. Ranks and formations break into a chaotic struggle of life and death as he dances among the bodies and slays all those slaves garbed in blue and red with his blades. Every now and then, he glances backwards, making sure the enemy is still inside the city. As the battle progresses, the horde of homunculi thinnes and thinnes.

He can see his own twisted smirk reflecting in the dark eyes of the homunculi. He can see their fear. Their desperation. Their acceptance. They know they are outmatched. They know they are about to die. But they wouldn't just roll over and let nature's natural order take hold of them. They would fight, and die, trying to live and defend the cruel and merciless God who created them.

So be it.

The first homunculus breaks from his stupor and roars a battle cry, his sword raised above his head. From the dark blue plumage of his helm, he can tell it is one of the strongest: a leader. Of what kind, he doesn't know, nor care. But his actions seems to rally his companions, for they raise their own weapons and roar their own battle cries.

The leader rushes forward, but he's too slow. With a mere dash forward, he cuts both his arms from their shoulders with his blades. The poor slave screams and falls to the ground. He's bleeding and writhing and wouldn't shut up. Then, he lashes out with his inhuman speed and drew the tip of the blades across his throat. The prana burst nearly take the homunculus' head off, leaving it attached by a thin string of sinew and skin.

Then, they rush him, like a tide. Wave after wave they come. The first one: a hulking homunuculus with a club made from the trunk of a tree. It's worn, the "handle" having been worn down from the man's hands. It's devoid of bark and stained a pretty pink color; the color of blood staining the wood's white flesh. He dies when he cuts his club in twain and pierces his chest with his twin blades. The second one: tall and muscular. Clearly the subject of experiments of those repulsive Gods. He holds a large sword covered with lightning. Useless. He parries his swing, ducks under a punch with a casual movement and then stab him in the heart. A third one: a humunculus clad in armor, who assaults him from behind. The Blade Works kills him by shooting a sword out of the blue. The blade thrusts itself in his head and he falls to the ground without making a sound.

He pays no mind as more and more enemies die around him. He simply cuts them down and moves on to the next foe, and the next, and the next, and the next.

Until, he stops. There's a woman. A female homunculus. She wears light armor of leather and chain, but her face is hidden behind a helmet with a mask that depicted a demon. The woman charges forward, a fearful but ferocious battle cry tearing itself from her lips. She wields a farmer's scythe in both hands, though she certainly is no farmer. She swings and dances and manages to avoid being cut down by his twin blades.

He narrows his eyes. Then, he feels the sharp bite of pain blossom in his left forearm when the woman's scythe catches him by surprise with a sudden, swift attack. He stumbles backwards and trips on something large and hot and slick. The woman advances on him, the demonic mask she wears whimpering something that he cannot understand. She seems to falter, however, and takes a step backwards. Then, she raises her arm and hurles the scythe at him again. It flies, end-over-end, and catches fast in the dirt above his shoulder. The attack misses him. The demon whimpers something again.

But he's already on his feet again, his heart hammering in his chest. He growls and darts forward, boots slipping on something—the damn worthless thing, what is it? No matter, he's going to kill her. The female homunculus screams and swings her scythe madly. He slaps her arm away with his white blade and drives the black one through her chest.

She tries to say something, but it comes up gurgled and strangled. Her back arches and he can see blood running down her neck from underneath her mask. She falls to the ground, shedding blood from the chest, whimpering and crying like the dying animal she was.

He stares at her for a second. Then, even if he does not know what's possessing him to do it, he takes off her helmet and reveals her face.

The air leaves his lungs all of a sudden.

"—M-Mother?" he gasps.

Pale, porcelain skin and red eyes. Her hair, the unmistakable long silver hair, matted with dirt and blood. Two streaks of black something stains her face on her cheeks, like black tears coming from her eyes. He stares at her with horror and shock. It's her. It's really her. He wouldn't mistake her for anyone in the world.

His mother.

"Oh God!" he cries. Hot tears of anguish fall down his cheeks. "No, no. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he cries.

His mother looks up at him with her red eyes, wet and full of unshed tears. He can feel his heart break under her sad, sympathetic expression. "S-Shirou," she gurgles up at him, running the tips of her fingers across his cheeks. "You've become... just like them," she says with a sad smile.

His heart breaks into a thousand pieces inside his chest.

The woman he had loved the most stares at him with glossy, empty eyes. "You've become… the very same thing… that took our lives."

Then, her hand falls to the ground, and she stilles.

"No," he utters. "No!"

But while despair and horror engulf him like a raging river, he notices something. Her hair is not silver, but golden. Too golden. It doesn't have the sheen of white that his late mother's hair did. Her eyes are different, too. Too crimson; like blood, not ruby. Her skin's pale, too pale. Pale not from beauty, but from fear. The marks on her cheeks aren't tears, but war paints.

This woman is not his mother.

He throws himself back on his haunches and scrambles away from the body. The ground is so, so slick. For the first time in the whole battle, he looks down. The ground, normally so earthy and brown, is now stained a dark crimson color. Small rivers of blood run down the mountain, forming natural streams and washing away the dirt. From his position, he can see what he had tripped over in his battle with the woman: an arm.

With shaking legs, he tries to stand, the metal of his boots sliding on the ground slick with gore. He manages to throw himself upwards, his body shaking solemnly with shock and anxiety. He casts wild glances across the battlefield, noticing an important detail for the first time: he's alone. Corpses are piled high or strewn across the battlefield. A murder of crows has descended upon the carrions, eating their fill. Somewhere, a homunculus lies dying in the fire, rasping his death rattle.

But there's a number of corpses that haven't been touched; haven't been moved. A veritable road of bodies — a trail — dismembered, sliced, and hacked to pieces. Their faces are locked in terrified visages in their death. Each bears the wounds of one or many blades' attacks. His attacks. How many? Tens? No, more. Hundreds? How many?

This is not a fight. Not a battle.

This is War.

He stumbles back over to the woman who he had thought was his mother. Only her face is now locked in an expression of calm and peace; a slight upturning of her lips the only proof. He runs a shaky, calloused hand through his white hair.

The hand comes back wet.

He stares at the palm of his hand, blood coating it like paint. He wonders why his body is now stained and covered with blood. So much so that his hair are no longer white, as usual... but red. Just like they used to be in the past, when he was young.

His eyes flickers between his bloody hand and the woman's face. Back and forth. Back and forth.

This is War. This is pain.

He gulps air, struggling to breathe. Words, not his own, echo in his mind. Words spoken by a woman who had died long ago. A woman killed by him. The very same woman who gave birth to him, and then abandoned him like nothing when he was but an infant.

"I want you to feel pain. To think about pain. To accept pain. To know pain."

He begins to hyperventilate. This is but a small pain compared to what he had suffered in the past. And yet, why does it hurt so much? He hasn't died, he hasn't lost anyone today. The woman at his feet is not his mother. But maybe she is – was – someone's mother? Was she a mother? A daughter? A sister? A wife? What was her pain? Surely it couldn't be greater than the one he feels in his heart now? She was a homunculus, after all! They surely couldn't have a normal life like humans!

That one horrifying moment sears itself into his brain. The feeling of his fist piercing his mother's ribcage. The sound as he tore his blade free from her chest. The terror as he removed the woman's helmet. The look of fear she held in her red eyes. The way she—even in death—spoke to him and gave nothing but the cruel, harsh truth.

And then, he realizes something.

His blood mother was right.

"You are a monster," Sefar had said back then. "No matter how pathetic the reason, for you, it will always be enough to start a war. As long as you'll live, War will never cease to exist in the world. Your human nature pursues strife."

His adoptive mother was wrong.

"Shirou, my child... don't be like them. Don't become like them. Despite what everyone says, you're not different from me, from us. So, please, don't use your powers for evil like the Gods do. Use them to bring peace instead. You alone can decide what you are."

Irisviel entrusted her dream, her hope, to Shirou—to her adoptive son. To him.

And where is that peace now?

This is War. There is no peace. There never was peace. Peace is a lie. Irisviel—his mother—was a liar. There never was peace within him. Never had been peace. Ever since she died, there was only anger, and sadness, and hate inside his heart. There was only War, and the brief interludes between one battle and the next; be it months, years, or decades.

There's only war inside him.

It's all just too funny.

The God of War laughs.

---

Planet: Earth
Date: June 3 2020
Location: Monte Rosa – Pennine Alps (Aosta Valley - Italy)

(======)

Shirou woke in a cold sweat.

He lifted from his camping bed quickly, but not violently. He was too used to it for that. He let out the shaky breath he was holding, focusing on his heartbeat, willing it to slow. He ran a hand over his face, inhaling and exhaling deeply, trying to calm down. After a couple of seconds, he glanced to the other figures inside the camping tent, visibly relaxing at the scene. Iskandar and Mordred were still sleeping, blissfully immersed in their slumber, with the mighty Rider snoring loudly and the girl ruffling the sheets of the bed while she tossed and turned in her sleep, without a care in the world.

He sighed, rubbing his eyelids with a weary motion. Again. It had happened again. This was the third time now. The exact same nightmare. Ever since that day – ever since he had activated the power of Rhongomyniad – that nightmare would always come back every night and haunt him. Always and relentlessly. Ever since he had used the Holy Lance and had come into contact with the fragment of his soul locked inside it, his nights were deprived of sleep and abruptly interrupted by the nightmare. And the nightmare was always the same. The fire. The battle. The woman. The world covered in flames and the earth spilled with blood. It was hell, as much as anything could be.

Except it wasn't a nightmare. Shirou knew the scene in his mind better than he knew his companions. It wasn't a nightmare... it was a memory. One of the most terrible memories he had. The memory of one of the most terrible atrocities and cruelties he had committed during his life: the battle of Xilbalba. One of his countless battles during his personal War against the Gods, more than five thousand years ago.

Shirou sat up on the bed, sighing again and listening to Mordred's breathing and Iskandar's snoring. He mentally cursed himself. He had thought he had overcome all that trauma. He was sure he had left it all behind. His past, his horror, his sins; he had thought they were all gone now. It had been more than a thousand years since he last had nightmares about his past, about what he had done. But now… now they were back. He had been wrong. His past hadn't abandoned him yet. Coming into contact with a fragment of his soul had been enough to make it return and being tormented yet again. It had only took one misfortune to be reminded again of what he had done. Of what he had caused.

Of what he had become.

He sighed yet again. 'What am I, fifty? I shouldn't let myself be afflicted so much. I'm not a youngling anymore,' he mused with a weary, exasperated thought. 'Get over it, Shirou. You have a mission to carry out.'

He slipped out of bed, trying not to wake his friends. It was a little before five; early, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for today. He needed a distraction. He could get started on breakfast after his exercises. And he definitely needed to move in order to clear his mind of these thoughts. So, after having rinsed himself and dressed in his modern clothes, he quietly walked out of the tent and found himself under the dark morning sky.

The cold mountain air welcomed him, making his skin shiver slightly. Shirou sighed as his golden-brown eyes darted to the right, just under thirty paces from the tent he shared with Iskandar and Mordred. Two other tents of green and black fabric were positioned in the middle of the forest clearing, and he could clearly detect the presences inside, asleep but alert at the same time. Sir Bedivere and Sir Gawain were still sleeping in their shared tent, while Artoria stayed in her personal tent, further apart from the others. Since she was the only woman in the group – Mordred was an exception, for obvious reasons – and her Knights could never share the same setting with their King, Shirou had to Trace and Project an entire tent just for her. Not that he had minded, of course, but it had been an interesting scene nonetheless. His lips curled into a smile when he remembered that discussion.

His smile widened as he walked away from the clearing where they had camped and passed the forest. His gaze observed the landscape with wonder and nostalgia. A giant mountainous valley with snow-capped mountains and snow-covered landscapes opened up to his eyes. Large rock formations stood out wherever he looked, and the mountainous landscape extended visibly beyond the horizon. After all, they were still in the middle of the Alps, camping in the heart of a forest of ancient pines, firs and oaks. The view was breathtaking. And while the cold wasn't a problem for him thanks to his status as Demi-God, his body was still alive – unlike the astral body of normal Servants – so he could still feeling a slight chill under the weather. Shirou put on his sweater, also summoning his white cloak and wrapping it around his shoulders as he watched the view.

The highest mountain in the area was clearly visible to the east: Monte Rosa, as it was called by the locals. More than a single mountain, Monte Rosa was a mountain massif in the eastern part of the Pennine Alps, placed between Italy's Piedmont and Aosta Valley and Switzerland's Valais. Monte Rosa was the second highest mountain in the Alps and western Europe, after Mont Blanc; and the group was on the watershed between central and southern Europe. And it was right at the foot of this mountain massif that he and his companions had camped, right in the middle of the great wood downstream from the mountains. Here the snow was light and thin, but the air was cold all the same. The main road was a few hundred meters to the west, bordering the forest. The six of them had stopped here last night during their journey to their next destination: the capital of Italy, Rome.

The God's expression immediately turned serious when he remembered his current objective. His smile disappeared, and he frowned further when the memories of the nightmare came back to him. Still, another shiver ran down his spine at that moment. The temperatures in this area of the Alps were rather mild, given that the altitude wasn't excessive, but at night they still reached −10 °C and ice and snow were ever present. It was still an hour before dawn, so he had to find a way to warm up without lighting a fire until the sun came up. And what better way to warm up than his favorite activity: training.

Therefore, not even two minutes later, Shirou found himself in the snow at some distance from their camping spot, swinging a katana violently, running through his sword forms with a singular desperation. Although he tried to stay focused, the memories of the nightmare always came back to haunt his mind, irritating and distracting him a lot. As the minutes passed, his frown deepened while he kept moving incessantly through all the positions he knew.

And that woman's words – his mother's words – echoed in his head once again.

"You've become... the very same thing... that took our lives."

Shirou gritted his teeth, swinging his sword with so much force against a rock that it shattered into a thousand pieces. Panting, the red-haired Ruler watched the shattered blade, tightening his grip on the hilt with a trembling arm. A moment later, the katana dissolved into nothingness, vanishing from sight like all his Projections and dissolving into a dust of blue and white prana. But he didn't care. He didn't notice. He barely realized the way his arms were shaking in anger and his face twitched in an irritated grimace, his teeth clenched helplessly.

Because it was true. That nightmare was true. That woman was damn right.

He had become what he had swore to destroy. He had become the very same thing that had taken his mother's life. He had become exactly like them.

And despite having spent all these years trying to forget about his past and his actions... despite having believed that he had overcome all the horror and death he had caused... despite having lived in solitude for more than four thousand years, choosing to live as a man... the truth had never stopped to torment him. The fragment of his soul contained in Rhongomyniad had been enough to make everything resurface once again. It had been enough to remind him of the terrible, dark, and inevitable truth he had naively thought he had left behind. There was nothing he could do to stop thinking about it.

Because as much as he hated to admit it, Shirou knew who he was. What he was. And there was no way to deny it.

Shirou clenched his fists helplessly.

Seconds passed, followed by minutes. Silence and darkness surrounded him, interrupted every now and then by the hiss of the cold mountain wind. Still, he stood still and silent, his eyes scowling and staring to the ground and the snow. Then, after an eternity of silence, Shirou sighed and shook his head with resignation. He knew that letting his mind be conditioned by a mere nightmare was foolish, it was useless, but... he couldn't help it. He really couldn't help it. He couldn't just deny what he was, what he had done. Not even after all this time. And his past would always be inside him, no matter how desperately he wanted to erase it. His scars would never leave him. They would never fade despite the decades, centuries, and millennia that passed.

Some days were blissful and sunny. Some others he had to deal with regret and suffering and depression. There was no magic answer to his truth. No easy way to heal his scars and wounds.

He knew this. He already knew this. He knew extremely well. He had spent millennia trying to overcome all of this.

But still...

…What would his mother have thought if she could see him now?

Sheer silence was his only answer.

And for the fist time in a long while, the world turned dark and quiet for him. Darker and quieter than it had been for a long, long time.

Shirou sighed, shaking his head again. He pushed those dark thoughts out of his mind, and ran a hand over his face. Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus and dissolve his growing depression. His right hand twitched, preparing to summon a second katana with a mental command-

-and stopped.

Shirou furrowed his brows. The images of the nightmare began to come back to his mind. The fire. The blood. The screams. The chaos. The death. The blades...

The blades.

He swallowed.

Slowly, tentatively, his fists clenched. Then, with a shaky breath, he steeled his mind and hardened his expression. With a single thought and a last moment of hesitation, he summoned the very same weapons he had seen in the nightmare, mentally bracing himself with a deep breath and shivering slightly when he felt his fingers tighten around a pair of familiar and nostalgic hilts. His body jumped physically at the sudden contact, but his expression remained as solemn as ever.

