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]

19. Chapter 18 - 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.

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FATE/Oppression
-Arc IV-

Chapter 18

Planet: Earth
Date: June 4 2020
Location: Doge's Palace – Piazza San Marco (Venice - Italy)

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Shirou stared at the courtyard of stone and marble where his targets were currently located.

He was lying on his belly on the roof of the Doge's Palace, a monumental historical building built in Venetian Gothic style, and one of the main landmarks of the city of Venice. The palace had been the residence of the Doge of Venice in ancient times, the supreme authority of the former Republic; and now it had become a famous museum, as well as a well-known tourist attraction. The cold, sharp earthen tiles teased his palms as he approached the edge of the roof to get a better view of the courtyard and its occupants.

The sun nearing midday burned high in the sky, producing long and narrow shadows along the alleys and canals of the city, and illuminating the courtyard so much so that its marble floor looked like a mirror of blinding gold. A myriad of people and a large number of stalls filled the crowded square, generating an uneven mixture of voices, bodies and incessant movements. The North side of the courtyard was closed by the junction between the Palace and St Mark's Basilica, which used to be the Doge's chapel, and two well-heads dating from the mid-16th century stood at the center of the courtyard, above which several tourists and passers-by stopped to take pictures and chat.

To his left, Shirou heard the steady breathing of his current companion, Caren Hortensia, who was lying on the tiles next to him. The girl's normally inaudible flow of air seemed preternaturally loud to the Ruler with his heightened sense of hearing; one of many advantages wrought by his dual nature as a God and a man.

He paid little attention to that now as he watched a column of people inch towards the left side of the courtyard, apparently having walked out from the towering Basilica to the North. A contingent of twenty-four men and women, garbed in thick leather Church robes, occupied the head of the column. This group moved with many strange and varied gaits – they walked and marched and stomped and humped; all the while singing hymns and prayer-like exaltations in Latin as passersby watched them warily – as if they were in the middle of a procession. Which wasn't strange because, as Shirou realized, each and every one of the twenty-four was either a priest or a high member of the Church. Their leader sat upright upon a litter borne by six robed men, a pose the Ruler regarded as a rather amazing accomplishment, considering that the man or woman – he could not tell which – consisted of nothing more than a torso and head that sprouted in between a pompous white cloak and a big hat. It almost felt like watching a second Pope parading, even if this was certainly not the case.

"Those are our enemies," Caren murmured next to him. "The priests of the Burial Agency."

Shirou glanced at her. "They're not members of the Church?"

The dark frown on the priestess's face was evident in spite of her flat tone.

"Not really. They are a group of special Inquisitors gathered by the Pope back in the twelfth century, but who separated from the Church soon after their foundation. Its members created a burial doctrine completely different from ours, and they see the Holy Church and its priests as a nuisance. Their organization operates and scouts entirely on ability. Anyone can become a member if they have the power and will to destroy heretics and whatever else that accursed Agency finds 'inconvenient'. Faith is a secondary condition compared to the necessary power to obliterate their enemies, though they still baptize their members when someone joins their ranks. But whatever they are, they're not meant to be priests or exorcists anymore. Just a bunch of fanatical heretics obsessed with the occult and the demonic arts. It's no woder they're specialized in hunting Demons."

The God of War narrowed his eyes on the targets. Judging from the priestess's words, there was a great hatred and spite between the two factions. "And the Church suspects that they may have something to do with the disappearance of the Artifacts?" he inquired further.

"On the day the theft occurred, their leader―Narbareck―came to visit St. Peter's Basilica for no apparent reason. Obviously, as soon as she stepped foot inside Vatican City, me and some others immediately went to monitor her. But surprisingly enough… that woman did nothing suspicious during the visit, simply wandering around the place under the stunned gazes of us all," Caren explained with her bored voice. She focused her golden eyes on Shirou's face, studying him with unnerving intensity. "However, when the woman and her escort left, the records and the Stone were gone from the Archives. They had disappeared without a trace."

Shirou furrowed his brows under the girl's cold stare.

"There is no evidence, and the Church has found no real pretext or reason to publicly accuse the Agency... but many within our ranks share this suspicion, including our foolish Lord from the Clock Tower. It cannot be just a coincidence," Caren concluded matter-of-factly.

Indeed, the timing of the theft and the visit seemed perfect. Too perfect to be a mere coincidence. Shirou could clearly see why Caren and Waver Velvet had doubts about this strange organization. It was a hunch, undoubtedly... but it was the only lead they had. Especially if there was the possibility of an unknown Servant backing the Agency from the shadows. Their reasoning was legit and understandable.

"Can they use Magecraft?" he asked then.

"Obviously. I dare not explore the courtyard with my mind until they leave, for if any are sensors, they will sense my touch, however light, and our presence will be revealed."

Shirou raised himself up from the tiles, staying on his knees above the roof. "Therefore, we must track down their haunt without drawing too much attention," he mused under his breath, eyeing the caravan in procession from above. "And without alerting any eventual Servants working for them. Is that right?"

"Oh? You're not as foolish as I thought."

The Ruler beautifully ignored the insult. Instead, he moved a hand to the small metal earphone placed in his right ear, speaking to his companions with a hushed voice. "Did you guys hear that? How's the situation on your side?"

The voice of his allies reached him after a short pause.

I- We did, boy. Me and the young man are still tracking the other group from above with my chariot. Three men with a pair of women. They seem to be headed West as they continue their procession. We're not going to lose them for the time being.

Shirou nodded. As expected from Iskandar. He knew he could count on him.

A- Me and the Knights are doing the same with our targets. Five men in procession along the main street. We're still following them from afar. Nothing to report from our side.

The red-haired Ruler nodded unconsciously upon hearing this, as if Artoria could see him. He shifted his gaze to the East, reinforcing his resolve as he surveyed the expanse of the city under the blue sky. Fortunately for them, everything seemed to be going well for the time being. But there was a certain ally who had not yet answered the question.

"What about your side, Mordred? How are things going over there?"

He didn't like the answer he received.

M- I'll tell you how it's going: it's a freaking mess! These two annoying fools are nothing but a pain in the ass! All they do is irritate me! I swear I'm gonna kill them both at this rate!

An exasperated sigh escaped Shirou's lips upon hearing the angry curses of the Knight of Treachery. His exasperation only grew when he heard Iskandar's amused laughter echoing in his ear, along with the weary sighs of Artoria and the Knights. Damned overly-sized kids. "I meant the targets, kid. The targets. Stop making a fuss over the choice of teams already and focus on your mission," he stressed with a hiss.

M- Yeah, yeah, whatever. We're in position. No hostiles in sight yet. All clear… except my patience.

She was quickly joined by two other voices on her side.

N- Ohoh~ You're even prettier when you pout, my dear Knight. What a delightful expression! I'm feeling myself fall for you even more!

R- Hahaha! To actually manage to catch the attention of a child of Rome... you should be honored, valiant Knight. Such an honor must not be wasted.

N- Umu! Come here, I'll give you a hug!

M- Fuck off, both of you! – there was a long succession of swearing, followed by a series of giggles and a furious growl – See? SEE? They're insufferable! Why the hell did you team me up with them, Ruler? I should have been with you!

Shirou swallowed a tired groan. Even he had to admit that being joined by Nero and Romulus during a mission – a silent mission, moreover – could be an extremely difficult job. Especially for a short-tempered and foul-mouthed teen like Mordred. The girl seemed on the verge of an hysterical collapse as she spoke on the earphone. For once, he pitied her. Those two Servants were extremely outgoing and boisterous, and completely oblivious to any kind of composure and notion of personal space. Their excessive mannerisms ended up getting on everyone's nerves after a while.

The God of War held back the urge to run a hand over his temples. "You are clearly not suited for stealth, kid," he sighed with a flat tone, trying to explain the reasoning behind that choice again. "And neither are them. It was the best choice not to compromise the mission."

M- Fuck it! I'm gonna get back at you for this, just you wait!

A- Enough. Focus on your task, Mordred. We have no time to waste.

Shirou suppressed an exasperated sigh as he heard Artoria scold her rebel son for her behavior. He didn't need to see Mordred's face to sense the girl's growing anger and fury. Even the others who were listening had fallen into a tense silence. He had expected it. After their recent 'discussion' from the previous day, Artoria and Mordred were still at odds with each other. The tension between the two of them had been particularly high in the last few hours, and it still was even now. They were either ignoring each other, glaring reproachfully at each other, or looking ready to draw swords at the first chance.

M- Tch. Whatever. Make it quick.

Miraculously, however, this time Mordred decided to relent. Artoria's stern scolding seemed to calm the female Knight down, at least for now. Shirou sighed, again, shaking his head and returning to gaze upon the courtyard below.

Caren eyed him with a raised brow. "Let me guess, those useless fools are still squabbling like a bunch of brats, aren't they?"

He ignored her. His golden-brown eyes returned to focus on the targets.

The group of men and women continued to advance in their procession, starting to leave the courtyard of the Doge's Palace. Behind the priests trudged a double line of young men wearing dark-blue robes. Each carried a rectangular metal frame divided into twelve horizontal bars from which hung iron bells the size of a turnip. Half of the men gave their frames a vigorous shake as they advanced with their right foot, producing a shrill cacophony of notes, while the other half shook their frames as they advanced with their left foot, in a clash of iron tongues against iron throats that echoed throughout the streets and canals. The acolytes accompanied the tolling of the bells with their own songs and howls in an ecstasy of passion.

At the rear of the grotesque procession, moreover, trudged a queue of ordinary people: merchants, traders, exponents of the lowest ranks of the community, and a variegated multitude of workers, beggars and simple passers-by and faithful.

Shirou narrowed his eyes. He wondered if among them there was also an enemy Servant, hidden among the civilian ranks, invisible to the eyes.

The priests led the procession through various secondary streets of the city, leaving the palace and the Cathedral and advancing into the innermost area of the city. Shirou and Caren followed after them, stalking across the rooftops with their eyes perpetually fixed on the procession. Fortunately for them, the buildings in Venice were all built roughly at the same height, and the distance between them was usually no more than a few meters; so it was easy for both of them to jump from roof to roof and follow the group unnoticed. After all, since Venice was built on a lagoon near the sea and mostly made up of canals and connecting bridges, the back streets of the city were narrow – they were more similar to alleyways, really – and with Shirou's skills it was a child's play to move from building to building with a simple leap.

After ten minutes, the priests who led the procession drew a stop at the center of a small, empty square. It was hidden in the middle of a labyrinth made up of narrow alleys, isolated from the other crowded areas of the city, and completely enclosed by the high walls of the colorful buildings that surrounded it from each side. With a nod from the priests, the group arranged themselves on both sides of a rust-colored boulder with a smooth top that stood at the center of the square, like a religious altar eroded by time and now in disuse. When the whole column of people had gathered in front of the rough altar, the 'Pope' on the litter moved and began chanting with a voice as disharmonious as the mournful tolling of the bells. The declamations of the High Priest came broken by the gusts of sirocco that always blew over Venice, but the red-haired Ruler caught a few sentences in Latin – pronounced in an approximate or altered way – interspersed with words in Italian and the local dialect; all mixed together by an archaic English. What little he could understand made him shiver, for the sermon spoke of things that would have been better left forgotten: of a perverse hatred that had been harboring for centuries in the dark depths of men's hearts. Of blood and madness, and horrid rituals performed under the moon.

In other words: a spell.

"They're erecting a Bounded Field," Caren Hortensia hissed next to him, her golden eyes boring holes on the back of the 'Pope' who continued to cast the spell with that throaty song of his. "To keep civilians away from here and not be seen by unwanted eyes."

Shirou nodded wordlessly, but he didn't care much. There was no way that some mere mortals could hide from him, let alone perceive his presence thanks to a mere Bounded Field. Not only he was an Immortal and a God of War – both properties that, just by themselves, already made him something inconceivable to the minds of men – but Gaia had also masked him as a Servant before sending him to the Real Side of the World. This had made him practically invisible to any form of human perception. Servants don't technically exist, after all. And Caren Hortensia was more than capable of hiding herself from outside perceptions thanks to her abilities and the blessings of the Church.

At the end of the depraved prayer, two of the lower-ranking priests ran to lift their lord – or lady – from the litter to deposit them on the altar. At that point the High Priest gave a sharp order. The two priests nodded solemnly, and twin steel swords twinkled like stars as they rose and then fell abruptly. A rivulet of blood gushed from each of the High Priest's shoulders. Then, it flowed down the leather-encased torso and flooded the boulder, before spreading over the surface and dripping to the ground.

Two other members of the group, this time two women, hurried to collect the blood in several metal goblets. Then, once they were filled to the brim, the women distributed them among the memebers of the congregation, who drank greedily from them one by one.

"What the–?" Shirou commented with a frown. "You didn't tell me these exalted and bloodthirsty idiots were cannibals."

Caren shook her head, but her impassive eyes betrayed a glimmer of disgust. "That's not the case. They don't eat human flesh. This is their initiation rite."

When all members had wet their throats with blood, the servile novices returned the High Priest to the litter and bandaged their leader's wounded shoulders with white linen bandages. Large red corollas bloomed on the immaculate cloth.

To the Ruler's astonishment, however, the ritual was not over yet. In fact, the High Priest did not seem weakened by the wounds at all, as he turned to the faithful with his blood-stained lips and cried out in a loud voice: "Now you truly are my Brothers and Sisters, since you have tasted the sap of my veins, as ordered by the Almighty Founder," he raised his arms to the sky, heedless of his wounds, and more and more red began to stain his white robes. "Blood calls to blood, and if ever your Family should need help, do then what you can for the Agency and for all who acknowledge the power of our Dreaded Lady and Foundress Narbareck. To affirm and reaffirm our devotion to the Creed, let us recite the Nine Oaths of the Burial Church as one!"

The others reacted promptly. Spreading their arms, the men and women around the High Priest began chanting with him, taking their oath as if they were one single voice. "In the name of Roa the Cruel, we vow to perform homage at least thrice a month, in the hour before twilight, and then to make an offering to appease the eternal hunger of our Lady Narbareck. We swear to keep the commandments of the Founder's book and to dedicate ourselves to the hunt of heresies and the impure Demons. We swear to always carry the Mark on our body and to abstain from the twelfth of the twelves, lest it corrupt..."

A sudden gust of sirocco obscured the words of the High Priest and his acolytes. Then, Shirou saw the bystanders take a small curved knife and take turns carving the crook of their elbow to wet the altar with their own blood.

A few minutes later, the wind dropped and the God of War heard the words of the priests once again. "…and the things you desire and crave will be granted to you as a reward for your obedience. Now… our worship is over. However, if any now stand among you who are brave enough to demonstrate the true depth of their faith, let them show themselves!"

The audience stiffened and leaned forward, their faces rapt. This, apparently, was what they had been waiting for.

For a long, silent pause, it seemed as if they would be disappointed, but then one of the acolytes stepped away from the ranks and shouted: "Here I am!"

With a roar of exultation, his brethren began to shake the bells at such a wild and savage pace that the crowd fell prey to an irresistible frenzy, and everyone began to jump and shout like madmen. Shirou and Caren exchanged a disgusted look. What they were witnessing right now was not an elegant and solemn ritual like those of the Holy Church. It wasn't similar at all. Such euphoria and obsession could not lead to anything good.

The obsessive music lit a spark of anxiety in the heart of the ancient God, despite his repulsion for the scene, awakening the most primitive and brutal part of him.

Stripping off his robes until there was only a pair of leather breeches left, the young priest leapt on the altar, raising a fan of crimson drops. With his face turned towards the High Priest, he began to tremble, as if seized by an epileptic fit; his spasms in sync with the cruel tolling of the iron bells. His head began to dangle from his neck, the corners of his mouth began to foam, and his arms fluttered like irritated snakes. His muscles covered in sweat until his entire body sparkled like a bronze statue illuminated by the rays of sun.

The bells reached a paroxysmal rhythm; each note clashing with the other. At that point, the young man stretched out a hand behind him. A woman placed the hilt of a bizarre tool in his palm: a single-edged weapon, two and a half feet long, with a solid tang inserted into two welded cheeks, a rudimentary cross guard, and a broad flat blade ending in a serrated flare, vaguely resembling a bat wing. It was a weapon designed for one purpose: to pierce through armor, bone and sinew as easily as it would have pierced a glass of water.

The young man lifted it, pointing it towards the highest point in the sky. Then he dropped to one knee and, with an incoherent cry, cut off his right hand.

Blood sprayed the ground around the altar.

Shirou narrowed his eyes and grimaced, but he couldn't help but watch the young man as he squirmed and let out an heartbreaking scream. He had witnessed many amputations in his life, especially in battle and during his insane and misguided War against the Gods, but now it just seemed wrong to deliberately mutilate yourself when it was so easy to become disfigured in everyday life.

The red roof tiles creaked imperceptibly as Caren shifted her weight, muttering some curses which were lost to the wind. Then, there was silence again.

As a priest tended the young man's wound – stopping the bleeding with a spell – a novice motioned to the six men carrying the High Priest's litter, who nodded and lifted the litter and its passenger with subdued grunts. Then the acolytes took out some bundles from under their Church robes, and from them they took out long linen sheets, drying the blood that had stained the altar and the ground.

After the ceremony, the priests and the rest of the procession took the road back to the Basilica, continuing to groan, chant and pray all the way. The young fanatic, now crippled, trudged behind the High Priest.

A blissful smile graced his face.

"Now you saw what I have to deal with most of the time," Caren told him in a monotone. Shirou turned to her, and found her eyes glued to his with icy resignation. "My job is to get rid of such heresies that tarnish and dishonor the reputation of the Church. I've seen many horrors in my life. Things even worse than this ritual. I'd say that I came out well, despite all the shit they've forced me to wallow in ever since I was a child, don't you think?"

The God of War hesitated, watching her silently. For once – no, for the first time since he had met her – he found himself feeling a bit of compassion for that irritating and vulgar priestess next to him. Dealing with such heresies and witnessing similar obscenities from an early age could not be a pleasant experience. On the contrary, in the long run, such an experience could end up traumatizing the people who dealt with this kind of world. Especially a girl like Caren who had been raised inside the Church ever since she was little and who had been specifically trained to fight, hunt and wipe out heresies. Continuously witnessing such scenes and being forced to fight members of insane sects could scar a child to the core.

Shirou could relate to that. He could relate very well. His own past and childhood had been anything but pleasant.

So… yeah. He could relate to her. He felt like he could actually understand Caren a little more after this realization. It was no wonder that this girl had grown with such bluntness and tactlessness.

Even if they still were extremely irritating traits to bear.

He closed his eyes with a weary sigh. "I admit. I've seen a lot of things during my travels, but nothing I've seen so far is even remotely comparable to the oddities of these fanatics."

