fake player

by kaviyarasank124

fake

The Fake Player (Fate/Stay Night x Overlord)

By: 7th Pride

Summary:

On his deathbed, Shirou was paid a visit by Zelretch. Offering him a chance to escape eternal servitude to Alaya the fake hero takes it to avoid a future like EMIYA. Waking up, he finds himself in a strange new world. Now living in the virtual world of YGGDRASIL, Shirou meets and befriends an unexpected individual. "Huh, never thought I would be friends with an undead."

Full credit goes to Alex Kellar for the Cover Art

Forewarning:

A friend of mine suggested cross posting, and I finally got off my lazy behind to actually do it.

I started this story back in 2018, back when I was just getting started into the fandom of both Fate and Overlord. I had an idea and basically ran with it.

Much of my knowledge back then (and even now to a certain extent) relied on whatever material I could get my hands on and read and watch, word of mouth, plenty of fanon information, and copious amounts of fanfiction to supplement my knowledge. The latter, especially.

I thought about perhaps going back and changing and correcting the information and details, but I decided to keep them. I'd like to think they served as a timepiece. To see where I started out from and how I've progressed and gotten better, or worse, depending on your point of view.

To put it simply, this is a dumb and train wreck of a story, one with odd additions, questionable narrative, liberal use of the established canon, and whatever else while I try to string together some semblance of a cohesive narrative from all the dumb and rambling ideas that float inside my head. But, it is MY train wreck of a story, and I want to continue what I started all those years ago and see how far I can go.

And if some people can find enjoyment in my writing, then all the better.

Status: ongoing

Published: 2023-11-24

Updated: 2024-01-15

Words: 440750

Chapters: 20

Original source: threads/1129202

Exported with the assistance of

Prologue - The Death of a Hero

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 11/14/2018

Prologue - The Death of a Hero

Shirou Emiya, a participant in the fifth Holy Grail War, the Master of Saber, and the second iteration of the Magus Killer, was dying. Or rather, it was more accurate to say that Shirou has been dying for at least two decades and was only now feeling death's grasp clutching his neck.

At the ripe old age of 139, Shirou had lived an adventurous life. Not always a good one, nor one that was satisfying, but unquestionably an adventurous one. Especially in a profession that saw many good die young. Despite his true age, his body looked no older than someone in their late eighties. Yet not even he could withstand the hands of time. The skin that was once healthy and toned has aged, grown wrinkly, and lost its luster. His hands, which were once his pride and wielded powerful Noble Phantasms belonging to heroes of old, were now mere shells of their former selves. Skin and bones were all that were left. Innumerable scars and wounds littered his body, each one a tapestry with its own story and perils to tell. From a purely medical perspective, Shirou should not even be remotely alive with the injuries he's sustained in his career.

His continued health was thanks to Avalon, the scabbard of Excalibur itself. Shirou has lost count of how many times the Everdistant Utopia has saved him from a life-threatening injury. It was for this reason that his body was not breaking down faster than it was.

A small window on the wall next to his bed provided his only access to the outside world. In the past, a favorite pastime of Shirou was stargazing. He remembered all the hours he would spend on the porch, simply looking upwards, towards the sky and above, where brilliant stars illuminated the night sky. Nowadays, it was considered a miracle just to see anything besides smog and polluted gas. The last hundred years haven't been kind to the world. The rise of mega-corporations and heavy industrialization during the late twenty-first century saw to that, destroying much of the Earth's vegetation and green life. The once lush, green world transformed into a brown, polluted mess.

It has gotten so bad that the populace needed breathing masks and goggles to prevent themselves from choking and dying in the polluted air.

"I wonder what is so interesting about the smoke-covered sky that you're always looking outside that window, Emiya-san." A deep but familiar voice called out.

Shirou showed no reaction to the voice. Despite his age and the degradation of his magical circuits and senses, his sixth sense was as sharp as ever. One honed through years of life-or-death scenarios. That, and the man in question radiated enough potency that even a non-magical entity would feel a shudder.

"Zelretch." Shirou spoke plainly, without taking his eyes away from the dreary scenery.

"Emiya-san!" Zelretch exclaimed with a positively cheery tone.

Zelretch stepped out of the shadowy corner of Shirou's room and walked casually to the center of it. Casting a casual glance towards the vampire, Shirou noted that his appearance hadn't changed over these long years. Many, himself included, wondered if the Dead Apostle Ancestor wore anything else but a form-fitting dark suit with gloves covering his hands, and a mantle over his suit. His ashen gray hair was slicked back and combed. He held the appearance of a well-mannered old man, betrayed only by his glowing crimson eyes that indicated him as something more than human.

"It's been a while, hasn't it? How long have we last seen each other? A decade? Two? It seems, Emiya-san, that time hasn't been kind to you." The vampire joked.

Shirou ignored him.

"Would you care for some pudding?" Zelretch reached into his pocket and pulled out a nondescript cup of pudding. The bedridden magus showed no reaction to his question.

"I'll tell you, Emiya-san, you would NOT believe how hard it is to find decent pudding cups now." With a pause, Zelretch opened the cup. Producing a spoon out of nowhere, he quickly digs into his delicious treat. "Mmmm~, caramel. Delicious! Unlike that mass-produced guck that is sold now." Engaging in playful banter, Zelretch continued. "Why, just this morning I was perusing this store and found spinach-flavored pudding. Spinach, I tell you! Healthy and natural they promoted, bullocks I say."

Again, Shirou kept his eyes on the window, choosing not to acknowledge the ancient magician. Zelretch quickly finished his snack and, without care, tossed the empty plastic cup over his shoulder. He quickly fished out another pudding cup. This time, Zelretch kept to himself as he enjoyed his treat. The only sound that broke the silence was Zelretch's smacking lips. This continued for several minutes, with him pulling out more cups of pudding whenever he finished. A small pile of trash accumulated behind him. Only in his eighth cup did Shirou finally speak.

"What are you doing here, Zelretch?" Shirou slowly cocked his head in the direction of the immortal mage, finally giving him the attention he desired. His amber eyes, once full of life, showed only weariness and a sense of emptiness.

"Is it so wrong for me to meet up with an old friend?" Nonplussed, Zelretch nonchalantly answered.

"You and I are not friends." Shirou's eyes narrowed, and his lips twitched downward into a frown.

"You wound me so, Emiya-san." Zelretch placed a hand over his heart and feigned hurt. It almost looked genuine, were it not for the mirthful smile on his face.

Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, Zelretch of the Jewels, the Wizard Marshal, the acclaimed mage and Wielder of Second Magic; Kaleidoscope. He was a man with many titles, and they were well deserved. Zelretch was a man who was as feared as he was respected, if not more so. With numerous titles and a fearsome reputation, he was known predominantly as an extreme prankster. There was a popular saying back in the day of the Clocktower: 'If Zelretch takes an interest in you, pray. Pray to whatever false god you may or may not believe in for mercy. For you will learn that Zelretch shall spare you none.' Something Rin and Shirou didn't learn until it was too little, too late.

Many who have met him, Shirou included, would have described him as a sarcastic and whimsical man-a Dead Apostle technically-with a penchant for practical jokes. His pranks could range from simple to harmless, such as replacing everyone's clothes with bikinis that disintegrate upon contact with water. To his favorite, removing one's consciousness and implanting it into another body in an alternate universe via his Second Magic, and allowing them to live that life only to be ripped away back to their original time. Give or take anywhere between a few days, months, or years, depending on his mood. It was close to impossible to discern just what the Dead Apostle was thinking, as his thoughts could change on a dime.

Back to the matter at hand, Shirou had met Zelretch only a handful of times, but each encounter was as memorable as the next. All of them involved Rin, and they weren't all necessarily pleasant. For him to go out of his way to meet Shirou now after all these years, he was up to something.

"I'm not in the mood for games, Zelretch. Tell me why you're here, now!" Shirou demanded, putting as much steel behind his words as his frail body could.

"Fine, fine." Zelretch waved away the threat. "I know a way for you to escape Alaya's grasp." He cut right to the chase.

Shirou's eyes immediately widened, his mouth agape. "Impossible," Was his immediate answer.

"You and I know that once a contract with Alaya is made, it can't be taken back. It wouldn't allow it."

"True, true." The old vampire nodded. "If it were someone else, you would be 100% correct. However…" Zelretch turned to face him, his crimson eyes gleaming with delight, and his wide-open smile flashing his honed canines. At that precise moment, Zelretch's true personality was fully apparent. "You've forgotten who you're talking to! I am Zelretch! Wielder and Owner of Operation of Parallel Worlds itself. It took a long time, but I found it. A way for you to escape your fate as Counter-Guardian Emiya-kun!"

Upon hearing this, his mind wandered back to the event that led up to the decision to make the deal with Alaya. As the years went by, magecraft continued to decline, just as those in the Clocktower had feared. Midway through the twenty-first century, industrialization erupted everywhere, not just in Japan. As everything became more modernized, those on the magical side died down. Mystery was fading from the world, and once powerful Ley lines dried up due to the landscape and earth becoming polluted from various dumping and chemical activities. Pollution sank its teeth into everything: the air, the water, and the earth itself.

As a byproduct of this, the Earth was slowly withering away, and by extension, Gaia. In a last-ditch effort to wipe the slate clean, Gaia pulled in and used as much mana as it could, shifting the world and reality as she called upon and unleashed various Phantasmal Beasts and wreaked havoc on the planet with natural disasters. The Will of the Earth went so far as to enlist the aid of Dead Apostle Ancestors like Altrouge Brunestud and Primate Murder, to name a few. All to wipe out humanity and eradicate their poisonous presence on the planet. In the face of the coming apocalypse, the Mage Association, Holy Church, and other powerful institutions, along with what remained of the Dead Apostle Ancestor that didn't wish for humanity's total annihilation, joined forces. Executioners and enforcers worked side by side, while clerics and magi provided support. Old rivalries and petty disputes were put aside to deal with what was to come.

Strangely enough, Alaya didn't intervene with any Counter-Guardian. At least, not at first, not immediately.

The conflict that followed was arguably the biggest magical conflict to ever occur. Its impact reverberated throughout the world. A shame that it will soon be washed away by time. The truth and history of the event were all but known to the handful of individuals that survived. Even though humanity triumphed, it was a pyrrhic victory. Roughly 88% to 90% of the alliance died in the war. For every monster and beast they killed, some thirty or forty of their forces perished. One memorable example was Merem Solomon, who gave his life to take down his fellow Dead Apostle Ancestor; Altrouge Brunestud. And not just him, but many noble and powerful families were quickly snuffed out that day.

Not even the likes of Lorelei Barthomeloi or Lord El-Melloi II escaped unscathed. Waver Velvet, or Lord El-Melloi II, died taking down Primate Murder along with some other high-ranking members of the Clocktower. The once Master of the 4th Holy Grail War dealt the final blow before succumbing to his wounds. Lorelei herself was left crippled after the battle. Her left arm was gone, and she was paralyzed from the waist down.

Shirou was still able to recall every last detail of the battle. How his body ached and screamed from all the running and fighting. How his magical circuits burned his skin from constantly tracing and reinforcing his body. The stench of blood and ashes in the air from all the destruction. The sound of explosions and screams of those meeting their demises against the beasts. The sight of dead bodies, both human and otherwise, littered the ground, with rivers of bleeding crimson coloring everything in sight. So much bloodshed, so much destruction, so much death…

Shirou pushed his body to its absolute limit and beyond. To this day, he still wonders how he simply didn't randomly drop dead from the strain his body exerted. He traced Noble Phantasms after Noble Phantasms. Spears, swords, knives, daggers, axes, halberds, shields, everything and anything he held stored in his Reality Marble. Either obscure or well-known legends, he traced them all and unleashed hell upon the monsters. He went as far as to use his reality marble, Unlimited Blade Works, multiple times.

Even with the help of Zelretch and his Second Magic, it was still an uphill battle. Many died, and those that survived were worn out and gravely injured themselves. Near the end, the forces of Gaia mounted one last frontal assault, knowing humanity's forces were weak enough. It was at that moment that Alaya decided to make herself known to Shirou. For the longest time, Alaya has continuously contacted Shirou to try and form a contract with it. All to get her perfect attack dog.

He was able to endure for as long as he could, all to avoid the future that was Archer. To keep his promise. However, the Will of Humanity wasn't one to play fair. It knew that without its help, Humanity was doomed if they lost, and even if they won, the victory wouldn't be without monumental cost. Thus, Alaya waited and bided its time until Shirou was backed into a corner and would be left with little choice but to accept the contract. An underhanded method that sacrificed countless lives, all to acquire her perfect Counter-Guardian. Because the Will of Humanity knew of his dream, of his true nature, to help anyone and everyone, especially those dearest to him, even at the expense of himself.

Through trickery and manipulation, Shirou signed away his fate so that everyone else could live, so that she could live…

With the power of the Counter Force at his side and Counter-Guardians refilling their ranks, they pushed the forces of Gaia back. They won the battle, but the war was lost soon after.

After such a confrontation, the world's meager natural source of mana suddenly dried up. Nobody was ready for such a circumstance. It was calculated that the drain would be impossible to replenish given its size and the increasing levels of pollution and planetary deterioration. The few remaining phantasmal creatures and beasts either perished one by one or withdrew to the Reverse side of the World. They abandoned the world to rot and die off.

The same could be said about the surviving magi. None were spared. Those who survived were severely crippled and weakened. The magical community was left in ruins as a result of the deaths of the majority of their accomplished founders and leaders as well as the general decline of magecraft. The Clock Tower was no more, with many families all but extinct. They were right to be afraid; Thaumaturgy passed away that day.

The only ones left that could use magic/magecraft were the practitioners of True Magic, such as Zelretch. Even then, it was strictly limited to his Kaleidoscope.

The scarce remaining magical families and communities were in disarray as to what to do. Without their magecraft, they were little more than regular humans. Their knowledge, prestige, and skill were utterly worthless while the world advanced past them. Of course, as was traditional with magi, they couldn't accept such a reality. Where they were no different from everyone else in the world; powerless and weak.

Many sought to hold onto their old glory and fame, but like grasping water, it forever slipped through their fingertips. Hundreds sought to experiment and find a way to bring magecraft back into the world. Unsurprisingly and as expected, they all failed, and the meager number that remained dwindled even further. Those who held onto the past, unable to adapt and move on, only faded away. A small percentage reluctantly accepted this new reality and tried to move on. Tried being the keyword, as many magus were extremely technologically inept with the rapid progress of the modern world and technology as a whole. Being one of the fortunate few, Lorelei relocated to the Swiss Alps, where she spent the remainder of her days in peace with her surviving family and servants.

The wounds Shirou sustained during the battle were mitigated thanks to the Counter Force giving a much-needed boost in strength. But, they were still crippling to a degree. Shirou slowly lost sensation in his hands and legs as a result of repeatedly burning out his magical circuits. Over the course of the year, it only got worse. His physical condition deteriorated, and he spent the last several decades bedridden. He can no longer activate his circuits without his arms and legs exploding in white-hot pain. Avalon did its duty, but it was only a stopgap, allowing him to live as long as he did.

And thus, Shirou Emiya, The 2nd Magus Killer, was no more, reduced to a mere cripple.

"Spacing out Emiya-san? Is your age catching up to you? Don't worry, it happens to the best of us." The vampiric mage took another jab at the faker's age.

Snapping his head towards the Dead Apostle, Shirou shook his head to clear the cobweb that was his memory of that day. Returning to what he had said, Shirou couldn't help but feel skeptical of it all. If he were being completely honest, Zelretch does indeed have a way to get out of Alaya's contract, in his opinion. It wouldn't be surprising if half the tales Rin told about her mentor were accurate. No… What he really wanted to know was why.

Why now?

"Why? What do you gain out of this?"

"Oh, don't be like that. Like I said before, you're a friend! It's only natural that friends help each other out."

'I don't believe that for a second.' He immediately voiced it in his head. Zelretch, while eccentric, was still a magus. Magus didn't do anything for free, as Rin would constantly beat into his mind. They were selfish and scheming, always trying to get something out of a deal. While he was certainly better than 80% of the population and could be charitable, that didn't mean he was going to do things for free. The question became, what does Zelretch gain by helping Shirou?

"Answer the question, Zelretch! I'm in no mood for a prank."

"Hmph. I see that you've gotten crankier with age, Emiya-san." The magician pouted. Seeing that the faker was still maintaining his glare, he got down to business.

"Fine. There are three reasons why I wish to help you." Zelretch emphasized this by holding up three digits. "The first, is because I like you, Emiya Shirou. I really do." His voice sounded more grounded than before.

Shirou blinked. 'Huh, that sounds honestly genuine. I wonder…'

"You've provided me with so much entertainment over the years, it shouldn't be a surprise that I've taken a liking to you!"

'Ahh… there it is.' Shirou deadpanned at the gushing mage.