It happened in an instant. Less than a blink of an eye. The twin blades appeared in his hands in a black and white glow, materializing in his fingers after a very long time. Shirou stared at them with hard, expressionless eyes; his lips pursed in a thin line. Kanshou and Bakuya stared back at him with a subtle glow, twinkling slightly in the starlight. They were quite big and heavy, identical in shape and size, with the only difference being their color. The black sword, Kanshou, was covered in a hexagonal pattern, and the white one, Bakuya, had less of the shine of a polished metal in its ore than it had the haze of a cloud.

The reflection of the moon flickered on the weapons' metal, reflecting the sky that was gradually becoming less and less black and more and more blue. Five seconds passed. Then, a shiver seemed to run through the twin blades as they fully appeared to life; emitting a hiss of elation, and joy, and duty as soon as they returned into their master's hands after all this time. And yet, said master did not share even a little of their elation.

There was nothing but emptiness, and pain, and anger in his amber eyes. Nothing but an immense regret that oozed off from his body like a perceptible fog.

But he didn't let his feelings dominate him. Slowly, but surely, Shirou started to move and swing the blades with precise movements, going through all the positions and all the movements he knew; almost mechanically. Instinctively, actually. He reviewed all the positions, all the attacks, all the movements he had in mind, brandishing the blades and slashing silent thrusts and cuts in the air for what seemed like an eternity; closing his eyes and letting himself go completely to instinct and nostalgia. He didn't know how long he went on like this, letting the blades guide him. It could have been a few minutes, or even several hours. There was no way for him to say for sure.

The fact is that at a certain point, his movements ceased and the blades stopped cutting through the air, slowly returning to his sides.

Shirou let out a long breath.

"May I join you?" a voice called through the wind out of the blue.

He snapped his eyes open. He'd remained so focused on his training that he had failed to detect the familiar presence slowly approaching his position during the last few minutes. Still, that calm, soft voice was unmistakable to his ears. When he turned around, Shirou found himself face to face with the King of Knights herself, wrapped in a fur-lined mantle he'd never seen her wear before. She was staring at him with her deep, emerald eyes; her expression serious and unreadable.

The red-haired Ruler swallowed. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, tightening his grip on the blades and watching her carefully.

"I should be asking you."

"...Training."

"I can see that," Artoria said. "Your form is excellent."

"...Thank you."

Pure silence descended between the two of them.

Artoria looked down, staring at the blades. "Those weapons… I've never seen you use them before," she noted.

The God nodded wordlessly, lowering his eyes with a conflicted expression.

The blonde woman watched him closely as he dissolved the twin blades in a black and white glow. "May I… join you for a quick stroll?" she asked again. "I couldn't sleep, and it's still a little while before dawn."

Shirou hesitated. He swallowed a little. Then, he gave her the sincerest smile he could muster. "It would be an honor, your majesty."

Artoria smiled a little. She moved closer to him as he gestured her to take the lead.

It was tense silence as the two Servants trudged back through the snow, but neither seemed willing to interrupt it. They walked for a couple of minutes, passed the pines and firs of the silent forest, and reached an isolated clearing bordering the road that led to the hinterland of the Country. There, on the opposite side of the road, there was a lookout point overlooking a small overhang, and the two of them sat on a wooden bench positioned under a small shelter, sheltered from snow and ice, observing the mountains and the sun which was slowly starting to appear on the horizon. Shirou sat heavily on the bench, just beneath the shelter, though the driving winds still reached them every now and then. Artoria alighted gracefully next to him.

A couple of seconds of silence passed. Then, in the end, one of the two decided to break it at last.

"Would you like to speak about what's bothering you?" Artoria asked.

Shirou sighed heavily, closing his eyes with weariness. "Am I that obvious?"

"You're usually both serious and light-hearted at the same time, but in the last few days you've remained more silent and distant than usual," the female King replied. "It was too obvious for me. Even Iskandar and Mordred have started to notice."

He snorted. "Did they send you?"

Artoria frowned. "No. Why?"

"It would be just like them."

"I didn't need assistance to see you were in a foul mood yesterday," she defended.

Shirou smiled without glee. "I guess I was," he admitted in the end. Then he sighed, shaking his head slightly. "I'm sorry I made you worry. I'm fine, really. It's just... I feel a little tense these days, that's all."

Artoria glaced at him. "Shirou... is it because of what happened with that Counter Guardian?" she asked.

Shirou clenched his fists. Right. Another concern that had occupied his mind for quite some time now. Nightmares of his past and an enemy who was potentially able to keep up to a God due to an unknown corruption of the Counter Force and the disappearance of Alaya. An enemy who knew who he was. The world really seemed to have fallen apart ever since the anomaly had separated humanity from the Planet. This was exactly what he needed right now. Simply amazing.

Nice timing, karma.

"...yeah."

The King of Knights looked at him carefully. She knew he was lying. Or, at least, that he wasn't telling the whole truth. She could see it in his gaze, in his eyes, and in the way his fists were tightly clenched. And he knew she knew it. He was old and full of worries, but certain things did not easily escape his intuition. He cursed his own inability to be honest for the sake of the mission. He really could have used some help on this occasion.

In the end, Artoria voiced her opinion.

"You lie," she accused.

Shirou smiled mirthlessly. "Often," he admitted.

Artoria looked at him even more closely. "How long before you trust me?" she questioned him.

He stared at the rising sun with a blank face. "...it's not you I don't trust."

"Then who?"

"...myself."

That answer left her visibly confused. Artoria blinked a few times in perplexity. "What do you mean? You are an excellent Servant and the strongest warrior I know. And I know that you're also a trustworthy man. Why would you ever doubt yourself?"

Him? The strongest? Trustworthy? Shirou didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"You helped me when I was in time of need," she continued to say, smiling a little. "Now, if you'll allow me, I want to return the favor."

The smile on the red-head's lips was sad and resigned at the same time. His shame was only growing inside. "...you're a very strong woman, Artoria," he spoke in a sincere tone. His smile disappeared almost immediately. "But I'm fine, really. You don't need to keep worrying about me."

She furrowed her brows, clearly displeased with his answer. "Why are you so hesitant to talk about yourself?" she demanded with an annoyed tone.

His fists clenched. There were so many answers to that question. So many that they could hardly be counted. After all, what could he say? Because Gaia had ordered him to keep his identity a secret? Because in reality he was not the trustworthy and honest warrior they believed him to be? Because his reputation and legend was one of the most terrible – if not THE most terrible – on the planet? Because remembering the past only served to fill him with pain and shame? Because revealing the truth could cause discord and conflict in their group? Because he could endanger them if they knew?

Yeah, nope. There was no way he could say all of that.

"My legend, my past… they're not worthy of being remembered," was all he said instead.

She almost scoffed at his reply. Almost. She didn't believe him in the least. A mighty warrior like him, with a legend not worth remembering? Preposterous.

"I highly doubt it, Ruler."

He flinched a little at the way she addressed him with his Class name, but his expression didn't change. "I just don't like talking about it," was all he said.

She stared for a while. Then, in the end, she closed her eyes and turned towards the horizon with a sigh. "All right," Artoria conceded patiently. After all, she had promised to trust him and not to pry further on that matter during the last battle. But that didn't mean she would stop trying to find out the truth, especially after what happened back in France. Not only Shirou had been able to use her Lance, but he also had cried after seeing her Sword. The woman needed answers after witnessing that impossibility. She would simply have to change her approach and curb her curiosity. For now.

"Then, can you at least tell me about the blades?" she aked him instead.

He blinked confusedly, turning his head towards her. "The blades?" he repeated.

She nodded. "I've never seen you use them before. I saw you using other Servants' Noble Phantams already, and you usually project a bow or an Eastern sword to fight. But I've never seen a Servant using twin blades," she explained slowly, her face unreadable. Her emerald eyes were both solemn and curious at the same time as she watched him. "Besides, they didn't look like Projections. Am I right?"

Shirou hesitated for a couple of seconds, surprised by her powers of observation. Then, finally, he nodded with a small smile. "You're right. They're not Projections. They're the real deal," he admitted in a low voice.

That piqued her curiosity. "Then... are they your Noble Phantasm?"

He smirked. "Nope. I don't have one."

She widened her eyes slightly. "You... don't?" she asked, perplexed.

The God of War chuckled. "I can at least tell you this. I can Trace and Project infinite Noble Phantasms; but I don't own any of them. No– I do have one, but it is not a weapon, and it is not a thing the King of Knights should see," he explained slowly with a strange smile.

Her eyes flashed. "Do not insult my honor, Ruler."

"You're mistaken, your majesty. It is an ugly thing, not fit for your presence. That's what I meant."

"Oh." Artoria pursed her lips. Her fists tightened imperceptibly on her lap. "I… find it hard to believe. You are an honorable warrior, Shirou. You have helped and defended us several times, and your goal is admirable. I doubt your true legend and abilities are as bad as you imply."

He merely smiled sadly. 'Oh, if only you knew...'

The King of Knights decided to change the subject, trying to get more information in another way. "But if the blades aren't your Noble Phantasm, then how did you get them?" she asked again.

Shirou shrugged. His eyes were blank and filled with memories while he stared at something in the distance. "I… stole them," he replied sincerely. Seeing the woman's shocked expression, he gave a lopsided grin. "Don't misunderstand, Artoria. I didn't steal them for no reason. The man who forged them was a friend of mine. Before he died, he was… forced to give the blades away. As his last wish, he asked me to take them back and hide them. They've remained with me ever since," he explained slowly.

Artoria was silent for long moments, staring at the dawn. Finally, she nodded slowly. "I see. Then I was right. You're not as bad as you say. Whatever your legend is, I'm sure it's an honorable one."

He smiled in self-mockery. "You would be surprised," he muttered.

The Saber peered at him for another long moment. "I don't believe that," she finally said.

"Believe whatever you want," Shirou retorted.

"I believe that fate has been too cruel to you," she said suddenly. Seeing his questioning gaze, she hardened her face and assumed a contemplative expression. "Shirou… from the first moment I met you, I felt a connection between us. A bond. I… I don't know how to explain it concretely, but… I feel something that binds us together. Something I'm sure you've felt too. Am I right?"

He didn't dare to meet her gaze. His silence spoke volumes.

Artoria smiled sadly. "You... you're like me, aren't you?" she asked him with a sympathetic voice. "You know pain, and regret, and failure. You have a tragic and desperate past. That's why I feel this bond with you. That's why you've been able to help me before. Lady Vivian said it to me: the help I was seeking was you. It still is you. Becase we're similar. You're like me, and I'm like you. You're able to understand me."

The Ruler's face was a mask of regret and pain. Seeing his expression, Artoria made a chagrined smile. "I don't mean to speak down to you," she added hastly, looking down at the snowy ground.

Shirou clenched his fists. "You're not wrong," he admitted in a whisper. "But you're not exactly right either."

Artoria's head raised slowly. She sat still, patient. "Explain it to me then, please. I'd like to hear what troubles you."

He looked at her sideways, but then sighed with an exasperated expression.

Seconds passed, followed by minutes. The sun was now visible above the lower mountains.

"I..." Shirou started. He paused. Swallowed. Took a deep breath. He started again. "When I was... younger, I didn't understand the value of the things I was given. I was… stupid. So incredibly stupid. I let everything slip away. And because of that… I made a lot of mistakes. I took foolish decisions. I guess that in this sense... you and I are really alike, King of Knights."

Artoria observed him with all the attention in the world.

"But we're not the same, Artoria," he suddenly declared, staring at the horizon with a solemn gaze. His eyes were literal steel as he spoke. "I decided to put the past behind me a long time ago. I decided to start anew. And that's all I'm gonna say about it."

That's right. He was not going back to that hell. He was not going to think about it. Never again.

He turned to her, his expression as hard as steel. "Period."

The woman stared back with a challenging look. Then, much to his surprise, she smiled and shrugged.

"Fine," she contemplated, her smirk growing by the second, making him even more confused. "I won't pry further, then. But I'm serious, Shirou. If you're able to understand me, then with time I'll surely be able to understand you as well. That's what I want you to know. I have no idea of what you're hiding, but I want you to know that whaterver it is... I can help you. I can understand you, if given the chance."

The Ruler watched her with narrowed eyes. Suspicion and irritation flashed in his amber orbs. "...why are you so determined to learn the truth about me?" he asked her directly.

"Because I want to return the favor," she replied easily. She got up from the bench, adjusting her cloak around her shoulders. "And more importantly, because of what you said to me."

Shirou blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

She gave him a defiant smile, glancing at him sideways. "You told me that if there's something I want to achieve, then I shouldn't hesitate. You told me not to be afraid to go after what I really want," she elaborated slowly. A bit of mischief and amusement flashed in her emerald eyes. "And right now, what I really want... is to know you."

The God of War widened his eyes, his lips parting slightly in shock.

Artoria turned back towards the horizon. "I have no idea what your past was like, Shirou, but rest assured: I will discover it. I will find out the truth, no matter how long it'll take."

She started to walk away, heading back to their camping spot and leaving him alone as he stared at her retreating form with a flabbergasted expression.

"And when I do... I'll finally be able to understand you."

Having said that, without turning around or adding anything else, the King of Knights left, leaving the red-haired Ruler alone on the lonely bench.

And Shirou was left alone, motionless and astonished, unable to reason and think for several seconds. He stood still for some time, mulling over his thoughts and doubts, while yet another gust of wind stirred his crimson hair and white cloak. In the end, however, after what seemed like an eternity, the unknown God sighed and shook his head with a weary breath, putting aside those thoughts and that unexpected discussion.

"What a troublesome woman," he whispered incredulously. It was all he could say, given how shocked he was.

But then, as he stared at the sun slowly rising into the sky, as he found himself thinking again about that woman's words... the God of War wondered if Artoria was right. He wondered if he was making a mistake. If it was wrong to keep his past hidden from his companions. If it were more logical to just spill the beans and tell the whole truth. He wondered if it was really possible for Artoria to help him. If it were really possible for that woman to understand him as he had done with her.

But in the end, however, he shook his head with a derogatory smile.

It was impossible. It was utterly, completely, absolutely impossible.

For who could ever learn to understand a monster?

---

Planet: Earth
Date: June 3 2020
Location: Southwark Bridge (London - England)

(======)

"-arhg! I can't believe that man! Just how distracted can he possibly be!?"

Gray could only smile and nod nervously while Rin kept shouting insults and curses with an irritated and loud tone of voice. She had tried several times to calm her down ever since their Teacher had left, now more than two days before, but it had been all in vain. It was impossible for Tohsaka to calm down when she got mad. It was no coincidence that Luvia and some other students of the Clock Tower used to call and address her as 'Miss Gorilla'. When Rin got mad for some reason – which very often happened for trivial reasons – trying to reason with her with logic was the wrong tactic.

"I know, I know. You're absolutely right, Rin," she said sympathetically, smiling with a mixture of exasperation and resignation after a two hours long series of curses.

"Of course I am! What kind of man leaves the Country on a very important mission and forgets his phone?" the older girl exclaimed incredulously, running a hand over her face.

"W-Well, you know how distracted Teacher is," Gray tried to defend him, giggling nervously at the reminder.

But still, not even she could deny that she was a little worried now. Teacher was a good man, and he could handle almost any situation calmly and coolly… but Gray couldn't help but worry about him, even now. Teacher had saved her from her miserable life, from her cursed fate of becoming a King Arthur's vessel. Gray simply couldn't help but care and worry for him after everything he had done for her. It was simply impossible. And knowing that neither she nor Rin had a way to contact him now that he was temporarily gone on a mission made her slightly restless, to be honest.

And how could she not worry? They were right in the middle of a 'secret' conflict that was causing panic, destruction and death across the whole globe. The dangers out there had become innumerable now that the Holy Grail War had broken out, and the situation was no longer as peaceful as it once was. What if teacher got in trouble again? What if he ended up meeting another hostile Servant? Or even worse, what if something happened here while he was away? How would she and Rin manage the situation without counting on the help of other Mages from the Clock Tower? Of course, teacher had called Cu Chulainn back in London to protect the two of them and keep an eye on that new Archer, but still...

Rin sighed heavily, shaking her head in resignation. "Tsk. Damn it. Let's just hope everything goes smoothly while sensei is away," she finally relented in the end, walking across the bridge and leaving the sight of the Thames river.

"Yeah, both to him and us," she agreed slowly. After all, the idea that something could happen to their teacher was terrible; but the possibility of yet another catastrophe erupting here in Britain was not a good prospect either.

"…a fair point," Rin agreed with a nod. Then, the two girls fell into a contemplative silence as they continued to stroll through the streets of London, walking at a leisurely pace towards the Clock Tower to take their morning lessons. Without Waver Velvet to bring them around the world with him, their life had returned once again to be a boring succession of lessons and everyday life. After all, aside from their work with their favorite Magus, they were still ordinary students. Well, Rin was, for the most part. Gray just liked to follow her new family like a lost puppy. But that was fine for both of them.

But then, after a good ten minutes of walking, their quiet everyday life was abruptly interrupted as soon as they turned a corner to enter a small alley near the Clock Tower. Gray gasped, and Rin narrowed her eyes.