"They are monsters, just like the Demons they hunt," the white-haired priestess spat, pointing West with a nod of the head. "The Burial Church performs several rites like this once a week, all at the same time; mirroring the way the Holy Church celebrates masses every Sunday. Therefore, following that logic, I can safely assume that even the others must have seen something similar by now... what do you say?"

Shirou immediately turned on his earphone after hearing that. "Status report?"

Within seconds, his suspicions were confirmed.

M- What the HECK, Ruler!? – Mordred's voice hissed in his ear with evident disbelief – Some weird people dressed like that psycho priestess just came out of nowhere and started to mutilate themselves! They're even chanting and dancing around like a pack of exalted! It is fucking insane! What the hell am I looking at!?

The red-haired Ruler felt his fists clench in tension as Caren smiled at him with a knowing look.

I- Hmm. The same thing's happening on our side as well, boy. The targets have erected a Bounded Field which makes them invisible and keeps civilians away while they perform this… madness. The young man here has already puked twice during the scene.

W- R-Rider! Don't tell him tha– bleahghru!

While the sound of Lord El-Melloi II's pathetic coughing and groaning echoed from Iskandar's side, Artoria's voice rang on his earphone; serious and solemn as always.

A- It appears to be some kind of ritual. Me and the Knights are already in position. Shirou, what do we do?

The God of War narrowed his eyes. He glanced at the group of fanatics below, who were making their way down the alleys of the city, heading towards the Basilica with a slow pace and incoherent chants and groans. Then, taking a deep breath and exchanging a glance with Caren Hortensia, he steeled himself and gave the order to his allies.

"Let's do as we planned. There is no reason to spare the lives of some fanatical sadists. Iskandar, Artoria: you're free to engage, but be wary of any Servants who could be lurking in the shadows. Do not let your guard down during the battle."

Caren Hortensia smiled menacingly, her eyes shining with malice and duty.

I- Alright.

A- Very well.

Obviously, though, a certain member of the group couldn't hold back her enthusiasm.

M- Hey! What about me? What am I supposed to do with the enemies?

The red-head smiled with mirth. He was already expecting this. Fine, then. He could allow the kids to have fun at least once in a while.

"Your group is free to engage as well, Mordred. But remember: you must leave at least one survivor. Do that, and then stick to the plan as we've discussed this morning. Am I clear?"

M- Hell yeah! Now you're talking!

Shirou could pratically feel the excitement from his companion's voice. He smirked, reading himself and summoning his faithful katana in his right hand with a flash of energy and prana.

"Do not fail me," he whispered in the end.

Resolute silence was his only reply. And that was enough.

A crock tile cracked under his weight as Shirou squatted to gain a momentum and then leaped to the edge of the roof overlooking the alley, where he balanced himself for a moment before accumulating prana in his legs. The air around him emitted a low hum. His hair and white cloak fluttered in the wind for a couple of seconds. Then, with a nod towards Caren and a determined expression on his face, the Ruler jumped into the air with an invisible explosion of air and energy.

Two seconds later, he had already appeared below in the middle of the narrow street, right before the group in procession. His landing was silent and imperceptible, but no less lethal. As soon as his feet landed on the ground, the priest at the head of the caravan was enveloped by a series of cuts and incisions, investing his body with a speed inconceivable to the human mind. In the blink of an eye, the poor man had already fallen to the ground in a pool of blood and limbs, his church robes torn and his face disfigured beyond recognition.

The group halted at once, their chanting stopping abruptly. Everyone's eyes fell on Shirou and his sword already dripping with blood. His golden-brown eyes glowed under the shadow of the buildings.

The alley went silent as a grave.

Then, it wasn't. Shouts of alarm went up as the men and women collectively jumped and startled, drawing whatever weapons they had. In a flash, the members of the Burial Agency had donned some weird-looking masks on their faces and summoned their weapons: a few long and slender rapier-like swords with blades measuring over one meter and extremely short hilts, looking more suited to be used to thrust than slash at the opponent. One of the men blew a whistle, the sound of which was too high in pitch for Shirou to hear. Then, his comrades darted forward, hurling those weird swords at him as if they were needles and arrows. If he remembered correctly what Caren Hortensia had explained to him and his companions on the way to Venice, those weapons were called "Black Keys".

Right now, however, it didn't matter. Shirou took a single step forward and readied his stance. With an invisible movement of his arms, he deflected all the looming blades as if they were annoying flies, successfully blocking the attack. Then, he darted forward, fast as the wind, and his fist collided with the priest who had used the whistle, cracking his mask and knocking him unconscious as his skull bounced off the wall behind the group. All around him, chaos erupted. A couple of curses were muttered, and all the opponents started yelling and pointing at him with their weapons drawn.

But there was very little humans could do against the God of War himself. Shirou casually dodged a punch and thrust his blade into the first assailant's chest, before ducking his head under a slash and kicking a woman who had attempted to decapitate him, catching her in the ribs. The distraction allowed him to throw another attacker off. He turned, casually dodging the swing of a blade as a masked man attempted to cut him to ribbons. He ignored the poor fellow, who hadn't realized that one of Caren's shooting spell was already aimed at his head from the roofs above. The man collapsed in a heap of limbs after a few moments, his head missing from the body.

Darting forward, Shirou found the nearest enemy and began a dance of sword strikes that left another man a boneless pile of whimpering flesh on the ground. Three more stepped forward, enraged by their comrade's demise. In the blink of an eye, he had already dispatched two of them in the same manner. The third rushed him, Black Keys outstretched. He was tackled to the ground by a single punch, and the Ruler bodily hurled a masked woman through the wall of the nearest building soon after.

And still more came. Enemies veritably flooded the street. Everywhere Shirou looked, he saw nothing but masked men and women roaring and hurling their weapons at him. Behind the last line of the group, the High Priest was barking orders from his litter now abandoned on the ground, pointing a finger at him with wide, frightened eyes. "Kill him! Destroy him!" he was frantically roaring.

But it was all in vain. Even if they were outnumbering him, it was a battle they were quickly losing. No normal human, with very few rare exceptions, could have a chance of victory against a Servant in a frontal confrontation. And unfortunately for them, Shirou was more than just a Servant and a Hero of old. In his eyes, their attacks were slow, their movements predictable and confused, and he could also see the terror oozing off their bodies like a fog with every movement and swing of their blades. This was a struggle they had no chance of winning.

Shirou realized this immediately, as did his enemies. Men and women spilled out towards the exit of the alley, desperate to get out of the narrow street before the Ruler could reach and crush them. And as soon as he saw this, Shirou decided to stop playing with his preys.

The others didn't even have time to understand what was happening. All they heard was a sudden gust of wind... and a moment later their bodies fell lifeless to the ground, full of cuts and wounds on the arms, legs and backs. Blood splashed in the air like a fountain, grotesquely staining the ground and the walls of the alley. A couple of heads rolled to the ground with a dull sound, severed from some twitching bodies, stopping at the feet of the one who had caused that massacre. Then, silence reigned once again.

Shirou released his stance, wiping away the blood from the blade as he sheated his katana. He opened his eyes, his gaze glued to the only survivor of the bloodshed around him: the High Priest. The man had raised himself from the litter, heedless of his wounds still fresh with blood, looking so damn pale that his face had become more white than his white robes. He stared at him, trembling and wide-eyed, his sweat running profusely from his face and hands.

And then, with a high-pitched, terrified cry, the man did the only thing he could: cut and run. He ran away, sprinting away from the alley and from the assailant, heedless of his injuries, desperate for his life.

The red-haired Ruler smirked as he watched him escape. The plan had been successful.

"My, my. That was quite the show." Shirou let out a sigh as he heard Caren's footsteps reach him from behind. The priestess was looking at him with a mischievous smile that was definitely not suited for a girl of her age. "I've never seen a man move with such speed before. That was a sight to behold, truly. Nothing like what that useless Emperor did during our previous assignments."

The ancient God dissolved his sword without batting an eye. "Let's keep moving," he merely said, emotionless.

"So cold... I was trying to be nice, you know."

He fixed her with a stare. "Our task isn't finished yet."

Caren Hortensia smirked. That same, damned smirk which meant she had anything but pleasant things in mind.

She jumped on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him with an emotionless smile. To his credit, Shirou remained completely motionless and unperturbed.

"Shall we go, then?" she declared in her monotone voice, never losing her doubious smile. "Surely you wouldn't want a distingushed girl like me to chase after you, making me sweat and tire. A powerful and capable Servant as you will have no problem carrying me for a quick chase. Right?"

The Ruler felt his eyebrow twitch, but he eventually let out a defeated sigh and decided to relent. It was fine. They would have been faster that way. Besides, she barely reached his chest. She was so small and petite that he could lift her with a single arm. It would not have been an impediment. But still, what a pain.

Honestly, kids these days...

He complied with a tired shake of the head, lifting her up with his right arm and holding her close as he gathered prana in his legs. "Don't get used to this," he droned. "And hold on tight."

Caren flashed him another dubious smirk with a flat stare. "Is that an order? Don't mind if I do, then," she replied, increasing her grip around him with her arms. She visibly enjoyed watching him struggle and hold back the urge to hit her due to the excessive physical contact. The fact that she was deliberately pressing a 'certain part' of her body on his chest was doing nothing to help his mental health. "Now be a good doggie and bring your Master to her prey. I wouldn't want our bait to escape us now."

...

Damned spoiled kids.

...

He reached the rooftops with a single jump.

As soon as he landed on top of a ducal palace on the right, his eyes darted in all directions, scanning the surroundings in search of his target. He narrowed his eyes as he focused in order to find– there! The High Priest was running along a canal that overlooked the sea, towards the North-East end of the city. He was still running like a madman, bumping and shoving the passers-by who thronged the streets without ever stopping, heedless even of the wounds on his shoulders and the horrified and shocked looks of those who saw him. His one and only goal was to save himself from his persecutor, and he didn't seem willing to stop for any reason in the world.

Too bad for him that he had already fallen into the trap. "My, my; he's still running. You must have scared the shit out of him, Ruler. Was it too much, I wonder," Caren spoke with her monotone voice. Then she exhaled a jaded sigh while being held in his arm. "Aah, good grief, what a pain. Quick, let's follow that pathetic fugitive before we lose him."

Shirou's eyebrow twitched again. "Stop sounding so tired when you've barely done anything."

"A Servant complaining about his Master? Greedy, aren't we."

He wisely decided to ignore her at this point. With another twitch of his eyebrow, the red-haired Ruler shook his head and gave chase to the target. Jumping from roof to roof and running at a brisk pace on the tiles of historical buildings, he kept his eyes perpetually focused on the fleeing enemy without ever losing sight of him. The High Priest was still running wildly, his speed suddenly increased, allowing him to overcome great distances in a short time. Surely it must have been the influence of some spell, no doubt. Shirou saw him cross a bridge that connected two separate areas of the city, leaving the area above which overlooked the St Mark Basilica and heading towards the innermost area at an enviable speed for any normal person, in North-East direction.

Shirou narrowed his eyes, but a cold smile curled his lips. Such a pathetic spell was certainly not enough for that man to escape his increased sight. Besides, every now and then, he liked a good challenge.

With a powerful Mana Burst, he gathered a great amount of mana in his legs and leaped across the rooftops with renewed speed, moving even faster than before and almost causing Caren to yelp in fright due to the inhuman speed and wind that slammed in her face. He jumped off a balcony, landing on top of a low wall on a squat and taking a run before jumping again with an invisible explosion of wind and air. Then, he landed on the roof of a large bell tower, before throwing himself down with an almost invisible movement and using a pair of wooden poles driven into the water – they were called "briccole" in Italian, and were usually used to tie gondolas and boats close to the shore – as a momentum to jump over a bridge that spanned over an entire canal.

He landed in the middle of the bridge, ignored the surprised squeaks and cries of passersbys, and with a second dash forward he leaped over the roof of another building that skirted one of Venice's main canals, running along its full length before jumping again and moving on to the next, and the next, and the next. All the while, he kept his eyes glued to the target who kept running below, trying to escape from him without yet noticing that he was already being chased. Then, it seemed the game was up. The Ruler's satisfied smirk widened when he saw the High Priest raise his head and finally notice his presence, turning pale as death.

The man broke into a sprint, realizing that he was being followed. Shirou chased after him for three minutes.

Caren giggled while Shirou continued to run after the terrified man from above with inhuman speed, her arms still clinging around his neck and her body safely held within his right arm. "Fufufu! This is quite the experience, I must say. It's heart-pounding, isn't it?" she commented with amusement, sounding genuinely excited for once, like a child.

The Ruler smirked, tossing a glance at the numerous streets and canals that he was overcrossing with his superhuman leaps. "I'm glad you're enjoying the ride," he grunted, landing with one foot on another wooden pole sticking out of the water and jumping back onto the railing of a second bridge.

"Indeed. But you shall not let the prey that I have my eyes on escape."

Said 'prey' was still on the run for his life, occasionally glancing at the rooftops to see if he was still being chased. Shirou gave him no respite, continuing to run and leap across the roofs of the gigantic port city and passing over the canals, streets and historic monuments like a bolt of invisible energy. He almost smiled in amusement when he saw Caren wave at the people watching them from the gondolas below, wide-eyed and with mouth agape. That was a sight that they certainly didn't see every day, after all.

But still, it was too easy. There was no game when the hunter knew every move the prey made. The chase wasn't even a competition. Shirou was simply too fast for the man. Even over rough terrain or the rooftops, he was nearly three times as fast as his quarry.

Then, after about five minutes of relentless chase, their target stopped abruptly.

---

Planet: Earth
Date: June 4 2020
Location: San Pietro di Castello Island – Castello sestiere (Venice - Italy)

(======)

As soon as the target stopped, Shirou halted his chase as well, landing with grace above the wall that surrounded an ancient palace built in front of the lagoon, almost close to the water.

With a few glaces around, he quickly realized that they were now in the center of a small island isolated from the rest. The High Priest had stopped a few meters further North, right at the entrance of an empty square located at the North-Eastern end of the city – the easternmost area of Venice, basically – not far from the Arsenal docks. He was panting and struggling to breathe, his face white as bone and his clothes now torn and horribly stained by the blood that continued to gush from the wounds that his dead brethren had previously inflicted on him. The God had to give him credit for that. The poor bastard had run for two full kilometers in an attempt to lose him. All of that while being wounded and terrified, moreover. That was no easy feat for a man.

Caren and Shirou narrowed their eyes, observing the man who was struggling to breathe and studying the area around them. The square where he had led them was empty, devoid of tourists, passersbys or even ordinary inhabitants. Only a few street lamps alternated at the corners and in the center. At the end of the square, in the northernmost part, stood a large and imposing church whose frontage was entirely built with white stone and marble. On the right, farther away from the church and close to the water of a canal, a large white bell tower rose elegantly towards the sky, at least seventeen meters high. And although it was almost midday – a time when tourists used to crowd the streets of the city and visit every corner of it – the elegant square and the area around them was entirely desert. And this time, this wasn't the work of a Bounded Field.

It couldn't be a good sign.

"…I see. So that's where they've been hiding," Caren spoke all of sudden, her golden eyes narrowing slightly.

Shirou shot an intense look at the girl in his arms, urging her to continue.

The white-haired priestess cocked her head in direction of the great church. "That's the Basilica of St Peter of Castello," she explained in a serious voice. "It was the Cathedral of the patriarchate of Venice, and it used to be the most important church in the city until the early 1800s. Then, with the fall of the Republic of Venice due to Napoleon, the basilica lost its previous role as Cathedral and was almost completely abandoned for decades. The Burial Agency must have taken control of it after its abandonment, taking advantage of its state of disrepair and its isolated position, using it as a secret lair to this day."

Shirou raised a brow at that. "And the Church has never learned of such an obvious detail?" he questioned her, skeptical.

Caren shrugged. "As far as I know, they didn't. The Holy Church had numerous other problems to cope with during that time, a primary example being the schism and the growing lack of faith and power caused by the French Revolution that occurred in the years immediately preceding these events. I wouldn't be too surprised if during that complicated historical period our members didn't notice a couple of properties 'falling into the wrong hands'... this church was even destroyed during the First World War. Its relevance is almost completely gone, even today," she replied seriously, for once sounding more like a real priestess and less like a spoiled teenager.

The red-head nodded in acknowledgment, then turned to watch the target below, who was still doing his best to keep his diaphragm pumping oxygen into his lungs. He was about to jump on him and put an end to that charade once and for all, when he froze. His trained senses felt something approaching their position, and his lips slowly curled into an unreadable smile.

A few moments later, in fact, three other men dressed in church robes suddenly appeared in the square, running wildly like terrified animals, presumably coming from two bridges that linked the place to the main islands of Venice. All three men appeared to be out of breath and scared, matching the fear of the High Priest in full.

Shirou widened his cold smirk as he saw the three newcomers locking eyes with the High Priest, visibly paling at the sight of him.

Then he shook his head. Sharing a nod with the girl in his arms, he jumped off the palace wall and landed in the center of the street, facing the basilica and the four men directly. He appeared before them, kicking up a storm of dead leaves from the ground and releasing Caren Hortensia from his arms. They both stood, absolutely still, staring down at the four fugitives with solemn looks; but still stood a fair, safe distance away.

Five seconds of absolute silence passed.

After that, a dull thud echoed behind them, and Shirou saw the High Priest and his colleagues wince and widen their eyes in refound horror. His smirk widened into a grin as he heard footsteps approaching him and Caren, and he let out a relieved breath as he realized that Iskandar, Mordred, and everyone else had positioned themselves next to them, as expected. He was already expecting this. He had already sensed their presence several minutes ago, after all.

Along with the other two.

"Hmm. It seems the plan has been successful," the King of Conquerors was the first to break the silence once he was reunited with his companions along with Lord El-Melloi II. His powerful voice exuded perceptible satisfaction as he spoke.

"Indeed," Artoria nodded as well, stoic as ever, along with Bedivere and Gawain.

Mordred scoffed without a care next to Nero and Romulus. "What, you guys had doubts?"

"Actually, I did," Shirou joked, casting a knowing look at the Knight of Rebellion. "I'm surprised you managed to go with the plan without messing everything up, kid. You even came right on time. Honestly, I'm shocked."

The girl blushed, but the glare she gave him was animalistic. "Cut the crap, Ruler. If anything had happened, you should have blamed these two, not me. They were insufferable from start to finish. I'm still tempted to behead them both," she retorted, pointing a thumb towards the two Roman Servants.

Romulus laughed as Nero pouted with her cheeks puffed. "Hey! That hurts, you know."

Waver Velvet silenced them all by raising a hand. Then, with narrowed eyes and a solemn expression, he stepped next to Caren Hortensia, staring down at the four men of the Burial Agency who were still staring at them from the center of the empty square, their faces pale and legs trembling. He shared a silent nod with the Ruler, before casting a glance at the white-haired priestess while all the Servants turned to face the captives once again. "Is this the place?" he asked, serious.