"You'll be surprised just how boring it can be sometimes as a magician. It's always the same thing with magus, always experimenting with their magecraft and magic crests. Borrrring~. Discipling those over-ambitious fools at the Clock Tower or a magus doing something as reprehensible as cutting up a twelve-year-old is shocking the first time. The next thousand or so morally bankrupt acts get stale. I dare say I've enjoyed watching your life unfold more than any televised work put out nowadays. The drama! The suspense! The action! Truly, I will never get bored of watching your life play out. Why, it's almost like you're the star of your own anime!"

Shirou gritted his teeth and glared at him as the vampire droned on and on. If he could, Shirou would trace every weapon he had in Unlimited Blade Works and send them toward the Apostle to skew him. His life was not some play or movie to be viewed as such!

Chuckling at the death glare he was getting, Zelretch moved on.

"Point numero dos." He flicked his hand out, holding two digits this time. His smile shifted to something more mischievous. "I get to pull one over on the broad. Not only am I taking away her favorite toy, but I'll be ensuring that even after you kick the bucket, Ayala won't be able to get her grubby hands on you." He explained with a smile on his face.

Huh… Shirou, to a certain degree, could make sense of that. Zelretch has always taken some twisted pleasure in playing pranks on his victims, usually the ones that deserve it. "As a prankster, one must always strive to reach for greatness!" Or at least, that's what the trolling vampire proclaims anyway. By denying Alaya her prize, he was effectively pranking the collective Will of Humanity itself. At least, that is what he assumed the Apostle was after.

"And the third?" Shirou asked.

Zelretch's entire expression changed like a switch being flipped. His playful smile, which he had been wearing throughout the conversation, thinned into a fine line. His eyes lose their mirthful shine, replaced with a sense of melancholy and nostalgia. The playful air around him evaporated completely. Shirou admitted that he was surprised by how quickly the situation changed. While he was no expert on the ancient mage, it was a shock to see him so… human.

"Rin." He answered. Hearing her name caused Shirou's heart to lurch, and his fist tightened its grip on the blanket.

"What about her?" Shirou questioned. For a few seconds, the Dead Apostle remained silent.

"… Despite what many of those idiots in the Clocktower believe, True Magic isn't the end all, be all, as one might think." Zelretch began, ignoring Shirou's question. "Sure, wielding True Magic might be neat for the first several decades, but it quickly loses its luster after a while. Unlike the others, such as Denial of Nothingness or Heaven's Feel, Second Magic took time and practice before I fully reigned in my control. Can you even begin to fathom it? Seeing and learning not just your own but every single possibility. Every decision ever made, every 'what if'? I dare say that kind of knowledge would drive any man insane!" Zelretch cackled at the last part.

"What does this have to do with Rin?" Shirou finally asked.

"I'm getting there." Zelretch assured the third-rate magus, waving his hand dismissively. "Imagine yourself as me for just a moment. You're bored, so you decide to drop by the Clocktower, and on your merry jaunt, you happen to bump into an interesting little magus on the way. I knew she was a firebrand the moment I saw her. I saw something in her that I haven't seen in a long, long time. Conviction. Fire. And a hint of fear from bumping into me, of course." His voice was laced with nostalgia.

"You know the story. On a whim, I decided to make her my apprentice. Just to see what would happen. Would that fire I saw in her be snuffed out like those before, or would it continue to burn bright? To this very day, I don't regret offering her that deal. It was refreshing. She wasn't like those simpering sycophants in the Clocktower. No, no, no! She was a feisty little girl who held nothing back and expressed exactly how she felt, consequences be damned. Not even the old bat, Barthomeloi, would dare insult me to my face. If she did, I would have respected her a lot more."

Shirou, at this point, was starting to get impatient. The conversation has already veered off course, and he was about to demand that the vampire get to the point. Only for him to do just that next.

"Just before she died, I decided to pay her one last visit. You know, a master saying goodbye to their pupil one last time. You know how it goes. I barely closed the door behind me before she begged me to save you."

"W-wh-what?" Shirou choked out.

"On her deathbed, she begged me to save you." Zelretch bluntly repeated.

"But… but, why? She hates me…"

"Do you honestly believe that for a second?" His voice cuts off Shirou's. A lone skeptical brow raised, conveying what he thought. "Even after everything you went through. We both know that girl is the embodiment of tsundere itself." He huffed.

Biting his lower lip, he met the Dead Apostle's eyes. Shirou's thoughts wandered back to the incident. The cause of the rift between the Tohsaka mage and the faker, and how Saber would be so disappointed in both of them for allowing it to splinter them as it did.

Zelretch continued, paying no mind to Shirou's internal conflict. "During her life as my apprentice, I have heard her ask for or demand something of me many times. But never once did she beg. Whether it be for an answer to a theory or advice on performing a certain ritual. She never begged me for anything, until that moment." Zelretch turned his sight away from the window and looked Shirou straight in the eye. A terrifying chill crawled up his spine upon seeing the wizard's face set in stone. Those maleficent crimson eyes and stone-cold expression.

"She begged me to find a way to save you." With a steady pace, he walked forward toward the bedridden magus. "I promised her that I would."

He stopped at his side, staring down at him.

"And I will."

With a heavy sigh, Shirou leaned back, pressing his back against the bed frame, his eyes casting downward to get away from the sharp gaze of the vampire.

Closing his eyes to the outside world, an image quickly formed in his head. He saw a hill that was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. On top of the hill stood a young, petite blond woman, dressed in a simple yet elegant white blouse and a flowing blue skirt that gently brushed against her ankles. Her golden locks were unbound and flowing, cascading down her back in loose waves, shimmering in the sunlight. Her emerald eyes shone with a radiant light as she gazed off into the distance.

Standing next to her was another woman, once a budding girl, who had blossomed into an equally stunning beauty. She wore a red blouse with long sleeves that featured a striking cross-shaped design on the sternum area. Her black skirt and thigh-high stockings complemented her outfit, while black ribbons styled her long locks into twin tails.

Together, they made a breathtaking sight, perfectly framed against the picturesque backdrop of the sun-drenched hill.

Saber and Rin.

His allies. His friends. His lovers. His greatest happiness, but also his greatest failures and regrets.

When the fake hero agreed to the contract with Alaya, he wallowed in shame and regret, knowing that he may never see his loved ones again. He wished to apologize and ask for forgiveness, but realized that it may not be possible unless he followed Archer's path and implemented himself into the Throne of Heroes to be summoned as a Servant in some alternate parallel world. However, even that may not lead him to his Saber and Rin, and he wasn't sure if fate or Alaya would allow it. Shirou resigned himself to his fate, knowing that there was nothing left he could do.

But now…

Now. There was something that could be done!

Raising his head to meet Zelretch's piercing gaze, his once dull eyes burned with a fire that was long extinguished. He asked one simple question.

"Will I be able to see them again?"

The vampire's answer was immediate. "Of course."

"Ok."

Just like that, Zelretch's face did a 180. A massive grin stretched across his face, and his eyes crinkled into slits. Another chill ran down his spine. Shirou recognized that face. That was the face that haunted the nightmares of so many magus before. The face of a man who was in on a joke, and whoever his victim was, was the punchline.

"Excellent!" The Master of Jewels joyfully shouted. Multicolored confetti exploded from his hands as he applauded. Damn Second Magic. "I knew I could convince you."

Rolling his eyes at the vampire, Shirou ignored the continued bone-chilling feeling just so he could get this over with. However, there was one question he was curious to have answered.

"How exactly will you help me escape Alaya? From what I remembered with Rin, she's a fixed existence. So long as there's an earth, so long as there's Gaia and humanity, she shall exist. No matter the timeline or dimension."

Zelretch smiled, bobbing his head approvingly.

"I see Rin's lesson hasn't been lost on you. You are partially right. Allow me to educate you: Alaya and Gaia are two parts of a whole. However, it was Alaya that separated itself from Gaia all those centuries ago. And when was that exactly?"

Shirou's lips pursed as his brows knitted in concentration.

"A-around when the Age of Gods ended?"

Zelretch rewarded him with a full-tooth grin that appeared more concerning than reassuring.

"Indeed. Alaya came into existence around the time mankind started to become dominant, during the decline of Mystery, when the Gods and the majority of the mythical and phantasmal creatures and beasts slowly left for the Reverse side of the World. You asked me how I could stop Alaya from cashing in your soul. Well, answer me this. If there's a world out there where the Age of the Gods has never ended or, better yet, hasn't even started yet, can Alaya reach and claim your soul if it doesn't even exist in the first place?!"

"No…?" He cautioned a guess.

"Exactly!"

Zelretch's answer was a bit too enthusiastic for his liking, his grin stretching wider than possible. Shirou's once dormant instinct suddenly blared to life, telling him to escape now!

"Just hold still for a moment. This'll only hurt for a second."

"W-wha-" Shirou was abruptly cut off with a gurgle. The familiar taste of copper filled his mouth. Why did his chest suddenly inflame and hurt?

Looking down, he found his answer. There was a weapon plunged deep into his chest, more precisely, his heart. And not just any weapon, but the Jeweled Sword itself. A myriad of light began to emit from the crystal dagger, flooding the room with all the colors of a rainbow. Shirou felt his eyes grow heavy. The last thing he saw was Zelretch's smiling visage softening into a sincere expression.

"Take care, Shirou."

Those were the last words he heard before the darkness took him.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Shirou briefly experienced a sense of weightlessness. He was surrounded by darkness, unable to see or feel anything. He was stranded, floating endlessly in a void that only he inhabited.

The magus didn't even have time to ponder the situation before a flash of light blinded him, and then he awoke.

Television often overdramatizes the awakening process. A sharp gasp, a sudden start, or even a surprise lurch. Something to signal that a person was fully awake. For Shirou, more times than he could count, it was always the awareness that got him. His eyes opened, and his senses registered everything around him. He remained there for a few more seconds, his mind rapidly trying to catch up and make sense of what had just happened.

He was lying down, that much he could tell. His fingers felt something soft, grass maybe? His vision was filled with trees and vegetation. Glints of light appeared in the shadow where he lay as soft evening light peaked through the leaves. His ear twitched, catching the sound of water flowing.

Without a word, he rose silently. Shirou's gaze initially landed on his hands. Gone were the barren hands too weak to even pick up a spoon, replaced with smooth, toned skin and muscle. He knelt at the creek next to him, his body moving on autopilot. A face stared right back at him, one that he hadn't seen in a long, long time.

One that was familiar but, at the same time, distant. The face of once his future self stared right back at Shirou. Slowly, Shirou ran his hand against his new face.

"Zelretch wasn't kidding…" He muttered. Shirou took a moment to compose himself, taking in his new appearance.

His new face resembled Archer's closely, nearly identical. Gone was the wrinkled skin, replaced with the creamy and toned skin of his prime. He had a sharp jawline, well-defined cheekbones, and a glowing complexion that made him look rejuvenated. His once ashen gray hair was now a shiny silver color and looked healthier. The most unique feature about him was his eyes, as they were heterochromatic, with one eye being steelish silver and the other of molten gold.

The clothing of the magus mirrored that of the Counter-Guardian. He donned a nearly black bodysuit with silver accents on the front, along with black pants featuring black leather straps fastened to his thighs and shins. His metal closed-tip boots completed the ensemble. Over the bodysuit, he wore the signature bright crimson cloak and mantle, which covered his arms and were tied together with an agemaki knot, leaving his torso and midriff exposed. The second part of the crimson attire was purely for aesthetics, consisting of two long red cloths attached to his waist with a silver-plated buckle.

The outfit was comfortable, reminding Shirou of his old hunting uniform. The form-fitting clothing pressed against his skin and served to highlight his chiseled pecs and abs more than it did for actual protection. His arms displayed distinct biceps, and his legs displayed strong muscles along with broad and strong shoulders that could carry mountains.

Shirou felt great. No. Not just great, but amazing. Not even in his prime did he feel so rejuvenated or powerful. Shirou was so deep in thought that he failed to notice a couple of discrepancies right away. Like how the mana-rich air made his skin tingle or how his new face was set in a perpetual phlegmatic expression similar to that of Archer. His eyes were cast in a calm, immovable, stone-like glare. It wasn't until the distant sound of an explosion knocked him out of his stupor.

'What was that?' He wondered.

A second later, Shirou heard it. A familiar sound.

"Agghh!" A loud cry of pain was heard, echoing far into the air.

When he heard this, his instinct, which had lain dormant, awoke and immediately took charge, his senses becoming razor-sharp. Everything had lost its significance. All that mattered was the burning desire to help and save someone once again.

"Trace on!" Shirou chanted. The thrumming of his magical circuits ignited, firing on all cylinders, greater than ever before. Two weapons appeared in his hands. One of concentrated darkness and the other of pure white, and both sported a yin-yang symbol near the handle. The all-too-familiar Noble Phantasm: Kanshou and Bakuya. The magic circuits in his legs flared up, pumping prana into his legs as he used Reinforcement for the first time in countless years.

[Reinforcement]

Shirou took a single step and was surprised to find himself launching forward a dozen or so meters with incredible speed. Even with a simple reinforcement boost in his previous life, he had never reached this level of velocity. However, his amazement was soon overshadowed by the appearance of blackened text that displayed his magecraft for only a second before disappearing. Before he could ponder this further, another explosion rocked him out of his thoughts. Quickly refocusing, he blurred his form to find the source of the explosion.

Shirou quickly noted that his sight and hearing were extremely finely tuned, easily picking out the direction of the source. His eyes were extremely sharp, capturing everything. Strangely enough, he felt his sense of touch and smell were muted compared to the others.

"… As… Hit… T…"

His ear twitched. Voices! The magus could make out voices. Doubling his effort toward the source, the voices got louder and clearer.

"Hahaha, eat this, you freak show!" A voice exclaimed.

"Arrggh!" The voice cried.

The sound of clanging metal was clear in his ear. A foot or a fist? Whoever it was, they were enjoying themselves, if the clear, twisted jubilation in its voice was any indication. The forest and trees parted to reveal a cliff edge made of stone. A less experienced and immature Shirou would have rushed in, consequences be damned. After decades of combat with monsters, heroic spirits, insane magus, cultists, and everything in between, it taught him that rushing in blind with no idea who or what he would be facing was the epitome of stupidity.

Halting, Shirou crouched and carefully made his way to the edge, peeking over. He needed information. Who or what was he fighting? How many? How dangerous are they? Could they sense Shirou from here? Information was key, and if he wasn't careful, then there was a possibility of him failing and losing not just his life but also the one he wished to save.

"Come on, that's all you got, ya' freak?"

"Yeah. You could have at least made this interesting!"

Two different voices called out. More tormentors, he wondered.

"Easy for you to say!" There it was, the victim. He honed in on that particular voice.

"Acting all high and mighty because you're beating up a level 2 Player."

'Level 2? What?' His words caught Shirou's attention, yet he was unable to make sense of them.

"Why don-" The voice was abruptly cut off by the sound of a metal boot smacking the victim.

"Whatever Skeletor." Another voice scoffed. Other voices chuckled and joined in.

Finally, Shirou got a clear view of the situation. There was an undead being, a skeleton if the milky white bones and vacant skull were an indication, in robes, and four separate humanoid individuals. Typically, this would've been a scene Shirou has seen a thousand times. Undead harassing and killing any and all humans they come across.

However, this time, the situation was completely reversed.

It was the undead that was on the ground, and if his hearing was correct, it was the voice of the victim. The undead was cornered against a tree by four humans, who loomed over the defenseless undead. One of them was a woman donning white robes like those of the Church. Another wore full-plated armor and had a sword resting on their shoulder. The third person was dressed in fine leather armor and carried two small daggers. The fourth person was an archer, as evident by the bow and quivers they had.

If that wasn't strange enough, text appeared over each one of them, filling his vision.

PwnSlayer213 - Lvl: 90

LuckyLoveLucy - Lvl: 88

Killershoooot - Lvl: 84

TheAssAssin - Lvl: 83

Momonga - Lvl: 2

Names and numbers were assigned to the humans and the lone undead. Next to their name was a bar. Everyone but the undead was full and green. The robed skeleton had only a tiny fraction remaining and was colored red.

'W-what am I looking at here?' Shirou's expression remained unchanged, but one can easily picture him blinking owlishly as the situation unfolded before him. His brain was a storm of activity, and his mind was attempting to process and make sense of it all. Hundreds of questions bounced back and forth in his mind. 'How am I seeing their name? What kind of names are those? What do those numbers mean? Should I interfere? What's going on?!' Were but a few examples.

"What did Zelretch drag me into…"

In all his experience as a freelance enforcer and executor, this was perhaps the first time he had ever seen something like this before. The undead was cowering before the four humans. Normally, it was the supernatural being that was in control, hurting and killing humans without a single care. It was the monsters that tormented the weak humans. Their strength and abilities far exceed those of an average human, making their victims easy prey. It fostered a sense of superiority, believing that humanity was nothing but insects and food for them. Rarely has he seen such a bizarre situation where it was the inverse instead.

Until now, that was.