A man was thrown to the ground in the middle of the alley, agonizing and groaning in pain, as if he were convulsing. His attire consisted of lincoln green clothing and a dark green cloak, along with brown boots and bandages on his left arm. Despite the distance of about twenty feet, the two girls could distinguish a pair of gray-green eyes and messy spiky orange hair under the man's hood. And, more importantly, the most important detail of all: a large pool of black, bubbling liquid that was pooling on the ground around him, coming out from a wound on his chest.

Rin and Gray widend their eyes in horror.

"H-H-Help," the man rasped, reaching out to them with a trembling arm, his body visibly aching. "Help m-me... please..."

Both girls had already seen that man.

And that was not how they remembered him.

"A-Archer?"

---

Planet: Earth
Date: June 3 2020
Location: Via del Corso (Rome - Italy)

(======)

"Hoho? So this is what the Eternal City looks like!"

Shirou smiled at Iskandar's excited face, walking along the crowded, wide streets of the gigantic capital flanked by his companions. Mordred, Artoria and her Knights followed him closely, looking around to the houses, buildings, cars and the city environment while studying every detail of modern society with inquisitive and curious eyes.

They were walking along Via del Corso, a main street in the historical center of Rome that ran in a generally north-south direction. It was a straight in area otherwise characterized by narrow meandering alleys and small piazzas. Considered a wide street in ancient times, the Corso was approximately 10 meters wide and roughly 1.5 kilometers long; and it only had room for two lanes of traffic and two narrow sidewalks. The northern portion of the street was a pedestrian area.

The red-haired Ruler and his companions looked around with attention and wonder. It was now the middle of the afternoon, and the sun was burning high in the sky. The six Servants had spent most of the day trying to reach this city, driving incessantly along the Italian peninsula to reach the capital as soon as possible. And now that they were finally here, they had to be honest with themselves: they were impressed. The city – the Eternal City, as Iskandar had called it – was a breathtaking sight that conveyed awe and wonder. As they walked throught the streets, they had a strange feeling. The feeling of walking through history, in a literal sense. And it wasn't a random sensation, actually; but rather a real fact. Rome's history spanned 28 centuries; and while Roman mythology dated the founding of Rome at around 753 BC, the site had been inhabited for much longer, making it a major human settlement for almost three millennia and one of the oldest continuously occupied cities in Europe.

The streets, alleys, squares, and even the very same stones they were walking on were ancient and steeped in history. Everywhere they looked, the modern buildings were followed and very often flanked by ancient buildings, restored ruins and palaces from bygone eras. It was like walking in a gigantic city immersed in different historical periods, all at the same time. Medieval buildings, Roman ruins, nineteenth-century palaces, colossal and elegant churches… it was a heterogeneous and infinite mixture of architecture, art and history. So much so that even Servants like them couldn't help but be amazed by that sight. After all, thanks to the knowledge that the Throne of Heroes (and Gaia) had provided them, they all knew very well how ancient the city of Rome was and the very long history it carried behind. It was an indescribable feeling, even for an ancient and retired God like Shirou.

"By the gods. I've heard a lot about this city, but I'm really excited to finally be here!" the King of Conquerors laughed loudly, walking through the streets with a wide grin and attracting the attention of several passersby while he looked around with his red eyes full of wonder. "Truly, this is great indeed!"

Mordred smirked at the Rider's excited face. "You look pretty excited, Rider," she said with a sly smile on her lips.

Iskandar rounded on her, his grin broad and contagious. "Of course, Saber! This city is home to many legendary figures, the place where an Empire was born. An Empire that over the centuries rivaled my own. Being here is a great opportunity. Indeed, indeed! I can't wait to conquer this legendary city and add it to my future Empire!" he declared in his usual boisterous manner.

"Hah! I knew it, it's always about conquest with you!"

Shirou smiled at them, but Artoria, Bedivere and Gawain shook their heads in exasperation, growing more and more irritated by the two Servants' antics. After all, despite their silent wonder, the King and her Knights had come here for a reason. They certainly did not have time to waste observing the city and being continually distracted as those two did. Iskandar they could understand, but even Mordred? The infamous Knight of Treachery? Unbelievable. What were they, kids?

The God of War noted their growing irritation. "Don't worry. You'll get used to it sooner or later," he merely said with a shrug, offering them a sympathetic and resigned smile. After all, he had long since gotten used to handling those two overly-sized kids. This last month had been deeply instructive in this regard.

"...somehow I doubt it," Bedivere sighed with an exasperated expression.

Artoria nodded. "Enough, you two. Remember that we're here for a reason," she reprimanded them sternly, sparing a cold glance at Iskandar and Mordred.

The King of Conquerors just laughed at her, dismissing her words with a wave of the hand. "You should really relax, King of Knights. What's the use of living and traveling without enjoying the treasures and wonders that the world has to offer?" he retorted cheerfully.

"That's right! Just ignore us and mind your own business, Arthur. It's not like you're not used to it," Mordred spat with an ironic, sarcastic tone of voice and an evil smile on her face. The female King flinched and lowered her head at her son's rebuke, clenching her fists in shame.

Gawain bristled in anger when he saw a flash of pain pass over the King's face. "Sir Mordred!" he reproached her venomously.

"Shut up, ape-face. I'm not talking to you!"

Shirou glared at the blonde girl. "For once I agree with them, kid. That was uncalled for," he spoke with a disappointed scowl.

"What? He started it!" Mordred argued with that cruel smile still on her lips.

"And I told you contless times that you don't need to continue it."

"It's not my fault he's always annoying me," she retorted carelessly with a angry frown. "Besides, unlike him, at least I don't comment other people's actions as if I had a stick up my a– OUCH!"

Shirou drew back his fist, watching with exasperation as Mordred hissed and whined in pain, furiously rubbing her smoking head. Good grief. That child and her foul mouth were incorrigible. He cared for her, he really did, but sometimes it was impossible to tolerate her rude tone and words. Even Iskandar was giving her a mixed look of disappointment and resignation now. Despite the troubled past she shared with Artoria, it would seriously do well for Mordred to behave and act civil in her father's presence from time to time.

Artoria, at least, was trying to be civil ever since she apologized to her son… but Mordred always acted like a rebellious teen. And just like the child she was, she was obsessed with responding in kind to her father's criticism and opposing her in every way. It was normal, from a certain point of view – given that it was her way of rebelling and appear strong against a person who had rejected and denounced her for all her life – but in the long run this attitude of hers was becoming more and more annoying and monotonous for everyone.

The Ruler sighed. At this rate, he would have to do something to manage those two. The situation was becoming unbearable for everyone.

The muscular Rider raised a brow in Shirou's direction. "By the way, boy; where are we headed now?" he asked him suddenly, folding his arms as the group continued to walk along Via del Corso.

Shirou narrowed his eyes at that reminder. Right. The reason they came here.

Two days ago, Lord El-Melloi II had contacted them on behalf of the Clock Tower by phone, and had specifically asked them to join him in his current position in Italy: Rome. He had given no details as to why he had come here, nor why their presence was necessary; but he did said that their help was of the utmost importance for an extremely delicate matter involving the Mage'a Association and other factions of significant global importance. So, despite their shared perplexity, Shirou and his companions had no choice but to accept and come here, even if they still had no idea of what to expect.

But still, this whole matter couldn't be anything good. He had to see things clearly.

It was Bedivere who answered the question. "If I remember correctly, Mr. Waver said that he would wait for us near Vatican City," he said in a serious tone of voice.

"That's right. Near Saint Peter's Square," Artoria confirmed with a nod, her face turning as solemn as ever.

Iskandar narrowed his eyes at the revelation. "I see. That's surprising," he mused out loud with a pensive expression. He glanced at the red-haired Ruler with a serious gaze. "Boy, do you think there is something behind this strange request?"

Everyone's eyes fell on him. Even Mordred turned to face him sideways, still rubbing her aching head.

Shirou nodded solemnly. "I do," he answered with ease. That much was obvious for him. "After all, we all know that Vatican City is the heart and main base of the Holy Church. And the Church is the hidden side of the Roman Catholic Church that specializes in the hunting of heresy. Compared to its public side that treats heresies as if they do not exist because those who teach the word of God must not acknowledge that which runs counter to their doctrines, the Holy Church contains the zealots who feel the heresies should be more proactively destroyed. As far as I know, they are a major force that has a… tenuous relationship with the Mage's Association," he explained seriously, narrowing his eyes even more.

"Which means, we can't let our guard down," Gawain noted with a curt nod.

Mordred snorted loudly. "I don't get it. Why would a Mage of the Clock Tower work with the Church? This makes no sense."

"That is exactly what I intend to find out, kid," Shirou agreed with an expression devoid of emotions.

After all, there was something weird about all of this. Thanks to the knowledge Gaia had given him prior to sending him to the Real Side of the World, Shirou had learned how things work in the world of Mages. He knew that the relationships between the Church and the Mage's Association were... strained, at best. Of course, it was not unusual for some members of the former to have direct contact with some members of the latter, obviously; but such an occurrence was a rarity. Especially in modern times, where the relationship between Mages and Priests was almost always conflicting due to the 'divergences' between their methods and doctrines. In fact, although in the past the relationships between the Church and the Mage's Association had been beneficial in countless occasions, now the two had become two worlds almost completely irreconcilable with each other.

After all, Mages were obsessed with accumulating knowledge, and power, and feats. The Association was made of men and women who did not scruple to carry out any action and crime in order to obtain more power and more knowledge. All of that in order to reach the 'Root' and reveal all the secrets and mysteries of Magecraft. The Holy Church, on the contrary, was – in part, without counting its purely religious part – an association that aimed for the balance and stability of all things. Its members wanted to control reality, in whatever form it developed. Absolute and total control over everything. Therefore, those two worlds always ended up in conflict in one way or another. After all, for Mages it was unthinkable that the Priests could aim to control their actions; and for the Priests the Mages – just like Magecraft in general, to be honest – represented a continuous threat. They were like a loose cannon that threatened their wish to control everything due to their actions and goals.

But that wasn't the end of it. There was much more to this than the 'conflict of interest' between Mages and Priests, and Shirou knew it extremely well. Gaia had given him a lot of informations about it, after all.

In fact, one of the main reasons why the Mage's Association often came into conflict with the Church was that the latter held and kept numerous Artifacts and Relics of various kind within its ranks. Artifacts and Relics of magical value, mainly, but not only. Magical objects of inestimable value, on which the Mage's Association would have gladly got their hands at the first opportunity in order to study and discover their secrets. Because of this, it was not uncommon for the two factions to often end up in conflict with each other, and the relationship between the two had currently been strained for many decades, although some collaborations were not out of the table yet. Especially now, with this Holy Grail War occurring. But cases in which Mages and Priests really managed to work together for a single goal were rare. Unique, even.

So, yes, there was definitely something strange behind all of this. The fact that Waver Velvet had come to Italy to go straight into the heart of the Church was very strange. And the fact that he had explicitly asked Shirou and the others to join him was even more strange. There was something weird going on here, and all of them were determined to shed some light on this matter at any cost. Especially since the God of War had a bad feeling about this.

And as we know very well, his instincts were rarely wrong.

The red-haired Ruler was roused from his internal musing when Bedivere moved to walk beside him, offering him a solemn look. "No matter. We'll discover the truth once we find Lord El-Melloi II. For the moment we should-"

The Knight of the Round Table was abruptly cut off when the ground suddenly shook.

Shirou, Iskandar, Mordred and the others startled and gasped in shock. A loud bang echoed in the distance, similar to an explosion. Then, in less than a second, the tremor of the ground increased in intensity, making everything vibrate with crazy violence. Around them, passersby began to scream and yell, shocked and terrified by the unexpected earthquake, falling to the ground and holding on to each other in panic. At the edge of the Corso, the buildings visibly shook for several seconds, and a couple of tiles and stones fell from the rooftops, nearly hitting some passers-by below. And yet, the roar of the earthquake and the sound of the explosion continued to echo in the air.

Then, everything fell silent, and the earth stopped shaking.

Mordred looked around with a frowning expression, her body visibly tense and alert. "The fuck was that?" she hissed.

"What happened?" Gawain echoed as well, watching the crowd of passersby around them as they rose from the ground and began to run in all directions, visibly frightened and panicked by the previous event.

Shirou narrowed his eyes, expanding his senses in search of the source of all that emotion. In the distance, he could see a cloud of smoke rising into the afternoon sky, poking out over the roofs of the buildings to the east, a few miles away from their current position. His expression hardened as he sensed a large source of energy coming from that direction. Despite the unexpected turn of events and the short time he had had to think clearly, there was no way he could mistake that peculiar signature of mana. He knew very well what they were dealing with.

A Servant.

"There," he said, pointing at the smoke that could be seen in the sky, coming from another area of the city. "I detect a Servant in direction of that smoke."

The King of Knights summoned her armor with a sudden dust of prana. "Let's move!" she commanded.

But Shirou and the others were already on the move, headed towards the smoke. The woman and her Knights joined them. They quickly abandonded the Corso and ran through the streets of the city with a speed that was incomparable to that of normal humans, crossing several streets and alleys with powerful leaps and Mana Bursts. Finally, they rounded the corner to a wide road in the urban zone of Rome, and skidded to a stop. Halfway down the main road, surrounded by scattered rubble and debris, a Servant was crouched over a man spread out on the ground, smashing his fist into the victim with robotic regularity. The punches landed with sickeningly squishy sounds. They could see blood – a lot of blood – pooling on the ground around the body.

Shirou drew in a sharp breath, then rushed forward, yelling. "What the-! Hey, you! Get off of him!" Mordred and Artoria were right beside him, their weapons already in their hands and ready to strike.

The Servant lifted his head, looked at them barreling down on him, and stood up, snarling; but he was too slow. Shirou had already crossed the distance that separated them with a single dash, and he landed a solid punch on his face, hurling him away with indescribable power. As the Servant crashed into a building with a mighty explosion of brick and debris, Iskandar slid to a stop and knelt down by the body.

"...he's already dead," he spoke solemnly, picking himself up with a hard expression on his face.

All of them cursed, and Shirou gritted his teeth as Mordred and Artoria moved to flank him, followed by Bedivere and Gawain. All of them had already summoned their weapons and armors, ready for battle. He took advantage of the moment of respite to look around: the street was full of fleeing civilians and abandoned cars. Several corpses lay on the ground, visibly smashed and cut by the Servant's fury. On the left, a large building was currently on fire – a bank, judging by its appearance – emitting the smoke they had seen before. The Servant must have attacked the building for some reason, before going outside and continuing his killing spree.

Shirou cursed inside his head. 'Not this shit again.'

Said Servant rose from the pile of rubble with a furious hiss at that precise moment. The God of War watched it closely, finally studying its appearance. He was clearly a man, with a tall and slender physique, but his every physical feature was completely hidden and covered by a horrifying armor of metal and fiber. His armor was light and at the same time binding and disturbing in appearance, made of black, red and purple metal; with clawed gloves, pointed shoulder pieces and a long dark drape made of black feathers attached from the waist, similar to a pair of wings. But the worst thing was his head: in fact, the entire face of the Servant was covered by a horned helmet that depicted a menacing demon with open jaws and bared fangs, completely hiding his face from view.

A shiver ran down Shirou's back at the sight of that helmet. Images of the nightmare and the woman with the scythe flashed momentarily in his mind, before dismissing them with an abrupt shake of the head. This was no time to be intimidated by a simple nightmare. He had a duty to perform, and the safety of the city depended on him and his friends.

Around them, more and more civilians were fleeing in terror. Some drivers were even abandoning their vehicles and running away, desperate to get to safety. The Servants ignored them without giving them a single glance, continuing to stare at each other in a heavy silence.

Eventually, Shirou broke the silence with a solemn and firm voice. "You sure caused quite the commotion here," he said, glaring at the armored Servant with hard eyes. "Who are you, and why are you attacking these people?"

In response, the enemy summoned a thin, dark-bladed longsword with a dust of black prana. His helmet hissed a furious moan and his head twitched a little. "Ohhhhhh..."

Artoria, Iskandar and the others tensed when they saw an overwhelming aura of black energy begin to stir around his armored body. Mordred tightened the grip on Clarent's hilt with an expression mixed between anger and excitement from the battle. "Hey, you dumb-ass freak. We're talking to you. Can't you even answer a simple question?" she taunted him with a mocking grin.

This time, incredibly, the man responded to the provocation. "You…" he hissed. His voice was deep, tinged with an unmistakable note of madness. His clawed gloves twitched twice, as if he were trying to grab something invisible. "All of you... will die... I'll kill... all of you..."

The others remained impassive at his ferocious statement. He seemed to be talking more to himself than them.

"Who are you?" Artoria asked again with a firm tone. "State thy name."

He only shook in rage and folly. "I am… death. The one who must kill… all those beloved by God…" he hissed with his broken voice.