Caren nodded with her usual bored expression. "There's no mistake. We followed the plan to the letter: we exterminated those filthy fanatics and left a single survivor for each group. Then, the four of them led us to the same place with their escape. It cannot be a coincidence. This must be the right place."

The teacher of the Clock Tower inwardly agreed to the explanation. He shot a silent glance to the King of Knights.

Artoria knew what he was thinking without need to hear him speak. She paused. Focused. Closed her eyes for a few seconds. Then, she shook her head. "I do not detect any Servant's presence," she informed them.

That made them pause, especially Shirou. No Servants? Not even here, in the place that was supposed to be the enemies' secret base? Suspicious. Extremely suspicious.

"How vexing. Let's speed up the process then, shall we?" Caren declared with an irritated sigh. The young priestess took a step forward all of a sudden, boring holes at the four men's heads with her emotionless golden eyes. "I guess there is no need to say it, but the four of you have no chance to escape," she enunciated aloud, addressing the captives directly with her speech. "As you can see, we have Servants on our side. You guys are nothing but small shitty fries compared to them. Therefore, if you want to survive and avoid your comrades' pathetic end, you'd better answer our questions and comply with our orders. Keep this warning inside those little heads of yours, because I won't repeat it a second time."

The High Priest and his acolytes startled and trembled in fear.

Shirou stepped forward, crossing his arms as he stared to the ancient basilica behind the men. "This place... is this your haunt? The headquarters of the Burial Church?" he asked with a serious tone.

The four of them swallowed and shared a silent glance. A few trickles of sweat dripped from their cheeks.

Caren, Shirou and the others gave them ample time to answer. It would be hard to talk whilst struggling to breathe, after all. The group stared as the High Priest opened and closed his lips, struggling for an answer. Still, he and his acolytes remained silent.

A minute passed. Then two.

Caren sighed. "Fine then. Lancer, take one of them and tear off his right arm."

Romulus stepped forward, popping the knuckles in both of his hands. To his credit, his face betrayed not a hint of emotion as he advanced towards the trembling group. A stone cold emotionless mask. It was intimidating. The men winced and withered like dying flowers as he towered above them.

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait!" the High Priest gasped.

Lord El-Melloi II motioned for Romulus not to maim him. The gigantic Lancer stopped in his tracks. "Yes?" he asked.

The man cloaked in white robes pulled out an object from his blood-stained robe: a black leather bag containing strange jewelry-like items – sparkling gems – of different shapes and sizes. They were bright stones with colors ranging from red to purple, from green to blue and from yellow to gray; but they all had one thing in common: the symbol of an ancient rune embedded within them. The High Priest opened the sack with a frantic, desperate movement; grabbing a handful of stones and lifting them above his head before the group's wary gaze.

"D-Do not take one step closer!" the man stammered out-loud, voice quivering from fear and terror. His eyes were literally shining with madness as he yelled. "If you do, I'll make them explode and I'll take you to the grave with us!"

The group hesitated, caught off guard by this sudden turn of events.

Mordred narrowed her eyes, recognizing those gems from a previous battle. Images of a certain raven-haired girl dressed in red and with a fiery temper flashed inside her mind. "Those are..."

"Runestones," Lord El-Melloi II explained to everyone, motioning to Romulus and the others to stand still. "Gems engraved with symbols of ancient Runes from the Age of Gods. Once inscribed, those Runes will automatically realize mysteries accordingly with the meaning that they represent. They're extremely rare, and their effects are similar to those produced by the Jewel Magecraft used by my apprentice Rin. The usage of such stones, however, is unpopular within both the Mage's Association and the Church. It is a forbidden form of Magecraft."

Shirou and the others stilled after that explanation, glaring at the High Priest with cold eyes as the latter beckoned to his allies to hide behind him. The men began to move hesitantly under a chilling silence.

Caren Hortensia sneered at the terrified man. "What an reprehensible sight. As expected from the Burial Church. To actually resort to use such disgusting tricks… I should have expected as much from a bunch of scums and fanatics."

In response, the High Priest gave her a grin that was both insane and frightened.

Meanwhile, however, Shirou and everyone else remained perfectly calm and composed.

Another five seconds of silence passed.

Then, slowly, the God of War put a hand to his ear. He turned on his earphone, and whispered three simple words.

"Do it, Archer."

And then, the unexpected happened.

A sparkle of yellow flashed in the distance. Then, faster than the wind itself, a series of arrows of light rained down on the members of the Burial Agency from the bell tower on the right. They had no time to notice. They didn't even have time to blink. The arrows hit the three priests straight in the head while they were still moving to hide behind their leader; and at the same time another arrow lodged in the High Priest's raised hand, catching him off guard. Distracted as he was, the man couldn't do anything but widen his eyes, before a sudden explosion of light and prana blew his hand off like nothing, destroying not only flesh and bones, but also the Runestones and knocking his leather pouch to the ground with a shrill cry of pain. Behind him, his companions flew through the air like dead weights, their heads pierced by arrows, crashing right into the middle of the square with a thud.

Caren, Waver and the others stared impassively as the High Priest – now remained alone – screamed and groaned in pain. He collapsed to the ground on his knees, pathetically grabbing the stump on his arm as he shed tears from his eyes and shivered incessantly. A few moments later, Romulus and Gawain had already appeared next to him, aiming a gigantic spear and an impressive broadsword at the captive's neck.

Shirou turned to the right, hiding a smile as the one responsible for the previous attack landed a short distance from the rest of the group, finally revealing their presence after several minutes of hiding. Everyone's eyes fell on the last two arrivals, offering them a silent nod.

Iskandar nodded with his trademark grin. "That was a flawless shot. Well done, Archer!" he complimented with a thumbs up and his boisterous voice.

Arjuna dismissed his golden bow with a twitch of the hand, moving to reach the others and looking as stoic as ever. "Thanks, King of Conquerors, but that was a pointless effort. There is no benefit from killing a few flies," he stated in a monotone, as if it were obvious.

"Can't you just take a compliment like a normal person? Geez…" Mordred sighed at their former ally, rolling her eyes at him and looking completely unimpressed.

Next to Arjuna, the last member of the group revealed her presence with a determined and haughty step. "Let's get this over with," Olga Marie Animusphere declared seriously, stepping forward and moving a lock of her silver hair from her shoulder with an elegant wave of the hand. Her eyes locked gaze with Waver Velvet as he stared back with an unreadable expression. "We've come all this way. Let's find our target and get to the bottom of this mess as soon as possible. I'm quite tired of this mission already. Not to mention that Edison and Salieri are still waiting for us back in Rome. We have no time to waste."

The others shared a silent nod by agreement.

"Agreed," Shirou said with utmost seriousness. He stepped forward, reaching the High Priest and kneeling before him while the man continued to cry and tremble in pain and fear.

His golden-brown eyes bore into the man's very own soul. "Answer me. Is this where the Burial Church hides? Is this your haunt?" he asked again, his voice cold, and frosty, and sharp as a blade.

The High Priest swallowed a terrified whimper under his menacing stare. He could not formulate words because of fear – he was literally shitting himself right now – but still, his head managed to move into a stiff nod of confirmation.

Caren walked next to the red-haired Ruler. "And where is your disgusting leader?" she asked after him. "Where is Narbareck?"

Again, the man didn't answer with words. His only remaining hand, however, trembled and pointed to the gigantic basilica that towered above them, across the square.

The priestess looked at him for a couple of seconds, studying him with unnerving intensity. Then she sighed and looked away. "Very well. I can see that you're not lying. You've served your purpose." She turned away, snapping her fingers and motioning to the others with an dismissing wave of the hand as Shirou stood up as well. "Kill him."

The man widened his eyes in horror. "W-Wai–"

Galatine severed the High Priest's head before he could even finish.

Shirou and the others moved closer to the basilica, but did not enter immediately. Opon coming close, in fact, the ancient God widened his senses in search of traps, spells and Bounded Fileds that could have been hidden inside the building. To his confusion, he found none. He did not even perceive the presence of any Servant, although his trained senses and his augmented abilities could still perceive a few sources of prana from the inside of the church. No, that was incorrect. To be exact, they weren't inside the church... but under it. Shirou paused, focused again, but the result was the same. There were no doubts. He could clearly feel some signatures of prana coming from the bottom of the structure, not from the inside. Probably a dungeon or a hidden gully, he mused.

Artoria, of course, shared his own hunch. Little to nothing could hide from her Dragon Core's perception. Damned dragons. "They're below us," she said to everyone, observing the front of the basilica with her emerald green eyes.

Waver Velvet steeled his resolve. "Let's go, then. We've been in this place for far too long. Don't let your guard down."

"I agree," Olga Marie nodded next to him. "Venice is beautiful and the weather is lovely, but I'd like to return home as soon as possible. We have far more pressing problems to deal with."

Without wasting time, the group of Servants and Mages entered the building. Once inside, they immediately noticed a particular detail: there was no one there. Just as Artoria and Shirou had guessed before, the church was completely empty. The walls were mostly devoid of paintings or statues, with only a few colorful pictures here and there that broke the white color that prevailed inside the structure. The building had a large central nave with Latin aisles, a transept crossing the church, separating the nave from the presbytery. The crossing point was capped by a large dome, at the middle of which was a high altar that had been constructed during the middle of the 17th century.

But apart from a few statues and the colossal organ built at the bottom of the presbyter, there was absolutely nothing. No doors, no staircases, nor any other visible entrance that hinted the presence of a basement accessible from inside the church. Shirou and the others narrowed their eyes, splitting into various groups and studying the interior of the elegant basilica for several minutes; looking for for clues or anything that could shed some light on that strange mystery. Then, after about four minutes of search, their patience paid off.

"My liege, I've found something," Bedivere suddenly said, attracting everyone's attention.

Artoria, Shirou, and the others immediately moved beside him. The silver-haired Knight was pointing at a strange object in front of him: an ancient seat made entirely of stone and marble, positioned at the end of the aisle and placed on a platform that was slightly raised above the rest of the floor. Unbeknown to them, that seat was called the "Throne of St Peter," and it was a monument said to date from the first century, which belonged to the Saint himself during his bishopric in Antioch, similarly to the Papal throne that was still kept inside the Basilica back in Vatican City. In reality, however, the throne in front of them did not have a Christian origin at all, as its backing was built from an ancient Islamic funeral stone bearing Arabic decorations and etched Kufic characters of verses from the Koran. The seat was probably built in the course of the 13th century, perhaps in Antioch itself, and then brought to Venice to augment the prestige of the Cathedral back when it still was important to the city.

But our protagonists certainly didn't care about those useless historical details. What caught their attention, however, was the strange marble button placed at the rear of the throne, hidden from view.

Caren Hortensia gave a knowing smile. "Oh my. I wonder what this does…" she mused, pressing the button without hesitation.

Once the button had been pressed, in less than two seconds, the entire floor of the church suddenly began to shake. Shirou and the others stared with narrowed eyes while the throne trembled and slowly rotated on itself, before locking itself with a sharp snap towards the West. There, in the middle of the opposite nave, the main wall had mysteriously opened by some strange mechanism, revealing a hidden passage that led into the dark.

"A secret passage! Umu! Umu! This is most exciting!" Nero exclaimed emphatically, bouncing a little in trepidation with a broad, childish smile.

The Ruler smirked. "Well done, sir Bedivere," he praised the Knight, who nodded and bowed his head under Artoria's approving smile. Mordred visibly snorted in disgust at the scene. "Let's see where this path leads us."

They crossed the narrow passage, finding themselves descending further below thanks to small stone stairs which - as they were expecting - led downwards. Once the stairs were finished, Shirou, Iskandar, Mordred and their companions found themselves inside an underground cave, dug below the imposing basilica in ancient times.

The opening to the cave was an irregular oval, perhaps fifty feet high and sixty feet wide. From there the chamber expanded to twice that size before ending a good bowshot away in a pile of thick stone slabs that leaned against each other in a confusion of uncertain angles. A cobweb of scratches crossed the floor, proof of the countless times that someone had passed this way, walking on that surface. Like mysterious keyholes, five low tunnels pierced the sides of the cave, as did a lancet passageway with an ogival arch so low that no one could pass through it. The God of War studied the galleries carefully, but they were pitch black and seemingly empty, a fact he confirmed with Artoria's quick exploration of the mind. Strange confused murmurs echoed from the depths of the main cave, conjuring up images of unknown things sneaking in the dark, along with an incessant dripping of water. The chorus of whispers was joined by the regular breathing of his companions, amplified by the gigantic size of the cave.

The most notable feature of the underground cave, however, was the mixture of smells that pervaded it. Under the overwhelming odor of stone and cold marble, Shirou smelled the stench of damp and mold, and even something worse: the sickly sweet stench of rotting flesh.

"…shit. This can't be good," Mordred growled, cladding her body with her menacing armor and gazing around the cave with Clarent already in hand.

Lord El-Melloi II looked around with evident tension and wonder. "How is this possible? This is no Magecreaft, it's a natural gallery," he whispered, still unable to believe his eyes. He swallowed nervously. "To think that there was a tunnel in the subsoil of an island in the middle of a lagoon... we must be careful."

Iskandar nodded, his expression more serious than usual. "Hmm. Indeed, keep your guards up," he urged, nodding mentally as everyone summoned their weapons and fighting outfits. At the same time, Caren, Waver and Olga Marie positioned themselves at the rear of the group, so that the Servants could protect them from any sudden attack.

Shirou narrowed his eyes, positioning himself at the top of the group along with Artoria, flanked by Nero and Gawain. Mordred, Iskandar and Bedivere did the same on the other side, while Romulus and Arjuna remained at the back, close to the humans. The group took only one step forward.

A moment before taking a second step, the red-head heard, confused by the different rustles that tickled his ears, a series of simultaneous tapping, as if someone was hitting the rock with an axe. The noise was repeated half a second later.

He turned his head in direction of the noise, and his companions followed suit.

Arjuna nocked an arrow on his bow, eyes focused in direction of one of the smaller galleries, studying the darkness around them thanks to his augmented vision and skills from the Archer Class. Then, in a split-second reaction, he tensed and widened his eyes.

"Incoming!" he exclaimed.

A huge, misshapen figure rushed from the pointed arch of the main gallery. A deformed man with red, bloodshot eyes, pale decaying skin, and a blak face devoid of emotions and will. He wore tattered clothes, drenched in blood and rotting guts; while his legs were bare, hairless, with muscles twitching with each step.

The group tensed immediately, and Olga Marie let out a terrified scream when she saw that deformed and hideous man roaring and leaping at them. Shirou darted to the side in an attempt to block the attacker, but there was no need. The creature was forcefully nailed to the cave walls, thanks to Arjuna's arrows. As soon as it stopped moving, its body turned to ash, completely vanishing without a trace. But it wasn't over. In fact, from the darkness around them, ten other creatures like the previous one appeared after its demise, surrounding the group and advancing menacingly towards them.

"What are those creatures?" Gawain exclaimed, his narrowed eyes focused on the enemies around them.

Nero was watching them with obvious disgust and, among other things, a hint of anxiety. "W-Where are they coming from? What do they want from us?" she stuttered with a frown, more appalled than anything.

But the creatures didn't give them time to ponder. As if moved by a single will, those rotting beings threw themselves at them with inhuman and gruesome roars, opening their jaws in an attempt to bite them and forcing Shirou, Iskandar and the others to fight to defend themselves. In less than five seconds, the entire cave had become a chaotic and confused succession of movements and frantic roars, with so much confusion and chaos that it was hard to describe.

Shirou ducked under the first assailant, slicing him clean with his katana and severing the head of a second one as he tried to leap at him from behind while the first one dissolved into ash. When the two disappeared, other five took their place. Beside him, Artoria was doing pretty much the same, knocking down foe after foe with her invisible sword like an unstoppable killing machine, making several creatures fly through the air with a single dash forward, similar to Mordred on her left. A veritable cloud of ash was forming around the three of them as they brought down more and more opponents.

From the opposite flank, Iskandar let out a bellowing roar as he used the Sword of the Kupriotes as a machete to decapitate the assailants, his laughter echoing in the dark cave while Arjuna's arrows flew over his head relentlessly. Bedivere and Gawain were more elegant in their movements, but no less lethal. They danced among the enemy ranks with unmatched skills honed due to years and years of rigorous training, alternating their attacks with the furious and overwhelming charges of Romulus who was literally leaping at his enemies as if he were pervaded by a murderous hunger.

But in the midst of that incessant chaos, Shirou realized one thing: the battle wasn't going in their favor. Although they were practically annihilating each attacker without any effort, the horde showed no signs of diminishing. For each enemy killed, other three or four took their place, emerging from the darkness like an infinite swarm that had no intention of stopping.

Waver Velvet watched those hideous beast with wide eyes while the Servants fought them relentlessly. "I've read of them!" he declared aloud, suddenly remembering what he had learned over the years from his countless past studies and experiences. "T-Those beings are the Dead! Undead monsters! Mindless and soulless puppets that are created from a dead body and entirely controlled by their creator. They deceive death by eating human flesh in order to maintain their bodies. If I'm not wrong, they were the most common form of Familiars used by the Dead Apostles!"

Olga Maria rounded on him after hearing that, wide-eyed and incredulous. "What!? Undead Familiars!?" she repeated, completely shocked. She ducked to avoid the body of an undead man that was forcefully thrown into the air by Mordred, turning towards a certain priestess who was standing completely motionless with a bored face despite the chaos around them. "Caren! How is it possible? I thought the Burial Agency was meant to destroy Demons and heresies, not use them!" she screamed vehemently.

The white-haired girl narrowed her golden eyes with a frown. "Indeed. What a reprehensible sight," she mused with a cold, unnerving voice. She almost spat on an enemy who attempted to bite her, only to be immediately impaled by Nero's sword. "I never thought they would have used such repulsive methods to guard their lair. Seriously, what a pain the the ass. I should have known better. Their existence is a heresy that cannot be ignored anymore."

"ROMA!"

The entire cavern shook under the ferocious scream of Romulus, who had raised his spear above his head, spinning it incessantly with a constant movement and slicing dozens and dozens of enemies with each swing. As he continued to charge, Nero slid under his legs with a lightning-fast dash and kicked a jawless undead in the chest, destroying his guard and slicing him in half with her scarlet sword before moving on to the next, and the next, and the next. A short distance from her, Shirou, Artoria and Mordred were still dancing among the enemy ranks, slicing and smashing and destroying any opponent who dared to stand in their way with unparalleled precision.

The fight went on and on for an indefinite time. There was no track of time during a battle. Just a chaotic and incessant dance between life and death. Yet, at some point, Shirou and the others were forced to regroup around the humans, watching with a growing sense of alarm as the enemies around them continued to rise relentlessly in number, flooding the entire cave. The tables were turning against them as the enemy numbers increased.