Shirou felt conflicted. On the one hand, it wasn't humans that were being hurt. That was something he was glad for, but he didn't approve of their behavior. They were needlessly tormenting the undead, very similar to how Apostles and other monstrous ilk would treat a human. They would taunt and look down on them, playing with their food, so to speak. The comparison hit too close to home for Shirou's liking. On the other hand, it was an undead being. On principle alone, he should just get up and leave, especially with his past experiences with monsters and the undead. Shirou knew that not all undead or magical beings were necessarily evil and saw humanity as a pest, but that didn't mean this was a fight he needed to intervene in.

"Look, I just want to play this game, alright? I'm not even a threat to you guys, for god's sake." The undead begged. Begged. Strangely enough, he noted that its voice sounded very human-like, lacking the gravel tone that was attributed to such unnatural beings.

"Not our business, creep." The image of an evil smirking emoticon popped up.

"Yeah, blame your shit luck. LoL." Another pop-up appeared with 'LOL' displayed.

The armored warrior delivered another kick to the skeleton, slamming him back against the tree. The small red bar was shortened even further. This earned another round of laughter from his companions.

Shirou's grip on his weapon tightened. This type of behavior wasn't uncommon among the executors of the church or enforcers of the Clocktower. The magus had seen their type before, human supremacists who wanted to cause pain when they could, just like those they hunted. It matters not if they were humans or otherwise; there will always be those who seek to put others beneath their feet to feel strong.

Two sides waged war within him. His mind told him to leave, that it was another undead. It wasn't his concern. He needed to move on and figure out what was going on. That was more important. His heart told him otherwise. Just as not all magical beings or undead were complete monsters, not all humans were saints. It was calling out for help, to ignore it would be no different from condoning it.

"Any last world bonesy?" The warrior questioned, his sword poised to strike.

"Damn it… I just… I just wanted to live a while longer." The undead's shoulder slag, looking down, all but giving up and accepting his demise.

The debate in his head only intensified.

Shirou recognized that tone of voice. The undead voice was soft, he would have missed it if it weren't for his enhanced hearing. It was the defeated and forlorn tone of one who has resigned to their fate, knowing there was nothing they could do to change it. He had heard and seen it many times before, on fathers who had lost their families and couldn't go on, or on women in abusive relationships, unable to escape the pain. And he had seen it in himself when he accepted Alaya's contract.

The voice of someone who had given up.

The voice of someone who needed help!

"Maybe that'll teach you to play a freak!" With a roar, the blade descended.

In that singular nanosecond, a decision was made.

And just like in all great tales of heroes, in the face of injustice, their bodies moved on their own.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Closing his eyes, Momonga suppressed the desire to release every profanity known to man and curse the PKers. Players like them were sadists, they would enjoy hearing him scream and rage. He won't give them the satisfaction.

Momonga spent the better part of his weekend, the only time away from his shitty job, relaxing and grinding to level up. And everything was going smoothly until a group of bored Players came across him and decided to hunt him down for the better part of an hour.

His once level 32 character was now reduced to a mere level 2. As a Heteromorphic Player, certain starting towns and areas were impossible to go into because of his character's race. As a result, the number of respawn points was limited, so they just camped around until he fully revived.

The PKers wouldn't kill him immediately, allowing him time to run away before they hunted Momonga down like sport.

'Looks like I'll have to make a new character, again.' He thought sadly.

Momonga could already hear the voice of the main menu of YGGDRASIL claiming that his character model had died and "encouraging" him to make a new one. A part of him wondered why he even bothered, and maybe he should quit YGGDRASIL and try a new game.

Yet, that didn't happen at all.

Instead, his ear caught the sound of clashing steel along with the shouts and gasps of his tormentors.

"What the hell!" The warrior shouted.

Momonga's eyes snapped open, and when his vision came back to him, he was surprised to find himself still alive. The second thing he noticed was that someone had intervened. Standing in between him and the PKers was another Player.

Emiya - Lvl: 100

'I'm… saved?' He thought in disbelief.

If his virtual avatar could, its jaw would be on the floor. Momonga held no illusion that anyone would come and help him. Unless one was in a party, clan, or guild, it was every man for himself. What shocked him even further was that his savior was a Humanoid Player. At least, that was what he assumed he was, seeing as this Emiya lacked any racial characteristic that would identify him as a Heteromorph or Demi-human. He held in his hands two weapons, short curved swords-Dao swords, if Momonga was remembering the classification correctly. There was minimal armor on his saver. He could only assume that it allowed his mysterious savior freedom of movement and speed but sacrificed any suitable protection.

Considering his attire and weapon, Momonga surmised that he was a [Rogue] or perhaps a [Ranger]. But if that were true, then why would he expose himself? Those that specialize as [Rogue], [Ranger], or [Assassin] would completely lose in a head-to-head fight. Builds like those prefer to attack unseen and get the drop on their opponents. Was he reckless or perhaps arrogant, thinking he could take on a party? Does he have some friends with him to back him up? What if-

"Are you… alright?" A deep, baritone voice cut Momonga's thought process short.

"Ahh… I-I'm fine." He stammered.

"That's good…"

Momonga noted that the Player had an odd inflection in his words, almost as if unsure about something.

"Hey!" The PKers shouted. Their surprise was replaced with confusion and, quickly, anger. "That's our kill, no kill-stealing! You find your own." An angry face emoticon hovered above the warrior.

"… I wasn't planning on killing it anyway." Emiya said.

"What? You serious?" The archer in the group spoke up.

"I do not wish for any more trouble. Walk away, and you won't have to see either of us again." Hearing this, the four Players looked at one another before bursting out into laughter. Not that Momonga could blame them. During this, Emiya remained still and waited.

"How about this?" Recovering from their hysteria, the party leader addressed Emiya. "Seeing as you got in our way, we'll kill you first AND that freak!" With a battle cry, the warrior charged forward. The rogue followed him up, his daggers gleaming. Their cleric stuck back, ready to provide support if necessary, while the archer fled to the side to gain a better vantage point for sniping.

"So be it…" The skeleton mage heard Emiya mutter.

Then, he moved.

No. That wasn't correct.

Moving implies that there was motion, for one thing, to have visibly traveled from point A to point B.

It was more accurate to say he disappeared. One moment he was standing in front of Momonga, the next he was in front of the female cleric, his body all but a blur as he rushed past the two PKers. The rogue and warrior fumbled to a stop as their target all but vanished from their sight and slipped past them within the blink of an eye.

What made it more frightening was that Momonga didn't hear a skill being used.

The surprise didn't stop there. Emiya launched a series of quick slashes, moving his hands so fast that they appeared blurred. Momonga felt his jaws unhinge further at the display before him. He didn't hear any skills being activated, which meant it was completely physical. Was it even humanly possible to reach such speed? Any doubts Momonga had about the mysterious Player's abilities vanished when he saw the healer's health bar. Her health had dropped into the mid-yellow, just under half her HP, all without any skills being used!

'Those weapons must be maxed out Divine class at least!' Momonga numbly thought.

"Ahh!" The lone female Player cried out. He wasn't finished, as he spun on his heel and gave her a powerful kick. She crashed into a tree as she flew back, losing a small portion of her HP in the process.

"[Shadow Strike]!"

The rogue was the first to recover. Activating a skill, he blinked away and reappeared behind Emiya. However, Emiya reacted quickly and managed to block the rogue's surprise attack by twisting his arm and upper body. He then regained his balance and deflected the daggers. Emiya took advantage of the opening and attacked the rogue with a series of slashes, causing the rogue's HP to decrease rapidly, similar to the clerics.

"[Heavy Striker]!"

The sword-wielding warrior charged ahead, his blade gleaming in the light with his skill. The agile rogue quickly dodged out of the way to create an opening for his ally to strike. The warrior swung his sword down with the intention of slicing his opponent in half. However, Emiya swiftly raised his weapons, intercepting the attack. Momonga was astonished to witness Emiya's smaller weapons successfully blocking the warrior's massive sword and even stopping it completely. Although there was a brief struggle as both Players locked blades, Emiya remained unscathed. The undead player also noticed glowing streaks coursing down the Humanoid Player's body.

"[Heavy Bolt]!"

Emiya swiftly released his grip and dodged to the side just in time. If he had hesitated even slightly, the arrow would have struck him. However, the arrow found its mark on the warrior, causing him to curse loudly at his teammate as he was forcefully pushed back. The one responsible was the party's archer, who had go forgotten, having observed the fight in a slightly dazed state before springing into action to help his party members. He was perched on top of a tree, giving him a vantage point.

"S-Shit!" He cursed. "[Hyper Shot]!"

The archer notched another arrow and let another arrow fly toward the dual-wielding swordsman. His attack was noticeably faster than his previous one. Yet, without trouble, Emiya dodged the speeding arrow and closed the distance between the two. The archer scrambled to backpedal, firing his skills in a vain attempt to halt his advances as the crimson-clad Player dodged and parried the incoming arrows with effective ease. Emiya quickly closed the gap, running up a nearby tree and delivering a flurry of slashes at the archer. The ranged fighter's health points rapidly dropped to yellow in the blink of an eye.

"G-get away! [Shadow Roll]!" With one more skill used, the archer crouched down and rolled backward. His body turned into wisps for just a moment to distance himself from the dominating Player. Emiya must have figured out his plan, as he predicted the archer's course and intercepted him. He leaped from the tree, using the tree branch as a spring, and hit the ground first. He had predicted his opponent's course and readied his blades the moment the archer became tangible again.

With a roar, Emiya raised his two swords and brought them downward in an X-motion against the unprotected archer's back. His HP hit zero in an instant, and the sound of glass shattering accompanied his death. The Player's body cracked, breaking into shards of light and polygons. His bow dropped as the prize.

"He got Shooot-san!"

"C-crap!"

"What the hell kind of ranger does that much damage?!"

The once four-party team, now reduced to three, began to panic.

In just under two minutes of fighting, he killed their range support, reduced two Players to half-health, and did so without using a single skill! Momonga silently took back every doubt he had about the man. To be that skilled, it was no wonder he didn't appear afraid of a balanced party. By this point, Momonga had been completely forgotten in their minds. During their moment of panic, Momonga noticed that Emiya was completely still. He was staring at the spot where he killed the archer.

"What just happened…?" Despite no facial animation, Momonga could easily hear the surprise in his voice. Why would he be surprised? Was he perhaps surprised that his attack did that much damage? But why would he? From what he remembered, classes like those of the [Rogue]'s and [Ranger]'s have additional damage multipliers if they target the backs of Players.

"Calm down!" Momonga snapped out of his musing after hearing the warrior raise his voice. "He just got lucky. We still outnumber him! Lucy-san, use a resurrection spell, quickly! No more playing around!"

The party of PKers initially felt confident when they saw the crimson Player standing alone. They had originally planned to take it easy and be playful with him. But after witnessing the powerful display, the group realized they couldn't afford to take him lightly anymore.

The party was quick to organize itself again. Momonga snapped his head back to Emiya, who was still reeling from whatever it was that he was caught up in.

"You need to stop her, or else she'll revive him!" He shouted.

Emiya's head jerked back toward him. A second later, his body was already moving. A magic circle appeared at the caster's feet.

"Like we'll let you!" The warrior and rogue rushed towards him.

Momonga clenched his fist. He wanted to help; he truly wanted to. But as a level 2, his spells were pathetically weak and useless, and they were more likely to bounce off of them than anything else.

But yet again, Emiya showed that he had it under control.

"Triple-linked Crane Wings!" Calling out the name of a skill, he threw his swords.

What happened next would forever be ingrained in Momonga's mind.

The weapon sailed past the warrior and towards the cleric. However, the agile rogue swiftly intervened, positioning himself in front of the cleric to deflect the incoming attack. In a split second, the rogue managed to divert the weapon's trajectory. They missed the cleric by the narrowest of margins, spinning past her. The warrior let out a cry of excitement, as in both their and Momonga's minds, Emiya had just thrown away his only weapons. And perhaps it could have been their victory, had the two curved blades not arced back around, their spinning form like a whirlwind of destruction, pursuing their original target and inflicting a surprise attack on the unsuspecting cleric.

Lucy, who was close to reviving their teammates, faltered and was unable to react in time.

Taken by surprise, the cleric's resurrection spell was interrupted and canceled. To add to the shock, Emiya conjured exact replicas of his previously thrown swords, now back in his empty palms. With remarkable finesse, he deftly parried the heavy warrior's impending attack and maneuvered past him. But that was hardly the end of it, as he flung his second set of blades towards the rogue. Swiftly, the two blades spun towards the Player, inflicting severe slashes on him as he scrambled to defend himself against the first set of blades hurtling back toward him. Without pause, Emiya conjured a third pair and blinked in front of the cleric and rogue. Meanwhile, the first two pairs of swords curved through the air, cracks appearing on their surfaces before they exploded, causing damage to the two Players and leaving everyone surprised.

With dramatic flair and grace, Emiya twisted his body and put all of his weight behind him as he struck. The white and black blades cut through the cleric's and rogue's bodies in a single fluid motion at the same time as the spinning swords exploded, bringing their HP to zero. A piece of equipment fell from their bodies as they shattered into a shower of light and polygons.

And then, there was only one.

"Fuck!" The lone PKer exclaimed. The warrior, after seeing the rest of the party wiped out thanks to only one Player, made the only rational decision left to him. He ran away. The Player ran away with his tail between his legs, cursing Emiya's name to the high heavens.

On the battlefield, silence descended, and for a brief period, nobody spoke. Momonga's jaw was set firmly on the floor as he continued to be in utter shock over everything that had transpired. Emiya was once again gazing down at the spot where the two Players died.

His savior slowly turned away, raised his head, and fixed his gaze on the undead Player. Momonga experienced a slight chill going down his spine. He could feel the intensity of those heterochromatic eyes staring at him, even behind the digital avatar, scrutinizing him. For a moment, the low-level Player was afraid that he might finish the job the PKers started.

"Hey, are you… alright?" Emiya asked, slowly making his way over.

Once again, Momonga picked up the odd inflection in his tone, awkward with an undertone of caution. A fact that greatly perplexed him, as what could someone like him even do to a max-level Player? Absolutely jack all. If anyone should be cautious, it should be him.

The crimson-clad Player stopped just a couple of steps away from Momonga. He lowered his arms but kept them ready for any potential deception or attack. He held his swords with a firm grip.

"I-I… thank you…" Momonga mentally chastised himself. He should at least thank his benefactor correctly instead of stuttering. Standing up, he looked the other Player straight in the face. "I'm eternally grateful for your help. Thank you, Emiya-san!" The undead bowed.

"How do you know my name?!" Emiya suddenly shouted.

Immediately, his body tensed, and he aggressively raised his swords. Emiya was in front of Momonga in a blink, one sword raised to his neck and the other pressed against his chest. The sudden change in attitude startled the low-level Player, who held up both hands quickly to placate his rescuer.

"Answer me." The sword wielder demanded.

'Did I do something wrong? Why is he making a big deal out of his name?!' Momonga panicked. It didn't help that Emiya's character's model maintained a powerful, heated glower.

"I will ask you again. How do you know my name?"

"… I can see it. Just like you can see mine." He shakingly answered back. With a bony finger, he pointed up above Emiya and then towards his own gamertag.

Emiya shifted his head upward.

"Momonga?" He called out the undead's name.

Rapidly nodding, he waited in stiff silence, and only after a few more seconds did Emiya slowly relax.

"S-sorry. I didn't expect you to know my name, that's all." He rather sheepishly admitted, apologizing to him.

Again, Momonga was caught off guard by his words. It was almost as if he didn't realize that his gamertag was on full display. Despite these mounting inconsistencies, he put the matter aside for the moment.

"Apologies accepted." Momonga immediately accepted. He was just happy that he didn't earn the man's ire and ended up dying despite it all. That would've been an embarrassing way to go out.

The mood plunged into a brief, awkward silence. Both Players kept to themselves, eying each other. More so Momonga, who wasn't too sure what to say or do in fear of accidentally incurring the crimson Player's spontaneous ire.

With the fighting finished and his life no longer in danger, Momonga wanted to log off and get away from it all for a bit. Glancing at his benefactor, he figured that would be all, and the two would go their separate ways. As he waved his hand and opened his menu, his skeletal finger rested just over the logout option.

Before he could, the confusing Player spoke up one more time.

"I do have another question. Do you happen to know where we are?" Emiya said, at last breaking the tenuous silence.

"Umm… We're in the Tall Plains area, just south of the Great River."

"What?"

Momonga heard Emiya say, naked confusion clear in his voice.

'Perhaps he's asking for something more specific?' The skeletal Player reasoned.

"It's an area near the starting town of Luotenburg. The one in Vanaheim." The undead magic caster clarified.

"Luotenburg? Vanaheim?" It seemed that the names went over his head as well. At this point, Momonga was feeling confused as well.

"Yes, Vanaheim. You know, one of the nine playable worlds in YGGDRASIL?"