The King of Conquerors studied him closely. "I see. That dark and oppressive aura. The disconnected and conflictual thoughts. Must be a Berserker, no doubt," he finally deduced, observing the opponent with his red, narrowed eyes.

And indeed, the Servant before them was certainly a Berserker. There was no way that a normal warrior could emit an aura so full of anger, hatred and death without being completely overwhelmed by it. It was only thanks to the Mad-Enhancement of the Berserker-Class and its distinctive madness that the Servants could resist that oppressive aura that would have torn the minds of any living thing. No Hero, of present or past, could resist so much concentration of hatred and anger without paying the consequences. It was simply impossible.

"Tch. Who cares about his Class! I'll mow him down like the rabble he is!" Mordred declared contemptuously, raising her greatsword and charging forward all of a sudden. With a sudden dash and a powerful Mana Burst, he darted in front of the opponent in but a few seconds, delivering a very fast vertical lunge. The others gaped and tried to call her back, but she had already jumped into action. The Knight of Treachery grinned ferally, Clarent's blade swinging towards the target with a speed that would rival Artoria's own.

Yet, much to her shock and stupor, the enemy Servant promptly raised his arm and parried the attack with his own longsword.

Mordred widened her eyes in stunned shock.

The Berserker hissed under that menacing helmet. "Now, let us play your requiem!" he roared with a deep voice.

He wasted no time. He aimed a series of cuts and lunges towards the female Knight, moving with an enviable agility for his Class, but luckily for her, they did no damage. Although her opponent's longsword moved with precision and skill, Mordred still managed to deflect all the attacks without too much effort, hissing in irritation and leaping away, creating some distance from the Berserker before he could attack her again.

Shirou stepped beside her, his eyes still focused on the opponent and his demonic helmet. "You shouldn't be so reckless, kid," he reminded her in a condescending tone, Tracing a long katana in his hand.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever!" she grumbled. "I just tried-"

"Uoooooohhh!"

Without giving them time to talk, this time the mysterious Berserker took the initiative. He leaped forward in turn, his speed definitely uncommon for a warrior of his Class. He spun in the air with an elegant leap, brandishing his longsword and aiming at Mordred with a furious roar. He swung, a mighty swing that caught her off guard, but she managed to duck out of the way just in time for Shirou to jump into action, slamming a kick on the enemy's chest and forcing him back with a growl of anger. He recolied back, avoiding a sudden dash from Bedivere, and charged again against the other opponents.

Artoria dashed forward as well, followed by Gawain and Iskandar. "I won't let you!"

She swung her invisible blade with deadly power, her swing so fast that it was – unironically – invisible. The opponent barely managed to block it at the last second, grunting in shock and pain under the woman's superior strength, but had no way to counterattack directly. He was forced to leap into the air to avoid a second lunge from the female King, soaring with a pirouette over her head, spinning diagonally with his whole body.

But even when he was still in the air, he managed to do something.

"Dance for me, Grim Reapers!"

With a movement that puzzled everyone, the Berserker raised the sword and placed it in a strange position: with the hilt facing the ground and the blade resting on his left shoulder. Then, with his right hand, he drew a line over the blade, as if he were touching some invisible cords hidden above it. To be exact, the strings of an invisible violin. And as illogical and senseless as that move seemed, to everyone's amazement, it worked. It really did something.

A soft and elegant melody echoed with every movement of his clawed fingers. It was as if he were touching the strings of a violin, generating real music in the air. And then, as soon as his feet landed on solid ground again, something happened.

A violent burst of energy surrounded Artoria and the Knights. Immediately after that, from the fog of dark and thick prana, the Berserker summoned forth a firing squad of gray figures dressed in whire-gray robes. They wore creepy hoods over their heads, their bodies literally levitating on the ground, holding long 1800's shotguns, similar to ceremonial weapons stolen from a museum. The King and her Knights watched with tense, narrowed eyes as the figures silently surrounded them, aiming their weapons at them while the Servant's melody continued to echo in the air. The figures took aim carefully, preparing to fire. But luckily for Artoria, their comrades weren't going to stand by and watch.

"King of Knights!"

Iskandar leaped towards them at that moment and summoned the Sword of Kupriotes, infusing it with a large amount of energy. Then, with a bellowing roar of war and supremacy, he slashed the sword on one of the figures summoned by the Berserker, cutting it in half as if it were a thin piece of paper. At the same time, thanks to his attack, a shower of lightning rained down from the cloudless sky, striking and electrocuting all the other white-clad minions at the same time. They disappeared in a cloud of white smoke, vanishing from sight as if they never existed.

Artoria nodded in thanks. Then, along with Gawain and Bedivere, she dashed forward once again, aiming towards the armored Servant. The mad Berserker hissed in frustration and leapt away from her with a wide leap, barely avoiding a vertical lunge from Galatine thanks to his inhuman speed. While he was still in the air, he twisted his body in an inhuman maneuver, dodging a slash from Bedivere as well, but he couldn't avoid the third assailant who pounced on him at the same time. He only managed to bring the longsword in front of his face, barely blocking Artoria's attack before she could cut him in two.

But she had expected this.

With a powerful burst of mana and a cry of decision, she infused as much force into the attack as she could, slamming the enemy away with the force of her sword alone, knocking him down. The armored Servant grunted in pain when he was forcefully crashed into the asphalt and stone of the road, generating an explosion of debris. A cry of pain escaped from beneath his eerie helmet, and for a moment, Berserker was unable to react after being overwhelmed by the monstrous strength of the King of Knights. He remained on the ground in the middle of a small crater, furiously trying to rise as soon as the smoke cleared once again.

But the tip of a katana was already pointed in front of his face.

Shirou stared down at the fallen Servant with an emotionless gaze, his golden-brown eyes promising pain and death. "Checkmate."

In response, the enemy hissed with inhuman ferocity.

"Kill... kill... kill!"

Shirou stiffened, but reacted promptly thanks to his enhanced senses. As soon as the new horde of white-clad minions appeared around him, the Ruler leapt in the air, avoiding a sudden thrusts of spear that threatened to impale him and skewer him like a living piece of meat. He landed a couple of meters away from his target, reuniting with Mordred and the others, but it didn't take him long to notice that his opponent had already lifted off the ground. The Berserker now stood behind his minions, using them as a living shield to keep himself away from his opponents while he readied his sword, preparing for the second round.

Meanwhile, around Shirou and everyone else, a small crowd of people had formed as more and more civilians left the streets and ran in all directions.

Yet even if he had narrowly escaped death, the situation was clear for the Berserker. He had no hope of winning against six opponents at the same time. Not only were Shirou, Artoria and Iskandar physically superior to him, but the presence of Mordred and the Knights made it even more difficult for him to fight. He couldn't attack and defend himself against so many opponents at the same time. At this rate, he would have ended up losing with no chance to inflict actual damage or kill any of them. And Shirou knew that the Berserker was fully aware of this. Despite his Mad-Enhancement, his abilities – his agility, above all – were enviable, even though he lacked sheer strength and power behind his attacks. Whoever that Servant was, though, he was an opponent to be reckoned with.

"It seems that I'm at a disadvantage," the enemy spoke all of a sudden, his deep and menacing voice coming from that disturbing helmet. He looked like a real talking demon with that mask on his face. "Very well. Then I shall make things a little more interesting. Let us begin the performance!" he solemnly declared, dissolving his longsword and rasing his hands towards the sky.

Shirou and the others tensed, watching him carefully.

As soon as the weapon disappeared, much to their confusion, a condensation of smoke formed in its place before the armored Berserker. The hooded figures disappeared into a white dust. Then, even more incredibly, an unseen harpsucord mysteriously appeared to life before the Servant, enveloped in a mist of black and red energy. The Ruler and the others stared at it with wide, stunned eyes; shocked by the sudden appearance of that musical instrument. Who the hell was this Servant? Was he someone with a legend related to music?

But they had no time for questions. They had no time for doubts.

In fact, as soon as the Berserker started to play the harpsucord, something happened.

The fleeing civilians around them started to scream all of a sudden. Shirou, Mordred, Iskandar and the others snapped their heads up and gasped.

All around them, almost by magic, people and passers-by had taken off in the air. Or rather: they had been raised in the air against their will, floating like ballons. A mist of red and coalescing mana had formed around dozens and dozens of innocent passersby as the Berserker played his tune, sucking them in like an independent center of gravity and making them float in the air like dead weights. Men, women and even a couple of children screamed and kicked frantically in the air in sheer fear and terror as the Servant's spell sent them flying uncontrollably in the air, depriving them of the ability to run and take cover.

"C-CHE COSA?"

"No… No! Che succede!?"

"Aiuto!"

"Oh Dio!"

"Non voglio morire!"

"Help us!"

Shirou felt a shiver run down his back as he watched that scene and listened to the screams of terror around him. A fierce sense of outrage and anger swept through his heart. That damned Servant was deliberately using the innocent to his advantage! He was endangering them right in front of him! He wanted to use them against him! This was intolerable! It was inadmissible! He couldn't allow such a thing for any reason!

"Berserker! Stop! Let them go!" he roared furiously. Even Artoria and the others took on tense expressions as they watched more and more civilians being lifted into the air and float hopelessly out of control. "Leave the innocent out of this!"

But the enemy continued to sound undeterred, and his demonic helmet looked at him with cold and cruel madness.

"Listen to my song... and die!"

Then, he threw them.

Berserker literally threw the screaming civilians at Shirou and his companions, using them as living projectiles. He slammed his fingers against the keys of the harpsucord, and as soon as the music reached its peak with a gruesome sound, the spell began all of a sudden, hurling the poor unfortunates at Shirou and the others, using them as weapon and bait at the same time.

And the people screamed, trashing in horror and fear.

"Shit! Grab them!" Mordred yelled, leaping towards a falling couple and grabbing them with her arms.

Artoria and the Knights moved in turn, acting fast as well. "Quickly!"

Shirou cursed profusely inside his head, following their exaple and sprinting forward to grab the people Berserker was throwing at them with his spell. He grabbed a woman with one arm, leaping backward to catch a man who was in danger of being smashed into a lamppost. As soon as he put them down, he jumped again, this time grabbing a child by the arm and rotating with his body to shield a woman who was forcefully slammed against his chest, grabbing her with a grunt of fatigue.

He fell to the ground, the child and woman still held in his arms, and he let them go with a second grunt of pain. He got up quickly, his head darting frantically in all directions to watch the scene. His comrades were relentlessly grabbing the civilians as soon as they were thorwn like bullets, releasing them as quickly as possible to save the next ones. Among them, Iskandar was working hard on this. He was holding five people with one arm alone, using the other one to grab two more. The muscular Rider's immense size allowed him to grab way more people compared to the others.

But still, more and more people were being sucked into the spell, and at this rate the six of them wouldn't be enough to handle all those numbers.

Shirou cursed, grabbing yet another man who rained down on him and releasing him on the ground. "Guys! Take care of the civilians! I'll deal with that mad freak!"

The others nodded, continuing to save life after life. "Do it quickly!"

The God of War didn't waste a second. He leapt into the air, grabbed an elderly man and his wheelchair with his reight hand, and spun with his body as he fell down, summoning a black bow in his free hand. Then, as soon as he landed, he acted. Letting go of the old man – who groaned for the abrupt movement, almost passing out from shock – he took aim at the target, ignored the incessant screams of civilians, and summoned a red arrow.

And then, with an unmatched speed, he notched the arrow and released it in less than a second, aiming at the Berserker's head...

…only for him to dodge it with a swift movement.

But still, that was exactly the plan. Shirou smirked when the arrow passed by the target's head, only to suddenly explode in a burst of energy, enveloping the Berserker's helmet in a cloud of smoke and fire due to the sudden surge of energy. The armored Servant was forcefully hit by the attack, screaming in shock and anger, and fell to the ground with a growl of pain as he fidgeted furiously. At the same time, the spell was abruptly interrupted thanks to this. The attack had had the desired effect, much to the Ruler's relief. It was really true: some tricks never failed.

One by one, all the civilians still in the air were released in less than two seconds, landing slowly on the ground and making everyone to sigh with relief. Shirou nodded when he saw Mordred and the others move to help those few who were still falling down, grabbing them just in time. He would leave them in their care, for his goal was only one: Berserker. The insane Servant had already risen from the ground, his helmet blackened by the blast and still smoking a little, but intact as before. He was staring at him with an audible growl. There was no need to see his true face to perceive the anger and hatred that burned within him. If looks could kill, Shirou would have dropped dead instantly due to the hateful look that he was sending him.

But still, he didn't care. On the contrary, he glared at him as well, dashing forward and summoning a sword to attack that damned fool who dared to use innocent lives against him.

However, the Berserker would not be caught unprepared.

With a sudden dash and a considerable agility, the enemy Servant jumped away from him and began to run at full speed to the right, leaving the main street and heading towards another area of the city. Shirou watched him and gave chase, wide-eyed, as the opponent ran away from there with unexpected speed. He moved like a blur, almost difficult to see, with an enviable speed even for Artoria, or Mordred. Whoever that man was, he was definitely faster than any other Servant Shirou had seen before (except the Counter Guardian). The mad Berskerker climbed onto a car and used it as a springboard, leaping off a bridge and vanishing from his sight.

Shirou cursed and roared inside his head. No way. Like hell that he would let him escape. No way in hell. He would not lose sight of him now. That monster had to pay for what he'd done, and there was nothing and no one who could escape from him. No one. Shirou would even chase him to the gates of Hell if necessary. He wouldn't give him a single moment of respite until he caught up with him, and that was a promise. That man had to die, here and now. He wouldn't let him escape. He wasn't going to make the same mistake as last time. Never again.

He ran to the edge of the road, climbed the low wall of the bridge, and stared at the road below.

The target was still there: on top of a tow truck – a car transporter, actually – that ran along the road along with numerous other cars.

Shirou narrowed his eyes. Fine.

He jumped off the bridge and landed on the middle of the road below with a loud crash. A car braked abruptly behind him, the driver shocked by his sudden appearance, but he didn't care. He didn't notice. All he did, all he had to do, was to build up energy in his legs, bend his knees, and get into position. He took a deep breath, eyes focused on the retreating target, and steeled his resolve.

Then, with a powerful Mana Bust and an inhuman dash, he gave chase to the car transporter and his target.

The God of War raced, darting down the street and dashing between cars, motorcycles and trucks; running at an impressive speed, much faster compared to that of the other vehicles whizzing along the road. He was so fast that he was invisible to humans. Those who watched him only saw a blur of red and white light darting down the street, running and dashing between vehicles like an unstoppable missile. From the back of the car transporter, Ruler could see the Berserker stare at him in shock, his posture dumbfounded as he watched him run and overtake all the cars with the mere speed of his legs, chasing him relentlessly. There was no need to see his face to feel the enemy Servant's shock.

And still, Shirou gave him chase, running with inhuman speed and lips parted into a feral grin.

The Bersekerk let out a mad laugh. Then, reacting promptly, he raised his arms to the sky and evoked his longsword again, waving it in the wind as if it were a wand. At the same time, music began to mysteriously resound in the air as the insane Servant continued to wave his 'wand', conducting an invisible orchestra. The cars behind him, those carried by the transporter, suddenly rose into the air, enveloped in a cloak of red and black energy. The noise of the music grew louder.

Shirou widened his eyes. Not even two seconds later, the first 'bullet' was thrown at him, accompanied by a macabre nineteenth-century melody. A red car was thrown at him, hurled by the enemy's mysterious magic, ready to crush him like an insect. He gritted his teeth, summoned his sword, and used a Mana Burst on his legs. Then, as soon as he was propelled forward, he used the sword to slice the incoming car in two with a vertical slash, severing it neatly and overcoming the obstacle. The vehicle passed behind him without doing any damage, before crashing with an explosion that shook both the road and air.

"Kuhu... hahahahahahahaha!"

Berserker's insane laughter echoed in the air as he continued to conduct his invisible orchestra, playing an eerie music and continuing to throw car upon car at red-haired Ruler, emptying the transporter completely. Shirou dodged a second flying vehicle with a sudden dash to the right, sliced another one apart, and then ran after the tow truck and its target again. Their chase on the road continued for a whole minute; until, at a certain point, a large and ancient building began to appear in the distance at the end of the road: a gigantic amphitheater of oval shape and colossal dimensions: the Colosseum.

But the two opponents had no time to observe the monument in the distance. Shirou narrowed his eyes when a third vehicle was thrown at him, risking hitting a car on the right. He reacted promptly, leaping into the air and grabbing the incoming car with both arms, holding it over his head. A grunt of fatigue escaped his lips slightly, feeling his muscles throb and swell under the impact and effort of holding up that heavy vehicle. He used his enhanced strength to lift it with his arms alone. Then, he threw the car to the right, over the road, causing it to crash into a bare and empty area that was devastated by an explosion due to the impact. Then, once again, he went back to give chase to the enemy, running even faster than before with a furious dash.