Nero grunted as she slashed another foe with her scarlet sword. "It's no use," she hissed with a trickle of sweat running down her cheek. "They just keep coming!"

"This is bad," Bedivere admitted in turn, casting a questioning glance at his lord. "My King, what do we do?"

Artoria remained impassive, but her frown was visible even as she stabbed yet another assailant in the chest. "Do not lose focus," she ordered. "Keep your ground. Don't let them get close to the humans."

"Artoria's right. Protect Mr. El-Melloi and the others," Shirou commanded as well, addressing Mordred and Iskandar.

The gigantic Rider grinned ferally, knocking out five enemies who had attempted to reach the humans with a single swing of his bare arm. The humanoid creatures slammed hard against the walls and the lines of their own kind, dissolving to ashes as if they had never existed.

"Hah! Let them come!" the muscular King declared with a bellowing roar. His smile was confident and thirsty for battle. "These creatures face Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, and his faithful companions! They shall not stop our glorious charge!" he roared with a powerful tone, his voice infusing courage and renewed vigor to his companions. Even the very same walls of the cave itself seemed to tremble under his powerful challenge.

Then, for some reason, everything stopped.

Shirou and the others paused and narrowed their eyes as they saw the undead creatures halt their charge all of a sudden, stopping like puppets whose strings had been severed. They stilled, looked at each other, and then they stopped moving completely. A moment later, before Shirou or anyone else could even understand what was happening, they began to back away for no reason, retreating into the deepest recesses of the cave, before disappearing completely in the darkness.

The group of Servants and humans waited, tense and perplexed.

Everyone could hear a pin drop.

"...I'll be damned. You must have really scared them, Rider," Mordred spoke after a while, blinking with obvious confusion under her horned helmet.

The gigantic Servant was just as confused as her, though. "I did?" he mused, scratching his beard.

"That's enough."

A high-pitched, powerful voice echoed through the underground cavern.

Shirou, Artoria and the others turned towards a specific point. From the bottom of the cavern's main gallery, the sound of footsteps began to echo. The Servants readied their weapons once again, assuming fighting stances. Then, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting and trepidation, some figures emerged out of the darkness, revealing themselves to the sight of all the present.

Among them, the figure that stood out to everyone's eyes was the one at the center: a young woman on her thirties with back-length light hair, dressed in a long white robe with loose sleeves and black pants. Her hair were long, so long that they completely covered the right side of her face, revealing only her left eye, which was a brownish yellowish color which almost seemed iridescent inside the dark of the cave. The woman was surrounded by six other men, all dressed in church robes and with masks on their faces. Shirou recognized those masks: they were the same ones that the other fanatics had used before.

The Servants remained tense and alert as the white-clad woman stepped towards the group, spreading her arms wide with a sinister smile on her lips. The red-haired Ruler saw Olga Marie and Waver Velvet turn pale under her smile, and with good reason. That smile was cold, and frosty, and cruel; her eye shining with madness and… something else. Something weird, and dark, and dangerous. Shirou felt his grip on the hilt of his sword tighten at that vision. He wasn't scared, but she was clearly not an ordinary woman. His instincts were warning him. There was no doubt.

"So... some rats have snuck inside our humble abode," the woman spoke, and her voice sounded soft and delicate. A stark contrast to the malevolent expression she was wearing. "A group of Servants accompanied by the leeches of the Clock Tower. What a sad, despicable sight. I knew this so-called 'War' would have brought nothing but troubles."

Shirou and his group remained silent, watching as the woman's eye suddenly lit up at the sight of a certain member among their ranks.

"And what do we have here? A priestess. No, an exorcist!" she exclaimed again, joining her hands together in a gesture of fake glee. Her smile widened in a sinister way as she looked at Caren Hortensia with a strange glint inside her eye. The masked figures shifted menacingly behind her. "Now that is a sight to behold. Ufufufu."

To the astonishment of many, the white-haired priestess stepped forward after that weird greeting, placing herself at the head of the group. Her expression did not change at all, her lips still glued into a bored and stoic frown.

"Spare us the formalities, you shitty old hag. We're not here for a visit of pleasure," she spat out without a care in the world, her emotionless tone in contrast with her barbed words.

The ancient God saw Lord El-Melloi II, Olga Marie and several allies turn pale with after Caren's words. Even Mordred looked baffled right now. Shirou just sighed with a tired shake of the head. But still, he had to give credit to that priestess. To actually be able to remain so calm and collected in front of the enemy after saying those kind of words straight to their faces… that girl had quite the nerve, indeed.

'Or, most likely, she just doesn't care,' he inwardly mused with a sweat-drop.

The masked figures stiffened and growled menacingly at Caren's words. The woman, on the other hand, narrowed her eye with a pleased expression. Her smile widened even more. "I see," she purred, her voice sultry like poison. "That gaze of yours... you must be Kirei's daughter, am I right? Caren Hortensia. I recognize the eyes."

"And you must be Narbareck, thirty-second head of the Burial Agency," she replied cooly, without batting an eye. "I caught a glimpse of you during your former visit to the Vatican a month ago. I had hoped to never set my eyes on your whorish face again. I felt sick just looking at it."

"Is that so~? Why are you here, then?" the woman – Narbareck – inquired with fake cordiality, placing a hand under her chin and holding her arm with the other. "I don't recall giving an invitation to the Church, recently. It has been quite a while since we received any visitors, actually." Her smiled turned sadistic at that point. "By the way, I hope you enjoyed our previous… welcome party, shall we say. Did you like our new puppets?"

Caren snorted. She actually snorted. "But of course. I was really shocked to learn that the Agency had fallen so low to use such unorthodox methods," she said with fake – very, very obviously fake – courtesy. "Please enlighten me: did you guys have fun experimenting with Vampires and Ghosts? Are you actually trying to become Ghouls yourselves in order to match your rotness even on the outside?" she spat out sarcastically, her face as bored as before.

The woman merely giggled at her accusations. "Well, after seven hundres years of hunting Demons… we picked up a thing or two," she pointed out.

"Is that so? Thank you very much for the welcome party, then. One of these days, I'll show you my gratitude in an abstract way."

"I look forward to it. But let's get back on topic, shall we. Why are you here?"

Caren raised a brow at the question, tilting her head to the side. "You still haven't figured it out? Are you really that retarded?" she asked back.

Narbareck's left eyebrow twitched slightly. "...I was just trying to be polite, you know."

"Oh my, how shameful of me!" the younger girl said in a monotone, placing a hand to her lips and widening her eyes a little. "To wrongly assume you were as retarded as you look... my apologies. Then I assume that talking shit and nonsense is just a fetish of yours."

Shirou had to suppress the urge to run a hand over his face in exasperation during that whole exchange. Really? No, seriously, really? What the heck was this? What kind of exchange was that? It had no sense. It was just plain stupid. This situation was too surreal to be true. And he knew he wasn't the only one who felt baffled right now. He didn't even need to turn around to notice the incredulous and shocked expressions of Waver and Olga Marie, as well as the exasperation of Arjuna, Bedivere and Gawain. On her left, Romulus was literally covering Nero's ears with an irritated frown on his face, ignoring her confused protests. Even Artoria was shifting uncomfortably on her legs, glancing between Caren and him with a lost gaze.

The only ones who were enjoying that exchange were Iskandar and Mordred. Those two overly-sized children were struggling to repress an amused chuckle, their eyes wide and their shoulders trembling slightly. Damned kids.

Apparently, Narbareck had had enough as well. Her eye glowed menacingly as she glared at Caren. "You're here because of the theft of the Archives," she finally declared, her voice now turned cold and sharp as ice, just like her face.

"Obviously," Caren admitted without missing a beat.

The director of the Burial Agency stared at her in silence. Her eye flickered to the rest of the group, studying them one by one for several moments full of tension, her gaze filled with unnerving intensity. Aside from the two humans at the bottom of the group, however, the Servants remained as impassive as before. But during that silence that lasted for an eternity, Shirou noticed the woman's gaze resting on Artoria, and Narbareck's eye seemed to falter with silent amazement. His brows furrowed together when he saw a shadow of uncertainty and confusion flashing inside the enemy's facee, but the woman managed to hide it soon enough with a frown. That reaction made him pause. Even Artoria scowled under that woman's gaze, taken aback by what had just happened.

Shirou frowned inwardly. 'What was that? Why did she look at Artoria that way?'

But that question remained unanswered. In fact, in less than a blink of an eye, Narbareck shook her head and her lips turned into a smirk. She focused again on Caren Hortensia, allowing an amused snort to escape from her lips. "Ufufu. As expected from the Holy Church. I knew they would have suspected us sooner or later. Those idiots are as cunning as ever."

Everyone stiffened after that declaration, even Caren.

"S-So you really do know something about the theft!" Olga Marie exclaimed, perhaps a little unwisely.

Narbareck widened her smile, opening her arms with an innocent little shrug. "You got me there," she admitted wryly, like a child caught in the middle of a prank. "We weren't the ones behind it, of course... but I just might know a few things about it. I did notice something weird happening during my visit to Vatican City, after all," she said in an abstract, sarcastic voice; smiling maliciously at the girl's shocked expression.

Lord El-Melloi II fixed her with a cold stare. "Then you will tell us everything you know."

The masked figures moved imperceptibly behind their leader. A single wave of the hand from Narbareck was enough to stop them from making any move. The Servants reacted promptly, moving closer to the director of the Atlas Institute and the teacher from the Clock Tower to protect them in case of danger. Shirou did the same, stepping next to Caren Hortensia along with Artoria.

"And why, pray tell, would I do that?" the woman questioned with a poweful voice. Her previous sarcasm was completely gone, replaced by a cold, oppressive sharpness that would have made any human not accustomed with the world of Magic piss themselves. "You guys came here, uninvited, and killed most of my men. You even brought a member of the Church, our archenemies. I'd say you're in no position to order me around."

Caren raised a brow, crossing her arms with indifferent motion. "You do realize that you are surrounded by Servants, right?" she asked casually, almost in a bored tone. "You guys are seven in total, but we still have numerical and offensive superiority. You have no chance of winning against us."

To everyone's amazement, Narbareck broke into a twisted grin at those words.

"I like those odds."

Shirou narrowed his eyes. A strange feeling of dread began to form in his stomach. 'What is going on here? Why is she so calm about this?'

Next to him, the King of Knights had had enough.

"I grow tired of this farce," Artoria sighed all of a sudden, stepping forward and pointing her invisible blade at Narbareck. "Summon your Servant, then, and let's finish this at once. You will not waste our time any longer, witch," she declared, speaking in the name of everyone present.

The woman stiffened after the blonde King's words. She stared at her, again, her left eye flickering once more with that weird and illogic confusion from before. A dead silence fell inside the underground cave. Several seconds passed.

Until, moving under a common thought, the six masked figures raised their hands all of a sudden, and in less than a blink of an eye, something bright and dazzling appeared in their hands before everyone's startled gaze. Shirou, Artoria, Iskandar and all the others tensed and widened their eyes, reading their stance as they saw Narbareck part her lips into a wide, mad grin of ferocity and madness.

Then, chaos erupted once again.

What exactly happened next, Shirou knew not, because something hard, powerful and inflexible hit him in the chest with a speed that left him genuinely surprised. The blow sent him into the air without him being able to formulate a single coherent thought. The flight ended as abruptly as it had begun when the Ruler landed on its back against something hard and flat, then he dropped to the floor, banging his head a second time. The second, violent impact almost took away the air that remained in his lungs. Stunned, he lifted himself slightly off the ground, panting, and tried to regain some semblance of control over his aching limbs.

"Shirou/Boy!" Mordred, Iskandar and Artoria shouted in chorus.

The concerned tone of his friends was like a burst of energy for the red-haired Ruler. As life returned to his arms and legs, he reached out to summon his katana again, grabbing the familiar hilt of the weapon with an enraged grip. He planted a foot inside a crack on the ground and pulled himself up on his knees. He staggered, regaining his balance with a shake of the head. A swarm of crimson sparks danced before him.

His mind was blurred, his senses clouded for some reason. He didn't understand. How was it possible? How could he – he, of all people – have ended up being so disoriented after a single strike? What the hell had hit him before?

He shook his head, and when his vision began to clear, the situation was so confusing that he hardly knew where to look first.

His allies were running in all directions, desperately trying to defend themselves against some sudden, lightning-fast beams of red energy – they were more like columns, really – that shot at them from every direction, trying to crush them. They were jumping, ducking, blocking; furiously trying to block the looming charges with their weapons or evade at the last second. The rays departed from every direction: above, below, right, left, behind; without warning and without giving the Servants a moment's respite. But the most obvious detail, he immediately noticed, was the gigantic luminous symbol that had appeared under their feet: some kind of confusing and ancient diagram, composed of a wide triangle with a large circle in the middle and three smaller circles positioned at each of its vertices. It was large and bright, so large that it could almost cover the entire ground of the cave.

Shirou instantly recognized what that symbol was: a Magic Circle.

A very, very strong one.

His companions' screams made him rouse from the astonishment. Among them, Shirou saw Nero and Bedivere struggling to defend the humans of the group, both of them positioned in front of Waver Velvet and Olga Marie and occupied on relentlessly deflecting with their swords the bolts of light that threatened to hit them. His focus returned in full force when he saw Nero being hit by an energy beam on her right flank, and the red Saber crashed into a cave wall with a shrill cry of pain, under the stunned gazes of Marie and Waver.

His eyes narrowed, and instinct kicked in immediately. Without wasting another second, Shirou followed his gut and leapt away from where he was standing with a prodigious Mana Burst, avoiding a second column of red light that nearly rained down on him like the previous one. His gaze moved in direction of his enemies, finding them hidden behind a second large magic circle that had appeared in the air, with their hands raised and luminescent and intent on murmuring something he could't quite hear yet. Among them, Narbareck was watching their struggle with a grin on her face, her expression cruel and sadistic.

"You fools!" the woman laughed madly. "Did you really think you could hold the advantage while in my territory? Naïve!"

Shirou ducked again, barely avoiding a large beam of magical energy that nearly hit him in the head. Then he raised his arms, blocking a second column of light aimed at his heart with the sword. The power of the collision was deadly, so much so that he almost grunted in fatigue, bending his legs and feeling the ground crack under his feet. The beam was powerful, overwhelming, dangerous; and above all: fast. So fast that it was both illogical and inconceivable to the human mind. How was it possible? How could a mere spell like this be so powerful and effective? So much so that it could even evade the trained senses of a Servant― no, of an ancient God of War like him? Ordinary humans could never have been able to develop such an advanced form of Magecraft. It was simply impossible.

He cursed under his breath, glancing at the luminous diagram that shone under their feet.

Something was wrong here. Deeply, deeply wrong. And he needed to find out what.

With a furious growl, Shirou destroyed yet another beam of light with a swing of the sword. The blade shattered into a thousand pieces under the force of the impact, and was promptly replaced by an exact copy. "Be careful!" he exclaimed, trying to warn his friends while he darted to the left and parried a lightning bolt that nearly hit Iskandar while he was busy defending himself. "This spell is not normal!"

"No shit, Ruler!" Mordred hissed, growling in pain as a beam of light hit her leg, knocking her to the ground with a metallic clang. Her armor was visibly bruised on the spot, and the girl had to use Clarent to help herself back on her feet. Her frustrated expression was clear even behind the helmet. "D-Damn it all. What the heck is this!?"

"I've never seen anything like this either!" Gawain exclaimed as well, grunting in fatigue as he rolled to avoid a laser-like beam that nearly pierced his chest. "What kind of Magecraft is this? How can a single spell be so powerful?"

Lord El-Melloi II was shivering in terror, hidden behind Arjuna's back who was frantically trying to bring down the incoming rays with his arrows. Despite the fear, the young Magus was observing the mysterious spell carefully, taking several peeks from the Archer's shoulders and analyzing the magic circle at their feet as calmly as he could. "I-It must be some kind of ancient spell, something close to an invisible Bounded Field!" he exclaimed, frantically trying to go through all his memories and studies to make a sense of that situation. "These attacks are coming out of nowhere, perhaps summoned by a continuously-active spell! They must be coming from this magic circle! Maybe there's even more of them hidden somewhere in the cavern!"

"T-Then we're trapped inside here!" Olga Marie cried out in fear, hidden behind a stone pillar, desperately clinging to Caren Hortensia as she shivered with panic. The two girls were shielded by the imposing figure of Romulus, who was shielding them from the attacks with his own body, rotating his gigantic spear like a man possessed. "We must do something!"

"It's useless!" Narbareck roared from her side. The director of the Burial Agency stepped forward with a predatory grin on her lips. "You are in my domain! Even though you have numerical superiority, I am more than prepared to kill you all!"

"Curse you, you evil woman! I, the great Emperor Nero Claudius, shall bring you to justi―Hyah!"

Shirou gritted his teeth as Nero flew over their head, crashing against a stone wall once again. He muttered a few curses as he blocked another attack, the force of the blow so powerful that it almost made him stumble back form recoil. This didn't make sense. How the hell had that woman and her henchmen conjured up such a powerful spell? How could they keep it active for such a long time? His senses weren't sensing anything suspicious. No artifacts, no hidden Crests, no tricks. This was a simple spell... a spell so genuinely powerful that it was comparable to those used in the distant past, when Mysteries and Magic were much more prevalent in the world.

And this was what he couldn't understand. How could such a spell still exist in an era where Magecraft was so limited? It made no sense. Mysteries and Magic had since long been diminished over the centuries and millennia. There shouldn't have been any human being capable of generating a magic so powerful, so effective, so destructive nowadays. It would have been one thing if the caster had been a Servant, but how could some simple humans–

…Wait.

A Servant? A Servant. A Servant!

Of course!

A horrible doubt began to creep inside the Ruler's mind.

Despite her blank face, even Caren Hortensia was inwardly panicking after witnessing such a destructive spell, remaining completely still behind Romulus while Olga Marie kept hugging her for dear life. The mighty Lancer was shielding them from the rays of light, roaring his anger and pain with each blow that crashed into his muscular chest.

"Aah, what a pain… this is quite troubling. I wish I had gotten laid at least once before I died," she admitted with a sigh.

The other girl began to shake her violently, crying in fear and shedding tears from the eyes. "For God's sake, Caren, WILL YOU STOP!?"

"Come on, you brats! Do not lose hope just from this!" Iskandar roared from the right, slashing against another beam of light.

For once, Shirou agreed with him in full. It was time to counter-attack.

"King of Knights!" he roared.

Artoria locked eyes with him, face tense and brows furrowed in worry. Then, as their gazes met, her emerald irises glowed with understanding, and the female King nodded to him without a word; effortlessly parrying a beam of light at the same time with her sword. She didn't need to speak to understand Ruler's plan. Days and days of incessant travels and battles with her allies had had this effect, after all.