"… Yggdrasil? As in the World Tree of Norse Mythology?" Emiya asked.

"Yea, the main inspiration for the game. I'm sorry, but how do you not know this?"

At this point, the Heteromorphic Player was thinking that he was having a joke played on him or something. There was absolutely no way a max-level Player like Emiya could be this ignorant or confused.

"… I'm sorry, but could you repeat that?" Emiya spoke, his voice no louder than a whisper.

"Umm… YGGDRASIL, the video game…?" Momonga helpfully repeated.

Emiya said no more. The silence returned, one that was more awkward and stiff as Momonga did his best to not fidget in place as the man in front of him stared him down. The tense mood only mounted, and he wondered if he said something wrong. Did his answer somehow displease him? What was it that rendered him speechless? Momonga anticipated several reactions-

"ROOOOOOTTTTT-DAMN YOU ZELRETCH!"

-But what he didn't expect was for Emiya to suddenly scream at the top of his lungs.

'Did he say Zelretch? Where have I heard of that name before?… Oh! That's right. Is he talking about the founder and CEO of the company that made YGGDRASIL? That Zelretch?' Momonga mused as he watched his savior collapse to his knees… and weep?

Last edited: Nov 23, 2023

Chapter 1 – Welcome to YGGDRASIL

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 11/22/2018

Chapter 1 - Welcome to YGGDRASIL

May 27th, 2128. World: Jötunheim. The Forest of Descent. Recommended level: 50-55.

"Shit!" A voice cursed, the source coming from a blue Fishman whose body was bedecked with fins and gills on his form and layered by a combination of leather and metal armor.

In his hand, he held a longsword, which the Player swung with the activation of his skill.

"[Aqua Slash]!"

With a force that could rival that of a raging river, a torrent of high-pressurized water erupted from the guard of the sword. The wielder swung the blade with immense strength, causing the stream of water to collide with the shield of their opponent. The paladin, adorned in white armor embellished with a sacred emblem, stood firm against the assault, bearing the weight of the deluge with the resilience of a small lake.

Before the Demi-human Player could press on, an incoming bolt of thunder flew from the side. The Fishman, forced to cancel his assault, stumbled back on reflex.

A mistake as it allowed the paladin to retaliate.

"[Holy Bash]" The holy warrior slammed his mace into the amphibian's side, gouging out a good chunk of his health.

He staggered, attempting a retreat, but the paladin wasn't so merciful.

Stealing a glance at his remaining party, the aquatic Player grimaced. He and his five-man party journeyed here to power-farm EXP for their support mage to reach level 55.

For an hour, it was smooth sailing until another party of five ambushed them amid conflict with the local mobs.

The PKers caught them unaware and gave them little time to react. From the initial attack, the ambush party managed to take down their support mage, tipping the scales in their favor.

Currently, the party of Demi-humans was outnumbered.

The Fishman swordsman and the enemy paladin were locked in a heated battle, their weapons clashing with each strike. Meanwhile, their golem tank was struggling to hold its ground against the ambushers' skilled assassin and powerful wizard, who were relentlessly attacking it with spells and quick strikes. The tank was trying its best to protect the group's resident elven healer, who was frantically tending to the wounded. However, the enemy's tank had managed to immobilize their centaur bowman, who was now unable to provide support from a distance.

The opposing party's healer was safe, standing at a distance behind enemy lines, constantly buffing and healing his allies, much to the victims' chagrin.

"Damn it, this is hopeless! We need to get out of here!" Shouted the centaur, Awesome Horse.

"If you have a plan, then I'm all ears!" Aquamarine retorted, mustering another failed attack on the staunch paladin.

"Come on, come on! Is that all you've got?! I thought you monster Players would be more of a challenge!" The paladin taunted.

Growling, Aquamarine charged forward.

"[Triple Strike]!" His sword glowed with the activation of the skill.

"[Stand Fast]!" The paladin countered, his body glowing. [Triple Strike] landed with three slash attacks, but thanks to the paladin's skill, the damage was mitigated.

"[Holy Concussive Force]" White light condensed in the center of the paladin's body before a powerful shockwave exploded from him, slamming into the Demi-human, knocking him back, and reducing his HP into the red.

"Oh no. I've got you!" Seeing her party leader in danger, their healer reached out to help him. This slip allowed the enemy's assassin to bypass the tank and go for the healer. He blinked behind her and stabbed his jagged dagger into her unprotected back with a skill, dropping her HP to zero. Aquamarine was forced to watch as their only healer shattered into polygons and faded away, much like any hope of them getting out of this situation alive.

"Fuck! They got White-Ears-san!" The golem tank, named Ironheart, cried.

Clenching his teeth, the aquatic Player fought back the urge to scream. With their healer gone, their loss was all but guaranteed. Already, the other's health bar was in low yellow, and it would be a matter of when they'd lose.

'Why? Why does this always happen?!' He lamented. They were just minding their own business, trying to help their friend. What did they do to deserve this?

"Damn you!" Aquamarine roared, using his anger to strengthen him as he slashed at the PKer like a man possessed. "We just want to play the game in peace! Just like anyone else!"

The paladin parried the attack, grabbing a hold of the Fishman and tossing him to the side. The swordsman staggered, tripping on a piece of upturned root. A metal foot planted itself on his chest as he struggled against it.

"You want someone to blame?" The paladin sneered down at Aquamarine, his avatar overshadowing the Player. "You've only got yourself to blame for your shitty luck and for picking to play as a freak!"

The paladin held up his mace, and beams of light concentrated at the tip. He got ready to unleash his skill.

Aquamarine stopped struggling, his eyes closing shut as he knocked his head back with a growl. It was annoying, but there was nothing left that he could do. He accepted his fate while his friends screamed out for him.

"Take this. [Holy Hammer Strike]!"

Before the paladin could bring down his mace and deal the killing blow, out of nowhere, three black and red blurs slammed into his back, breaking his charged-up attack. They exploded on contact. The blue humanoid amphibian raised both hands instinctively to protect himself. When he opened his eyes, the paladin was gone, his prized white steel mace lying on the ground beside him.

The commotion startled everyone, with both party members staring with wide eyes at the sudden attack.

"What the hell?!"

"Damn it! We're getting third-partied! [Ressurec-" No sooner did the enemy's healer proclaim this, three more red and black bullets flew forth at him before he got his spell off. They struck from behind and reduced his HP to zero. The healer followed after their party leader, his character model shattering before he knew what had just happened.

"What the hell?!"

"Impossible!"

"Shit! Where is it coming from?!"

The PKers cried out, panic ensuing between them.

"Awesome Horse-san! Aquamarine-san!" The golem shouted to his friends. "Get behind me!"

Trusting their friend, the two Players hastened to the golem's side. A barrage of projectiles in the colors of black and red rained down on the opposing party, which was caught off guard and completely distracted by the unexpected turn of events. The three-person party moved out of the way just in time.

"Ahhh!" The PKers all screamed. Explosions rocked the area, kicking up a cloud of smoke. When the dust cleared, all the PKers were gone, and in their place were pieces of their equipment and gold coins to indicate their deaths.

"We're alive? We're alive!" The centaur excitedly cheered, peeking out from behind. A beaming emoticon popped up.

"Y-yea. W-we are." The Fishman sighed. A huge weight on his shoulder was finally resolved.

"Yes, but I'm more curious as to who helped us." Questioned the golem, his head turning and surveying the surroundings for any lingering threats.

"Is everyone okay?" A voice asked.

The three Players turned towards the voice. A lone player was watching the scene from up above, perched on a tree branch. They were surprised to see it was a Humanoid Player, one dressed in deep crimson and black gear. The group immediately tensed up upon seeing another potential PKer. At least until they became aware of the enormous black bow in his hand.

It wasn't difficult to identify the newcomer once two and two were put together.

"Are you the one that helped us?" Aquamarine paused. A quick look revealed the Player's name. "Emiya-san?"

"I am." The Humanoid Player nodded. With a step, he dropped down to ground level. "I'm sorry I didn't jump in sooner. If I had, I could have saved your friend. I needed to know for certain they were actual PKers."

"Hey man, it's cool." The four-legged archer easily dismissed, still feeling the adrenaline of the situation. "They didn't take our bud's gear, so it's all good!"

Though it was annoying, losing five levels upon death wasn't unbearable. On the other hand, losing a piece of valuable equipment was indeed something to fret about. Especially for newbies just starting out and wanting to climb the levels. The penalty system that YGGDRASIL employed was no laughing matter, as it dropped the Player's most valuable equipment on them upon death, whether they liked it or not.

"That's good to hear. With your healer gone, do you have any potions to heal yourselves?" Their unexpected savior asked.

Embarrassingly enough, the three of them shook their heads and said, "No." White-Ears, their elven healer, was a superb Player and a godsend for the crew. She was adept at keeping the party at full health with high-level AOE healing. This often made carrying potions unnecessary, or in most cases, they gave them to her to manage. The trade-off was that her spells required a charged-up time, something that bit them in the rear as the enemy party kept on interrupting her before finishing her off.

"I see. Here, take these." Aquamarine observed the archer operate his menu with a wave of his hand, causing three potions to materialize. With a casual toss, each member caught one. In their hands was a crystal vial filled with a rainbow-colored liquid. When he saw the object their enigmatic helper had given them, his eyes widened.

An omega potion. One of the highest-grade potions in the game. Not only does it fully restore health, but it also raises all stats for an hour. A relatively rare item that required a fair share of ingredients to make or gold to purchase. Potions like these were kept as reserves for raids or dungeon exploration.

And he just handed them out like nothing to a bunch of low-level strangers!

"T-thanks!" They bowed to him in gratitude and downed the potion. The loot became the next issue once their HP was no longer a concern. Awesome Horse and Aquamarine went to retrieve their fallen comrade's gear to later hand it back to them. They dare not touch the loot of the PKers. Emiya was the one who killed them, so he was entitled to the spoils. With that taken care of, the three were about to bid farewell, but Emiya surprised them yet again.

"You're not going to pick up the loot?" He asked.

"Huh?" The three looked back.

Emiya stood there with his hands crossed. The various items belonging to the PKers were still there, waiting to be taken. It seemed that the only thing he bothered taking was the gold.

"You're not going to take them?" The golem inquired.

Emiya shrugged. "There isn't anything worth taking for me. I figured you might find more uses for them than I would. That, or you can just sell them." He smirked. That was certainly one way to get back at the PKers, by denying them any chance of retrieving their precious items.

They were stunned once more by the man's generosity. He already went above and beyond what was expected of an average Player in YGGDRASIL by aiding them with an ambush, giving them superior healing potions, and now allowing them to depart with the loot that he deservedly earned. It made sense that he wouldn't have been interested in the low-level loot as he was a max-level Player. But it was the thought of the matter that truly shined. The three respectfully accepted the offer and took the items for themselves.

Afterward, they each sent him friend invites, which Shirou politely accepted.

"Will you be needing some help getting back to your friends? I wouldn't mind tagging along if needed." The crimson archer offered to escort them.

"No, no. We can make it on our own, Emiya-san. You've done more than enough for us. Please, your generosity is too kind." Aquamarine answered, and a look from the other two confirmed this.

"Very well. Take care, you three." With that said, the Humanoid Player dashed off, disappearing from view a few seconds later.

"Never thought I would ever see a humie go out of his way to save Demi-humans like us." Ironheart commented, a hint of admiration shining in his voice.

"No kidding. The others are going to freak out once we tell them about this!" Awesome Horse added.

"Come on, you two, let's get out of here. I'd rather not risk the chance of some PKers finding us again." Said Aquamarine, bringing the matter back on track.

The party of three soon left, their spirits soaring as they had all but given up and resigned to being PK'd, only to be saved by an unlikely individual. Their thoughts lingered on their mysterious benefactor, an act of kindness unseen in the harsh landscape and meta of YGGDRASIL, and their respect for the Humanoid Player at an all-time high.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Shirou has experienced a variety of odd things throughout his long and adventurous life. He could say with assurance that, at his age, he was unlikely to be surprised by anything. And for good reason. He has traveled the globe, taking in everything from impoverished, war-torn third-world nations to ancient structures that have withstood the test of time. And that didn't even take into account the various animals and people Shirou had the pleasure-or, in most cases, the displeasure-of meeting along the way. And more frequently than necessary, those who have previously attempted to kill him.

The magus has battled a wide variety of foes, including heroic spirits, terrifying Dead Apostles, numerous undead, rare Phantasm Beasts, other magus, rogue magi, insane cultists, and the occasional ancient spirit. If he was really, really unlucky, then he would be dealing with several of them at once.

This dangerous lifestyle has led to him developing a rather thick skin. It was hard to scare or surprise someone who had once fought multiple Dead Apostles in an underground sewer filled to the brim with undead and rotten carcasses. Shirou thought he'd seen and experienced it all.

Again, Shirou underestimated Zelretch's propensity for the insane.

When he said that he had a solution, he remained hopeful and curious. And where did he now find himself?

A game.

Shirou was in a Root-damned video game!

He knew it was too good to be true. Even when the old vampire promised to help, he would always find a way to twist it in his favor. Honestly, Shirou shouldn't be surprised, but he was.

"Too late now, Shirou. You made your bed, all that is left is to lie on it." Shirou spoke aloud. Even after residing in this virtual world for about a month, it took him some time to become accustomed to and understand his reality. In the end, he was left with little choice but to embrace this new world and everything that the game has to offer as his new life.

And what a new world he was thrust into!

YGGDRASIL was its name.

A DMMO-RPG that shared the name with that of the World Tree from Norse mythology. YGGDRASIL was a massive open-world game that allowed for near-limitless player freedom. The game's overworld was divided into different and distinct worlds, or realms, as they were called, that could be traveled to and explored. As he later learned, YGGDRASIL was one of the best-selling DMMO-RPGs on the market, developed by Kaleidoscope Industry. A company founded and run by Zelretch himself. The game was notorious for its difficulty, only providing the Players with the most bare-bone of information and instructions before letting them loose into this world for them to learn as they go. And dying. Lots and lots of dying and exploration.

YGGDRASIL ascribed to the trial-by-fire and trial-and-error philosophy of running a game. And all of that was without mentioning the various sadistic and downright evil mechanics that the game employs to elevate the difficulty.

To call the game challenging and unfair was underselling it.

He remembered one particular tidbit where Momonga described the developers of the game as sadists and trolls, giving them the appropriate moniker of 'shitty devs' by the community. After hearing about some of the egregious decisions they've made to take advantage of the player base whenever possible, they more than earned it. It made total sense that Zelretch, of all people, would be their CEO. With a company full of pranksters with the same twisted sense of humor as the Dead Apostle at the top seat, Shirou shuddered at such a thought. Was it surprising that the game had the reputation it did when he was in charge?

Despite the game's less-than-flattering reputation, no one can deny that YGGDRASIL was an amazing game and a spectacle on a technical level with the current technology base. It was clear that the developers poured their blood, sweat, and tears into it. A game that has dominated the market and toppled its competitors for many years since it was first released. The Players continued to strive for victory despite the game's steep learning curve, refusing to let the "shitty devs" have the last laugh.

As he thought of Momonga, he found himself smiling.

Shirou was appreciative of having come across and made friends with the undead mage. There was little doubt that if it weren't for him, the virtual magus would be completely clueless as to where he was or what he was doing. Who knows how long he would have spent stumbling aimlessly while attempting to make sense of his brand-new reality? The faker was aware that his questions were rather revealing, which frequently led Momonga to ask him how, as a "veteran" of the game, he wasn't aware of such things. Momonga thankfully never pushed, and Shirou will always be appreciative of that. Any questions he asked, the reserved undead would answer with patience that he would forever be appreciative of.

Shirou could only imagine the nightmare and headache of trying to explain to his friend that an immortal magician with the power to travel between parallel worlds somehow transported his consciousness into the game. The last thing he wanted was for his first companion to think he was crazy and belonged in the loony bin.

The first week of his new life in the virtual world wasn't kind to him. Especially with how difficult the game was and how knowledge and information were coveted, like how a magus would covet their family's secret magecraft. The lack of general information only made it more confusing and infuriating, such as when he first cast Structural Analysis on himself that first week. He could still remember the shock of what he first witnessed.

"Structural Analysis." Casting the magecraft on himself, he had to gauge the strength and limitations of his new body. Previously, information such as active magic circuits or his pool of Prana and Od would be tallied and filtered to his mind, along with a few general details regarding his body. Instead, a small screen appeared that read:

Stat Screen:

Emiya - Lvl: 100

The (Fake) Hero

Job: None.

Resident: None.

Alignment: Greater Good. Sense of Justice: 450

Race: Homo-Magi

Racial level: None, human races don't have a Race level.