The mad Servant continued conducting the music. He threw yet another vehicle at him – this time a yellow car – but it was all in vain. Shirou cut it in half with his sword and used the blast wave of the explosion to propel himself forward even faster, darting through the air like an angry missile. Berserker had no way of reacting this time. All he saw was a blur of energy darting towards him, and in less than a blink of an eye, Shirou Emiya had appeared before him in the back of the car transporter, solemn and angry as ever.

"Missed me?"

The armored Servant snarled, but didn't have time to do anything else. Thanks to his instincts, he raised his arms and blocked a sudden thrust of Ruler's sword, hissing and groaning under the oppressive force of the opponent. Shirou had moved with frightening speed, so swift and enraged that he was genuinely terrifying. A spark of metal and light was generated by the blades' impact, and the music stopped abruptly when Berserker's longsword was suddenly thrown out of his hands. A second later, a deadly powerful punch hit the masked face of the Servant, twisting his head to the side in an unnatural manner. The mad enemy didn't even had time to see or register the blow completely. Pain blinded him like a raging river, running over him from top to bottom.

With a growl, the Berserker instinctively leaped away from the speeding vehicle, flying high into the sky to put some distance between him and his opponent. He looked down, but the God of War had been faster. He wouldn't let him escape a second time.

"Behind you."

The Berserker spun with his body, shocked beyond words by the enemy's speed, and was even more scared to see that Shirou had already appeared behind him, his expression as cold and solemn as ever. He didn't have time to do anything. A moment later, a kick of considerable power hit him on the right shoulder, generating an indescribable shock wave. Had he not been a Servant, the Berserker's arm would have broken completely due to the sudden and deadly attack. No doubt.

Shirou stared as the enemy was forcefully thrown to the side, shooting downward like a propelled missile. He saw him crash at the base of a small clearing of concrete and stone, just outside the gigantic Colosseum that towered in the center of the city, generating a powerful explosion of debris and a column of smoke. Some passers-by stopped to observe the scene, shocked and stunned, but he paid no mind to them. As soon as he landed, he dashed forward again, his katana raised and ready and to strike once more. The armored Berserker hissed in pain, getting back to his feet just in time. He summoned his longsword again and managed to barely deflected the attack, his legs trembling under the enemy's strenght.

The demonic helmet snarled with anger. "I'll kill yo-!"

No more words. Shirou reacted even before the other could finish the sentence. He deflected the opponent's blade with a casual flick of the wrist, snapping his katana with a lightning-fast movement. Then, as the enemy stumbled in confusion and stunned shock, he grabbed his armored arm with one hand and pulled him forward, kneeing him in the chest. He could literally hear the air and breath leave the opponent's lungs in a silent scream. And finally, as the mad Servant groaned and hissed in pain, Shirou raised an arm back and unleashed his last attack.

CRUNCH!

The punch landed with a sickeningly crunch, cracking the Servant's helmet with the sheer power behind the blow. The world stilled for a second. Time stopped. The air quieted. Shirou smiked. Then, a moment later, the mad Berserker was forcefully thrown back by the shock wave, shooting in the air like a missile out of control. He crashed into one the wall of the gigantic amphitheater, breaking it completely with an explosion of marble and stone and debris, and landed ruinously inside the Colosseum with a heavy thud that made both the ground and the air vibrate.

Shirou smirked in satisfaction, staring at the point where the opponent had crashed, enveloped in a column of smoke. He advanced slowly, almost casually, with narrowed eyes and lips parted into a feral smirk; passing the crowd of people who observed him as if he were a monster, and entered inside the ancient monument in the heart of Rome with a solemn and decisive step. He tightened his grip on the sword, observing the depressing sight before him with a growing sense of solemnity and duty.

His target had landed on the middle of the Roman amphitheater. The arena itself was 83 meters by 48 meters, and it comprised a wooden floor covered by sand, covering an elaborate underground structure called the "hypogeum" (literally meaning "underground"). Usually, the hypogeum and the various underground tunnels were exposed and exhibited inside the Colosseum, but it appeared that they were currently covered with a wooden and sand floor for some reason – probably due to some historical representation that had to take place here in the future; or perhaps that it was recently finished – making the arena very similar to how it appeared in the past, during the Roman era. And all around them, an immense series of stone and marble seating surrounded them, arranged and subdivided in a tiered arrangement that reflected the rigidly stratified nature of Roman society; with different boxes for each social class and different 'layers' that filled every corner and every side of the walls, making the building a gigantic, oval arena of colossal dimensions. And in the middle of all of this, right above the sand and wood floor in the center of the arena, the armored Beserker was struggling to his feet, panting and stumbling with pain and fatigue.

The Ruler stared at his prey with a cruel smirk, slowly advancing with his sword in hand, like a lion reaching a wounded gazelle. "What's wrong?" he asked with a monotonous tone, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "No more music for our performance?"

The armored Berserker snarled, snapping his head up as he tried - and failed - to get back on his feet. His helmet was fractured and broken on the right side, and the Ruler could begin to see his true features behind that demonic face: lightly tanned skin, red eyes and gray hair. Still, an aura of dark energy continued to sway around his body like a repulsive fog, enveloping his chest and arms.

"Y-You," the man hissed with his mad, broken voice. "I... will... kill... you..."

Shirou stepped inside the arena. He stopped. Glanced to the sky above. Then, he smirked widely with his trade-mark smile: eyes closed and head tilted to the side.

"It's not me you should worry about right now."

The man startled, snapping his head u-

"Via Expugnatio!"

Berserker had no way of reacting. He didn't even have time to detect the attack, tired and broken as he was. In less than a second, with a bellowing cry of war, Iskandar and his chariot descended from the sky out of the blue, engulfed in lightning and electricity, fast as a comet and powerful as the most merciless charge in history. The mad Servant couldn't even to raise his arms to try to protect his face. He couldn't even say a single word or exclamation.

In less than a blink of an eye, in fact, the bulls run over him in full, trampling over him with their paws wrapped in lightning and electric shocks. Upon trampling the opponent, Gordius Wheel delivered eight heavy attacks from the bulls and a decisive strike from the wheels. Each of the bulls' hooves was enveloped in purple lightning, and they simultaneously kicked the fallen target with their front hooves and then trampled him with their hind hooves. That charge alone was enough to bring about fatal wounds to anyone, even to a Servant of the Berserker Class.

And in fact, as expected, once the trampling was over, the Mad Servant rolled pathetically on the wooden and sand floor like a dead weight, without moving even a muscle. He was thrown to the ground like a corpse, pouring blood and prana from his wounds, while the aura of black energy around him dissolved completely, vanishing into thin air like a mist scattered by the wind. His armor was completely destroyed in several points now, revealing a slender, slim body and elegant features previously hidden by that demonic helmet. His face was delicate, refined, with aristocratic features and of high stature. It was a strange sight, given that until recently that elegant-looking man had been a crazed and ruthless killer.

Iskandar restrained Gordius Wheel with a yank of the reins, stepping oout of the chariot along with Mordred who had been next to him during the previous charge. Shirou joined them at a slow pace, smiling slightly as he felt Artoria, Bedivere and Gawain appear behind him with a sudden jump, landing in the middle of the arena.

"You're late," he said once his companions reached him.

Mordred scoffed. "Spare us the irony, Ruler. Those civilians would not have saved themselves."

"That's right. Besides, it seems we have arrived just in time!" the muscular Rider exclaimed loudly, gazing at the Berserker's unmoving body with a satisfied grin.

"Indeed. The situation is under control again," Artoria agreed, stepping next to them with a nod.

Shirou sighed in relief. Then, he turned back to the defeated Servant, his katana still in hand. He paused in front of the Berserker's unconscious body, watching as he twitched slightly, pouring blood and prana from his wounds. He was unconscious and almost dead, but still barely alive. He looked terrible now. Not that it wasn't understandable, though. After being literally run over and crushed by the charge of some furious Divine Bulls clad in lightning, anyone would have been reduced to a similar state. Not even an Armored Servant would have emerged unscathed from such a charge; it was literally impossible.

Bedivere stared at that pitiful sight with a solemn gaze. "What should we do with him?"

"That's freaking obvious, you dimwit," Mordred snorted with utmost seriousness. She summoned Clarent in her hand, taking a step forward and pointing the tip of the blade to the defeated man's head. "We kill this bastard and save the world again. Easy-peasy."

Artoria, Shirou and Iskandar shared a silent glance.

Mordred stared at the red-haired Ruler. "No objection, right?"

Silence was her only response.

The Knight of Treachery smirked. Then, slowly but surely, she raised her sword and took aim carefully, ready to sever the Berserker's head and finish him of once and for all...

…But, alas, things couldn't go that smoothly.

"Stop right there, Servants!"

"Indeed! In the name of Rome, we command you to stop!"

Shirou, Iskandar and the others stopped and stiffened all of a sudden. Even Mordred jumped in surprise, stopping her arm before the sword could fall on the unconscious target. As one, the six Servants turned and raised their heads to stare with wide, stunned eyes in the direction from which those two loud and distinct voices had come. And thanks to their trained senses, it didn't take them long to find those who had dared to interrupt their duty with that bold and solemn declaration.

Appearing in a cloud of dust and prana, two Servants landed atop the seats of the Colosseum with a sudden and spectacular entrance. They appeared at the exact same moment, almost in sinc, but in opposite positions on the stands surrounding the arena. The first one appeared on right side of the amphitheater, and the second one on the opposite side, the left one, revealing themselves to everyone's eyes and surrounding Shirou and his companions from two sides, east and west.

On the east side: a tall, muscular man with dark skin and eyes made of black sclera and pupils that were so red that they seemed almost phosphorescent. He wore a black and golden armor, with a long red mantle over his shoulders similar to Iskandar's own; and a large and elegant helmet on the head similar to a golden crown with a single black horn at the center of it. Various chains, necklaces and jewels of a thousand colors and shapes hung from his body in many places. Arms, ears, neck; every part of his muscular and sculpted body showed richness and splendor, while the man's face remained frozen in a solemn and impassive scowl, staring down at them with his unnerving eyes and stony-faced expression.

But it was the Servant who appeared on the west side who shocked Shirou and the others the most: a blond-haired young girl of short but curvy stature with pale skin, yellow-ish blond hair with intake and bright lime green eyes. She was dressed in a revealing red and white dress with long poofy sleeves; a transparent front, leotard; and knee high golden armored boots. She had her long, flowing hair tied into a complex bun, similar Artoria's own. Actually, to be completely honest, she held a great resemblance to Artoria... in many ways. Her face, her eyes, her body; it was like looking at a clone of the King of Knights. The only difference was her dress – which was red instead of blue and decidedly more revealing – along with her shorter stature and much younger age compared to the female King. But otherwise, the two of them were almost alike. She even had the same, tiny strand of blonde hair coming out of her bun. It was almost too absurd to believe.

Shirou and the others watched them with wide, stunned eyes; their heads turning from side to side to watch them both at the same time.

Bedivere was speechless. "W-What the-?"

"...what is this?" Gawain stuttered as well, perplexed and tense as never before.

Mordred was flabbergasted. "What the fuck!? Is that Father's clone!?" she exclaimed incredulously, stunned; staring and pointing a finger at the red-clad Servant extremely similar to her father. Her helmet snapped to life and covered her face again as she prepared for another fight. "What the heck is going on here?"

Shirou asked the same question inside his head. 'Indeed... what the heck?' he mentally hissed with clear confusion. First Mordred, then Gray, and now this new Servant? Why the hell were there so many people who shared the same face of Artoria? What, was this gonna be a thing or something?

From her part, however, Artoria merely narrowed her eyes on her 'doppelganger' and summoned back the invisible sword.

The two newly arrived Servants continued to stare at them from their elevated positions.

"Step away from Berserker," the muscular, dark-skinned man spoke in a deep, commanding voice. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, leveling a harsh galre at the six of them with his red eyes. "Rome commands you."

Iskandar blinked confusedly. "Rome?"

Shirou narrowed his gaze and stared back at the Servant who had spoken. "This man has caused the deaths of several innocent people, and has endangered the whole city with his actions," he declared aloud in an unyielding voice. His golden-brown eyes flashed with solemnity and menacing coldness. "Since he went against the rules of this Holy Grail War, he's my responsibility now. And he will pay for his crimes. You have no authority over me and my companions."

"No! I won't let you kill our Socio!"

Everyone turned to the girl similar to Artoria. Mordred glared at her under her helmet. "Who the hell are you? And why do you look like Father?" she spat fiercely.

"I am Saber! And I look nothing like that woman over there!" she replied vehemently, pointing a finger at the King of Knights with a clearly irritated look.

Artoria sent her a cold glare, but then ignored her and turned to her son. "Mordred, calm down. Don't show impulsiveness in front of your enemies."

The tanned and red-eyed man raised a hand, instantly silencing everyone in the amphitheater.

"We are grateful that you've stopped Berserker from his rampage, but now you will have hold on him no longer," he said once again. His voice was deep and calm, and it held great authority behind it despite his deadpan expression. "Unfortunately, he was and is our comrade. Therefore, he is our responsibility. Hand him over, and you shall leave this place unscathed. I assure you this."

Iskandar smirked. "Hoho? And tell us, then: who are you to make such a claim?" he questioned back with arms crossed.

The man remained as solemn and impassive as before. "I am Rome, and Rome is me," he replied promptly, deadly serious. "Behold this place. Behold the sky, the city, the earth. Everything you see is Rome. And I am the one who represents all of this."

Gawain narrowed his eyes. "Quite the claim for a single man."

Shirou instead smirked with an intrigued face. As far as his knowledge went, there was only one man in the entire history of mankind who could make such a claim. After all, the story of the Eternal City and its foundation was quite famous even to this day.

"I see. You are the founding Hero of this city. The man who appears in Rome's very same foundation myth," he deduced, reading his katana and staring at the Servant's impassive face under everyone's confused gaze. His smirk widened further. "The Divine Ancestor: Romulus. That's your name, isn't it?"

Said man narrowed his eyes on him after that statement of his. Artoria and the others stared at Shirou with wide, stunned eyes.

"Oh my!" the other Servant exclaimed with joyful elation, drawing everyone's attention. Her green eyes sparkled in intrigue as she gazed at the cold, impassive face of the red-haired Ruler. "Did you hear that, Pater? This man has already guessed your true name! His insight is truly magnificent!" She crossed her arms, her chest boucing a little as she nodded in complacency. "Umu. Umu! I like him. He seems to be quite formidable."

"Hmm. Indeed, my child. I can sense Rome in him."

Shirou narrowed his eyes with a blank expression. "Thanks for the compliment."

"You're very welcome! Umu!"

Mordred tilted her head to the side. 'The heck is that supposed to mean?'

"That's enough," Artoria stated loudly, stepping forward all of a sudden with a determined expression. The two Servants moved their eyes to her. "We won't hand Berserker over to you. We're the ones who fought him, and therefore it is our duty and right to put an end to this. He will not hurt innocent people again. We cannot allow that."

The tanned man, Romulus, narrowed his eyes. "You are in Rome," he solemnly declared. "Everything and everyone is under my domain here. You will hand him over to us, or you will pay the consequences as trespassers."

The silence he received in response lasted for a few seconds.

"You ought to do as he said," the female Servant dressed in red added as well. "Once one enters our city, Pater won't let him go that easily. He's strong, and there is no opponent who will be able to escape his control. No one can match our combined power," she nodded with a sly smile on her lips.

Iskandar smirked with irony. "You say that, and yet you allowed Berserker to wreak havoc in your own city?"

The girl sputtered in shame, her posture visibly faltering. "U-Uwah! That was a simple mistake on our part!" she yelled with embarrassment, frantically waving her arms as she puffed her cheeks, her face beet red.

Artoria readied her stance. "Then your 'control' leaves much to be desired. We have no reason to do as you say."

"I agree. We won't leave this to you," Shirou agreed with a solemn expression, tightening the grip on his sword and nodding along with Iskandar.

Sheer silence greeted their decision. Mordred, Gawain and Bedivere readied themselves as well, assuming a defensive stance, ready to sprint into action at any moment.

Seconds passed, followed by silence.

"…I see. Very well, then."

Romulus stepped forward, summongin his weapon with a twist of the wrist: a double-pointed spear with a wide blade made of a crimson metal, similar to blood. Its shape and its large dimensions reminded Shirou, for some strange reason, of a tree that extended its branches towards the sky and its roots towards the heart of the earth. The blonde girl did the same, snapping her fingers and summoning her own blade with an explosion of red petals: a scarlet long sword with a twisted shape and an inscription carved on it.

"I see. It's truly regrettable, but this Imperial matter cannot be overlooked," the red Saber spoke with a sad tone of voice. Her green eyes flashed in disappointment. "Umu. I am truly saddened to have to fight such interesting and promising Servants, but there's no choice."