Therefore, leaping away to avoid another pillar of light and spreading her legs in a stance, the woman readied her sword under the rapt gaze of her Knights.

"Invisible Air!" she cried.

The effect was immediate. From her invisible blade, a prodigious blast of energy and wind was suddenly generated after her command. Then, fast as the most inflexible tornado, a vortex of air came to life around her, filling and flooding the entire cave with its portentous roar. The air literally became a mixture of sharp gusts of wind, so thin that they even splintered the rock and so powerful that they cut through the walls of the cave. The stone itself seemed to groan in pain as the wind howled its fury.

Shirou and the others in the group moved behind Artoria, watching as the storm generated by the King's sword engulfed everything in its path, destroying the magic circle on the ground thanks to the destructive force of the attack. The triangle of light at their feet dissolved into nothingness, vanishing into particles of energy and prana that dispersed into the void. The red-haired Ruler smirked in satisfaction when he saw Narbareck and her followers tense and widen their eyes in fear after the sudden turn of events, quickly attempting to shield and defend themselves from the attack by summoning a second magic circle in front of them, this time much larger than the previous one. The flood of wind crashed and raged against the luminous circle, emitting a deafening roar that nearly made everyone inside the cave lose their hearing.

But still, the spell was resisting the attack. The Servants cursed when they saw a couple of cracks begin to form inside the circle, which however remained whole. The masked members of the Burial Agency were starting to murmur another spell, preparing for a second offensive.

"Not this time," Shirou hissed. Reacting promptly, he threw his katana forward, driving it into the center of the magic circle which, this time, shattered into a thousand pieces on impact as if it were made of glass. It dissolved in a dust of prana immediately after, leaving the enemies uncovered for the first time since the beggining of the fight. The ancient God breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Narbareck and her acolytes staggering back in fear, shocked by the sudden counter-attack.

"Now! Quickly!" Artoria commanded, dashing forward towards the enemies and beckoning everyone else to follow her.

The others did not make the woman repeat herself. Taking advantage of their opponents' moment of vulnerability, Gawain, Bedivere, Nero and Romulus followed the example of the female King and charged with their weapons raised, respectively flanked by Mordred and Iskandar to the right and left. The mad heretics of the Burial Church staggered back, terrified and shocked, their lips already starting to chant words to activate a new spell. Narbareck had moved behind them, trying to hide and cover herself.

The Servants had covered more than half the distance that separated them, when suddenly two other magic circles appeared before them in a flash.

But now, unlike before, they were expecting it.

"Not this time," Arjuna said, his golden bow ready as he took aim. Beside him, Shirou did the same, summoning a metal bow and nocking a black arrow with a mechanical and instinctive movement due to years and years of relentless practice. In less than a second, the strings of the bows were released, and the work was done. The two arrows darted into the cave, flashes of golden and black, shattering the two magic circles with frightening accuracy. Both circles were destroyed like nothing, generating a sound of shattered glasses.

Narbareck and the six masked figures blanched and stumbled in sheer terror.

And the Servants descended upon them with cataclysmic fury.

"Got you!"

"Haah!"

"Rooooomaaaaa!"

It wasn't a fight. It wasn't a battle. It couldn't even be considered a struggle. Only an overwhelming and oppressive massacre without any possibile defense. There was simply no hope for mere humans against the combined power of not two, not three, but seven Heroic Spirits. Shirou, Arjuna, and the three humans watched with an impassive gaze as their comrades darted through the enemy ranks, bringing down the masked men with slashes, punches and portentous kicks; ending their miserable and twisted lives so quickly that they didn't even have time to finish their screams. In less than five seconds, the cave walls were completely stained with blood, and the ground lined with the corpses of masked men. Among them, only Narbareck was spared, and the woman yelped in terror as Mordred punched her in the face, making her head twist horribly and knocking her on the ground slick with blood and gore.

And then, finally, silence returned to reign inside the great dark cave.

While the others exhaled breaths of relief, Shirou teleported – literally – in front of the woman, startling her as a few flashes of pain continued to cloud her sight.

"How disappointing," he spoke, his voice cold and sharp as a blade. "Did you really bet your victory on a single spell? That was foolish."

Narbareck coughed, blood dripping from her mouth. Her shoulders trembled slightly.

"…no."

Shirou, Artoria, and the others tensed when they saw her lips part into a wide, twisted grin.

The woman openly grinned under everyone's stunned eyes.

"I've bet on this!"

She raised her hand, revealing a red Runestone held between her middle and index finger.

The rune inside the stone glowed.

Shirou widened his eyes.

Then, everything was enveloped in a white, blinding light.

And the whole world exploded with a roar that shook both heaven and earth.

---

(======)

From the outside, the sight that was seen was decidely unpleasant. And much less reassuring.

A gigantic blast of energy and flames burst from the cave under the church, detonating an explosion that caused the ancient structure to implode from within, flooding the inside due to the sudden release of magical energy of the explosive Rune. The Basilica literally exploded into a thousand pieces, including the walls and frontage and dome. The walls cracked, crumbled and collapsed; and a veritable flurry of debris and stone were suddenly thrown into the air, before raining down on the city under the effect of gravity. The debris fell everywhere: on the streets, on the external square, on the nearest houses, on the lagoon and even on the bell tower separated from the church, shattering entire chunks of stone and damaging it irreparably.

At the same time, the entire Basilica had now completely disappeared. It was simply gone. What still remained of the structure soon cracked and collapsed on itself, the few remnants of the roof and walls crumbled and fell, disintegrating themselves like nothing and generating a giant shockwave when they crashed on the ground. Then, a great cloud of dust hit the island and the entire lagoon for hundreds and hundreds of meters. The earth shook, the water around the island stirred and raged due to the collapse and explosion, flooding over the shores and alerting the entire city even from miles away. Until, after several minutes that felt like hours, silence finally returned, and where the imposing church once stood, now only a gigantic pile of rubble and smoking debris remained. A cloud of black smoke rose towards the afternoon sky, obscuring the sun and shadowing a few districts of Venice.

Seconds passed, followed by minutes.

Then, a sudden gust of air was generated from below the rubble, shaking the whole world and sending a multitude of debris flying into the air once again.

Shirou, Artoria and their companions emerged from the rubble with a gasp, exiting from the newly liberated path with a leap towards the sky.

As soon as they landed above the debris, the red-haired Ruler breathed in the fresh air deeply, shaking his head and gripping his captive with an iron grip with his right hand. Tossing one last glance to the coughing woman next to him, he turned with a worried gaze towards his companions. "Are you guys ok?" he asked, addressing everyone.

Luckly for him, all of his friends were alive and well. They were still groggy and covered in dust, but pretty much unharmed, much to his relief.

"I am well," Artoria spoke first with a sigh, rising gracefully from the rubble despite the barely escaped danger. "Bedivere, Gawain? Your condition?"

"Worry not, my liege. We are fine," the Knight of Sun assured her, nodding along with Bedivere.

Shirou breathed a sigh of relief. "Is everyone else ok?"

"Of course, boy! That was quite intense, but nothing the King of Conquerors couldn't handle!" Iskandar commented with a loud laugh, dusting himself off with a grin as he moved a large boulder with a single arm.

Next to him, Mordred popped out from behind a piece of shattered column amidst the wreckage, her helmet snapping open and revealing her grinning face as she raised a hand to the sky in victory.

"Mordred still kicking! Woo yeah!"

"We are good as well," Arjuna sighed, rejoining the group along with Romulus who was holding Lord El-Melloi II and Olga Marie in his muscular arms.

"Hmm. That attack was too shallow compared to the eternal glory of Rome."

As soon as they were released from Lancer's grasp, the Magus of Clock Tower collapsed to the ground with a sigh of relief, panting heavily as the younger girl coughed next to him. "H-How did we just survive that?" Olga Marie breathed between coughs.

"You'll have to thank the King of Knights," Shirou explained knowingly, having already figured out what had happened during the explosion. He offered Artoria a grateful smile, and the woman just nodded with a slight blush, completely ignoring the looks of admiration of the others and Mordred's jealous gaze. "Her Core carries the very magical power of the Dragon. Thanks to that, her Magic Resistance grants protection against magical outbreaks both to her and those around her. As far as I know, that ability can cancel and dispel whole spells altogether. It basically nullified the magical explosion around us, in short."

The ancient God had to suppress an amused smile when he saw the female King blush further under the general admiration of the group. Right now, the Servants and humans were looking at her as if she were some kind of deity just descened from the heavens (except Mordred, who was sulking on the sidelines with a scowl next to a laughing Iskandar). And indeed, even Shirou was grateful that this woman had been with them at the time. Her Magic Resistance combined with that Invisible Air at the last split-second had been a salvation. Her skill had saved them from a very dangerous situation. If Artoria hadn't been there, the group might not have emerged unscathed from the previous attack.

Sure, such a blast wouldn't have been enough to injure or actually kill a God like him – just as it wouldn't have seriously injured the other Servants – but Artoria's presence had literally saved the lives of the humans among the group. Her ability had shielded them from a certain end, allowing to the Ruler and the others to dig a way out from the cave before the rubble could have covered them entirely and, consequentially, suffocated them to death. Therefore, if the humans had survived, it had been entirely thanks to her.

But wait, wasn't someone still missing?

Shirou raised a brow as he looked around the smoking debris. "Wait. Where are Caren and Ne–"

"UMU!"

A familiar voice made itself known from the right, startling almost everyone. A moment later, Nero emerged from the rubble and debris with an exaggeratedly theatrical pose, the air around her almost glowing under the others' stunned gaze. The girl raised her hand towards the sky, her face split by a captivating grin.

"Behold! Once again, I welcome the light of sun! Reviving amidst desolation, just like a phoenix… are you watching, my beloved Venetian citizens of Rome? I have returned!"

Shirou, Mordred, Artoria and pratically everyone else except Romulus sweat-dropped with a deadpan. The girl didn't seem to care one bit. 'What is she? The embodiment of self-affirmation?' was everyone's unanimous thought.

"My, my. What a brazen performance," Caren commented sarcastically, dusting herself off with one hand next to the red Saber, looking completely unscathed like the rest of the group.

Iskandar stared at the exuberant Empress with a raised brow. "Venetian citizens... of Rome?" he repeated, completely lost.

"Please just ignore her, Rider," Olga Marie sighed exasperatedly. "It'll be annoying if she starts bragging again."

The Ruler shook his head. Then, his eyes returned to focus on the captive woman next to him, and his gaze promptly narrowed in anger. Narbareck was thrown to the ground at his feet, looking way worse than before. Her body was burnt and steaming, half of her hair completely burned, and her right hand was missing, precisely severed from the forearm. A prodigious spay of crimson blood kept pouring out of her missing limb as she moaned and fidgeted in pain, her teeth gritted and eyes shut and filled with tears.

Despite her pitiful look, Shirou regarded her with a disgusted sneer. He had managed to sever her hand and save her from the suicidal attack a split-second before the Runestone could releas the energy inside, but that had not been enough to stop the explosion. Once activated, a Rune could not be blocked in any way, since the energy contained within it was often too powerful and impetuous to be controlled. It was for this very same reason that both the Clock Tower and the Holy Church regarded the usage of this kind of Magecraft with distaste. Those who dared to effectively use the magical power of Runes were often insane or degenerate people.

The woman at his feet was no exception. "Your plan has failed, woman," the God of War spoke coldly, placing a foot on the abdomen of the burned enemy, forcing her to open her eyes and cough in pain. "You've lost the bet. Now, you will tell me everything you know before I kill you."

Narbareck shivered and looked at him with sheer terror.

Shirou glared at her with his golden-brown eyes as the others approached. "Why didn't you call your Servant during the fight?" he questioned her seriously, with a tone that would not allow deceptions or lies. "You and your men took a great risk, choosing to fight so many Servants on your own. Why?"

To her credit, the woman gulped but did not utter a single word.

Shirou lost patience. He lunged forward, grabbing her throat with one hand and choking her with an iron grip. Despite the gruesome scene, none of his allies felt pity for her.

"Answer me," he pressed, sounding even more menacing than before.

"W-W-Wait...!" Narbareck choked, her eyes horribly wide and overflowing with tears of pain, struggling to breathe. "I-I'll... tell y-you!"

He loosened his grip, but didn't let go of her neck.

"I-I don't have... a Servant anymore," the woman finally revealed, her voice broken and shook by a coughing fit. "She– ngh! She disappeared a month ago."

Caren looked at her with her usual bored expression. "So this Servant of yours has left you. Then I assume she's the one responsible for the theft, right?"

Narbareck nodded with a trembling head.

"Who is this Servant?" Shirou stressed. "What's her identity?"

"I... I-I don't know."

That made everyone present pause. The God of War parted his lips into a growl.

"Don't lie to me," he hissed.

"I-I-I'm not! I don't know who she is! She never revealed her name to us, nor her Class! We asked her several times, but she wouldn't listen! I swear! I SWEAR!"

The group exchanged a silent glance, so many different emotions and thoughts flashing inside their eyes. They could clearly see that the captive wasn't lying. Her desperation was painfully obvious to see.

Narbareck continued to pant under the Ruler's death grip, talking between sobs and coughs. "S-She came to us, over a month ago," she revealed to everyone in a sobbing voice. "A woman dressed in elegant clothes. She told us that she could offer us p-power and knowledge if we helped her with a-a specific quest, and that her mission would cause discord and trouble among the ranks of the Church. W-We decided to help after a c-careful contemplation, since she was willing to offer us a lot of knowledge about Runes and ancient Magic."

Lord El-Melloi II widened his eyes. "She's the one who gave you the Runestones and who taught you the spell from before!" he realized, connecting the dots.

The woman nodded again, frantic.

Shirou cursed inside his mind. Damn it. It made sense.

"And yet, you still don't know who she is," Iskandar scoffed, skeptical.

"I don't know! I r-really don't! I SWEAR!" she screamed frantically, overwhelmedby panic. Then she paused. Swallowed. Her eyes darted to the right. "H-However..."

The God of War glared at her. "However?" he pressed. "Speak. Now."

With a slow, trembling motion, the director of the Burial Agency raised her good arm, pointing with a trembling hand towards a member of the group. Shirou's gaze followed, along with the others'.

"T-T-That wo-woman," Narbareck stammered, her eyes wide and filled with uncertainty and fear. "The Servant had t-that woman's face."

That statement was followed by dead silence.

And Shirou, Mordred and the whole group stared at the Servant pointed by Narbareck with wide, incredulous eyes.

...

Artoria met everyone's gaze with furrowed brows and plain confusion.

"My... face...?"

Mordred exploded in apocalyptic rage.

"What the FUCK!?" she roared, torn between being incredulous or furious. "There's another one!?"

Clearly, this fact did not sit well with the female Knight. At all.

Shirou rounded on Narbareck again, his eyes turning more ferocious than death itself. "You'd better not lie, woman. Are you telling the truth?" he growled, both his face and voice as hard as steel.

"I-I'm not! I'm not! I'm not lying! The Servant had that woman's face!" she stammered again, shaking her head like a cornered animal. "T-The hair were slightly different, but the face was near identical! It was an almost exact copy! Their eyes match too!"

For once, the entire group shared Mordred's disbelief.

"...are you kidding me?" Caren Hortensia sighed, casting an irritated glance between Artoria, Mordred and Nero. The three girls, for the first time, were completely stunned and didn't know what to say. "What's the deal with you Servants and that ugly face?"

"Hey! I'm not ugly! And I'm just as confused as you are!" Nero protested loudly, waving her arms like a child.

Olga Marie stepped forward, looking at Narbareck with an expression mixed between disbelief and irritation. "Where is she now?" she asked, solemn and decisive.

Once again, the director of the Agency shook her head and shivered. "I don't k-know," she admitted in a shaky voice, shattering the hopes of many of the group. "T-That day, she simply told us to walk inside Vatican City and cause a distraction so that she could sneak into the Archives and steal what she needed. B-But then, right after the theft, she disappeared… and we never saw her again."

Artoria, Mordred and Iskandar watched as the red-haired Ruler pursed his lips in anger after that revelation.

"T-That's all I know," Narbareck said with a broken voice, nearly choking on spittle as she spoke.

Silence followed, along with disappointment.

On his part, however, Shirou was growing more and more frustrated by the second. His mind grew colder and numb as he listened to the woman and discovered how little she knew about the theft and its culprit. It was evident that she wasn't lying – his trained senses and his five thousand years of experience were making it painfully clear to him – and that realization was only serving to frustrate him even more. It was only serving to make him even more enraged. This was the only lead – the one and only lead – he had to discover and find who was behind the theft of the Artifacts related to his past, and it wasn't leading to anything concrete. Anything. That wasn't good. It wasn't good at all.

His panic was escalating on the inside.

"Why did she steal the records and the Artifact, then?" he demanded again, shaking the woman from her neck in a fit of panicked rage. "What does she want to do with them? Why is she so obsessed with Tyr and his story? WHAT IS SHE PLANNING TO DO?"

Yes, it was definitely escalating.

"I-I don–"

"Enough with that answer!" he growled, his face turning even more enraged. "What is it that you actually know, then?"

Sheer silence greeted his sudden outburst.

He waited. And waited. And waited.

Until...

"N-Nothing."

Shirou felt the sheer feeling of panic start to bite his heart with its cold and cruel hold.

The air around him dropped several degrees.

Narbareck was weeping under his grip, her face desperate like never before. "I-I know nothing..." she sobbed, both her eyes and nose running. "I don't know who she is, I don't know where she went, I don't know what she's planning to do with those records. I… I swear. We just w-went along with her plan b-because we were scared… and because we wanted to see the Church i-in dismay. I swear… p-please, I swear…"

...

Shirou lowered his head, gaze shadowed by his crimson locks.

Iskandar, Mordred and Artoria watched with apprehension as the Ruler's shoulders trembled slightly.

Pure silence. A couple of seconds passed.

Then, before anyone could even do anything, a sharp and resounding crack suddenly echoed in the air.

Everyone's eyes widened.

As the red-haired Ruler abruptly released the woman's lifeless body, her neck snapped and her face twisted into a silent scream.

Mordred, Iskandar, and the others stared at him with wide eyes.

Olga Maria paled.

"W-What have you done?" she whispered, her mouth agape and eyes as wide as plates. Her gaze flckered between Shirou's face and the dead woman at his feet. "You… You killed her. You actually killed her! Are you crazy!? What were you thinking!?"

"Relax, you pathetic wimp," Caren elbowed the older girl from the right, her face not betraying an ounce of emotion. "She was a cruel and sadistic beast. That woman did not deserve to live. Ruler has done well."

Olga Marie rounded on her, incredulous and outraged by that statement. "We were still questioning her!" she yelled furiously. "She could have given us more information! She could have given us more details! She could have–"

"There was nothing she could have given to us, little girl," Iskandar interrupted her with his deep, powerful voice. Everyone's eyes fell on the King of Conquerors' solemn expression as he crossed his arms and shook his head. "It was clear as day that this woman was completely unaware of what she had caused. Whoever that mysterious Servants is, she had merely used her for her own quest. She was just a means to an end. Nothing more."