Job level:

Magus]: 15 lvl

[Specialized Magus]: 10 lvl

[Master Chef]: 10 lvl

[Blacksmith]: 10 lvl

[Blade Master]: 10 lvl

[Archer]: 10 lvl

[Magus Killer]: 5 lvl

[Hero]: 5 lvl

[Heroic Spirit]: 5 Lvl

[Counter Guardian]: 5 Lvl

Others: 15 Lvl

Total: 0 Racial level + 100 Job level = 100 level

Ability Chart:

HP: 80

MP: 90

PHY. ATK: 80 (Adaptable)

PHY. DEF: 70 (Adaptable)

Agility: 85 (Adaptable)

MAG. ATK: 35 (Adaptable)

MAG. DEF: 65 (Adaptable)

Resist: 85 (Adaptable)

Special: 100

Total Stats: 690+

The screen reminded Shirou very much of a Servant's stat chart. This character stat screen listed parameters such as strength, agility, and other basic statistics with assigned values and other miscellaneous information such as alignment or race. The silver-haired Player spent the better part of two days looking over his character menu and stats, trying to make heads or tails of it all. Sure, there were now numerical values placed on certain stats and abilities for him to quantitate, but with no point of reference, he had no idea if they were any good or not. Especially compared to other Players.

That's not mentioning his various job classes. Momonga explained to him that there were three viable races: Humanoids, Demi-humans, and Heteromorphs. He explained that each different race offered its own different play styles, with certain advantages and disadvantages spread throughout. Humanoid players don't get any racial classes and instead were granted access to multiple job classes, allowing for greater versatility. This was balanced out as Humanoid Players only receive one skill point to allocate when leveling up. Heteromorphs, as he pointed out, have the advantage of picking racial classes and earning three skill points. This allowed them to even out the playing field and spec into powerhouse builds as opposed to more well-rounded Humanoid Player classes.

A cursory glance at them told Shirou that each job class corresponded with an aspect of himself. [Magus], [Specialized Magus], [Magus Killer], [Master Chef], and [Blacksmith] were obvious examples, being attributes and core aspects of his old life. [Blade Master], [Archer], and [Expert] were perhaps referring to his skill, as he was often regarded as a dangerous swordsman and archer during his freelancing days. The last three were the ones that puzzled him the most. [Hero], [Heroic Spirit], and [Counter Guardian]. He could only assume Zelretch had a hand in deciding them, especially with how on the nose they were. Even though he had reservations about their assignment, he was powerless to change it. Considering YGGDRASIL's stance when it came to information and knowledge of the game, he highly doubted he was going to get any more information on them by just politely asking other Players if they knew anything.

Shirou wasn't afraid to admit that he was lost and afraid of his circumstances when the reality of his situation finally set in. Something that he hadn't experienced in a very long time. Out of everything he'd expected to happen when he accepted Zelretch's proposal, having his consciousness transferred into a game was the absolute last thing on his mind. To be thrust into a whole new world and was forced to come to grips with this new reality of his, one that was completely digital. Then came the question, what was Zelretch's goal in all of this? How would placing him inside a video game fit into the promise that was made?

He secretly harbored the grim hope that when he stabbed the Jeweled Sword into Shirou, it would have killed him, and somehow he would be on his way to the afterlife. Free of Alaya and to at least see or join Saber and Rin. Instead, he was dumped into a virtual world with no explanation or guidance, forcing him to improvise as he went along. Even after all these years, he still couldn't quite free himself from such naiveté.

Without a direct method of reaching Zelretch, he was effectively stuck with no way out. Not even trying to reach the GMs yielded any results.

Well, unless he killed himself, but that was a dark road he didn't wish to entertain. That, and he wasn't too sure if it would work or not, as his body was entirely virtual and abided by the rules of YGGDRASIL. More than likely, he would just respawn like any normal Player. However, he hasn't tested it thoroughly yet and wasn't in a rush to find out.

Isolated, he was unsure of what to do or how to proceed. For the first time since the Fifth Holy Grail War, he felt utterly out of his depths and alone. Were it not for Momonga's presence through all of this, a part of him wondered if he would've gone off the deep end trying to make sense of it all. In that respect, it was almost as if he was like Rin, steadily inducting him into the gaming world.

It was also thanks to his unlikely companion that he learned of a means to preoccupy himself. The faker quickly learned that YGGDRASIL was far from peaceful or safe, as he first believed.

In this virtual world, there was a massive divide between the player base and the community. Players who take on the role of Heteromorphs or Demi-humans were actively and routinely hunted down and, "PKed", as Momonga would say, on a regular basis. Shirou remembered expressing confusion regarding the odd terminology-another point of skepticism against the digital magus. PK was an acronym that stood for Player Killing, an appropriate naming convention. He explained that there was no penalty for killing Players of Heteromorphic races and that this also applied to specific Demi-humans as well. The undead Player would regale the magus with stories of the friction between the communities and go on to quote the shitty devs saying, "We wish for a sense of grounded realism within our world" for the reason why such a concept of racial divide existed in the first place.

When Momonga first described how Players who chose to play as Heteromorphs were treated, Shirou presumed that he was exaggerating. He was aware that since it was only a game and not real, some people might act too zealously, but it couldn't be that bad, could it? He chalked up the hunting and attacking of Heteromorphic Players as simply a part of human nature for conflict and strife.

However, Shirou witnessed firsthand the fervor with which many Humanoid Players went about attacking and hunting Players for nothing more than choosing to play as Heteromorphs and Demi-human races. No one batted an eye towards the issue, and those in the Heteromorphic Player community were drowned out by PKers and the larger Humanoid Player community as a whole. There were even guilds with the sole purpose of PKing Heteromorphic Players like it was a sport!

Shirou couldn't help but find a twisted irony in it all. Players playing as these different races were hunted and killed by mainly Humanoids classification Players, for either sport, amusement, or some other unfathomable reason, were the dominant faction within YGGDRASIL. It was like a dark reflection, mirroring how many monsters and other supernatural beings of the Moonlite World were the ones that dominated the helpless humans.

An irony that only deepens considering Shirou now acts as a defender for the Heteromorphic and Demi-human Players that he comes across.

Heteromorphic and Demi-human Players were hunted down simply because they could be and were even indirectly, or at times directly, encouraged to be by the developers themselves. That was how the meta operated, and Players fully exploited it.

It was a twisted notion, one Shirou couldn't abide by. He adopted a self-appointed position as a defender after witnessing such unjust injustice and did his best to make it right. A role that he was steadily easing himself into.

An endeavor that was made all the easier by what his new body provided. If Shirou had to list a positive, it would be the changes made to his health to accommodate him in this new world.

With his body and consciousness composed entirely of lines of code, as far as he could tell, he was no longer tied to the same restrictions when compared to the common man. For one, sleep was a thing of the past, for he could play for days on end and not feel fatigued once, allowing him to accomplish tasks with ease. Of course, he didn't push it. He was still discovering what his limitations were.

The most intriguing and curious change brought about by his body's full digitalization was his magecraft. For lack of a better world, it integrated with YGGDRASIL's systems and rules. His magecraft, and by extension, Unlimited Blade Works, received a massive overhaul.

In the real world, his projections could and would never reach the same level as their original counterparts. This was due in part to his limitations and the influence of Gaia degrading them. This resulted in Shirou tracing Noble Phantasms that were always a lower grade than their original. Nothing more than a cheap copy. In YGGDRASIL, however, that preconception was thrown out of the proverbial window.

He was no longer constrained in terms of what he could and could not trace. Consider Kanshou and Bakuya, which he used to save Momonga. The married blades were a simple and favored Noble Phantasm of his that pulled him through many times in the past. They were easy to trace, but relatively weak. In YGGDRASIL, that wasn't the case. During one of his experiments, he performed Structural Analysis on the two blades. The results astounded him. The married blade, a rather weak Noble Phantasm in his previous life, was classified as a Divine tier weapon. The highest grade of any equipment or weapon within the game.

YGGDRASIL possesses a ranking system to measure one's equipment and item strength and quality. From the lowest, known as Low tier equipment, to the highest, or Divine tier.

No matter how much prana or Od he poured into C-rank Noble Phantasms like Kanshou and Bakuya, he couldn't make them equal to an A or even EX-ranked Noble Phantasms in strength. His projected weapons would always be 99% accurate but never 100%, no matter how hard he tried. At least, not without Shirou making Broken Phantasms out of them and the like. But that was entirely another matter. The traced copies wouldn't be able to handle it. The same couldn't be said for within YGGDRASIL.

Further experimentation revealed why. Unlimited Blade Works was rewritten in a sense and improved upon. Shirou learned that he could manually raise or lower the tier of his traced Noble Phantasms. If he so desired, he could trace something like Gáe Bolg, a Noble Phantasm with a rating of B+, and have it be no stronger than a D rank Noble Phantasm, or he could make a plain, unremarkable sword a Noble Phantasm as powerful as a Divine tier weapon.

To say that Shirou was baffled was a major understatement. Of course, it came at a price; higher-tier tracing required the use of more mana. But even that wasn't a problem. If his calculations were accurate-which they were, as he verified them five times-then with the increase in his mana level, Shirou in his new virtual body, along with his class buff and build, would be able to mimic Gilgamesh's Gate of Babylon attack style with ease. Aka, spamming various non-descript Noble Phantasms at his opponents without care-regardless of the Noble Phantasm rank and cost for a few minutes.

Of course, just because he could do it doesn't mean he should. Gilgamesh had the courtesy of his Gate of Babylon being all but infinite, along with his high mana pool. Secondly, Shirou was never one to flaunt his strength and power like Gilgamesh would have. When it came to the isolationist tendencies of the magus back on Earth, he did concur that knowledge was power. The less that it was known, the less likely it was for someone to find a method to counter it. From what he'd seen of the game already, it wouldn't surprise him if there was something in YGGDRASIL that could rival his Unlimited Blade Work.

The only question he had left was how his Reality Marble would manifest within this digital domain. A test for another time.

A beeping sound knocked him out of his musings. A notification appeared on his HUD. It was a [Message] from none other than Momonga.

"[Momonga-san? Is there something you need?]" Shirou answered, holding a hand to his ear.

"[Hello, Emiya-san. And yes, I-I was wondering… if you could help me with something. That is, if you're not busy or anything. I-if you are, I apologize for interrupting… ]" Momonga skittishly asked.

Shirou couldn't help but chuckle amusingly at the undead's awkwardness. Over the past few weeks, the two have spent a great deal of time with one another.

It turns out that Momonga was a solo Player. He didn't have many or any people at all to play with, and so, that left Shirou as his only real friend. As a result, they hung out frequently, played together, and got to know one another better, which helped them develop a more sincere friendship.

Shirou will admit that he befriended the undead Player on a whim. He did it primarily to learn more about YGGDRASIL from a somewhat reliable source, but that didn't mean he shrank away from making a genuine attempt to get to know Momonga better.

Momonga was very much the same. As a newbie still learning the ropes of YGGDRASIL, having a highly skilled and max-leveled Player like Emiya with him made enjoying the game possible, for he didn't need to constantly look over his shoulders for PKers when playing. That, and having someone to talk to and play with beats playing by himself any day of the week.

They were two loners in their own right, coming together and striking up a powerful friendship through a chance meeting.

Why, it was almost as if it were all preordained…

"[It's no problem. I'm free at the moment. What do you need?]"

"[I require your assistance with this one area. It's home to a certain type of undead that will allow me to gain a job class that I've been missing.]"

"[Understood. Send me a waypoint marker, and I'll be there as soon as I can.]"

"[Thank you again, Emiya-san! You have no idea how much this means.]"

Shirou chuckled under his breath.

"[No need for that, Momonga-san. After all, what are friends for? Give me a couple of minutes and I'll be there.]"

With that, the connection ended, and he received the waypoint marker from his friend. Shirou looked at the destination that Momonga had sent for him. The location was called [The Fields of Torment and Memory]. It was located in Helheim, the realm of the dead.

How fitting.

"[Reinforcement]!" He pumped more mana into his magecraft-turned-skill and sped through the area, ignoring any and all mobs in the way. His speed made it easy for him to outrun any possible enemies. Their AI programming gave chase until they reached their maximum parameter before returning to their preprogrammed route. It didn't take long before he came upon the closest town available to him. Shirou made his way to the center in haste. It was where a Transporter Gate stood, which allows Players to teleport between the nine playable realms.

He teleported to his destination after selecting the world of Helheim, where he was bathed in blue and purple light.

World: Helheim. Starting Town: Frysta lāk

The change in the environment was instantaneous. The open and clear blue sky of Jötunheim was replaced by looming clouds that blanketed the sky. A sense of melancholy completed the transition from the Realm of the Giants to the Realm of the Dead.

The location where the two would meet up was called the [Crypt of the Wandered]. An area that led directly into the [The Fields of Torment and Memory]. The location was a fair distance away from the starting town Shirou teleported into. Opening his world map, Shirou calculated that the quickest way there was to cut through a connected area known as [The Smothering Gorge]. A landmass with a massive gorge cutting up the middle like a grievous wound and filled with icy water. Mobs in and around the gorge lie somewhere around levels 60-65, a high mid-level area. Players would need to either pay for a ferry across from an NPC, fly with magic, or use other means.

With his destination set, he took off. The white landscape blurred as he shot through the world of Helheim like a bullet. Shirou expanded his senses as he traveled at speeds almost no normal Player could achieve naturally.

Shirou was sad to learn that his sense of smell was stunted due to the limitations imposed on DMMO-VR games. His sense of smell was his greatest tool when hunting in the past. But it wasn't all bad. His hearing and sight more than made up for it, and when [Reinforcement] was applied to one of the senses, it was even better.

Of note, this was particularly handy when he was out on his patrol. His heightened sight allowed him to catch the littlest of details and grants him an enhanced sight to determine if or when he should interfere. Shirou's improved hearing helped him differentiate whether the situation was PvP (Player versus Player) or PvE (player versus environment).

Like now, for example.

Shirou's eye caught the distinct glow of a spell circle in the distance. A powerful one at that, if the thunderous explosions were anything to go by. A small detour saw the digitalized human stop on an open field, one of many that plotted the area around the gorge. Reinforcing his eye, and like a telescope, he could make out the sight of battle happening just on the horizon. The Player's names and levels were the first to reveal themselves.

Heavy Hands - Lvl: 82

Ruling Berkser - Lvl: 70

SeetheLIGHT - Lvl: 80

Super Durable - Lvl: 75

Merlin#885 - Lvl: 74

FEEltheHEAT - Lvl: 73

Peroroncino - Lvl: 59

Bukubukchagama - Lvl: 84

It was a fight, to be sure, and from what he could see, six Humanoid Players appeared to be ganging up against two Heteromorphic Players. One was a gelatinous pink slime, and the other was a humanoid avian. The situation looked to be a perfect example of a PK hunting party. Surface-wise, at least.

Shirou noted that the fighting looked recent given how much HP both groups of Players still possessed.

Shirou was never one for excessive force unless necessary. If he believes a group wasn't completely guilty of whatever action they took, he would show them mercy. He adopted the same mindset while conducting his patrols. Depending on the situation, if it was a malicious PK party, he would wipe them out without hesitation. If he encountered a conflict where the two sides were equally matched, he would leave them alone. In situations where he had no prior knowledge to rely on, Shirou would use his best judgment and play it safe.

He would start off light to frighten the larger party away. If that didn't work, he would start over by sniping the Players one by one as a kind of warning. A smart party would know when to call it quits, especially when it came to YGGDRASIL's punishing death system.

"Trace on." Blue motes of light gathered, and in his hand appeared a massive black bow, and in his other, several arrows. A black steel shaft with equally black-feathered fletching was notched back. The distance between him and them was easily two kilometers or so. A distance considered far out of sight and range for a normal Player. For Shirou, who had the aid of his hawk-eye, Reinforcement, and prior skills back on Earth, it was almost child's play. Being grouped together made it easier for him to avoid worrying about being overly precise. Such a distance away would also register for his sneak attack multiplier bonus.

Particles of black energy began to form and coalesce at the arrow's tip. Shirou poured as much mana as the arrow would allow. Once it couldn't be filled anymore, he released it.

The arrow flew true, the mass of mana forming a black interior with a crimson outline around the arrow. It no longer resembled an arrow, bearing a strikingly similar image to a certain Jeweled magus's powerful Gandr shot. Another arrow was drawn, notched, and let loose within a second of firing the first.

He fired several more before halting. With his keen eyes, he calculated that it would take a few seconds for them to reach their targets.

He rested his hand on the pommel of the sword he'd just projected, watching and waiting for what was to come next.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"I don't think we're going to get out of this alive, nee-chan." The Birdman Heteromorph, Peroroncino, said to his sister.

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd listened to me! Buuuut~ Noooo. You just had to open your big, stupid mouth!" Whined the pink Elder Slime, Bukubukchagama, with an angry emoticon directed toward the winged Player.

"I said I was sorry!" He exclaimed. An opened mouth frowning emoticon appeared over him.

Bukubukchagama sighed, using a skill to defend herself and block an incoming spell. She silently bemoaned in her head, wondering where it all went wrong.