She readied her stance, glaring at all of them with a confdend smirk.

"You will give our Socio back, at any cost!"

Both sides tensed. The Servants readied themselves. All of them raised their weapons.

Seconds passed, followed by minutes.

Shirou waited. And waited. And waited.

Then, as soon as the enemies jumped, he moved with inhuman speed.

His companions didn't have time to do anything. They couldn't even move. As soon as they blinked, in fact, the God of War had already leaped into the sky, his katana ready in hand and his body moving towards the closest opponent. He was as fast as lighting, no longer intent on fighting while restraining the powers he had left. He couldn't risk putting his comrades in danger again. Not anymore. Not after what happened with that Counter Guardian.

This time, he would not hesitate to annihilate his opponents.

The blonde girl dressed in red pounced on him as they hovered in the air, her sword raised above her head and ready to land a vertical slash. Shirou met her charge head on, his expression firm and his eyes narrowed. He deflected the opponent's blow with the katana and kicked her in her chest, making her yelp in pain. The girl growled, and she attempted another lunge which he avoided by tilting his head and body to the right. He parried and deflected a couple of successive slashes, and eventually lifted his leg with his impressive speed and kicked his opponent in the head.

The red Saber cried in pain, before being forcefully thrown down and crashing to the ground with a loud crash that generated an explosion. The wooden floor of the arena cracked under the force of the blow, and Shirou landed on it gracefull, staring at the girl still thrown into the sand. Artoria, Mordred and the others stared at the scene with wide eyes.

"Nero!"

Shirou ducked casually, avoiding a slash from Romulus's spear with disarming ease.

The tall Servant growled and roared in anger, dashing forward when his opponent leaped away from him, turning his back on him. His momentary retreat had offered to the girl the time necessary to get back on her feet, taking the assault together with her ally and running in front of Romulus. She charged yet again towards the Ruler with a battle roar. Shirou watched as they ran towards him, bending his legs slightly and mentally preparing to react.

The girl leapt at him once again, moving her arms for a horizontal slash… but it was a feint. At the last second, she leaned sideways instead of attacking, and Romulus's spear passed over her shoulder like an arrow. The tall Servant – a Lancer, obviously – had thrust the spear forward, using his companion's body as a shield to conceal the attack, aiming at Shirou's chest with considerable speed.

But, once again, the ancient God would not allow himself to be caught unprepared.

With reflexes that left Artoria and the Knights speechless, Shirou bent his torso back with a very rapid movement, allowing Romulus' spear to pass in front of his face without causing damage. Then, as the girl dressed in red stopped behind him and rounded on him in order to attack from behind, he grabbed the spear from the hilt placed in the center of the weapon, and pushed both the spear and Lancer towards him with a powerful tug of the arm. Romulus widened his eyes, but he couldn't do anything as the red-haired Ruler threw him at the blonde Saber, using him as a living shield and preventing her from attacking.

Romulus and his companion slammed into each other, and while they were still moaning in pain Shirou kicked them away with a kick powered by a Mana Burst, causing them to shoot sideways like missiles and yanking the spear from Romulus's hands. The two Servants crashed simultaneously against the south wall of the amphitheater, generating a large explosion and a dust of sand that rose into the sky for several seconds.

Artoria, Mordred, Iskandar and the Knights watched, wide-eyed and stunned, as Shirou teleported - literally teleported - in front of the fallen Servants, aiming his spear at Romulus's chin and his sword at the chin of the girl in red. And as they watched that scene, all of them were filled with shock and utter upheaval. Their minds went blank, filled with disbelief and stunned wonder.

Because all of this had happened in less than five seconds.

Shirou Emiya had ended the fight in less than five seconds.

Before they even had a chance to react and fight.

Just like that, it was over.

And silence descended once again in the Colosseum.

"Y-You..." Romulus stuttered, staring with incredulous eyes at the warrior who was threatening him with his own weapon. "How did you... you are not... Rome?"

The God of War stared blankly. "Am I supposed to know what you mean?"

"U-Umu... Aren't you o-overdoing it a little bit, huh?" the girl laughed nervously, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender and resignation. In that short amount of time, the Ruler had clearly shown that he was far superior and - above all - far stronger than them. Despite the red Saber's cheerful and carefree attitude, even she couldn't deny that he was incredibly powerful. Being able to disarm and corner Romolus AND her at the same time was no easy feat.

At that moment, Artoria and all the others reached Shirou, watching him with incredulous looks. "S-Shirou... what was that?" the King of Knights asked, her mind still struggling to process what she had just seen.

He merely smiled at them. "That was simply me doing my job," he replied casually, still pointing his spear and sword at the tow opponent's chin. Romulus and the girl who looked like Artoria gulped nervously (even though the latter had a smile of admiration on her face, staring straight at Shirou. She was literally looking at him as if he were a newly discovered treasure).

Iskandar laughed. "By the Gods. I knew you were strong, boy, but even I was impressed by your moves!" he exclaimed in his usual exuberant manner. He even patted said boy's shoulder – slapped, actually – completely uncaring of the fact that he was currently threatening two enemy Servants. "I've never see anyone move with such speed without a chariot or the blessing of the Gods! That was quite something, indeed!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. He was great and he spoiled our fun, no biggie," Mordred sighed with a wave of the hand. Her eyes glared at the two Servants held in place by Shirou's blades. "Now let's finish them off and move on already. We have a mission, Ruler, and this whole thing is just wasting our time."

"W-Wait a second... Ruler?"

Shirou, Mordred and all the others turned towards Romulus with inquisitive looks. The Roman Lancer was staring at Shirou with wide eyes full of realization. A trickle of sweat started to drip from his chin as his expression became more and more nervous and full of panic; a clear contrast to his stern and menacing look. He was literally starting to sweat profusely for some reason.

"Y-You're... are you Shirou Emiya?" the Lancer asked slowly.

The old God narrowed his eyes. "You know me?" he asked right back at him.

The founder of Rome did not reply. Instead, his face suddenly turned pale and he began to sweat even more, as if he had just realized he had made a serious, terrible mistake. Even the red Saber widened her eyes next to him, as her expression brightened more and more while she observed Shirou in a new light.

Mordred looked at them with irritation. "Whatever. Let's kill them quickly, Ruler. I'm tired of this already."

"I'd appreciate if you wouldn't, sir Mordred."

Everyone turned towards the direction of the new voice: the main entrance to the Colosseum. And to say that they were amazed to find a certain person there would have been an understatement. Yep, it would have been the understatement of the century. After all, Shirou and his companions had seen so many during this crazy Holy Grail War, but they hadn't expected to come face to face with Olga Marie Animusphere again, head of the Atlas Institute, accompanied by nothing less than two familiar Servants: Thomas Edison and Arjuna.

Shirou, Iskandar and Mordred widened their eyes at the same time.

"...Olga Marie?" the red-haired Ruler asked, visibly confused and bewildered by that sight. This was not what they were expecting. Not one bit.

The white-haired girl smiled at their shocked expression with a face that was both haughty and solemn at the same time. "In the flesh. It's nice to see you guys again. You didn't expect to see us so soon, did you?" she asked back at them, stepping forward with a solemn and decisive step.

Shirou blinked. "Well, that's a given."

"And if it isn't Caster and Archer!" Mordred added with a raised eyebrow, smirking in anticipation as Arjuna approached them with an amused smile. The Knight of Treachery patted him on the back, much to his annoyance and Iskandar's amusement. "Well, well. What a surprise. I thought we wouldn't see your boring face again for quite a while. Keh! What a bummer."

The Indian Archer smiled a little. "The feeling is mutual, sir Mordred," he half-joked as well, offering a nod of greeting to Shirou and Iskandar.

"Bwahahah! Indeed! It is great to see you all! We really missed you guys in the last few weeks!" Edison laughed/roared with a boisterous manner, moving closer to Mordred and her friends and offering them a grin with his lion face.

Artoria and the Knights blinked in confusion throughout that whole scene.

Shirou planted his foot on the Lancer's chest, keeping him still while he continued to point the tip of his katana on the Saber's neck. "Well, that's quite the surprise," he spoke with a blank face. All the while, he stared at Arjuna with a raised eyebrow. "By the way, did you have any luck in finding your brother? I remember that was your goal."

The Indian Demi-God shook his head with a sad smile. "Not yet, unfortunately. We did manage to meet and recruit a couple more Servants, but my brother wasn't among them. Geronimo is still taking care of them back in America," he explained slowly in his calm, almost monotone voice. A hint of frustration was clearly visible in his black eyes even though his face was a mask of seriousness and impassiveness.

The King of Conquerors crossed his arms with an amused smile. "Heh. It seems you guys have been busy during our absence. How amusing," he commented.

"No more busy than you," Thomas Edison laughed as well, patting Mordred on the shoulder with a bellowing laughter. "We heard the stories. You did a good job in saving Edinburgh and Paris in the past few weeks. You three really can't stay out of troubles, can you?"

"Hey! Don't touch me! You wanna get hit? " the female Knight growled.

Artoria stared at their small interaction that visible confusion. Then, she blinked in Shirou's direction. "You guys know them?" the female King asked to their companions.

The God of War just sighed, and it was the King of Conquerors who answered the question. He laughed with a slow nod before starting to explain. "We sure do! Archer was our very first ally when Ruler, Saber and I were traveling through the American continent. And we told you about our meeting with the Atlas Institute back in Scotland, remember? The little girl over there is the director, if I remember correctly."

"You do, King of Conquerors," said girl confirmed in a firm voice as the King of Knights nodded in acceptance and mulled over a past conversation.

"U-Umu. Excuse me, fellow warriors and Heroes, but we're still here..." the red Saber drawled with a sweat-drop, gulping under the tip of Shirou's sword still pointed at her chin and sharing an annoyed glance with Romulus.

"Quiet you," their captor spoke coldly.

Olga Marie sighed. In the next two seconds, she brought herself next to Shirou and pointed a finger at the two Servants that the red-haired Ruler was still holding captive with the blades. "You can release them, Ruler. They won't cause problems anymore."

That made him pause, along with everyone else. The confusion was clearly visible in their faces.

"...what?"

The white-haired girl sighed, running a hand over her temples with an irritated expression. Everyone's perplexity only seemed to irritate her even more. "They're not enemies, Shirou. They're allies," she explained, stressing on the last word as she shot a furious glance at the two defeated Servants. Romulus looked down in shame, and the red Saber scratched her cheek sheepishly. "We met these two three days ago, and they decided to help us with a certain task. We are currently working with them on behalf of the Mage's Association."

She cast a dirty look at the Lancer and Saber. "And what happened here is a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding that would have been easily avoided… if only these two hadn't decided to ignore the orders to pursue our Berserker," she finally concluded, crossing her arms solemnly.

"Hehehe... I apologize?" the red Saber said with a sheepish smile.

Shirou and her companions stared with obvious confusion to their interaction.

"Wait, wait wait! Just hold on a freaking second," Mordred exclaimed aloud, her helment snapping open with a loud clinck. "Are you saying these two annoying idiots are on our side?" she asked incredulously.

Said idiots' eyebrows twitched, but they remained still in a shameful silence. Olga Marie and the newcomers nodded without missing a beat.

Iskandar stared a few seconds. Then he smirked a little. "Heh. I wasn't expecting this turn of events. How amusing, indeed…" was all he said.

"Are you kidding me, Rider? We were attacked by our own allies!" Mordred raged with clear irritation. For once, even Bedivere and Gawain seemed to agree with her. Why the hell had those two attacked them if they were apparently allied with them?

"Hold your horses, sir Knight. What's done is done," Arjuna commented with a tired shake of the head. He could already feel a migraine coming. "They probably didn't imagine running into our friends as well."

Sheer silence greeted Arjuna's explanation.

Then, slowly and reluctantly, Shirou released the two Servants, dissolving his sword and throwing Lancer's spear to the ground. The founder of Rome got up off the ground with obvious embarrassment, while the red Saber merely started to dust off her dress with an offended pout.

"Umu. What a truly unfortunate display. Unbelievable," she pouted with clear shame on her face.

The God of War suddenly narrowed his eyes. His face flashed in realization. "Wait... then, Berserker is..." he began to say, taking a look at the Servant still lying on the ground at the center of the arena, passed out and completely unconscious. The others followed his gaze, slowly narrowing their eyes.

A pained grimance flashed on Olga Marie's face, and the girl nodded slowly. "He's... he's with us, too," she admitted in a low voice, lowering her gaze and clenching her fists. Shirou and the others widened their eyes, shocked and stunned by the revelation. "Antonio Salieri is close with these two. A friend of them. What he did today… it was a terrible mistake. It wasn't supposed to happen."

Those present did not fail to notice the way Arjuna and Edison's faces mirrored Marie in her grief, as well as how Romulus and the red Saber lowered their gaze to the ground soon after.

Mordred stared at them with a blank face. "...are you kidding me?" she whispered fiercely, her voice filled with outrage and disbelief. They could literally see the anger blossom on her expression like an wakening volcano. "Are you fucking kidding me!?"

For once, Shirou shard her very same anger. "Marie… are you saying that one of your own allies actually attacked the capital?" Shirou asked in a slow, almost frighteningly low voice. He was staring holes into Olga Marie's head with cold, enraged eyes filled with anger. "He killed innocent people today. And you say that he is our ally?"

The girl visibly hesitated and began to sweat slightly when red-haired Ruler narrowed her eyes on her.

"And what's more, you haven't done anything... until now?"

The general shame and embarrassment were palpable in the air. An eerie silence was the only answer to her question.

...

Until, the silence was interrupted by another familiar voice.

"It's true, Emiya Shirou."

The God of War and his allies turned to the person who had spoken, their eyes wide and full of anger and disbelief mixed together.

Waver Velvet stepped forward into the Colosseum, staring at all the present with a solemn and calculating gaze. He had a cigar in his mouth, and a black jacket was currently resting on his shoulders like a cloak as he advanced towards them with an unreadable look on his face.

Iskandar narrowed his eyes as soon as he saw him. "...you guys have a lot of things to explain, young man."

Lord El-Melloi II merely nodded with a solemn face.

"Let's head back to our current destination," he said in the end. "We'll explain everything to you along the way."

---

Planet: Earth
Date: June 3 2020
Location: Vatican Archives – Vatican City (Rome - Italy)

(======)

Ever since the 1st century of Christianity, the Church had already acquired, and begun to assemble, a sizable collection of records over the years. Known alternately as the Holy Scrinium or the Chartarium, these records normally traveled with the current pope and increased in number as the years and decades passed. Then, when the years became centuries and centuries became millennia, the Church had accumulated an enormous amount of knowledge and documents, which included not only historical records; but also riches, Artifacts, Relics, and knowledge about Magecraft that went far beyond the common imagery of the people or even of the modern Mages.

After all, it was undeniable to say that the Holy Church was one of the richest and most powerful institutions on the planet. Its influence was widespread in every corner of the globe, today more than ever. And even if the vast majority of the documents that the Church had accumulated in the past were now lost, the wealth and knowledge it had obtained in the course of two millennia of existence continued to be jealously guarded within the heart of the Church, even to this day. And now, after more than two thousand years of accumulation, all the Church's records and treasures were safely assembled in one place: the Vatican Archives.

Given the world-wide reputation of this place and its relevance as the 'heart' of the Catholic Church and the Holy Church; the Archives and the city in general were extremely protected and guarded constantly. Bounded Fields, magical barriers and various protective spells were perpetually activated in every corner of Vatican City, so elaborate and effective that no Magus in the world would have been able to detect and overcome them all. And this without taking into account the constant monitoring by the soldiers: security was at the highest level here every day, every year. There were thousands of police forces and private guards who ensured the security here with cameras, patrols and constant monitoring. It was literally impossible to sneak into this place without being detected and stopped in advance. If it had set foot inside the place, even a Servant in astral form would have been detected sooner or later. Security was top notch here.

And it was precisely within this inaccessible place that Lord El-Melloi II and Olga Marie led Shirou and his companions.

Thanks to his large and wide-spread connections and knowledge, Waver Velvet was able to let the Servants inside the building, bypassing the guards who simply gave them a special permit pass and allowing them to enter inside one of the most famous and inaccessible places on the planet. Once inside, the young Lord led them through the underground corridors of the Archives with a brisk and determined step. Together with him, Olga Marie followed him closely, guarded and flanked by Arjuna, who acted as a bodyguard for her and the Magus of the Clock Tower.

The Ruler and his companions followed them without a word, while keeping an eye on the two Servants they'd had the 'pleasure' of meeting a few hours earlier: the founder of Rome, Romulus and – what a surprirse – the red Saber who was none other than the Roman Emperor Nero Claudius. The two Sevants were following Marie and the young Lord as well, the first with a solemn gaze on his face and the latter with a cheerful and carefree air around her. The only one not present right now was Thomas Edison, who had moved to another side of the building to treat and tend Berserker's wounds: Antonio Salieri. The lion-faced Caster had promised to heal him in no time, much to the others' confusion and suspicion.