"I agree. I doubt she would have had any useful information for us," Arjuna added as well, still glancing warily to red-haired Ruler.

"Then... all we've done so far was for nothing. We don't have a lead anymore," Waver Velvet exhaled heavily, putting a hand in his pocket and taking out a cigar and a lighter with an abitual movement, almost reflexive.

As the Servants resigned themselves to that realization, Artoria moved next to Shirou with a quick step, tentatively reaching out to him. Her gauntlet landed lightly on his shoulder after a moment of hesitation. "Shirou... are you ok?" she asked, voice soft and uncertain, her emerald eyes searching for his face.

The God swallowed, his eyes still shadowed by his locks. Then, he exhaled a sigh, making a slow nod. A shake of the head returned the emotionless scowl he was wearing into his familiar expression, and he turned to face the King with a grim, remorseful smile. Artoria did not miss the change, though.

"…Sorry. I just― I acted brashly again. I apologize," he answered, clenching and unclenching a fist.

Olga Marie fixed him with an enraged glare. "What is wrong with you?" she snarled, for once looking absolutely pissed at the man who was supposed to be the most powerful and the most calm and collected of them all. Every Servant watched as the girl stomped in front of Shirou, pointing a finger at his chest with a growl. "This is the second time you've acted recklessly in two days! I won't stand for this! What the hell is your problem? You're a Ruler, are you not? Then why don't you act like one!? Can't you even show a little self-restraint?"

Shirou didn't answer her. He avoided the girl's stare, his eyes lowered towards the lagoon. "…I apologize," was all he said. All he could say, as pained as he was. He was literally struggling to hold back the anger, the frustration and the confusion he was feeling inside. Panic and anger had blinded him once again, just as they did when he had discovered the theft and the artifact related to his past, forcing him to move and react rashly. He had made a mistake. Again.

And this time, he had no excuse for it. He could not justify his actions.

Artoria and the others stared at him in perplexity, clearly confused by his strange behavior. Iskandar and Mordred also stared at him, long and hard. They shared a silent glance in the midst of that tense confusion.

Then, remembering their discussion from the previous day, they did something unexpected.

"Alright, alright, that's enough," Mordred sighed, placing herself between Shirou and Olga Marie with a sudden movement. The Knight of Treachery glared to the silver-haired girl, making her flinch and step back in confusion. "He's got the lesson. Now leave him alone, will ya. Your fuss is giving me an headache. Ruler's already dealing with a lot of stuff, so stop bothering him."

They went to his rescue.

"That's right!" Iskandar exclaimed soon after her, wrapping Shirou's shoulders under his mighty arm and grinning with his trade-mark smirk. The Ruler was suddenly roused to life by their actions, blinking in confusion. "The boy is going through a tough period. Let's cut him some slack, what do you say? Besides, that woman was not going to tell us anything important; so it's not like he did something unforgivable. I would have killed her too, after all she did."

Shirou stared at his companions with wide eyes and stunned shock, the reasoning behind their actions slowly blossoming inside his mind after a few moments.

And as the pain and confusion were replaced by realization, his chest began to grow warm for some reason.

Olga Marie turned to the Rider and the Saber with obvious confusion. "B-But he–"

Iskand and Mordred fixed her with a single stare. The girl immediately stepped back under their powerful gaze, turning white as snow and swallowing nervously.

Shirou felt is heart swell when the girl finally decided to relent thanks to his friends, settling to glare at him from afar with a furious frown. His gaze softened on them.

"…thanks, guys," he whispered softly, sincerely grateful, so that only those two could hear his words.

Mordred and Iskandar nodded to him with a slight grin.

After that scene, several seconds of awkward silence followed. Moments in which Servants and humans kept casting confused glances at each other, their eyes flickering between Ruler and his closest companions. But in the end, in the midst of that situation, Lord El-Melloi II decided to dissolve the tension at some point. He took another drag on his cigar, exhaling a cloud of smoke from the lips before voicing his opinion and drawing everyone's attention on him.

"Be as it may, the situation is far from favorable for us," he said seriously, clenching a fist in obvious frustration. "We did not discover the Servant's identity, nor the reason why she carried out the theft. And more importantly: we have no idea where this woman is, nor of what to do to track her down."

He exhaled a second cloud of smoke, raising his head to look at the afternoon sky darkened by the smoke coming from the rubble. "We've lost our only lead."

Caren Hortensia nodded. "As vexing as it is to admit it, he's right. Although you have done the Church a great favor in eliminating that old hag and her accursed Agency, we have not received any information regarding Tyr's threat and its correlation to the War," she admitted as well with her usual monotonous tone.

"We're back to square one."

Both Servants and humans visibly sighed after the priestess's statement. Silence descended again among them.

Iskandar scratched his cheek sheepishly. "Now, now; don't be like that," he said, trying to lift everyone's mood. "We've still learned something in the end, have we not?"

Arjuna scoffed. "Yeah. That there's yet another Servant with King Arthur's face," he sarcastically replied, crossing his arms and nodding his head towards Artoria. "That's just great. And useless."

The sarcasm in his tone was clearly perceptible to all those present. Bedivere and Gawain moved their hands towards the hilt of their swords, enraged by the Archer's sarcastic tone directed to their King.

On her part, Artoria stopped them with a raise of her hand, but she still narrowed her eyes on the Endowed Hero. "Mind your words, Archer. I do not enjoy this situation either," she warned him, her eyebrow almost twitching in irritation. Almost. "How it is possible that other Servants can share my features is beyond me. I can understand Mordred's case, but I'm still feeling deeply wronged by this revelation. The child Emperor here was already a nuisance enough."

Nero raised her chin haughtily, completely ignoring the way Artoria was fixing her with a cold stare. "Hah! Who cares if we look alike! Obviously, I'm still the best one, without a doubt, since I'm the Romest of them all!"

Romulus applauded her statement with a proud smile. "Hahaha! As expected of Nero. Well said, my child. Well said."

The others ignored them. In all honesty, they could understand the annoyance and irritation Artoria was feeling right now. This whole situation seemed to be nothing but a bad joke. It made no sense, and it was simply too ridiculous to be true. I mean, really? Servants sharing the same face? More than once? What? No, really, what? It was just plain stupid. First Artoria, then Mordred, then Nero; and now even an unknown enemy who could be plotting to revive and summon Tyr for some nefarious purpose?

Yep. This was messed up. Badly.

Shirou ran a hand over his temples, massaging them to dissolve the incoming migraine. "Good grief, this is getting us nowhere," he sighed in the end, shaking his head slightly in exasperation.

"Indeed," Iskandar agreed with a hum, glancing at Mordred. "I never expected something like this. What about you, Saber?"

"The hell do you mean? I'm not happy about this either! Not even I want to see Father's accursed face on more than one person."

"Sir Mordred…" Bedivere growled in irritation, almost drawing his sword. However, he wisely decided to relent when he saw Artoria ignoring the younger Knight without even batting an eye (much to the latter's growing frustration).

The God of War decided to change the approach before the situation between father and son could escalate again. "But still, a woman who looks exactly like King Arthur… there must be some kind of connection," Shirou mused with a frown, trying to make at least a spit of sense out of that ridiculous situation. He put a hand on his hip, glancing at the blonde woman in armor with one eye closed and a raised brow. "What, you've got a sister or something?"

Artoria frowned thunderously. "Of course not. I do not ha–"

She stopped.

Silence fell again among those present.

Everyone stared at the King of Knights with confusion, perplexed. The silence lasted for several seconds.

"Uhm... your Majesty?" Shirou called her, puzzled. "Is everything ok?" he tried again.

Still no answer. The temperature around them dropped several degrees.

A chill descended on Artoria's spine. The others continued to stare, oblivious, completely lost and confused by her silence.

"No... i-it can't be..."

Shirou and Iskandar turned towards the one who had spoken. Their eyes widened, followed by everyone's.

Gawain had become white as bone, his eyes wide beyond measure. He was sweating profusely, his arms trembling slightly, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the ground, stuttering and mumbling incoherent words with an incredulous and anxious voice.

"I-I... I don't... it cannot... it's impossible!"

…What the hell?

But it wasn't until Shirou and Iskandar turned to glance at Mordred that their hearts almost stopped beating for a split second. The Ruler and the Rider widened their eyes, and soon their action was followed by every other Servant and human in the group.

Because Mordred had become so pale that she looked almost dead, her expression now morphed into a mask of sheer horror.

"K-Kid?" Shirou tried, reaching out to her. His fingers gripped her armored shoulder, shaking her lightly with concern in his golden-brown orbs. "Kid, what's wrong?"

"Saber? Talk to us," the King of Conquerors ordered, sounding no less worried than his companion.

She didn't answer. Her eyes were blank, devoid of life, her face shadowed by her golden bangs. She didn't even react when both men began to shake her more vigorously in attempt to awaken her from that trance. A completely different behaviour compared to her usual one.

Caren Hortensia was growing impatient. "Can someone please explain to us what is going on here? What in the actual fu–"

"My liege!"

Shirou rounded on the left, staring wide-eyed at Bedivere's panicked face he ran next to Artoria, shaking her just as they had done with Mordred. The woman wore the same strained expression of Gawain and her son, her emerald orbs glowing with disbelief, and anger, and horror.

"No. No, it can't be," she hissed under her breath, her fists clenched so hard that her entire arms began to tremble. Her armored gauntels let out a metallic wail as she clenched and unclenched them. "She is not... she cannot... she's not a Hero...!"

The cold and detatched King Arthur, rendered speechless by a single thought.

"It's impossible..." Gawain was staring at her as well, trembling, for once sharing his King's emotions in full. "My King! Tell me it's impossible. It can't be, right?"

Artoria didn't answer his desperate question. Mordred remained completely still. The tension grew high in the group.

Shirou's mind raced.

He went through every memory, every record, every notion. Every information about the Throne and the Heroes that Gaia had given to him before sending him to the Real Side. He went through every hypothesis. Every chance. Every possible answer.

Until–

"...impossible."

One word. One, single word was uttered from Mordred's lips.

Impossible.

As impossible for her as breathing beneath the sea or walking upon the moon.

But for Shirou, the answer was as clear as day.

Because, despite his friend's horror, despite the odds, despite what his mind logically wanted to deny; there was one, single truth that they had all overlooked until now.

This one truth, this one realization.

That is: as crazy and absurd as it seemed, Mordred was not the only person who shared her father's face.

And as history teaches, King Arthur was not a single child.

Shirou felt it in his bones. In his soul. He needed answers. He needed to find out why there was a Servant who was actively striving to come in possession of the last records related to his past, to his sins. Even more so if said Servant was not a Counter Guardian, as he had previously suspected, but one related to King Arthur instead.

After all, King Arthur had owned both the Sword and the Scabbard during her life. She had owned the Holy Lance Rhongomyniad. The Sword was still with her, the Spear had survived to this day, and the Scabbard was go-

A horrid realization overcame the First Hero of humanity.

He widened his eyes.

The Acheulean Stone and Tyr's records had been stolen.

And at the same time…

The Scabbard was gone.

Someone had targeted the Spear.

And the Sword was returned to the King once she had been summoned back.

And the only person, the only woman related to King Arthur who knew all about those items and who could have somehow discovered their connection to Tyr was...

Could it be that–

"She came to us, over a month ago. A woman dressed in elegant clothes. We decided to help after a careful contemplation, since she was willing to offer us a lot of knowledge about Runes and ancient Magic."

But that would mean–

Mordred's words!

"My Mother was a witch! A wretched, cruel woman who only saw me as a tool! I had no choice but to do what I did!"

Something cold and heavy settled inside his heart.

...

"The Servant had that woman's face!"

...

Shirou Emiya swallowed his fears.

"Artoria," he spoke. His voice was cold and worried and tense as he spoke. "Is… Is it possible? Could she really have been summoned back to the world as an Heroic Spirit? Could that be a possibility?"

His voice seemed to somehow rouse the King from her thoughts. The woman locked eyes with him, slowly and fearfully. She knew that he knew what was going on inside her mind. Her silence spoke volumes.

He didn't like it one bit.

The God of War said nothing, did nothing. He only increased his grip on Mordred's shoulder as she suddenly started to tremble next to him.

And silence returned to reign as soon as everyone realized how things stood.

Until, the incoming sound of sirens and ambulances began to echo in the distance.

Lord El-Melloi II awoke from his thoughts, gazing upon the ruined square and beyond the rubble of the now destroyed church. "We should go. The police and authorities are coming to check on the site. Let's get away from here," he ordered.

Everyone moved at once without adding anything else.

Shirou said nothing during the way back, pretty much like everyone else. But his gentle grip on Mordred's arm never broke, not even when they reached the extraction point and departed on the Clock Tower's private jet, flying away from the city.

The enemy had been eliminated.

But the mission had been a failure.

---

Planet: Earth
Date: June 5 2020
Location: Mount Clisham – Harris (Lewis and Harris - Scotland)

(======)

She fought down her urge to vomit. Her whole body was shaking.

The sight that met Rin's eyes was terrifying. In the distance, shadowed by the shadow of Mount Clisham, a gigantic pool of black, coagulating liquid similar to oil flooded the valley at the base of the mountain. Shimmering tentacles of purple, similar to fibrous filaments, poked out of the puddle and spread out across the ground like a distorted spider web. Nearby trees hung frozen in time, lifeless and dead. The air was full of dark mana, imbued with a nauseating smell.

And the silence interrupted by the incessant bubbling of that disgusting liquid reigned supreme. Above that visage of rot and ruin, the sky was red with pitch-black clouds.

Rin swallowed nervously as she took a step back. Her heart raced inside her ribcage.

"Oh my God..." Gray whispered next to her. The poor girl had become white as bone under her hood. "T-This can't be good."

She hated to admit it, but Rin agreed in full. She had never seen anything like this before that day. And she didn't even dare to go near that horrifying mass. Whatever it was, it was best not to approach it. Her head snapped towards the two Servants who accompanied them. Both of them were eerily silent as they observed that horror.

"Do you know what the hell is that?" she questioned, torn between being incredulous and horrified.

Archer said nothing, his eyes narrowed in a deep frown. Lancer was judging the distance. Their silence did nothing to ease the tension.

Rin would have none of their silence. "Listen… try to make yourselves useful and answer me! What is that thing?" she repeated, rounding on them with definitely-not-panicked expression.

Sweat dripped down Napoleon's cheek. His voice came out a panicked whisper.

"Sacrebleu... I've never seen anything like this."

Tense silence stretched for an eternity.

"...lass. Listen to me."

Gray and Rin turned to Cu Chulainn. Perhaps the adrenaline was affecting their hearing, but Rin could have sworn that the Lancer's voice was lower – extremely lower – than usual.

"W-What? What is it?" Rin gulped.

The blue Servant's fingers twitched, red eyes wide and focused on the sea of mud before them.

"We should get away from here."

Rin couldn't believe her ears. "What!? No way! We still need to learn what that thing is!" she protested.

"N-Now, now, Rin… maybe we should listen to him before we decide," Gray tried to mediate.

"I second Lancer's proposal," Napoleon agreed as well, eyes wide and fists clenched while he kept his gaze glued to the shimmering tentacles twitching and writhing amidst the pool of black tar. "I don't know what we're looking at, mademoiselle, but... I have a bad feeling about this. A very, very bad feeling. Perhaps we should–"

"Aaah mou!" Rin exploded like a living volcano, returning to use the mannerisms from Japan due to her growing panic. "Shut up! We've come all this way! There's no way we can just leave like that. If that pile of mud really is what Archer has warned us about, then we must discover what it is!" she ordered.

Napoleon fixed her with a stern eye. "Can't you see the abomination in front of us? Stop being stubborn and listen: it's too dangerous. My instincts are literally screaming at me not to go near that mud."

"Then we'll observe from afar. I'm not stupid enough to force us to get close to that filth," she countered promptly. Her expression was contracted by a deep scowl. "Aren't you guys supposed to be top Servants? You've been acting like a bunch of scared cats ever since we got closer to this place. If I knew it was going to be like this, I would have come here by myself."

Cu Chulainn snarled at her, his eyes turning ferocious. "You don't understand," he hissed, trying to make her see reason. "That thing… That thing is dangerous, lass. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it. It's alive. Alive! There's something extremely wrong with it!"

"One more reason for us to–"

She didn't have time to finish. She didn't even have time to blink, actually.

Gray's panicked voice echoed in her ears like a thunder.

"Rin!"

What happened next was chaos.

The young heir of the Tohsaka family had no way to see or glimpse what happened. In less than a blink of an eye, everything around her had become a roar of wind and air, her world spinning around wildly. Next thing she knew, Lancer had scooped her up into a bridal carry, jumping in the air with a portentous leap that defied every law of nature.

Wind pulled at her cheeks. Through its incessant howl, Rin heard a distant, echoing crackle: the sound of shattering rock and trees.

"Damn it, lass! What did I tell you?"

She could practically feel the frustration and anger in the Irish Hero's tone, but in that frenzied moment it didn't matter much. In her periphery, Rin spotted Napoleon jumping after them, holding a terrified Gray in his muscular arms. She shook her head, cleared her racing mind and regained her focus, trying to figure out what had happened. What she saw did not reassure her at all.

Behind them – much to her growing horror – a veritable column of tentacles and black filaments was swarming and attacking, like snakes roused to life by the black mud and ready to devour and destroy everything in their fury.

Rin felt the air suddenly leave her lungs.

Lancer landed on the opposite side of the clearing. The ground beneath his feet cracked. Archer caught up with him in a second, cratering the stone with his landing.

Then, the two Servants jumped again, and a dozen tentacles crashed against the spot where they had landed not even a second earlier. Each impact against the ground was enough to shatter rock and stone, loosening a deafening shockwave that ripped the wind from the two girls' lungs. With their furious attacks, the tentacles kept spreading their poison, the mud advancing relentlessly. As it advanced, the nauseating smell in the air became more and more intense.

Rin screamed in fear, clinging to the Lancer's neck as he summoned his spear and parried a pair of tentacles that threatened to impale them. With a half-closed eye, she glimpsed Napoleon spinning in midair next to them, summoning his weapon: a large black metal cannon the size of a ballista. From the gigantic weapon, he fired an endless series of ray-like cannonballs made of light, aiming at the swarm of tentacles that were following them.

The attacks hit the targets, generating a long series of white explosions. The fibrous filaments shook and recoiled like wounded animals. An eerie, dull moan echoed in the distance. Then, they charged again, faster and more horrifying than before.