The day started so well for the brother and sister duo. Bukubukchagama had recently gotten back from an interview for an upcoming job. She had been a nervous wreck the entire week, constantly fretting that she would be rejected or that she would ruin it. Her fears were put to rest as the interviewers were so pleased by her performance that they hired her on the spot, signing off on a fair contract with a nice salary to boot.

Peroroncino, her idiotic but lovable little brother, managed to get into contact with someone to receive an early copy of an eroge in the popular franchise, Hyper Lover Magical Girl. A franchise known for its rather gratuitous lewd scenes.

With both of their spirits high, the siblings decided to unwind by playing YGGDRASIL to grind out some levels. A plan that Peroroncino carried out for all but five minutes before he changed his mind and decided to respec and switch builds. Again…

For the fifth time in that month alone.

The female slime couldn't help but grumble in frustration when she heard this. When it came to playing YGGDRASIL, her brother had a terrible tendency to be indecisive. It was rather common for him to suddenly decide that he wanted to switch his current job class and build for something 'cooler.' First, it was a roaming battlemage, then it was a stealthy assassin, and next, he decided on a beast tamer before getting bored, only to then go another route at the last second for a dual-wielding swashbuckler. And on and on it went. Even if his life depended on it, her perverted brother couldn't stay committed to anything.

And being the loving, gracious, and kindhearted elder sister that she was, Bukubukuchagama agreed to help him gather the needed materials and levels to reach said job and racial class. Everything was going fine until they happened to run across another party, and just to their luck, they were PKers. Before the two groups unintentionally bumped into one another, the other group was farming nearby for the same resource that the siblings were.

It would have been simple to avoid and ignore them. The two could come back another time. Unfortunately, her brother made a smart-ass comment to the group. One thing led to another, and now they were fighting said party.

Peroroncino grunted, blocking an attack. He held a pair of rapiers in his hands, deflecting an attack from the Humanoid Player, Ruling Berkser, who was brandishing two flaming axes.

"Damn it. We could really use some help." He muttered.

His eyes swept the field, and he didn't like their odds.

"Hey! Kami, god, or whoever is listening! Could you, like, help us out or something?! Please?!" The swashbuckling Birdman screamed to the virtual sky above, in part voicing his frustration. No one truly believed such a declaration would do anything.

At least until a hail of what appeared to be black and red projectiles raced across the field and directly in the direction of the opposing group. The PKers were caught off guard by the surprise attack and explosion. The two that took the brunt of the damage were the pyromancer, FEELtheHEAT, and the mage, SeetheLIGHT. While the others were around low green and high yellow, both of their HP dropped into the red.

The unexpected attack put an end to any further fighting between the two groups. Their eyes widened at the thought of being third-partied.

"What the hell?!

"S-shit! We have a sniper!"

"Move! Move! We're fish in a barrel out here in the open!"

The Humanoid party panicked, scrambling to reorganize themselves to defend against their potential attacker. They retreated from the Heteromorphs, who were safe from the blast radius of the attack.

Bukubukchagama was equally surprised but quickly shook herself out of her stupor. They needed to move as well, lest they too be caught in the crossfire of the ambush. Peroroncino, on the other hand-

"Hey, Kami! I would also like a blonde gyaru girlfriend who's also a sex addict. Oh! And with big breasts!"

-was being the same perverted little brother that she knew he was. Leave it to him to misinterpret a lucky break as some kind of divine intervention.

The slime slapped a tendril against her gelatinous body, the equivalent of a facepalm.

"Otouto." The elder sister hissed. "Stop fooling around and get behind me!" Bukubukuchagama ordered.

Whoever the attacker was, if they were able to cause that much damage on their own, they were strong. As a tank herself, her points in physical and magical defense should be enough to defend against attacks, along with some spells and skills for additional armor and defense if needed. The same couldn't be said for her brother, hence her exasperated voice telling him to fall back.

"[Greater Iron Body], [Fortify Defense], [Fortify Magic Defense]!" Three different defensive skills layered on the slime's body as she braced herself.

The other party had a similar idea. They grouped up and formed a circle, their backs to one another as they watched each other's backs. A Player dressed in brilliant silver bulky armor stood at the front, Super Durable, with a tower shield in each hand. In addition to their vigilant shield, the mages erected multiple barriers on top of them. Their heads swerved from one direction to another in hopes of finding their mysterious attacker. Neither group spoke as they waited in silence to see what the unidentified attacker would do next. The odd thing was that for the first thirty seconds, nothing happened. No secondary bombardment, no revealed ambush, absolutely nothing.

With such a successful surprise attack, it was common sense to follow it up completely to ensure the target didn't have time to recover. Instead, all they received was silence. By the two minute mark, both sides had relaxed a little.

Suspicious, the axe-wielding Player turned to address the second mage of the party, who was garbed in blue robes and wielded a golden staff with the rather unoriginal gamertag of Merlin#885.

"Find out what you can. Where are they?"

"Let me see. [Widen Magic: Seeker's Gaze]!" An incorporeal flux of invisible air expanded outward and continued to travel a great distance. It was a 7th tier spell that gave the user the ability to identify and mark any observable opponents or creatures within a predetermined radius. The [Widen] metamagic enchantment increased the range of the spell even further.

"What the hell!" The blue mage exclaimed. The sheer disbelief in his voice could be heard by both groups, echoing through the air. "I can't find them. It says there are no Players within at least one and a half kilometers of us!"

"No way!"

"Impossible!"

"A-are you sure?"

"What kind of range is that?!"

Protest and voices rose at the knowledge that their attacker was further away than they originally thought. Bukubukchagama and Peroroncino, privy to such a disclosure, were stunned into silence. They've never heard of it or seen it before, an attack from such a distance.

"Calm down!" All conversation ceased as the group-including Bukubukchagama and Peroroncino-turned towards the source. A fully armored dwarf with a large warhammer served as the party's last member. His gamertag identified him as Heavy Hands and the leader of the party, if she had to guess. "If what you said is correct, then that means he attacked us from at least two kilometers away, right?" He addressed the mage.

"Y-yes… More than likely." Stammered the mage, reeling from the shock of the knowledge.

The diminutive Player said no more and simply turned his attention back to the surrounding area. His helm obscured his face as he gazed across the horizon. "If he could make such a shot, then why hasn't he followed it up?"

"… Maybe he ran out of mana or something?" The axe-wielding barbarian supplied unhelpfully. The dwarf turned to him. Despite having no facial animation, Bukubukchagama can easily imagine the deadpan look he was giving behind his helm.

"If that was the case, then why attack us in the first place if he wasn't confident in finishing us off?" He explained blandly, shaking his head. "To attack from such a distance away, he wouldn't have done so unless he was confident he could hit us. Which he did, but is choosing not to follow up with. That is also something that I don't get; why not bombard us, seeing as he has the range and power to do so? Unless…" He trailed off, his gaze landing on Bukubukuchagama and Peroroncino.

Heavy Hands said nothing, scrutinizing them as if they were the key to the mystery present.

"Unless we're dealing with the [Heteromorphic Savior]…"

'Heteromorph Savior?' Bukubukchagama caught the tail end of it. The Player spoke just loud enough that the Elder Slime heard that phrase. For her, that name held no meaning whatsoever. The same couldn't be said for the rest of the group, however, as everyone started talking over each other.

It wasn't just them either, as her little brother joined in, a hushed voice carrying with it a layer of excitement.

"No way… So, he is real!"

"Otouto. Who are you talking about?" She whispered. "Is he someone important?"

"Yeah. He's a Player that's been getting a lot of traction on the forums recently."

'Ah. That would explain it.' She thought.

Despite being a dedicated gamer, Bukubukchagama typically avoided the various forums around YGGDRASIL. The only person who would have the time and patience to sift through the various message boards' complaints and fabricated information posted by trolls was her brother. A quick summary from Peroroncino explained that he was a Humanoid Player that appeared roughly three weeks ago. The rumor went that a mysterious Player would go around counter-Pking Humanoid Players that were actively hunting Heteromorph and Demi-human Players alike. Stories and complaints about how parties would suddenly and unexpectedly be wiped out began to surface regarding the mysterious Player.

Most dismissed this as the YGGDRASIL forums weren't known for being a reliable source of information. That didn't stop the unknown vigilante from continuing to be a thorn in the side of many PK parties.

"What do we do, boss?" One of them asked.

The party leader didn't answer immediately, his gaze scouring the horizon in great thought. After almost a minute of contemplation, he made his decision.

"… We pack it up. There is no point in fighting a losing battle."

One or two voices rose in complaint, but he silenced them all with a glare. In the end, the others obeyed. There was still little known about this particular Player, and he wasn't about to gamble losing a piece of his gear on a losing hand. On his signal, the party's mage dropped the barrier. Most were worried that the [Heteromorph Savior] would strike once they were vulnerable, but their fears were unfounded because nothing happened. The party backed away from the pair before teleporting away.

All that was left were the Heteromorphic siblings.

"We… We're alive." The slime sighed in relief, her avatar sagging. "Come on, let's not push our luck and get out of here."

"Actually… I was wondering if we could stay for a bit."

"What?" The elder sister snapped her head back at her younger brother in disbelief. "Why?!"

"I want to meet him." Peroroncino answered simply. "Come on, nee-chan, tell me you aren't curious as well. This is perhaps a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Words is that the Player is a pretty cool guy. I doubt he'll do something crazy like PK us just after he chased away those PKers."

"… Fine." Bukubukchagama relented. "But how do you intend to get his attention?"

Peroroncino's answer to his sister's question was a simple smiley emoticon. The wings on his back spread open, and with a mighty flap, he took to the sky.

'Huh… I forgot all about that.' Bukubukchagama mused. As an avian Heteromorph, one of his innate racial skills was flight. A feature that he essentially ignored because it frequently wouldn't have worked well with the builds he was using at the time.

Reaching an appropriate height, Peroroncino began screaming, saying, "Over here. Over here!" while waving wildly in the air.

If she were to be completely honest, her brother's explanation piqued her interest. It was unheard of to encounter a Humanoid Player who was actively assisting and defending Heteromorphic Players. Well, besides the local rumor of the recent World Champion going around enacting justice or whatever.

Few people were willing to go above and beyond to assist others, which only served to distinguish the generous individuals from the majority.

The siblings awaited the appearance of their enigmatic savior. For a little while, it seemed that he might not show.

As Bukubukchagama called out to her brother, something caught her attention in the distance. A Player was slowly making his way over, and she could just make out his outline by squinting her eyes. The figure drew nearer, and Bukubukchagama's disappointment was quickly replaced by intrigue. When Peroroncino saw that his idea had worked, he descended to join his sister. A few seconds later, they were joined by their enigmatic savior, who blurred to a stop in front of them.

The two took in his presence. As per the rumors, The Player had no racial characteristics that would identify him as a Demi-human or Heteromorph; he was a full-fledged human.

He was dressed primarily in crimson and black, with tanned skin, suave silver hair, captivating heterochromatic eyes of silver and gold, and sharp features that seemed to indicate time and effort had been put into creating his striking appearance. Strangely, they noticed that he had no weapons on him.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

Bukubukchagama was unable to contain the unexpected shiver that ran down her spine. The timbre of his voice was rich and baritone, evoking images of popular actors who played the roles of suave, sophisticated gentlemen in her beloved TV shows and films. It was a voice that was exceedingly pleasant to listen to. Moreover, the way he spoke was gentle and tender, reminiscent of how a grandfather might greet his grandchildren. It was a fascinating juxtaposition, to say the least.

"Are you him? The [Heteromorphic Savior]? I bet you are!" Peroroncino closed the distance between the two, practically getting in his face and invading the human's personal space while gushing the entire time.

"Don't be rude!" Bukubukchagama snapped out of her daze and scolded her hyperactive brother. She even slapped him upside the head for good measure and pulled him back. "I'm sorry about that, Emiya-san. On behalf of me and my idiotic little brother, thank you for saving us."

"Geez, nee-chan, your violent side is showing." Peroroncino wryly muttered. This earned him another smack. "Oww! Ok, I got it!"

Emiya chuckled softly while glancing between the two. "It's no problem. I'm glad that I could have helped."

"That was totally awesome, by the way!" Peroroncino geeked out, breaking free of his sister's hold.

"How'd you do it? Especially from so far away? You don't appear to be a long-range mage or sniper."

Emiya was silent for a moment at this point. He extended his left hand to them without saying anything. A long, black bow that was longer than Emiya's character model materialized in his hand.

"You… you mean to say you attacked from over a kilometer and a half away with a simple bow?" The bow was anything but simple, but the question was sensible.

"About two kilometers, to be exact." The archer nonchalantly corrected.

"T-that's impossible! There's no way you can attack from that far away." She couldn't help but exclaim.

Among the various playstyles and builds, archers were better suited for medium to long-range skirmishes than ultra-long-range encounters. This was due to YGGDRASIL's real-time commands, which required the Players to manually notch and release each arrow. Additionally, varying terrain, environments, and weather can make it difficult to get a clear shot. A sniper playstyle would outperform standard archer playstyles because it uses a rifle with a scope to enable better accuracy. A specialized long-range mage can use various spells to detect and mark enemies and Players for their spells, as some have auto-tracking.

"Perhaps, but YGGDRASIL is a big game. Even though you haven't seen it before, it doesn't mean it isn't possible or viable." Emiya smoothly countered, answering her question.

To that, the pink slime relented and admitted he was right. The developers marketed YGGDRASIL by emphasizing the variety and choices of its creator. The game's main draw was its near-limitless freedom in customization and playstyle. It wouldn't be out of the question to see a build like his being used given how tuned some job classes were and how there were still a lot of unknowns.

"Whoa… so cool!" Peroroncino whispered, awe coloring his words.

Bukubukchagama instantly recognized that tone of voice.

"If you don't mind, I have a question of my own." Emiya politely asked.

"Of course. What may that be, Emiya-san?"

"A moment ago, you referred to me as the [Heteromorphic Savior]. Why is that?"

"I believe my brother can help you with that. He knows more about that than I do." Said Bukubukuchagama.

"Ah… Right!" Peroroncino straightened up. "You've been making a name for yourself on YGGDRASIL's forums over the last few weeks. Those in the Heteromorphic community came up with a nickname for you. Hence, people are referring to you as the [Heteromorphic Savior]."

There was more to it than that. Throughout the numerous patrols and ambushes Shirou participated in, they typically resulted in a complete wipeout of the offending party or stragglers running away. Much of his success was mainly due to his impressive archery skill and abusing the sneak attack damage multiplier, resulting in most of the Players being killed without ever seeing his nametag. Save for the Players that he rescued. A general description was finally drafted, containing a description of his attire and race but never his name. Those in the Heteromorphic community kept quiet, fearing he would be hunted, so they came up with the epithet [Heteromorphic Savior] to hide his name and anonymity, if only for a little while. They did it as a way to thank him for his assistance and hard work.

"Although I am curious as to how you don't know this. Doing something like ambushing PK parties is bound to rile some people up. Don't you check the forums?" The Birdman questioned.

For a moment, Shirou's body stilled, but it passed far too fast for either Peroroncino or Bukubukchagama to notice. "Right… the forums… O-of course!" He awkwardly trailed off. The two siblings shared a look, or more accurately, the emoticon of a face with a raised eyebrow appeared over them to signify their confusion. In the end, the two waved it off as unimportant.

"In any case." Emiya cleared his throat. "Thank you for answering my question. I'll be on-"

"Wait! There's something I want to ask you!" Peroroncino quickly interrupted. "Please teach me how to be an archer just like you!"

Peroroncino went so far as to bow at the waist, his voice all but beseeching him to take him on as an apprentice so that he may learn the way of the bow.

'Of course.' The elder sister mentally rolled her eyes. He changed his mind, again. No doubt her brother was captivated by Emiya's amazing display and wished to replicate it.

Shirou, for his part, examined Peroroncino closely. "Is that so? Well…" Once more, he was cut off, but this time it wasn't by the Avian Heteromorph. With a swipe of his hand, a recognizable message screen appeared.

"Has it been that long?" The siblings heard him mutter, reading the message before addressing them again. "Sorry, I promised a friend that I would meet up with him. I didn't expect for this to take as long as it did, and he got worried."

"Oh. My apologies for taking up your time, Emiya-san. Please, do not let us get in your way."

"But nee-chan, I still want to ask him some questions." The little brother whined.

"We've already taken enough time from him as it is. Be more considerate, Otouto." The elder sister softly chided.

"Actually…" Emiya spoke up. "Why don't you two join me? I'll be more than happy to answer some of yours on the way there."

"Really?! Yosh!" Peroroncino happily exclaimed, pumping a fist into the air.

"Are you sure, Emiya-san? I don't wish to intrude." The slime tank double-checked.

"I certainly don't mind, nor do I think my friend will. Besides, we can use an extra pair of hands along the way. Assuming that you aren't busy yourself."

Bukubukchagama and Peroroncino made sure that today was a worry-free day for them to play. Time was not a concern. Not to mention that if she declined to participate, her younger brother would complain her ear off.