In the end, the group reached their destination: the interior of a gigantic room located in the basement of the Archives. It was a huge room, structured like a real library, with several numbered metal shelves and countless documents, books and tomes recorded and marked inside them. The roof was elegantly painted with an eighteenth-century fresco depicting different biblical scenes, creating a mix and contrast of shapes and colors that was almost breathtaking to see. In the middle of the shelves and the innumerable bookcases, moreover, a large meeting table was placed at the center of the room, with a round shape and considerable width. Lord El-Melloi II gestured for everyone to take a seat with a wave of his hand.

"So let me get this straight," Shirou spoke as soon as he took a seat at the table, summing up the previous speech that took place during their endless journey to get here. "You two are currently collaborating on a specific job. A 'common acquaintance' of yours has tasked you to investigate a case of the utmost importance; and has specifically asked for your help. For this reason, you both came to this place despite your hatred and distrust of the Church and its members."

Both Waver Velvet and Olga Marie nodded with stony-faced expressions. "That's right," they said in unison.

"You recently met these two, and after making sure of their status and their loyalty, asked them to join forces with you to solve this mystery," the Ruler continued, casting a cold glance at Romulus and Nero. The Lancer nodded and the Saber smiled innocently under his inquisitive gaze. "Then, out of the blue, another ally of yours suddenly went mad and fled from the base, starting to spread panic and death around the city for no apparent reason."

"And said ally is none other than Berserker. That… Antonio Salieri," Artoria added soon after him, her emerald eyes shining with cold and detatched suspicion.

Lord El-Melloi II nodded impassively. "Exactly."

Shirou stared at him for several seconds. "...you really expect us to believe such sensless explanation?" he asked rhetorically.

"You're free to believe whatever you want, Ruler," Olga Marie spoke with a careless tone of voice. The six allied Servants narrowed their eyes on her. "This won't change the truth. Salieri was – and is – one of our allies. We met him five days ago, and he has always been a gentle and well-mannered Servant ever since the beginning. Despite his questionable Class and his troublesome Mad Enhancement, he has never fallen victim to such a fit of madness before. He was devoted to our cause, and he had repeatedly expressed his obvious disappointment with this Holy Grail War, given that his only interest lays in music."

"And yet, he suddenly fell victim of a fit of frenzy and killed countless victims for no reason," Gawain spoke suspiciously, clearly doubtful about this whole thing. Shirou and the others also shared the same doubt.

Waver Velvet nodded. "That's how it is."

"He tried to kill us too," Mordred added as well, glaring at the black-haired man with a scowl.

"And we are deeply shaken and sorry for his actions," Olga Marie nodded with her eyes closed, mulling over something inside her head. "But that's the truth. Salieri has never attacked anyone before, and both I and the others can testify it. We don't know what happened to him, but we're determined to find out as much as you are."

Seeing everyone's doubtful looks, Arjuna locked eyes with Shirou and nodded. "That's right, Ruler. I can guarantee that Lady Marie is not lying about this. I swear," he said in absolute seriousness.

Shirou looked him in the eye for some time. Seconds passed, followed by sheer silence.

Then, seeing the absolute certainty in the eyes of his ally, he sighed and closed his eyes. "All right," he finally conceded. "Fine. I still have doubts about this, but it is clear that you're not lying. Or, at least, that you're sincerely convinced of what you're saying."

Marie narrowed her eyes in irritation. "This isn't a nice way to say we're honest," she noted.

He ignored her completely. "Besides, this is awfully familiar by now. The same thing happened before with Napoleon and other Servants. I have no reason to distrust your words," he reasoned with a tired sigh, speaking for himself and his companions.

Then, however, his eyes snapped open and his gaze bore into Lord El-Melloi's. "But let's make this clear: I will be the one to judge Berserker. I don't know what happened to him, but once he's recovered and regained consciousness, you will give it to me," he declared with absolute seriousness. Both his face and tone were as cold as a sword when he spoke. "That man killed a lot of people today, and he endangered many others. As a Ruler, I have the duty and responsibility to make sure that something like that never happens again. He will answer for his crimes. To me."

Olga Marie seemed to hesitate at his words, but Waver Velvet merely nodded casually. "Agreed. We'll leave him to you once he's fully recovered. Maybe we can find out what happened to him, with a little bit of luck. We are currently doing the same thing with Napoleon in London. This situation could be the perfect chance to compare the two cases and finally learn something about the 'controlled' Servants."

Shirou nodded in total agreement, and everyone visibly relaxed. As soon as the agreement was made on that matter, the tension in the air visibly deflated in but a few moments.

Iskandar ran a hand over his beard and attracted everyone's attention. "Boy, do you think that Berserker was manipulated as well?" he asked, voicing the doubt that plagued the minds of Shirou and many others in the room.

The God of War nodded. "I don't know, Rider. This isn't the first time we've seen such a case, however. But we'll get our answers only after having a little chat with him," he replied slowly with a shrug, putting that topic aside. For the moment.

Mordred drew attention to her when she scoffed all of a sudden. "Whatever. That's decided now. Let's move on already," she spat with a wave of the hand, throwing a dirty look at Romulus and - above all - Nero. The two Servants blinked at her outraged face. "Care to explain why these two tried to attack us now?"

The muscled Lancer closed his eyes shamefully under her harsh glare, but Nero merely laughed with a sheepish expression, waving her arms slightly in a sign of non-hostility. "Now, now... don't be like that!" she exclaimed solemnly. Her voice was both haughty and solemn as she spoke, as if she loved being at the center of attention (even if that was only because of what they had done before). "We just wanted to rescue our Socio. There's no need to make such a fuss over something trivial like this."

"Are you nuts!? You tried to attack us!"

"It was trivial, I say!"

"Me and Nero were chasing Berserker," Romulus interrupted them suddenly, attracting everyone's attention. He closed his eyes with a regretful expression. "As soon as we discovered that he had escaped and gone mad, we immediately started looking around in order to stop him. The others were against it, but we didn't listen and left anyway. Unfortunately however, we failed to reach him in time, as you saw. When we finally managed to locate him, we found you guys and saw you were about to kill him. We couldn't stand it. He may have been controlled, but he's still a comrade. A child of Rome. We could not allow him to die, in spite of his terrible actions."

Shirou looked at him closely. He had no idea why that man was so obsessed with Rome, but he could at least understan his reasoning. Therefore, he offered him a nod. "I understand. You did warn us before attacking. You just wanted to save a teammate. I can understand that," he said finally, trying to be understanding about this.

Mordred snorted, but remained silent. Even she understood that it would do no good for her to remain hostile towards their supposed allies.

"Yes… but we should have tried to explain it better," the founder of Rome enunciated again seriously. "We started a fight for no reason. That was a mistake on our part, Nero."

The female Emperor stilled and lowered her shoulders, pouting with her cheeks puffed.

The red-haired Ruler smiled. He could see that that Lancer was a good Servant, despite his menacing body. He spoke in a deep and disturbing tone, but his voice was quiet and gentle; and his attitude extremely different from the threatening appearance he possessed. Although he was always stony-faced and not as easy-going as the Saber, he was an honorable and kind warrior. His red eyes were disturbing, yes, but they lacked the malice and hatred he had seen in many other Servants.

He could forgive what happened before, then.

"Don't worry about it," Shirou then reassured him with a sigh. "Olga Marie was right. What happened before was a misunderstanding. Besides, as you saw, none of my friends was hurt in our fight. There's no need to dweel on this anymore."

'Yeah, but only because you literally wiped the floor with them,' was everyone's unanimous thought. They didn't dare to voice those words aloud, though.

Romulus nodded. "…Indeed. Just like my children said, you are stronger than you look. But my thoughts still fill me with regret even now," he slowly admitted, steeling his resolve with a nod of decision.

Then, out of the blue, Romulus rose from his seat with a solemn motion and marched in front of Shirou. The God of War blinked and stared as the Lancer bowed his head a little, offering a small smile. His expression was full of regret. "As the founder of Rome, I apologize for what happened before," he sincerely apologized in a humble and kind manner, completely uncaring to his status. "I should have explained the situation... and tried to discuss instead of jumping into action at the first moment. I acted brashly, and I'm sorry."

Shirou hesitated a couple of seconds, genuinely impressed by his words and actions. Then, finally, he sighed and gave him a small smile. "Don't worry. I understand the situation now. It was just a misunderstanding. I won't hold this against you and Nero," he offered him a hand to shake, nodding with a serene expression. "I promise."

Romulus shook his hand, nodding as well. "Thank you," he said gratefully. "It seems that I was right. You too are none other than Rome, after all."

Iskandar laughed at the scene. "What does that even mean, anyway?"

"Rome is the world and the world is Rome," the Lancer solemnly explained, as if it was obvious. A mere fact. "There isn't anyone who doesn't belong to Rome. After all, Rome is the world itself. And soon, I will welcome the Holy Grail as a part of Rome as well."

Shirou, Artoria and his companions looked at him with blank faces.

Nope. They didn't get it at all.

Nero watched the scene as well, her green eyes sparkling with interest as they gazed at the red-haired Ruler with obvious intrigue. "Hoho~ Not bad. Not bad at all! To actually manage to make Pater say something like this… I knew you were different from normal Servants," she said with interest, nodding to herself while she stared at Shirou like a cat looking at a succulent piece of meat.

The whole room sweat-dropped when the red Saber suddenly rose from her seat and marched straight up to the Ruler, sitting exactly next to him with a broad, confident smile. Shirou blinked and hesitated as the blonde girl pushed her body towards him, her face just a few inches from his, staring straight into his eyes.

Her emerald eyes visibly sparkled. "Indeed. Indeed! You're interesting! And powerful, too! My instincts never lie!" she nodded to herself, crossing her arms in approval while she stared at him with clear admiration and desire. "I am pleased! I, the great Emperor Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, approve of you!"

Shirou stared at her, completely lost. "Huh... thanks?"

"You're welcome, Umu!" then, she roused to life again all of a sudden, leaning towards him on the chair and bringing her face extremely close to his. "Therefore, from now on, you shall be my new Maestro. My Praetor!"

The whole room could practically feel the intense glare that Artoria sent to the female Emperor after that bold declaration. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Even Mordred started to – strangely – glare at the Roman Emperor for some reason.

But Shirou and Nero remained completely oblivious to all of this.

"…Thanks, but no," the Ruler replied with a sweat-drop. "I already have my own fair share of troubles as I am. I have no need for more."

That seemed to make the King of Knights and Mordred relax.

But Nero merely smirked at his answer. "Hoh? Not perturbed?" she mused with approval, getting even closer to Shirou and locking her arm of his own. "As expected from the one who piqued my interest! I like you even more now! Umu. Umu!" she laughed with a delighted smile, rubbing her cheek on Shirou's shoulder… much to his growing exasperation and embarrassment. In the end, however, he simply decided to ignore her, completely unfazed by her words.

And luckly for her, Nero was completely oblivious to the murderous glare Artoria was giving her. The King of Knights said nothing, nor she reacted in any open way, but her gaze alone was enough to reveal her true feelings about this. Her gaze was frosty, her left eyebrow twitching slightly, and the air around her hovered with a dark and scary aura for some reason. If looks could kill, the female Emperor would have dropped dead instantly. But still, she remained silent.

Mordred, on the other hand, was not so subtle in showing her growing annoyance. "What do you think you're doing? Get off of him right now!" she spat with a snarl, clearly opposed to the idea of seeing that annoying girl stuck to the Ruler.

The Emperor didn't seem to mind to her blatant hostility, however. On the contrary, it seemed to excite her even more, for some reason.

"Oh my! Such fierce decision! Such bold attachment! If it isn't exactly what I like in a good-looking girl who is just my type!" Nero exclaimed cheerfully, momentarily leaving Shirou and gushing over Mordred instead with glowing eyes.

The Knight of Treachery stilled all of a sudden, her eyes widening comically. "W-W-What?" she roared, torn between being angry, embarrassed or confused. "Did you just call me girl!?"

"Indeed! I like pretty boys, but I like pretty girls like you even more!" she replied with her cheerful and carefree attitude, placing a hand above her heart and doing an excited pirouette on her legs. "Just having you around brings up the mood!" She even grabbed the female Knight's hands, staring at her with a dreamy gaze as Mordred blushed heavily and shivered in irritation and terror at the same time. "Umu. Umu! A pretty girl as a Knight. I must say, your King has excellent taste! This is most interesting!"

"W-W-Wha-ha-ha-ha-?"

"King of Knights! I request this valiant girl as my guard from now on!"

Artoria ran a hand over her face. "...I can't believe this."

"Haha. As expected from Nero. She truly is an Emperor of Rome," Romulus commented with a short, deep laugh.

The others simply stared in confusion and silence at the scene, too flabbergasted – or cringed – to be able to speak.

Poor Mordred, on her part, couldn't become more red and appalled than that. The female Knight seemed extremely close to fainting in shame and embarrassment. And for once, after seeing her like this with cheeks flushed and mouth wide agape; Shirou, Iskandar and the others openly laughed at the scene.

Then, suddenly, something happened.

A light knock echoed behind them, coming from the door to the right.

Lord El-Melloi II and Olga Marie tensed at the same time under the others' inquisitive gaze. Even Nero seemed to deflate and cringe all of a sudden when her eyes fell on the door. And just like that, all the previous mirth disappeared completely from the room.

"Damn it. She's here."

Iskandar narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, young man? Who is it?"

Waver Velvet put on a weary expression as he moved to open the door, sparing to the King of Coquerors a tired glance.

"The one who called us all here. Brace yourselves."

Everyone was perplexed by those words, confused by the man's weary tone and resignation. However, they didn't fail to notice that Olga Marie, Arjuna and even Romulus took on chagrined a expression soon after him. Even Nero seemed to hesitate for some reason, falling uncharacteristically tense and quiet. Shirou and the others were baffled by their strange reaction. What was going on here? Why was everyone reacting that way so suddenly? Who the hell was this person to be able to make them so tense?

And when the door opened, Shirou and everyone else focused their attention on the newcomer with morbid attention.

A figure stepped inside at a slow pace, staring at everyone in the room with a serious and emotionless gaze. She was a girl – a young seventeen-years-old girl, actually – with light gray hair and golden eyes. She was short in stature, short enough to barely reach Waver Velvet's chest, and her skin was pale, much paler than normal. She was wearing church robes of dark blue fabric with a white pattern on the shoulders; brown boots on her feet and a blue hat on her head. She looked like a priestess, literally, with a solemn and aloof air that swayed around her.

The Ruler and his companions narrowed their eyes on her.

"So you're finally back," the girl spoke in a monotonous voice, addressing Waver and Olga Marie with what seemed to be obvious disinterest. "I almost wondered if you two had suddenly died in this stupid War. I was sick and tired of waiting. Your survival instinct and sense of direction are really ridiculous."

Marie visibly bristled in anger, while Lord El-Melloi II rubbed his temples with a sigh.

Shirou and the others blinked in confusion.

Waver Velvet shook his head. "No matter. Our guests are here. Make sure to greet them properly this time," he retorted evenly to her, trying to keep his cool.

"Oh, I see," the girl commented in her emotionless voice. Her golden eyes finally landed on Shirou, Artoria and all the others, studying them for a second with a disinterested gaze. "So these are the Servants you two spoke so highly of? They don't seem so special to me. Look, two of them look like a bad copy of that foolish Emperor of loose morals. I bet they are as useless as her."

The six Servants just blinked in stunned confusion, but Nero's face turned beet red, her cheeks puffing in ager. "How dare you, you insolent priestess! I'll let you know I am the very best Rome has to offer!" she retorted vehemently, waving one arm in the air like a petulant child.

The girl stared back with an impassive face. "You've failed every task we've assigned you in the last two weeks."

She visibly deflated in shame and embarrassment. "Y-You just have to acknowledge the occasional bad roll!" she defended with a tiny voice.

"Hoh? The useless Emperor sure has gotten quite full of herself."

"C-Curse you! I shan't let that pass, even if you're my ally!"

"Stop woofing so loudly. It's disgraceful."

"ENOUGH!" Olga Marie yelled exasperatedly, silencing them both. Her eyebrow was twitching in irritation while Nero gritted her teeth and the priestess remained impassive as ever. "Caren, I've told you countless times to do something to hold that tongue of yours. It's no wonder you have no friends except us."

"But friendship is useless. If there's no sex, then there is no point in creating a lasting relationship," the girl, Caren, retorted without batting an eye.

"L-LISTEN HERE, YOUNG LADY! STOP SAYING STUFF LIKE THAT! I WILL NOT-"

Shirou and his companions stared in silence and wonder as Olga Marie rose from her chair with her face flushed and lips parted in a wide, embarrassed snarl; starting to frantically scold the other girl with speeches about common sense, education and holding back one's impulses. She even began to gesticulate furiously, emphasizing her point several times, but the strange girl remained completely unmoved by her words. In fact, she just seemed confused by her reaction.