Another leap brought them even further away from the mud. They were nearing the edges of the island, the sea and their little ship could now be seen on the horizon. And yet, the tentacles were still coming after them, seemingly unwilling to let them go. They were hideous, and fast, and horrifying; slithering in the air with gruesome snaps and emitting serpentine hisses with every move. The sea of mud and tar continued its advance with each of their movements, like a dark and unstoppable avalanche unable to stop. The grass and trees caught fire upon contact with it.

Cu Chulainn and Napoleon continued to flee until they landed near the empty beach. They skidded to a halt, lowered the girls to the ground, and stepped in front of them. They faced their unknown enemy, weapons in hand and bodies wrapped in prana.

"Get to the ship! Now!" the Lancer commanded.

"Quickly!" Napoleon urged.

Rin swallowed her nerves. She turned to her trembling friend, desperately trying to ignore the way Gray's terrified face mirrored her own. Her heart was hammering inside her throat as she grabbed the hooded girl from the shoulders.

"Gray, come on! We need to g–"

A sudden crack echoed beneath their feet.

Rin barely had time to look down before a large crack began to shatter the sand and dirt around them. Then, faster than a man could blink, everything around her exploded again, and the world became a confused succession of pain, dust and deafening noises. The sudden explosion sent her into the air without her being able to form a single coherent thought, and amidst the wind and terror, Rin felt something hard, cold and rough connect abruptly with her back.

She landed on the ground after an indefinite amount of time, banging her head against the sand. The impact took the air out of her lungs. Stunned, the girl remained motionless for several seconds, her arms and legs limp and her ears ringing painfully.

Until, amidst the muffled sounds, she could faintly hear Gray's and Lancer's screams. Rin dug her fingers into the sand, panting, trying to regain a semblance of control over her aching limbs.

With a grunt of pain, she struggled to recover. A swarm of crimson sparks danced before her eyes each time she blinked. Her arms felt stiff and heavy, her limbs strangely numb to perception. She could even swear she felt something hot and wet dripping down her temple, but she wasn't sure. She could not speak, nor think. Her mind was heavy, blurred; overwhelmed by shock and confusion.

But then, as she blinked furiously and her sight slowly began to return, the young girl saw something amidst the sand and dust around her.

A black shadow with a wicked grin.

And in the midst of that world of chaos and horror, Rin widened her eyes.

Because she knew that face.

She knew it extremely well.

The air left her lungs completely.

"R-Ru... le–"

A sudden shockwave hit her with force. It was not a physical shockwave, but incorporeal. A wave of anger, and resentment, and fury; so immense and overwhelming to be physically perceptible. It washed over her like a tide, faster than the flood, submerging and drowning her in its stench and darkness. An overwhelming feeling of oppression, and anger, and hatred. A hatred that was endless, scorching, asphyxiating; so much powerful and dense that it dulled her senses and burned her skin.

Rin fell to the ground, clutching her head with her hands and rolling into a fro. Her mouth opened into a bloodied scream that didn't manage to leave her lips.

The last thing she heard was Gray's desperate scream and Lancer calling out her name.

The last thing she felt, was her heart hammering in a world of pain and madness.

The last thing she saw, was that familiar shadow looming over her entire frame.

Until her world became darkness.

And Rin saw nothing at all.

---

Planet: Earth
Date: June 5 2020
Location: Aquae Cutiliae – Castel Sant'Angelo (Rieti - Italy)

(======)

Shirou let out a long sigh, plunging his tired legs into the warm, steaming water of the pool.

As soon as his body began to acclimate to the high temperature of the water, the red-haired Ruler closed his eyes and relaxed, letting the fatigue and stress evaporate from his muscles, dissolved and attenuated by the pleasant touch of the steaming liquid. Around him, only peace and quiet reigned supreme in the middle of the hot springs, interrupted only by the occasional chirping of birds and the rustle of the warm wind that heralded the coming of summer. To the East, on the horizon beyond the pines surrounding the pool, the light of dawn heralded the arrival of the new day, spreading its rays in the distance.

He stepped inside the pool, sinking into the water and reclining his head and arms over the edge of the tub. The landscape surrounding him was extremely different from the chaotic noise and opulence he had seen in Venice and Rome. After all, at this moment, the God of War and his group were in a remote town in the Lazio region, in the so-called "Terme di Cotilia" (also known as Aquae Cutiliae or Terme di Vespasiano in italian); the ancient thermal springs dating back to the Roman Empire, coming from the numerous limestone rocks that abounded in that area. Over the centuries, with the discovery of the Roman ruins of Cutiliae during the last years of the 1700s, the baths had regained some popularity and had been rebuilt and made open again to the public and tourists. In fact, the remains of the ancient thermal baths of Cotilia were located right near the modern hot springs, and in the past they had been even used by both the Emperors Vespasian and Titus as a holiday resort during the last years of their life.

The modern baths had been built following the model of the ancient ones, and consequently they had the same style as the Roman baths: four large pools of both sulphurous and hot water built under the semi-open sky and surrounded by imposing columns of marble and stone, made in large wide tubs who spanned over tens and tens of meters carved into the limestone rock. The four pools were then further divided with a large stone and marble wall in the center, thus creating an area with two pools for male customers, and a second area with two other pools for women. Both areas, however, had been abundantly decorated with frescoes, plants, marble statues and depictions reminiscent of the Roman era and the Empire, in order to evoke the same feeling of the ancient thermal baths of Aquae Cutiliae. It was for this reason that the baths had acquired a fair amount of popularity, especially during the last century.

But at this time, the baths were completely empty. Dawn had just arrived, and Shirou and his companions were the only ones located within the male area of the facility. Sixteen hours had passed since he and his group had left Venice. After the so-called 'fiasco' of the previous mission and the recent discovery about the Servant who was behind the theft in the Vatican Archives, the morale of the group had dropped dramatically. And not figuratively― literally. It had been precisely for this reason that Romulus and Nero had insisted so much on coming here with the rest of the group: to allow the Servants to relax for a moment and make peace with themselves. To accept the current situation and distract them a little after the disappointment and tension that had swept over them all. And after a whole hour of incessant insistence – even from Caren Hortensia, oddly enough – Olga Marie and Waver Velvet had agreed out of exasperation.

After all, none of them had expected to come to learn that the Servant they were hunting was none other than King Arthur's half-sister, not even Shirou himself. The same woman who, during the reign of the female King, had acted in the shadows to thwart her brother's plans and kingdom. The same woman who also was the mother of Mordred, Gawain and several other Knights of the Round, and the main mastermind behind the fall of Camelot and its history.

The witch, Morgan le Fay.

The red-haired Ruler rubbed his temples, trying to quell the growing migraine.

He hadn't expected to discover that a woman such as Morgan could truly be summoned as a Servant. Still, this reality was the only explanation that made sense after everything Narbareck had revealed. The only logical conclusion he could reach with what little information he had about the theft and the identity of its culprit. After all, who else could it be? Nero was an exception, of course, but following the idea that there really were Servants sharing the exact same face for no reason was too absurd to believe. King Arthur's face, moreover. But Morgan le Fay? Artoria's sister? Gawain's mother? The woman who had literally 'created' Mordred through an incestuous intercourse with her unconscious brother? The same witch who had instilled in Mordred the desire to reach her father, only to then manipulate that wish into killing each other? That was another story entirely.

And as much as Shirou hated to admit it, the hypothesis made sense. Much more than he cared to admit.

All Servants were Heroic Spirits, yes... but not all Heroic Spirits were 'Heroes'. Or, at least, not in the literal sense of the term. He knew it. He knew it extremely well. He had seen it before, after all, during his previous travels; both him and his allies. Hessian Lobo in America. Jack the Ripper in Britain. Mephistopheles in Scotland. Gilles de Rais in France. Even that Antonio Salieri, back in Rome. All of them were beings far from close to the notion of 'Hero'. Yet, their historical fame and the existence of their legends had allowed their souls to be recorded inside the Throne; making it possible for them to be summoned as Servants. And if even a Demon invented by the human mind like Mephistopheles could exist and assume a physical form as a Servant... then why couldn't she? A witch who had really existed and who was still somehow remembered today for her evil deeds in the Arthurian legends?

And this awareness was enough to fill him with irritation. Shirou cursed his own foolishness. He should have seen it sooner. He should have guessed it. He should have connected the dots a long time ago, ever since he had talked to Vivian back at the lake. After all, now that he had thought about it again and again, the clues coincided, and they all pointed in one direction.

Long ago, for some reason, someone had built Add to hide Rhongomyniad and prevent its disappearance after Artoria's death.

When the War broke out, someone had stolen the Stone and the records related to his past hidden inside the Vatican Archives.

Then, soon after that, a mysterious entity had sent some Phantasmal Beasts to steal the Holy Lance back, nearly killing Gray in the process.

And all the while, at the same time, that accursed Scabbard of his had gone missing without a trace.

The Sword was still safe with Artoria, and the Holy Lance had fortunately been recovered before it could have fallen into the enemy's hand, but the other pieces were either missing or already stolen. It could not be a coincidence.

The Spear. The Scabbard. The Stone.

All of them, items related to his past. All of them, fragments of the God of War, Tyr. All of them, witnesses of a past of blood and sin.

All of them, a missing piece of himself.

Therefore, without taking into account Artoria and Mordred, the only woman who had come in contact with the fragments of Tyr throughout history and who could have been able to concretely discover their connection with the God of War... was Morgan le Fay.

Shirou covered his eyes with one hand, wetting his face with hot water.

By now, that realization was no longer a simple hypothesis, but a highly concrete possibility. Shirou knew this. He felt it inside his heart, inside his bones, inside his soul; with a clear and crystalline certainty. After all, who else could have been but her? Unless some Divine entity had been roaming on the world, masqueraded as Artoria – which was highly unlikely, since Gaia would have surely sensed the danger in that case – then what other Servant could have come in contact with his story, his accursed legend, and then carry out such well-targeted and specific attacks if not Morgan le Fay?

Thinking back now to everything he had learned during his past travels and adventures, Shirou could now start to put a few pieces of the puzzle into their place. A puzzle whose pieces were still messy, disorganized, disconnected; and whose design was not fully defined yet. But at the very least, he could begin to discern a pattern here, and a couple of things were starting to make sense now.

First and foremost: in all likelihood, the witch was the one who had created Add. She was the one who had studied the Holy Spear after the death of both Artoria and Mordred, somehow managing to grasp its true nature, its true purpose... its true master. For this reason, she had created the Mystic Cube in order to hide Rhongomyniad and prevent it from disappearing.

And consequently, now that she had been summoned back, that woman had tried to take back not only the Spear, but also all the other items related to Tyr that had not already ended up in Artoria's hands or that were not completely forgotten.

Question is: why?

What did she want to do with them? Why was she so obsessed with his story? What could she possibly want from Tyr? From him? And above all, was this whole War related to her quest in some way? Was she doing this all by herself? Or had she been tasked by someone?

What was the reason behind her actions?

That, he didn't know. That, he couldn't tell. Not yet, at least. But he needed to find out as soon as possible. He could not allow a witch – a witch who, judging by the Arthurian legends and Mordred's words, was anything but a positive figure – to mess around with those items related to his former identity. His past, his story, his vengeance and his sins had to remain secret; now and forever. He had no idea what that woman wanted to do with the fragments of Tyr's past, but he would have been damned if he'd allow her do anything with them. He had to find her, and stop her at any cost.

Whatever Morgan was plotting, it couldn't be good.

And as a God of War, as a Ruler, and even as a friend of both Artoria and Mordred, he had to stop this whole mess at once.

Speaking of Artoria and Mordred…

The ancient God exhaled another sigh at that thought. Father and son hadn't reacted well to the news that Morgan could have returned just like they did. Well, to be honest, they hadn't reacted at all, especially Artoria. The King of Knights had descended into a contemplative and worried silence ever since, returning to being as cold and detached from everyone as she had been in life. Not even the constant presence of Bedivere and Gawain seemed enough to get her out of that tense silence. The latter had appeared more tense and nervous than ever, finding relief only in the presence of his King. A King who, this time, had no words of comfort or support to offer him.

Given her lack of reaction, they had all assumed that Artoria was secretly scared by the news... but Shirou knew better. The woman wasn't really frightened by the possibility that her 'sister' could really be the one behind the theft. Shirou knew Artoria too welll to assume that something like this could be enough to worry or even scare a strong-willed woman like her. Still, even he hadn't been able to completely decipher the cold, emotionless look she'd wore on her face ever since they'd finished the mission. Whatever was going on inside that woman's head, she and only she knew.

And Mordred...

Mordred had decided to distance herself away from everyone, falling into a silence that was painfully similar to that of her father and ignoring anyone who had tried to approach her in the past few hours. Shirou's constant reassurance, Iskandar's slaps on the shoulder, and even the silent presence of the rest of the group were of no use to her. The girl had remained completely impassive, eyes perpetually shadowed by her bangs and lips set into weird combination of a frown and a sneer. And after five hours of glaring at the world with a frosty gaze, not even the boisterous and bold Romulus and Nero had dared to approach her.

Then, out of the blue, the Knight of Treachery had asked Shirou and Iskandar to be left alone, retreating again into a dull silence and going somewhere for a walk in complete solitude. And after an initial moment of hesitation and concern, the two men had agreed to her request, in spite of Olga Marie's protests. After all, if their young friend needed to be alone for a while, they had no choice but to give her some space. They certainly couldn't force her to stay with them at every opportunity.

But still, this did little to nothing to ease his concern.

The red-head let out another weary sigh.

"Quit your overthinking, boy. Try to relax for once."

Shirou removed his hand from his eyes, glancing at the imposing figure of Iskandar who was sitting next to him, soaking in the water. Together with the two of them, Romulus, Arjuna and Lord El-Melloi II were also sitting inside the large bath, trying to relax and letting the hot steam of the water evaporate their tiredness. On the other side of the marble wall, Shirou knew that Caren, Nero and Olga Marie were doing the same.

Artoria, the Knights and Mordred, on the other hand, had chosen not to enter the facility for... obvious reasons.

The King of Conquerors approached the fellow red-head with a smile. He was so tall that he had to stretch out completely with his legs on the bottom for the water to reach his chest, similar to Romulus. "Come on, wipe that frown from your face," he urged him, patting him on the shoulder and looking at him with cheerful eyes. His muscular body created small waves in the water with every movement. "We're inside one of the renowed Roman baths. We should take this opportunity to enjoy the experience in full and clear our minds for once. Don't you agree?"

"Indeed. That is true. Behold the might of Rome! Let it seep inside your brains and soothe you into bliss!" Romulus exclaimed from the other side of the pool, raising his hands towards the elegant structure around them with a theatrical gesture. Next to him, Waver Velvet sweat-dropped and Arjuna sighed in irritation.

"Please lower your voice inside a public facility, Lancer," the Indian Archer scolded him with a twitch of the eyebrow. "You're disturbing my meditation."

Lord El-Melloi II nodded as he ran a hand through his long hair. "That's right. Even if there's only us in the facility right now, I don't want to deal with any kind of complaint from the staff due to noise pollution. Please try to behave, all of you."

"Hahaha! I can't help it. I simply cannot resist the lure of Rome."

"What is that supposed to mean? We still haven't returned to Rome yet."

"Rome is everywhere. Rome is the world. THE WORLD IS ROME!"

Iskandar grinned widely at the scene. "See? Even the others are having fun right now."

Despite his foul mood, Shirou couldn't help but smile a little. At least the man's positivity had not changed. He took a long breath as he sank some more into the water. "You're right, Rider. I should clear my mind, at least for a few minutes," he agreed after a while. His smile turned grim as he stared at the sun slowly rising on the horizon. "But I just can't help but worry. About Mordred."

The muscular Rider hummed with a nod. His expression became more serious. "I'm worried about her too, boy. But the best we can do is to let her be, at least for a while," he spoke wisely after a few seconds, massaging his triceps with the soothing water around them. "Between the feud with the King of Knights and the recent discovery about this so-called mother of hers... Saber's got a lot on her mind right now. The best thing to do is to allow her to sort things out and let off some steam. You know she can be quite a handful."

For once, he totally agreed with him. The Ruler nodded slowly. "Yeah. You're right." He raised a brow at the taller Servant. "You know, you can be surprisingly wise at times. I'm shocked."

Iskandar broke into his boisterous laugh. "Bwahahah! Of course! I am the King of Conquerors, after all! Winning the hearts and bonding with my companions is what I do best!" he boasted with a captivating wink.

"Hey! I said lower your voice!" Waver Velvet scolded him.

Shirou smirked when he saw Iskandar completely ignore the poor man, much to his irritation and Romulus' amusement.

"But what are your thoughts about this, boy?" the gigantic Rider continued again, looking at him with a serious expression. "Do you believe this… witch, is really the one we should look for? We don't even know if this woman is related to Saber at all."

"And what do you think about it, King of Conquerors?" he asked back at him, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "I asked you because I don't know what to believe yet," he answered easily. "We have no evidence that Saber's mother was really summoned back like us. And even if she was, there is no certainty that she really is the one behind the theft. A King must consider every hypothesis, of course, but he cannot fight an unknown enemy without having concrete information. Wars are won by making decisions and acting promptly, not following a hunch."

As expected from Alexander the Great. He was no fool. But Shirou knew the Rider was wrong here. Not that he could blame him, though. Iskandar did not have the millennia of experience he had, nor the information that Gaia, Vivian, and his past experiences had given him during the course of their adventure. But there was still a bit of truth in his words. A wisdom that forced him to pause for a while and reconsider everything once more.

The red-haired Ruler nodded. "I concur. There's still too much we don't know about this whole mess. That's why we should focus on continuing to look for more informations before actually decide what to do," he spoke after a careful consideration. His eyes narrowed in suspicion after saying this. "And yet..."

Iskandar regarded him with a serious frown. "What is it?"

Shirou looked at him straight into the eyes.

"Something inside me is telling me that Mordred's mother is related to this," he admitted sincerely, leaning away from the edge of the pool and crossing his arms under the water. He allowed himself a grim smile. "And as much as I hate to admit it… my instincts are rarely wrong. They have saved me from trouble on countless occasions."

The King of Conquerors stared at him, long and hard. Then, his lips broke into a grin that was as wide as it could be. "Heh! Then I guess we're on the same page. I too feel that this lead is the right one to follow." He leaned towards him, wrapping an arm around his neck with a proud smile. "Boy, it seems you might have a knack for Conquest, after all. I'd think of you as a rival, were you not a Ruler."

Shirou's smirk widened. "I'm honored that the great Iskandar has such a high opinion of me."

"Of course! As you should be," the man nodded with approval. Then, seeing that his partner was now smiling more sincerely than before, his red eyes softened a bit. "You know, I was quite worried about you."

That made him pause. "Worried?" he repeated, confused.

Iskandar scratched his beard, nodding slowly at him. "Indeed. I'm referring to what you did yesterday," he explained, thinking back to the strange behavior that the Ruler had assumed during the 'interrogation' with Narbareck. "That was the second time I've seen you act so rashly. Me and Saber were quite shocked, in all honesty."