"Very well. Thank you for allowing us to join." Bukubukuchagma gave her thanks with a small bow.

With two new companions, the newly formed party of three made their way out of [The Smothering Gorge]. A ferry was taken, as only Peroroncino could make it to the other side unaided. During their ride, Emiya took the time they had to answer some of Peroroncino's queries as Bukubukuchagama quietly observed them from the side.

Bukubukuchagama kept to herself but kept an ear open to their conversation, waiting and watching from the side. Her brother bombarded Emiya with tons of questions. Some trivial, and others poignant.

Questions like;

"How far can you shoot from?"

"What kind of build do you run?"

"What job classes should I invest in to be like you?"

"What would you recommend?"

To her pleasant surprise, Emiya answered all of his questions patiently, even the more inane ones. His knowledge of the subject showed as he went in-depth and explained to her brother the requirements and the necessary mechanics of what makes a good archer. He offered sound and sincere advice, displaying a zeal that matched Peroroncino's as they became absorbed in their conversation.

It was another mark that confirmed his sincerity and piqued her interest even further. It was a testament to Emiya's character that he would not only reveal but also actively assist in replicating such a strong build. Information was worth its weight in gold in YGGDRASIL, especially information on powerful character builds, and he was giving it out freely. On first impression alone, she would say that he passed with flying colors. Their brief journey was over in a matter of minutes, and they were on their way.

Following the Humanoid Player's lead, the three traversed the plains of Helheim. As they moved south, the sky above gradually darkened as more and more crumbling buildings and other structures popped up. As they entered a new area of the vast playable world, numerous tombstones sprung up. They eventually came to rest next to a misty cemetery with scattered gravestones in the courtyard. In the middle was a mausoleum, its decay evident by the layering of cracks and vines inside the stony enclosure.

"Momonga-san, are you here?" Shirou called out.

Bukubukchagama's ears caught the faint noise of something shuffling about. Something emerged from behind one of the crumbling buildings. The skeletal face made it clear that it was undead. He was dressed in a black robe with gold accents that formed symbols. In his hand was a twisted staff.

Momonga - Lvl: 80

"Emiya-san? Sorry, I didn't realize it was you. I laid out some ward spells just in case any PKers might come around. I saw three dots moving towards here and assumed the worst." The skeletal Player explained.

"It's fine. I should have [Message]'d you back that I was bringing company. That's my fault." Emiya apologized.

"Pardon me, Emiya-san, but I would assume these two were your latest rescue?"

"Have I become that predictable?" The silver-haired Player chuckled. "Yea. I helped them out of a PK party."

"I see." Momonga nodded. "Greetings, Bukubukchagama-san, Peroroncino-san." The undead bowed, welcoming them.

"Hello to you too, Momonga-san." Bukubukchagama returned the gesture.

"Yo~" Peroroncino informally replied, offering a casual wave.

"I hoped you didn't mind if they tagged along. I figured it would be easier to help you if we had more Players on hand."

"It's no trouble, Emiya-san." The Elder Lich quickly assured. "If you vouch for them, then I trust you. With four Players, this should make the quest that much easier."

"Now that we've patted each other on the back, let's get to it!" Declared the winged Player before rushing into the mausoleum.

"Idiot." Bukubukchagama sighed. The three quickly ran in to join their excited companion.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

May 31st, 2129. World: Niðavellir. Location: The Forest of Everclear. Recommended level: 45-50

Numerous mountain ranges, hills, plains, plateaus, caves, and other geographical features can be found within Niðavellir, the playable world of the Realm of the Dwarves of YGGDRASIL. The realm lacked much in the way of diversity when compared to the other realms. Save for one particular area within the overworld, The Forest of Everclear. The location housed a thickly forested area covered with vines, tall trees, and vegetation. It was situated in a bottleneck area between two massive plateaus, which gave this specific location a notorious reputation as a PKing hot spot. Players frequently found it difficult to see farther than a few meters due to the dense level of vegetation, making them particularly vulnerable to sneak attacks.

Hence the situation now:

"Damn shitty devs!" A loud voice cried out.

A figure rushed across the marshy ground, kicking dirt as it sprinted deeper into the jungle.

It had a humanoid shape and structure and was heteromorphic, but that's where the similarities ended. The skin of the creature was an unnaturally deep red. The skin appeared leathery at first glance, as though skin patches had been layered on top of one another. It didn't end there; small, malformed mouths with sharpened, soiled-yellow teeth could be seen all over the body. The arms, legs, and entire body were covered in these mouths. There were at least six visible mouths in the general head area. Interestingly, there were no discernible eye sockets. The creature had four arms, each holding a different weapon. The purple and yellow spike armor only added to its monstrous appearance, as it appears to be almost like a second layer of tough skin.

Bellriver - Lvl: 88

"[Greater Detect Presence]!" A twisted staff glowed in one hand as Bellriver activated his spell. [Greater Detect Presence] was a rather self-explanatory spell. It can be used to detect any possible enemies or intruders. A tiny screen with a list of the nearby mobs appeared, but there was no Player nametag.

"Damn it. They must have some anti-divination and anti-scrying spells active. I'm not dealing with amateurs, it seems." The crimson-skinned Heteromorph cursed. Pushing some foliage out of the way, Bellriver caught a flash of light at the corner of his eyes.

"[Maximize Boost Magic: Mana Shield!]" Powered by metamagic enchantments, a transparent blue energy dome encircled him. Not a second later, a beam of pure energy slammed into the shield. The attack and the one that followed it were successfully repelled by the shield. A barrage of armored claw fists struck the shield from the other side, slowly forming cracks around it. A Humanoid Player in sleek pink armor charged Bellriver from the side with a long, curved scimitar, forcing him to leap back.

"[Graceful Arc]!" Cried out the female Player, using her skill.

"[Infused Strike]!" Bellriver responded with his own, his sword clashing against the scimitar. He reared his second arm back, which was holding a mace, to attack but was once more stopped.

This time, the attacker was a Player carrying a two-handed battle axe and covered head to toe in black spiked armor. He attacked the Heteromorph's unprotected back, taking a fair bit of HP.

Bellriver disengaged, slowly backing up until he could no longer. His back was pressed up against one of the towering trees that dominated the forest. Three additional Players emerged from the surrounding woodwork and joined the other two. The first was a lion Demi-human in a mixture of fur and metal armor. The second was an armored, hooded assassin. The final member was a Player dressed in silver armor who held a combination of a lance and magic staff with a jewel near the tip.

They stood in a semi-circle, spread out, and cut off all escape routes.

"Finally stop running, have you? It looks like we found a freak with some common sense." The axe-wielder jeered.

"Oh yes, you must feel so proud of yourselves for ganging up on someone who was minding his own business." The multi-mouth Heteromorph sarcastically quipped, glaring back defiantly.

"Like we care for your opinion, you walking tumor!" The bestial Demi-human sneered. This got a laugh from his companions.

"Tell you what, drop a good piece of equipment, and we'll consider letting you go." The female sword fighter said this, aiming one of her scimitars at Bellriver.

Bellriver growled. One need not be psychic to know that they were lying through their teeth. This wasn't the first group of PKers he came across that used the same BS scam scare tactic, and he doubted it would be the last. They were trying to play him a fool to get a second loot drop from him. The four-armed Heteromorph tightened his grip on his weapons. There was no way he would go down without a fight!

'I could sure use some help.' His thoughts briefly wandered to the rumors he read on the forums about a Player going around saving Heteromorphic Players. The various posts spoke of how he would appear when he was needed most. The Gibbering Mouther could certainly use that kind of help right about now.

Shaking his head, he braced himself for the upcoming fight.

'I ain't gonna give them the satisfaction.'

The PKers, seeing Bellriver not showing any indication of surrendering, prepared themselves.

"[Dimensional Slash]!"

Before anyone could make a move, a powerful voice called out. Each of the five PKers' HP was reduced to zero as five distinct slash marks appeared on them. They shattered into a rain of polygons before they even had a chance to realize they were killed. Five items landed on the ground in front of the equally bewildered magic knight.

"W-what?" Was Bellriver's lame reply. He didn't think his prayers would be answered.

"No need to fear!" A boisterous voice declared.

A stunning sight met the eye as Bellriver looked upon the Player before him. Adorned in resplendent white and silver armor, complete with a matching silver helmet, the Player commanded attention. At the center of the armor, a large azure sapphire glinted in the light. A crimson cape flowed from the left shoulder pauldron, draping elegantly over the Player's backside. The knight's left hand held a formidable silver shield, while in the right hand, a sword with a golden crossguard glimmered. The armor and weapons hinted at the presence of a powerful paladin, but underneath the armor lay a different truth. The Player was actually a Heteromorph like Bellriver, an insectoid Heteromorph, to be exact.

Touch Me - Lvl: 100 [World Champion]

"For I am here!" After finishing, the armored Player struck a dramatic pose with his legs spread apart, his shield at the ready, and his sword poised to strike. His red cape fluttered triumphantly, despite no wind blowing on it. Strangely enough, it didn't end there. A small explosion effect then appeared behind him, followed by the kanji for "Justice has Arrived!" So shocked was he that Bellriver didn't even react, simply staring at the mysterious and eccentric paladin.

"What?" Bellriver repeated.

"Hmm, strange. Why do people keep on saying that?" Touch Me mumbled to himself. "Are you alright?" He asked, his boisterous voice lowering to a reasonable level.

"Errr… Yes, I'm fine." Bellriver thanked the man, shaking off the confusion caused by Touch Me's "explosive arrival". "Thanks for the save. I didn't think anyone would come."

"If someone is in trouble, it's only natural to help them." The World Champion proclaimed it as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Right…" Bellriver drawled, unsure but still appreciative of the save. "For a second there, I thought you were perhaps the [Heteromorphic Savior] everyone's been talking about."

The four-armed Heteromorph knew that wasn't the case. The rumors all stated that the [Heteromorphic Savior] was no front-line Player like Touch Me was. The gear, appearance, and general demeanor that had been scavenged and gleaned from the forums also didn't match up with the silver paladin.

"Hoh? [Heteromorphic Savior]? Who is this Player that you speak of?" Touch Me asked, intrigued. The name alone gave him some hints and he was curious to learn more.

As thanks, Bellriver informed Touch Me of what he knew. He shared with him of the tales and rumors surrounding a phantom Humanoid Player who was seen rescuing Heteromorphic Players. There wasn't a lot of information available about the man, but it was known that he strictly combated PKers and went out of his way to lend a hand to any Heteromorphic or Demi-human Player in need. The insectoid paladin found his interest peaked as the narrative went on, and his opinion of the man only grew.

After everything was said and done, Bellriver sent Touch Me a friend request, which he readily accepted. Bellriver bid the World Champion farewell before logging out, leaving him to reflect on his thoughts and what he had just learned.

"It would seem that there's another Hero of Justice wandering the realms of YGGDRASIL… How interesting! I would very much like to meet him someday." He mused aloud.

Touch Me swept his arm and set his crimson cape aflutter as he walked away, his stride purposeful and determined for the future.

Last edited: Nov 23, 2023

Chapter 2 - A Meeting of Heroes

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 11/30/2018

Chapter 2 - A Meeting of Heroes

Within the world of YGGDRASIL lie nine playable realms for the Players to explore, fight in, and conquer. Each realm was meticulously modeled and named after the real-life counterpart within Norse Mythology. Those worlds were:

Niðavellir: Niflheim, the world of fog, mist, and ice.

Múspellsheimr: Muspelheim, the land of fire. Home to the fabled fire giants and inferno demons.

Miðgarðr: Midgard, the cradle of humanity.

Jötunheimr: Jotunheim, the domain of the giants.

Álfheimr: Alfheim, the birthplace of the elves.

Niðavellir: Nidavellir, the home of the dwarves.

Vanaheimr: Vanaheim, the hold of the Vanir Gods.

Ásgarðr: Asgard, the realm of the Aesir Gods.

And finally, Helheim or Hel, the realm of the dishonorable dead.

Each separate world was beyond massive, with an approximate estimation of 6,800 total kilometers squared in size. Combined, the nine distinct worlds collectively spanned an area of about 59,130 km2. An insanely large overworld, especially when one takes into account that the game didn't have accessible fast travel. With the exception of when a Player teleports between starting towns to reach a particular location in the overworld.

Starting towns for Players were located near the center of the realm, and everything else was spread outward and all around. As one moves further from the center of the world, the various locations and regions gradually get more difficult. The environment can change to become unfavorable if a Player wasn't adequately prepared, and enemies get stronger the further they travel. The further one travels, the greater the chance of death becomes, increasing the possibility of Players losing a piece of valuable equipment. Nevertheless, the overworld wasn't entirely hostile; there were a few spots scattered throughout the open world that offered a momentary safe zone but nothing more.

When playing as Heteromorphic characters, these limitations were almost doubled. Technically speaking, all Players, whether they were Humanoids, Demi-Humans, or Heteromorphs, had access to all nine worlds. However, it may restrict where they can go depending on what race their Player was. For instance, a Heteromorphic Player who was undead was unable to enter any town that was populated in Midgard. They would need to choose a spawn point far removed from the area.

Some of these limitations apply to Demi-humans, but not to the same extent as to heteromorphs. There were no such restrictions for Humanoid Players like humans, elves, and dwarfs. Another factor that contributed to Humanoid Players being the most popular character race. They were not hindered by the YGGDRASIL worlds, making them one of the common choices.

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November 8th, 2129. World: Niflheim. The Shores of Ice. Recommended level: 50-55

On this day, Niflheim's virtual sun cast a brilliant glow upon the land, painting a cloudless sky that seemed to stretch out endlessly. The sun's rays brilliantly illuminated everything that lay beneath them. In a particular expanse of grassy fields, a thick and visible mist hung low over the land, enveloping the serene and peaceful meadow.

The meager amount of sunlight that managed to break through the fog created a dazzling effect on the tiny droplets of water that clung to every surface. The dew adorned the untouched blades of grass, their slender forms swaying in the breeze as it blew past. Not a single creature, neither mob nor POP, could be seen inhabiting the tranquil grassland, leaving the area brimming with a sense of calm and contentment.

A calm that would be broken by a shout.

"Don't lose him!" Several light beams emerged from the mist, shooting off in all directions but striking nothing.

Shirou leaped out of the mist, his trusted black bow in hand.

He released them back into the fog after reaching the height limit of his jump. A second later, the three arrows exploded, clearing the fog to reveal a pack of five Players pursuing him. One of his pursuers charged at him as he descended.

"Hold still! [Consecutive Spiral Thrust]!" The Player roared and raised a thick, asymmetrical cavalry lance made of silver. As soon as Shirou's eyes landed on the weapon, he immediately cataloged the lance in his Unlimited Blade Works.

The YGGDRASIL skill system detected the use of a skill as the Player's body operated automatically and sought to complete the action.

[Consecutive Spiral Thrust] was a skill that was exclusive to Players who used polearm-style weapons. The original lance was accompanied by four spectral-like arms, brandishing a copy of the lance. Shirou's head was the target of five attacks that came in close succession. If it had been another Player, they would have had to decide whether to block it or take the blow. The magus did neither; instead, he moved his head, causing each attack to miss with the help of his Mind's Eye and extreme nimbleness. Shirou kicked the lance wielder, who was startled by such an outlandish feat.

He carried on sprinting across the field without even turning around.

"How the hell is he doing that?!" A Player dressed in black bushido armor and armed with a flaming katana shouted. He quickly helped his friend up.

"Who cares?! Don't let him get away!" Another screamed; this time, the speaker was a female Player dressed in dark green robes with a tree symbol branded on them.

The party of five gave chase to Shirou.

Shirou couldn't help but think back on the course his new life had taken and how it had led to this as he raced through the misty plains.

It has been around six months since Zelretch intervened. During this time, Shirou has been exploring YGGDRASIL and expanding his knowledge while continuing his endeavor. He could never go too long without going out of his way to help out new Players or protect Heteromorphic parties from the more malicious Players and PKers. With the knowledge that the YGGDRASIL's forums revealed to him, it was only a matter of time before the Humanoid community collected themselves and actively hunted him down as he continued to be a thorn in their side. In that respect, it wasn't all that dissimilar from his time on Earth, where magi would occasionally come after him for various reasons. Whether it be for revenge, fame, fortune, or some other asinine reason. Shirou figured he had maybe another two or so months before this would occur, factoring in how vast the overworld was and how often Shirou jumped between realms since he was never struck by one for too long.

The faker, however, greatly underestimated the impact of his presence and actions, as well as the widespread influence of YGGDRASIL's forums. After the second month after his arrival, the attacks began. He was initially attacked by the occasional Player here and there. Every week or so, there were typically no more than one or two Players. Shirou continued to protect Heteromorphic Players from PK parties as time passed, adding more bodies to the growing pile as he did so. From one or two Players, there were eventually four, and occasionally even six. It didn't take long before large hunting parties were organized with the sole purpose of pursuing him. The largest party he had encountered yet was ten people. What was once a weekly occurrence became a routine as Shirou fended off attacks from Players nearly every day.