The God of War swallowed. "What... the... hell?" was all he managed to say.

"My words exactly," Artoria agreed, for once looking as stunned as the others were.

Iskandar smirked a little with a surprised expression. "I'll be damned. That girl has a foul mouth even worse than yours, Saber. I didn't think such a thing was even possible."

"Hey!"

"…For once I concur, King of Conquerors," Bedivere commented.

"So do I," Gawain as well.

"S-Shut up, all of you!"

Lord El-Melloi II sighed audibly. "Enough. We're not here for this," he said in an irritated tone of voice, drawing everyone's attention to himself. He shot a small glare towards Caren. "Caren, let's get over this already."

The priestess nodded with a small sigh. "Very well," she conceded. Then, she turned to Shirou and the others, offering them a little bow of courtesy. "Greetings, Servants. My name is Caren Hortensia, priestess and Exorcist of the Holy Church, and I devoted my life to propagate love," she introduced herself slowly, her voice perpetually monotonous and emotionless. "I am the one who requested help from the Clock Tower, as well as the one who asked Lord El-Melloi II to bring you all here."

Shirou watched her for a couple of seconds after that presentation. "I see. She is the 'common acquaintance' you spoke of before," he deduced, glancing at Waver and Olga Marie.

The Magus of the Clock Tower nodded. "Indeed. Me and Olga Marie were commissioned by her to investigate an incident that occurred here some time ago. Due to special circumstances, we were forced to ask for your help. That's why I contacted you under Caren's exhortation and asked you to join us here."

Said girl nodded with a bored face. "To be fair, I didn't really want to involve other Servants, since we already had two here, but they are so goddamn worthless when it comes to acting in secret that it's pitiful," Caren added with a resigned sigh, casting a cold glance towards Nero and Romulus with a shake of the head.

...

Shirou and the others stared in disbelief.

Seeing Romulus's expression twitch in irritation and Nero's lips quiver in anger, Caren blinked. "…my apologies. I meant to say that they are like lambs starved for attention. They need assistance for this task, clearly."

The red-haired Ruler hesitated, nodding slowly with clear perplexity on his face. He wisely decided to ignore the wealth of acerbic remarks issuing from that strange girl's lips. Was this how priestesses had become these days?

Then, he narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "What do you mean, act in secret? What's all this about?" he asked her, deciding to be direct. "I grow tired of all the secrecy. Tell me what this task is about. Clearly."

It was Olga Marie who spoke after his words.

"I don't know if you heard about this, but about a month ago the Vatican Archives were robbed. It happened on May 13th," the white-haired girl explained slowly, attracting everyone's attention. "That day, the entire Vatican City exploded into chaos. As you clearly noticed before entering here, this place is highly guarded, and I'm not just referring to the soldiers and guards who are on patrol around the clock. Bounded Fields, barriers and various spells of different nature are perpetually activated in every corner of this place. Entering here without being detected would normally be impossible for anyone; even for Servants. I'm sure you've already noticed this, correct?"

Shirou and his companions nodded. Of course, they had immediately sensed those countless systems of protection from the moment they first set foot in this place. It was difficult for such an amount of Magecraft to go unnoticed by an old God like Shirou, and Artoria had a Dragon Core inside her. She was extremely susceptible to sources of energy and prana. So, they had noticed it right away, no doubt.

Iskandar began to think for a second, scratching his beard in contemplation. "I seem to remember hearing such news on television some time ago. The day Saber, Ruler and I first met and decided to cooperate," he mused aloud, recalling a news they had seen some time ago. "What about it? What is so special about this theft?"

Lord El-Melloi II sighed. "As Olga Marie just mentioned, entering here without being seen or detected in some way is literally impossible," he explained. "And yet, that day, someone managed to do it; and they also effectively neutralized all the Bounded Fields and magical barriers; while at the same time managing to go unnoticed by the guards and leave the place in secret. But not without stealing some precious materials from the Archives, of course."

Artoria rested her arms on the table, leaning forward slightly. "What was stolen, precisely?" she asked in all seriousness.

Caren Hortensia crossed her arms, both her face and voice devoid of emotions. "Several historical documents of absolute importance," she solemnly explained. "And... a certain Artifact."

Mordred raised a brow. "That's it? A thief gets in here and steals only some old documents and a stupid Artifact without touching anything else? Not even a single jewel or piece of gold?" she asked, perplexed and bored at the same time. "That's stupid."

"That's right! A thief who doesn't even know what to steal is even worse than a criminal!" Nero declared with a snooty smile, crossing her arms across her chest.

The others ignored her.

"Most of the stolen documents are different from what you might think. They were historical records," Caren continued to say without missing a beat. "Ancient scrolls and inscriptions. A few finds dating back to 4000 BC, mainly. Some were even older and dated around five thousand years ago. Apart from that, nothing else has been touched."

Shirou felt a shiver run down his back all of a sudden.

4000 BC? Five thousand years ago? That was oddly specific. And undoubtedly worrying.

After all, that was...

Shirou gritted his teeth.

No. It couldn't be.

"What does all of this have to do with us?" Iskandar asked at that point, his deep voice filled with seriousness and stern solemnity. "We're currently in the middle of a War. A simple theft of historical documents and Artifacts is not relevant compared to the bigger threat looming over the world right now."

"On the contrary, this is extremely important," the emotionless priestess cut him off with an eerie smile. "Especially because, if what Lord El-Melloi told me is true, then this War and the theft that took place here a month ago might be deeply connected."

The King of Conquerors tensed and narrowed his eyes after hearing that statement. Bedivere exchanged a glance with his King. "You believe a Servant is behind the theft," he deduced.

Romulus nodded. "Indeed."

"So what? What does all of this have to do with the War?" Mordred asked with growing irritation, getting straight to the point as always.

Caren closed her eyes, and Olga Marie looked down to the ground. It was Lord El-Melloi II who answered. And when he did, his voice was hesitant like never before, and full of tension and concern as well. Shirou and the others had never seen him so worried before.

"If what Ruler told us during our last contact is true; if that Counter Guardian and his words about this so-called 'Age of Nature' were sincere... then we believe that this War is much more dangerous than we originally thought," he said with a pale face. "I'm afraid that we might be close to an event that could concretely threaten not only humanity as a whole... but also the very same foundations of this world."

Shirou, Iskandar, Mordred, Artoria, Bedivere and Gawain drew in a sharp breath. Nero and Romulus clenched their fists with a thoughtful expression. Olga Marie and Caren remained uncharacteristically silent.

"…Explain what you mean, Mr. Waver," Artoria spoke in a cold voice.

Silence, however, was their only answer.

Then, after five seconds of absolute quiet, Caren snapped her fingers. A small object appeared in her hand with a cloud of smoke: a yellow folder containing a few documents and photographs.

Then, she tossed it to Shirou. The Ruler grabbed it with ease, narrowed his eyes, and took a quick glance at the documents inside.

And then, his eyes widened out of all proportions.

No way... this was... it couldn't be...

It couldn't be true.

Caren Hortensia gave them a smile that was anything but reassuring.

"Tell me, Ruler. Have you ever heard the legend of Tyr, the First Hero of Humanity?"

---

CODEX PLANETAE

[COUNTER FORCE] Database

Taken from the notes of Alaya

Subject: Tyr [-Shirou Emiya-], #1 among the Ancestral Heroes

Alias: God of War, Humanity's Liberator, Grand Hero, God-Slayer, First Hero of Humanity

Description:

I believe that after having spent so many words to gather information on the Holy Sword and its connection with Shirou Emiya, it is right and necessary to add in these very same notes at least a hint and a minimum of explanation regarding the only weapons still in possession of the God of War. The only "true" weapons that remained to his side, even to this day.

As it has already been explained and mentioned several times in the previous notes, at the end of his life in the Real Side of the World, Shirou killed himself and decided to surrender his weapons to humanity. With his apparent death after the Ritual on the Rock, his soul disappeared from the reality plane and the bond between Shirou and his weapons was temporarily severed. That's the main reason why he was able to pass down his weapons to mankind despite their bond with him. When he left for the Other Side of the World, all the weapons he had forged - Divine Constructs, Demonic Weapons, Conceptual Weapons and all the other weapons related to him and his story - were lacking their owner and could be wielded freely, even if some of them chose to manifest themselves only to those who were worthy enough to wield them. Therefore, once he found himself on the Other Side of the World, Shirou had completely lost not only all of his powers, but all of his weapons as well.

All of them, except for two.

The only weapons that still remained in his possession after the Ritual on the Rock were the twin blades, also known as the "Married Blades": Kanshou and Bakuya.

The reason these two weapons stayed with him is simple: unlike all the other weapons he carried, the twin blades were not forged by him; but on the contrary, they had been entrusted to him by their original owner: an old friend of Shirou and a mere human, called Kanshou.

The true legend of this particular pair of weapons is a tragic one. A legend of pain and sacrifice. Upon receiving orders from the God of War Futsunushi to forge an imperial sword, Kanshou could not think of ways to forge a blade that could fit such orders. While he was extremely frustrated and desperate, his wife, Bakuya, upon seeing this situation, decided to gamble her own life. As it is now clear after all the informations gathered before in the previous notes, in order for a weapon to reach great powers and durability, it must contain a soul within it. Therefore, the sacrifice of human lives was absolutely necessary in order to forge items reaching the realm of Gods. For this very same reason, Bakuya hurled herself into the furnace in front of the husband she loved, and used her own life to help the Essence of Five Mountains and the Metal of Six Heroes meld. Then, during that night of crying and pain, Kanshou forged the two swords in grief. He kept the Yang sword, named Bakuya after his wife, and he only handed over the Yin Sword, Kanshou, to the God when it came time to present them. However, Futsunushi was furious upon discovering the deception, and had Kanshou captured and tortured in his castle, stealing the second sword as well.

After a week, when Shirou returned from his journey to [ERROR - DATA CORRUPTED] and stopped in the village where Kanshou and Bakuya used to live, he learned of what had happened from the other inhabitants, and was instantly consumed with rage. Then, overwhelmed by outrage and thirst for vengeance, he marched into the land of the rival God and seized his castle within a single night. He spared no one. He destroyed everything and everyone, and killed every single slave and servant of the God, eventually managing to kill Futsunushi himself in a very grotesque way: severing his arms, legs and tongue and watching him die slowly as he bled to death in a pool of blood. Finally, when his anger subsided and his revenge was exacted, he reached the castle's dungeons and freed Kanshou from prison.

But it was too late. The man was sick, undernourished and wounded beyond salvation. In a broken and desperate voice, Kanshou pleaded with Shirou to take back the Married Blades and keep them together; and with his last breath he made the God promise to keep them with him forever, so that no one could ever separate them again. And that is a promise that Shirou kept for his entire life, even to this day. This is why, even in spite of the Ritual and the separation, the God of War has managed to keep the twin blades with him for all this time: because he was not the one who created them and, consequentially, he held no true connection with them.

However, despite this, there is a major detail that needs to be clarified. Having been forged without a true purpose and being born from pain and grief, Kanshou and Bakuya are weapons that have no notable powers or particularities. Unlike the weapons forged by Shirou, they were crafted more for the sake of crafting, as if questioning the meaning of the swordsmith, than for any real idea behind their creation. They were created without vanity, and lack a sense of purpose found in other swords. They contain no fighting spirit to defeat others nor a competitive spirit to beat other weapons, and possess neither the desire to be famous nor the faith to accomplish great deeds. The only positive detail about them is that their quality and ability as swords is high due to being made with the best materials and a human sacrifice, and they have slight shamanistic and ritual aspects as enchanted weapons. But apart from that, they are weapons absolutely devoid of any special powers or abilities whatsoever.

And yet, Shirou still kept them with him, and is still keeping them even to this day. Kanshou and Bakuya are the only original weapons still in his possession. For this very same reason, during our previous chat, Ado Edem claimed that over the course of his life, the blades have become his favorite weapons... but I have several doubts about this claim. After all, even without having concrete weapons in his possession apart from those two, Shirou can still Trace and Project different weapons and use them to fight all the same. After all, the God of War doesn't need a real weapon to fight for real.

But still, despite their tragic past and origin, I can't help but find Shirou's and the blades' situation quite amusing.

After all, for a God who forged countless weapons of unparalleled power and fought countless battles with them... to be reduced to a simple man with naught but a pair of blades with no desire to fight at the end of his story... it was quite the development. A God who chose to live as a man, and a pair of blades who chose not to be used for battle.

Despite the unpleasant irony, I find them to be perfect for each other.

---

IMPORTANT NOTES (this is gonna be long. Please bear with me):

The nightmare scene at the beginning of the chapter is inspired by another fic. Said fic is called: "The New Dawn" by -Code Musica-. Months ago I asked him if I could take inspiration from his work for a scene, and he said it was fine. You can give credit to that scene to him and his fic, if you want.

I actually like the idea of taking a little inspiration from other fanfics (if I get permission from the authors to do it, of course). Not only this is a way to pay a small tribute to other people's works, but it is also a way to let other readers discover and find some good stories. Anyway, should I ever take inspiration from another story again in the future, I will always ask for permission and eventually write it in the notes. I don't want steal credit from others, of course. I consider this a Tribute, and nothing more.

. . .

A few details about the chapter:

We've finally received a few informations about Tyr's past in this chapter. Many things are deliberately left unsaid for now, and it is an intentional choice. As I mentioned in a past note, this Arc will be less about fighting and more about getting crucial informations and show more character development. So, I hope you'll look forward to it.

For those wondering: yes, I deliberately and purposely chose not to show anything regarding Try's legend in the real world until now. I had planned since the beginning to finally reveal something in this Arc. Basically, what happened with Rhongomyniad in the last chapter was all about this. With that scene, I wanted to make you guys think: "Hey, there's no reason for Shirou to keep his identity secret now. I think he should tell the others, what could possibly go wrong?" and then show a few things in this Arc and actually reveal that there's more behind this matter than what you might think. You'll see what I'm referring to in future chapters, so don't worry. This is just the beginning.

Since some of you asked me this in private, I'll say it to all of you right now: no, Caesar won't appear in this Arc in Italy. He will appear in the NEXT one. I have something planned for him and his dear Cleopatra.

. . .

Just a little thing I need to get out of my chest.

A certain reader wrote to me in private a couple of days ago. He complained to me about the fact that I chose to make Shirou 'lose' his fight with Counter Guardian Emiya in the last chapter, saying that I spent all this time making Shirou a 'God' and an OP character, only to made him lose during his first real fight. This is obviously his personal opinion, and I won't judge it. Actually, I respect it and I'm really grateful he told me that. I really appreciate constructive criticism. However, there is something I want to clarify about this matter.

The fight with the Counter Guardian is NOT Shirou's first, real battle. Have you forgotten? Before we got to that, we saw Shirou fight several times (he literally defeated Mordred in a fierce battle as soon as he was summoned - he defeated Hessian Lobo and survived a fall from a freaking plane at the same time - he literally wiped the floor with Mephistopheles - he almost killed Spartacus with an arrow - he threatened D'Eon and defeted Napoleon with disarming ease…) Only after ALL of that I made him 'lose' (which is also an exaggeration, since the battle ended in a stalemate) against Assassin Emiya. We've literally spent 15 chapters seeing and discovering how strong Shirou is. I'd say we already know he's OP by now. So, I think it was right to show that even he can fail sometimes. He IS and will be OP in my fic, but as I said in the last chapter: I've NEVER intended to make things easy for him. That was never my story, nor my goal. I want to create a character who struggles in his own ways. Even in battles.

I know I can't please everyone. I know that my story cannot match everyone's taste. I'm not a great author, and English is not even my native or main language. Therefore, I'm fully aware of the fact that my fic is not great, and also of the fact that some people won't like the story (it's an AU, after all, and for that reason alone a lot of people won't like it regardless of the plot). But I don't care. I write simply because I like it, and to improve my skills in English. That's it. I can only hope some of you can appreciate that, even if I can't hope to please everyone. :)

. . .

As always, forgive me for any eventual grammar mistakes and misspellings in the chapter. I leave you with a warning that I would like to remind to everyone. A warning that I wrote since the very beginning, in the very first notes of the prologue:

The last thing I want to say is this: don't take this story too seriously. My intent is to write something that can entertain and intrigue those who read it, not to create a serious and complex story with compelling plot and epic or memorable scenes. Of course, I'll do my best to make the story as interesting as possible (otherwise it wouldn't make sense to publish it and let you guys read it) but I want to be clear about this. My story is meant to be taken lightly. It is made to entertain, not to thrill. So, if there are differences with the original story, if some characters will be OOC (out of characters) and if my different narrative choices may seem exaggerated to you, know that it is all intentional. I don't want to create a story that is faithful to the rules and the universe of Fate, but a story that can entertain in my own way. That's all.

See you next time.