Shirou inwardly winced at that memory. Yeah… definitely not one of his smartest moves. He had truly regretted doing that, especially in front of the stunned gazes of the entire group. Big mistake, that one.

His smile became more strained. "I'm... sorry," he apologized sincerely, his body sinking a little deeper into the water. "I didn't want to worry you. It's just... I-I was–"

"Scared," Iskandar finished for him.

The God of War lowered his gaze. His smile grew grim. "Yes."

"Well, at least you're admitting it," the muscular Rider said, sighing at little and patting him on the back. Hard. Shirou almost grunted under the force of the taller man. "Fear can lead us to commit rash actions, boy. I'm sure that you know that very well, now more than ever. Therefore, you must banish your worries and clear your mind from now on. I know that this Tyr scares you, but you won't have to deal with his threat alone. We did talk about this, did we not? Whatever happens, whatever enemies and threats await us, we will face them together. Me, you and Saber. That's what companions should do. That's what true Conquest means."

Shirou nodded, smiling in self-mockery. "Yeah. Thanks for the reminder, King of Conquerors. I always tend to forget the most obvious things, even after all we've been through."

Old habits die hard, after all.

The muscular Rider gave a short laugh, giving him another pat on the shoulder. "Heh! Don't sweat it, boy. That's what friends are for!" he reassured him gleefully, happy to see him blush slightly after his statement. Then, he turned his gaze to the horizon with an excited grin, followed by the Ruler. "And that's how we should deal with Saber and her incoming duel as well. Don't you agree?"

Shirou grinned as well, his thoughts now aimed to a certain rebellious and reckless child.

It was the first, true smile he made after several hours.

"I do, Rider. I do."

Iskandar nodded approvingly. "You're finally back to your senses," he said with approval. Then, he turned away and snorted a little with sudden distaste. "That reminds me… perhaps I should have a word with the King of Knights before the duel. That woman is way too detatched for her own good. She hasn't uttered a single word ever since we left the city. She seriously needs to loosen up," he grumbled with an annoyed frown.

Shirou made a sympathetic smile. He was expecting that kind of statement from him. "Come on, Rider, give her some credit. Artoria is not that bad," he defended her.

The taller Servant scoffed. "You're way too soft with her, boy. That woman is a misguided fool. I admire her strenght and resolution, but she's still too disinterested and adamant, even on the smallest things. And those Knights as well. I can justify Saber's reckless behavior since she's still a child, but those three are always so inflexible that it's irritating. They didn't even want to join us when we were offered to come here! What a wasted opportunity, truly. Servants or not, there is no point in living, struggling and fighting if you cannot enjoy life at least once," he retorted, completely certain of what he was saying.

The Ruler smiled sadly. "Don't be so hard on them. Artoria is surely worried about the current situation, and Bedivere and Gawain are simply worried about their King. Surely you can understand that. And besides, that woman's trying in her own way. I saw it, after all." He gave the taller man a stare, watching him with a raised brow. "Instead, why don't you try to sympathize with her for once?"

Iskandar turned silent after that question. He said nothing for serveral seconds. Then, he sighed. "Hmm. Perhaps I should try," he admitted softly, silently pondering inside his mind. In the end, however, he still shook his head with disappointment. "But honestly, that woman should really learn to be honest with herself."

Shirou felt a pang of guilt hit him straight into the chest after hearing that. Those words hit hard for him. Way too hard.

'...be honest with myself, huh...'

"But enough of that!" Iskandar suddenly declared, rising abruptly from the water and getting back on his feet with ardent determination. Shirou sweat-dropped when he saw the gigantic Servant display his body without the slightest hesitation, remaining completely unperturbed by the stunned gazes of Lord El-Melloi II and Arjuna. "I've been here for far too long, and I will not waste another moment! I shall search all the other wonders this place has to offer before reuniting with Saber! Therefore, I shall go forth now!"

Sheer silence greeted his bold statement. Shirou and the others stared at him for several seconds.

He shot a glance to the Ruler, grinning like an excited kid. "Are you coming, boy?"

The Ruler merely sighed with a smile. As tempting as it was, he needed a little solitude right now. "Nah. Go ahead. I'll catch up to you later," then he smirked a little, tossing a knowing glance to a certain black-haired man in the pool and raising his voice. "Besides, I'm sure Mr. Waver would be more than willing to follow you in my stead. I saw him looking at you on several occasions during your speech, and even during our previous travels. Maybe you've got an admirer or something."

Said man blushed entirely after the revelation, completely caught in the act. He even began to stammer incoherently, eyes wide and mouth agape like a fish. "W-W-What are you–? I've never… T-That is–!"

"Hoho? Is that so?" something bright flashed inside Iskandar's eyes. The Rider grinned so widely that his smile was almost dazzling, before crossing his arms and rounding on the blushing man to his left. "Then let's move at once, young man! The King of Conquerors will lead you to the wonders of the world! You shall be my attendant for this morning!"

"W-Wait, I never agreed–"

Too late.

A moment later, Iskandar had already grabbed him by the arm, lifting him as if he were a sack of potatoes and then leaping at full speed towards the exit in a run worthy of a war charge, leaving the pool with a speed that was genuinely surprising for a man of that size. El-Melloi's screams echoed in the air as the two vanished through the door, before completely quieting down. Two seconds later, they were gone without a trace.

Romulus laughed, scrambling to his feet as well. "How amusing! I shall join them at once!" he declared in turn, stepping out of the pool and running after the other two at a brisk pace. "For the glory of Rome!"

Silence echoed through the structure again. Shirou locked eyes with Arjuna.

The Archer exhaled an exasperated breath. "I'd better bring these to them, before the police arrest them for public indecency," he sighed at last, standing up as well and pointing to the white towels that Iskandar, Romulus and Waver had completely forgotten at the edge of the tub. He stepped outside, silent as the wind, grabbed the abandoned towels, and then disappeared beyond the exit without making a noise.

Then, the red-head was left alone, and silence finally fell around him.

Shirou rested his arms over the edge of the pool and let out a long sigh. His lips curved into a smile.

Inner peace.

"Soaking alone for a long time is quite boring, isn't it?"

...

Or not.

...

Gods dammit.

"I shall join you, my Praetor!"

The red-head let out an exasperated sigh. Not this too.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Caren and Marie?" he attempted.

Nero Claudius walked towards him, stepping on the edge of the large tub. "I left when the priestess started to molest the other girl," she explained casually. "And besides, bathing with those two was boring. They were not a company as distinguished as I."

'...why I'm not surprised by this?' Shirou mused.

He opened one eye, only to immediately shut them both a moment later. The ancient God collected himself soon enough with a cough, and then turned to stare at the blonde Empress with a blank face, unimpressed.

"...you're naked."

Nero raised a royal brow at him. "That is how people are supposed to bathe, you know," she pointed out.

The Ruler remained completely unfazed.

"Not perturbed?" Nero smiled widely, looking weirdly pleased by his lack of reaction. Then, she broke into a grin, jumping with a leap into the air and diving elegantly iside the tub. She emerged before him a moment later, soaking her entire body into the steaming water. "Umu! I expected nothing less from the one who piqued my interest!"

Her green eyes stared at him hungrily as she eyed his muscular chest. The girl licked her lips.

"You really are quite formidable."

Shirou closed his eyes, not moving in the slightest. Good grief. Talk about shameless flirt.

"And you sure say some weird stuff."

Nero paid no mind to his obvious indifference. Instead, she moved next to him, sitting right next to the red-haired Ruler without any hesitation. A few seconds of silence passed. "Well? How do you like our Roman bath?" she asked him suddenly, her face wearing a child-like smirk. "People call them hot springs these days, but that doesn't mean much to me. I'll just call this bath calidarium, as I always did in life."

Shirou felt his eyebrow twitch. "Why are you here?" he demanded, his patience growing thin.

"I was worried," she revealed, casually, surprising him quite a bit with that statement. The girl nodded at his astonished gaze. "Yes, I was worried about you. Seeing the man I appointed as my Praetor being so immersed in doubts and uncertainties during our mission, it was quite an eyesore for my sight. That perpetual frown does not suit a refined man such as yourself," she explained knowingly. Despite her pedantic tone, there was a glimmer of sincere concern inside her green eyes as she spoke. The girl was looking at him with a hopeful smile.

That explanation left him slightly stunned. Shirou smiled a little with a growing feeling of shame. First Iskandar, and now even Nero? Why did he always end up worrying those around him? Was he really that transparent? Was he becoming more impulsive with age?

Good grief. He was getting rusty at this.

He closed his eyes, turning away from the girl's smile. "…thanks. And I'm sorry about that," he gratefully said. Then, his face was marred by another frown, and his gaze fell to the steaming water. "But you're wrong. I'm not such a praiseworthy person. You shouldn't worry about someone like me."

'That's right. I'm just a liar, after all. A spineless coward who's doing nothing but worrying about himself,' he thought reproachfully inside his head. And the worst thing about that was that there was nothing he could do about it. He had to continue his farce, no matter how wrong and painful it was.

He was hopeless against this curse.

Nero stared at him, long and hard.

Until, she let out a sigh. The female Emperor leaned towards him, stepping into his personal space and placing her hands on her hips, completely oblivious to the fact that she was naked in front of a Servant of the opposite sex. The red-haired Ruler averted his eyes, both in shame and embarrassment.

"Hmm. It seems you were made to bear some unnecessary burdens up until now," she mused to herself, studying his face with unnerving intensity.

Shirou regarded her with confusion and a slight blush.

Then, she straightened up again, taking a few steps back and staring down at him with a serious face. "In that case, forgive the abruptness, but let us speak of genius!" she solemnly declared, outstretching a hand forward and gathering prana between her fingers. Her sword, Aestus Estus, appeared to life with a flash of crimson light.

The ancient God watched her in silent confusion.

Nero returned his stare with a serious gaze. "Tell me, Praetor, do you know what a genius is?" she questioned him out of the blue, looking completely serious about that question.

The man just stared at her.

The Empress didn't back down. She kept watching him in absolute seriousness. "A genius is not one who possesses outstanding ability or talent," she explained solemnly, weighing the scarlet sword in her hand. "Of course, having those skills is desirable, but talent alone amounts to naught more than just that. Even this blade, talented in the art of cutting, meets that criteria."

Shirou said nothing, narrowing his eyes.

"What, then, makes a genius?" Nero continued, doing a small pirouette in the water. Her lips parted into a smile as she raised her sword, her chest bouncing for the whole world to see. "The answer is simple: it is one who can clearly see the difference between themselves and others."

"..."

Nero swung her balde, moving into several form and slashes in but a few seconds. "When comparing their abilities to each other, people become fixated on the idea that they are fundamentally equal," she said. Her eyes lowered at that point, her smile turning a bit sad. "But, alas, they are not. All people are different. What one can do may be impossible for another, and what another can accomplish may be beyond one's reach. A genius is one who understands that cruelty."

"You're saying that everyone with a sane mind is a genius, then?" he retorted, unfazed.

She nodded. "Umu. In a sense, that is correct. Look at me, for example. I am an almighty genius, but I would never dream of expecting others of being able to perform my duties. And at the same time, I know that I cannot imitate any other, no matter how lacking in skill they may be. We each have our roles, and we each have our weaknesses."

"Then what is your point?" Shirou stressed, growing impatient with all that lecture.

Nero merely smiled at his cold tone. "That despite being different, people can still relate and understand each other," she answered easily, dissolving her sword into a flash of light. The red-head paused at her words. "It is important to understand our differences, but it is more important to believe in others. That's why, if one is feeling down, it is only natural for them to seek help from others. It's the most natural act in the world."

Shirou fell completely silent.

It was then, in that moment, that he understood the truth behind her words.

Despite the excessive theatricality and her weird mannerisms, Nero was trying to cheer him up. She was trying to reassure him. To make him understand that if there was something worrying him, then she was willing to listen. She was willing to help him, even though they had met less than two days prior. She was trying to make him understand that he wasn't alone, in spite of everything that had happened in the last few hours and the constant doubts and uncertainties that kept plaguing him. She really wanted to be of help, in complete sincerity.

Just like Iskandar and Mordred all over again. But with more theatricality and a pinch of elegance.

The Empress's eyes softened when they saw him hesitate after that realization, offering him a warm smile.

"I know well that you are strong, Praetor. But I believe that sometimes, it's ok to be not ok. There's no shame in that," she said sincerely. The girl reached out to him, pointing to his chest – his heart – with a slow, theatrical motion. "And there is no need for grand displays either. If there's something troubling you, then you should simply do what you are capable of. Just like your friends should do what they are capable of as well. Together. That is all anyone can do."

Shirou lowered his gaze. His lips thinned into a small line, falling into silence.

…together.

He smiled a little at the reminder.

"You're right," he finally admitted after a while, nodding slowly with his eyes closed. He raised his head, offering a little smile to the red Saber. "Thank you, Nero, for trying to cheer me up. I see your point now. I shouldn't waste time here on my own, mulling on my worries over and over again, like I did before. I just need to do what I can. And that is: keep moving forward and face this challenge head on. I have comrades I must return to, after all. I'm not alone in this."

Nero grinned widely at his refound spirit. She crossed her arms with a mighty nod. "Umu! Umu! Now I recognize you, my Praetor!" she exclaimed approvingly. She shot him a knowing smirk at that point. "Well? Are you feeling better now?"

Shirou snorted in amusement. Damn. Being comforted by a spoiled kid… he really was getting rusty with old age. He nodded. "Yeah, I am. Thank you, Nero. I thought you were just an annoying girl at first, but you can be surprisingly wise every now and then," he admitted, genuinely amazed by that realization.

The girl's cheeks puffed in a pout after hearing that. Her face became beet red.

"Hey! Don't say it like that! You should praise me more sincerely!" she protested indignantly, waving her arms into the air.

"…I take that back. You really are a spoiled child."

"C-Child!?" Nero exclaimed in a genuinely offended tone, still pouting with her cheeks puffed. Her hands moved to touch a certain… voluminous part of her body with a haughty movement. "I'll have you know that I'm a very adult grown up!"

The Ruler was not impressed. He simply raised himself from the water with a sigh. Then, he grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist, starting to get out of the tub without any hesitation, deliberately choosing to turn a blind eye to Nero's blush as soon as she took notice of his well developed and muscular body dripping with water.

"I'm going now. See you later," he said in a parting tone.

"Uwah! Wait! Don't ignore me!"

He did exactly that, moving towards the exit with a decisive step, his mind focused elsewhere. He didn't even hear the red Saber's protests when she began to trudge after him. After all, there were far more pressing matters he had to attend to in a couple of hours. Matters that he could not overlook for any reason, given that they involved the future and the well-being not only of his friends, but of the entire group.

Shirou Emiya steeled his resolve.

He had a duel to oversee.

---

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:

It is no easy feat for me to write about Tyr's inevitable fall at the end of the Age of Gods, even after all this time and all the things I've seen and recorded during the last five thousand years.

To be honest with myself, my mind still feels a conflicted mix of emotions at the memory of those events. It is not something I can easily forget or dismiss, and I'm sure my sister would agree with me on this matter. I can still remember, as clear as day, the pain and heartbreak that have assailed me when I saw Shirou fulfill his ultimate sacrifice. It is an image that will forever remain engraved inside my mind, embedded inside my soul; and I doubt that it will ever disappear from my memory. As long as I draw breath, I will never forget those events. And I will never forgive.

But, alas, putting my personal feelings aside, that sad conclusion was undoubtedly inevitable. There was simply no way to avoid that end. As I've written in the previous note, Shirou was by no means a "pacifist" during his War against the Gods. His actions instilled fear and terror into the minds of humans, and his deeds forged the will to fight inside their hearts. And with this radical change, humanity as a whole was spurred to change and evolve completely. From the mass of useless and hopeless slaves that the Gods had always labeled them to be, they became belligerent and willing to fight. They became angry and ready to struggle and strive. They became tending to hate. This last detail, in particular, was very important for the development and evolution of the entire human race, which thanks to the change brought by Shirou, became something completely different from what it had always been during the Gods' rule.

Because Shirou had brought the concept of "War" among his own race. This change alone generated excitement among men. It generated conflicts. It generated fear. After all, "War" is the greatest grouping of all these notions, these concepts. The final agglomeration of all these primitive instincts which, until that moment, had always remained buried and hidden in the hearts of the human race, unable to take hold under the complete hegemony of the Dieties who were immensely more powerful compared to human beings. But when Shirou banished them for good, when he sacrificed himself and humanity remained the only predominant race on the planet with the real possibility of evolving and thriving; those dark and inherent instincts finally emerged with overwhelming power. They blossomed among the ranks of that race who had previously been united under the banner of slavery and suffering, changing them completely.

Shirou has brought War to men. War generated conflicts. Conflicts generated fear. And fear... fear spawned Hatred.

And with Hatred, another consequence was born. The darkest and most terrible consequence of all. The inevitable result. One that neither me, nor Gaia, nor even Shirou himself could ever have foreseen. The dark outcome that even today, after all these millennia, I still struggle to fully understand and realize completely. The consequence that – perhaps more than everything else – proved that the God of War, at the end of his life, was wrong about his belief on the human's soul and nature. The real reason why Shirou's name and existence remain cursed to this day, by my sister's and my own decree; in spite of his benevolent soul, his honest intentions, and my own feelings. Because he has created it. He has literally spawned its seeds in the hearts of men, bringing forth a horrible change within the very same race he had sworn to protect.

It was an unintended consequence. An unwanted outcome, no doubt... but nevertheless, one that had terrifying effects all the same.

Mankind's propensity to evil.

Shirou has brought War to men. War generated fear. Fear generated Hatred.

And Hatred generated the most gruesome form of Evil and Death that has ever existed on Earth.

The God of War's unknown and unrelated child, and his greatest living curse.

The embodiment of All the World's Evil.

---

I deeply apologize for the long delay of the update, but I've been through a vexing period. I had to travel a lot for work in the past few months, and I also had to rewrite this chapter from scratch twice due to an unfortunate accident. It wasn't easy for me, but now here we are. Therefore, I apologize for making you guys wait so long.

The Burial Agency and its members are a reference to the "Tsukihime" series. As you can see, I've decided to change their role and powers from the original work, because I want my story to be different from the canon universe. They're not gonna be relevant to the plot, so you don't need to worry too much about it. This story will focus on the Fate universe, even if reinterpreted. I just wanted to use them for fun.

Next chapter: Artoria vs Mordred. Who's gonna win? And yes, it will also be the end of this Arc.

Again, I deeply apologize for the delay of the update. And in case I've missed some, please forgive me for any eventual misspellings and grammar mistakes. If you point them out to me, I will correct them as soon as I can.

See you next time.