In the beginning, he opted to run away and evade these attempts on his life. Shirou thought they would eventually give up if they couldn't, but sadly, that wasn't the case. This only seemed to embolden them and intensify their efforts. He started fighting back because he realized he couldn't keep eluding capture forever. He hoped to make them think twice about coming after him, but unfortunately, this had the unintended consequence of fueling the rumor mill around him further.

Stories and complaints revolving around the fake hero continue to circulate and gather steam. As they passed from one mouth to another, the tales grew twisted and even more outlandish. Every story and post was fueled by a vitriolic desire to see him brought low and PK Crushed - to be killed so many times that he would be reduced back to level 1, similar to what had happened with Momonga when Shirou first intervened. By the end of the fourth month, a virtual bounty regarding the Player known only as Emiya began to circulate among the community.

Some pursued him to exact revenge, others to gain access to his potent loot, and a few did it for the thrill of the hunt and to defeat the supposedly unbeatable [Heteromorphic Savior].

Hence the situation at hand.

The party of five was the latest entry of contenders. The party consisted of a lightly armored human Player wielding a lance, a black-clad halfling samurai wielding a flaming katana, a female human druid, a white-robed elf with glowing runes circling on his robes, and lastly, a female Humanoid Player wearing a schoolgirl's uniform and holding a crystal ball.

The PK party chased after the archer to the edge of the terrain. Ahead of them was a small ridge obscured by fog. With a leap, Shirou's form disappeared, prompting the group to increase their speed. The hazy surroundings obscured their vision before receding as they entered a new area. In front of them was a great lake, whose shore connected the two areas. A quick survey showed Shirou was on the shore, his back facing the lake, as if waiting for them. The PKers grinned, believing him to have met a dead end. Finally! The goose chase came to an end. There was no way for him to escape them now, with a lake cutting his escape route.

The group lost themselves in their haste and excitement to reach the shore, which played exactly into Shirou's hands.

"[Delay Triplet Magic: Explosive Land Mines]!"

The Players' eyes all widened as a group. The spell circle appeared before they could react. Balls of condensed fire erupted from the sandy shores, surrounding the party, and then detonated. The explosion rocked the area and took a significant chunk of their HP in the process. The situation didn't end there, as arrows of solar energy began to rain on them, forcing the Players to split up, lest they become a pin cushion.

"Fuck! We're getting ambushed!"

"No shit! Focus, we can do this! [Create High Tier Guardian: Colossus]!" The Player in the school uniform yelled. She raised the orb into the air, the crystal ball acting as a catalyst to channel her spell. A magic circle appeared in front of her, but another spell blocked her summon before it could even begin.

"[Boost Magic: Greater Rejection]!" Cracks spread across the magic circle and destroyed it, rejecting the summoning.

"Damn it all! Where the hell is the magic caster?!" The rune mage cried out. All he could see were his party members and Shirou.

Separated from the rest, the two vanguards rushed toward their target. A pinkish Elder Slime emerged from the water and stepped between Shirou and the two Players as they unleashed their skills.

"[Ebony Skin], [Elasticity]!" The slime's pink skin changed to a dark hue. [Elasticity] was a skill that allows the Player to manipulate their body by stretching and twisting it however they want. The slime's body expanded to form a protective wall in front of Shirou. The two attacks struck the living wall and bounced off, with Bukubukchagama's HP dropping only a little bit.

Shirou quickly dismissed his bow and projected Kanshou and Bakuya in his hand.

"Thank you, Bukubukchagama-san!"

"You're welcome~!" The slime happily replied.

Dashing from the makeshift shield, he attacked the samurai, and the two engaged in a duel. Bukubukchagama continued her role as the tank and kept the lancer at bay. While that was happening, the remaining three PKers were dealing with their own problem in the form of a long-range archer and an invisible magic user. The barrage of light arrows prevented them from helping or interfering with the other fight going on.

"We're getting pounded! We need to find a way to catch that magic caster, he can't be that far away!"

"I would, but I can't channel my spells seeing as we're playing hopscotch!" The elven rune mage shouted back.

"Leave that to me! [Vineguard]!" The druid raised both of her hands, and thick, green vines began to grow from the sleeves of her robes, wrapping themselves into a shield. It protected them from the storm of arrows, giving the rune mage the space he needed to cast his spell.

"[Boost Magic: All-Seeing Arcane Vision]!" From the rune mage's point of view, everything suddenly turned blue. The 9th tier spell adds a filter to the Player's sight, enabling them to see through any potential invisibility or camouflage, be it skill or magic.

As he quickly swept his eyes across the field, he noticed a Player standing only a few meters away from them with a transparent rippling effect surrounding him.

"He's invisible! Right there!" The mage pointed in the general direction.

"Finally!" The crystal ball user exclaimed. "Eat this! [Boost Magic: Wild Thunder]!"

"[Boost Magic: Chaos Orb]!" The invisible caster countered.

The two spells collided, one was a burst of concentrated darkness, and the other was a blast of pure electrical energy. The subsequent explosion temporarily rendered the group blind and deaf as it threw up sand and dirt from the surroundings. Momonga happily took advantage of the opportunity to relocate as they were recovering.

"[Fly], [Greater Teleportation]." With silent casting, Momonga disappeared, and the group was none the wiser.

"Did we get him?!"

"… No. Damn, he must have moved!"

"Well, find him! I don't think my-" The druid never got to finish as a more potently charged arrow of light smashed into the vines and destroyed the barrier. This allowed a flurry of rapid-fire explosive arrows to hit the three Players. With their HP in the lower yellow range, it was time to finish it.

"[Maximize Triplet Magic: Dark Rend]!"

Over the three PKers, three enormous spell circles that overlapped one another appeared. The already powerful 8th tier spell, enhanced by the maximize and triplet metamagics, was more than enough to reduce all three Players' HP to zero. They were engulfed in a spire of pure dark energy as soon as the spell was cast. Their bodies broke apart into polygons, leaving behind a single piece of equipment and a pile of gold.

Shirou swiftly put an end to his fight by maneuvering himself within the samurai's guard and decapitating him with Kanshou in a single swing. The samurai felt a rush of vertigo take over as his virtual head still registered the sight of his headless body facing him. A split second later, his body and head shattered into polygons. The lancer, after witnessing the quick and merciless execution of his last party member, stopped attacking Bukubukchagama and attempted to escape.

Attempted being the keyword.

Another supercharged arrow of light pierced the air before slamming into the fleeing Player's defenseless back, landing a critical hit. His HP hit zero, and he quickly joined his companions.

"We did it~!" Bukubukchagama cheered, her form bobbing up and down in what Shirou assumed was her jumping.

"Indeed." Shirou said. "Nice work out there, Momonga-san, Peroroncino-san."

Momonga appeared next to the pair without fanfare, canceling his invisibility spell, [Perfect Unknowable]. Meanwhile, Peroroncino circled in the air before diving and landing nimbly on his feet to join everyone.

"And to you as well, Emiya-san and Bukubukchagama-san." Momonga returned the compliment.

"That was awesome! We were like, Bam!" And Boom! And you were like Shnnk! And they were like, Kaaa! They never stood a chance!" Peroroncino excitedly narrates with many onomatopoeias and hand motions. "How'd I do, Emiya-senpai?" He eagerly turned to his friend and mentor.

"You did great. All those months of training are finally paying off. It would seem you've found your perfect calling as an archer."

"Hell yea!" The avian Player fist-bumped the air.

After the battle, the group began to collect their spoils and distribute the loot. The gold was equally divided between them, leaving the dropped items untouched. Shirou had defeated the samurai, who dropped a Legendary class necklace that enhanced health regeneration. The lancer dropped his Divine class lance. The rune mage left behind a Legendary class metal gauntlet that boosts a magic user's spell power, while the druid dropped a single potion. The last item belonged to the orb user and was a set of boots that raised the Player's overall MP.

In the end, Bukubukchagama was given the necklace, Momonga took the boots and gauntlets, Peroroncino received the potion, and Shirou was left with the lance.

Shirou wanted one of them to take the lance as well. Unlimited Blade Works rendered the weapon in his hand useless because, if he so desired, he could trace as many copies as he wanted. Despite his assurance that he didn't mind receiving any reward, his friends would have none of it and were adamant that he got his fair share until he reluctantly agreed.

That said, it wasn't like it would be completely useless. He could break the weapon down for its components and Data Crystals. Any weapon he acquired, from Low or Common class to Legendary and Divine class weapons, would typically undergo this dismantling.

Many Players would weep tears of sorrow should they ever learn of Shirou's casual dismantling of their high-tier items, especially those that they invested a lot of time, effort, and perhaps money into maximizing.

Oh well, that was what they got for constantly trying to PK Shirou.

"Thank you again for the help. The constant PK attempts were getting a bit tiring." Shirou said.

"It's of no issue, Emiya-san. Especially after everything you've done for us and for those that play Heteromorphs out there." Momonga replied.

"Yea! We kicked ass and took names. Those PKers better watch out, for now, there's a bigger fish in the sea!" Peroroncino chimed in. A smirking emoticon popped onto his avatar.

"Hypocrites, the lot of them. They don't bat an eye for those killing Heteromorphs, but as soon as you showed up, everyone began making you out as the bad guy." An angry emoticon appeared above the pink slime, mirroring her disapproval.

"You can blame the shitty devs, Bukubukchagama. They've always had it out for Heteromorphs from the very beginning." The undead skeleton snarked, agreeing with the slime. "At least with Emiya-san, PKers are now hesitant, knowing they might face the wrath of the great [Heteromorphic Savior]."

"Ughhh." Shirou groaned. "I'm not getting rid of that name any time soon, am I?"

"Nope!" Was Peroroncino's humorful reply, popping the 'p' at the end of his word and slinging an arm around his friend's shoulder. The others joined in for a quick laugh.

The four quickly settled in, quaint conversations passing between them as they discussed what to do next. Suggestions were passed around between farming, exploring some new areas, or taking on a few quests.

"Are you guys free for the rest of the day?" Shirou suddenly asked.

A quick look at the time showed it to be 13:34:56, or 1:34 p.m. standard time.

The three Heteromorphic Players exchanged quick glances before responding.

"Hmm, my company called in yesterday, telling me that work for the entire week was canceled due to some sort of emergency." Momonga answered.

"I had my rehearsal this morning, so I'm free throughout the day." Bukubukchagama said.

"Well… I should be getting the latest copy of Sex and Steal 5: The Revenge of Tentacle soon, so maybe I'll-"

Bukubukchagama quickly slapped the backside of her perverted brother's head, shutting him up. "What he means to say… is that we're available. Right?" The elder sister emphasized, and despite possessing no visible eyes, Shirou could feel her glare boring into her little brother.

"Yeah… right." Peroroncino reluctantly agreed. "Something on your mind? Oh! Are we going to do some more PK hunting, Emiya-senpai?"

"Not exactly. I made a new friend when I rescued him a few weeks ago, and he contacted me this morning. Apparently, he found a hidden area and invited me to join him and his clan in exploring it." Shirou revealed.

All three Heteromorphic Players perked up when they heard this. With such a sprawling overworld, there were inevitably going to be a ton of hidden locations and secret areas. And these areas always guarantee great loot for anyone who first discovers and conquers them.

"And you wish for us to join you, Emiya-san? I am grateful, but will your friend approve of us joining you?" Momonga couldn't help but ask. No one gave out important information, like an undiscovered area, for free.

"That's what I'm going to figure out right now." Shirou paused. He was silent for a while, but it was obvious to them that he was using [Message]. "I ran it by him, and he has no problem with you guys joining me." He finally answered.

"Sweet! I can't wait to see this." Peroroncino exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Where will we be heading to, Emiya-san?" Bukubukuchagama asked.

"Vanaheim. We'll be meeting my friend, Amanomahitotsu-san, in Vanaheim."

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Vanaheim, the divine abode of the Vanir gods in Norse mythology, was a realm of breathtaking beauty. Picturesque depictions of this mythological world unveil a tranquil landscape that was unmatched in its diversity and richness. The overworld of Vanaheim boasted a vast expanse of terrain that included towering mountain ranges, sprawling plateaus, verdant marshlands, sparkling oceans and beaches, arid deserts, and lush rainforests. In addition to its overworld wonders, the realm features a network of underground cave systems that have yet to be fully explored. Despite its allure, Vanaheim remains shrouded in mystery, with much of its landscape still waiting to be discovered by eager adventurers.

Near one of Vanaheim's starting towns lies a small ruin. The site bore a striking resemblance to Stonehenge, with tall pillars of stone arranged in a circular pattern. While Shirou was occupied with other affairs, Momonga, Peroroncino, and Bukubukchagama patiently waited for his return. Shirou had to make a quick trip to the town to gather some supplies for the journey, at the request of Amanomahitotsu. Due to their Heteromorphic status, they were not allowed to enter the starting town, as doing so would attract unwanted attention and possibly lead to attacks from other Players. Therefore, Shirou had to complete the errand alone.

"[Life-Detection Boundary], [Anti-Scrying Protection], [Range Defense Cocoon], [Protection against Assassination]."

A series of magic circles formed and were activated. The surrounding area glowed a different color for each spell before returning to normal.

"There, now we don't need to worry about any possible ambushes." Said Momonga.

"A bit over the top, don't you think, Momonga-san? Sure, we're close to the towns, but there was nothing in our direction last time I checked. I doubt we'll have Players spotting us." Peroroncino said. He sat on top of one of the stone pillars, lazily kicking his leg to and fro.

"You can never be too safe, Peroroncino-san. This is YGGDRASIL after all." The necromancer replied. Approximately 80% of all of his ventures with Shirou resulted in PKers attacking in some form or fashion. Ever since then, he has started to expand his spell roster to ensure they don't get ambushed by a bored party. "Better safe than sorry, I would say."

"Whatever." The aerial sniper shrugged. "Man, Emiya-sempai does get around a lot, doesn't he? His friend's list probably got at least a thousand Players that he must have saved or something crazy like that."

"Agreed. He doesn't do things halfway, that's for sure." Bukubukuchagama praised.

"I do have to wonder where he has the time for all of this. Maybe he's a NEET or a Hikikomori? Would explain how and why he has the time to go around saving people."

"Otouto! How can you say that about Emiya-san?!" An angry emoticon popped up over the pink slime's head.

One even popped up for Momonga, showing that he too didn't take too kindly to Peroroncino's comment.

"I'm not saying he is one, nee-chan!" The golden archer panickedly replied, and an equally panicked emoticon popped up. "I'm grateful for everything Emiya-sempai did for us. Really! I was just curious, is all. You do have to admit, sis, that he always seems to be online, no matter what time it is. He plays this game a lot, even more than me, and that's saying something!"

Simmering down, Momonga did find there was some truth to Peroroncino's words. There was a mechanic in the game that kept track of and tallied the Player's total playtime and offline time. If a Player wants to know if any of their friends have recently been online, they can check their friend list to see when and for how long. Whenever Momonga would log in, Shirou would always send a brief hello after a few minutes. Curiously, the undead mage noted that it never did state when was the last time the crimson archer logged off. A detail that gave Peroroncino's theory some backing to a degree.

This brought on further speculation regarding their mysterious friend. Despite the unusual circumstances of how they first met, they were able to connect and develop a genuine bond of friendship. Although they had gradually learned more about Emiya over time, like any friendship, neither Momonga nor the siblings knew much about him besides what he shared, and they were okay with that. They came to YGGDRASIL to play a game and to lose themselves in the fantastical setting, temporarily forgetting about the worries of their real lives and savoring their virtual counterparts.

'Does it matter if Emiya-san is a shut-in?' Momonga idily thought.

The answer was an immediate and resounding no.

Since the day Momonga encountered Shirou, or Emiya, as he was known to him and his peers, he has not regretted it. The man has been nothing but kind and respectful to him, always extending a helping hand without asking for anything in return. Momonga was confident in saying that had Shirou not intervened to save him on that fateful day, he likely would've quit YGGDRASIL altogether. The mounting frustration and despair he experienced from not only being harassed in YGGDRASIL but also his real-life problems would've made him reconsider giving the game another try for fear of being burned once more by the cruel player base.

Shirou had done a lot for them, as evidenced by the lengthy list. Everything from power leveling them up, protecting them from PKers, offering up valuable items and equipment they find, handing out thousands of gold coins if they were running dry, smithing and enhancing their current weapons and equipment, and so much more. He went beyond the call of duty for them, but that wasn't all that endeared him to them. Shirou was a good friend to them, plain and simple. Something Momonga and the siblings had never encountered before, be it in the game or IRL, until him.

Shirou was Momomga's first true friend, and he could never look down on him for that. After all the good he had done for him and so many others, it didn't matter to him whether he was a shut-in or not. The salaryman didn't think he would be able to look himself in the mirror if he let a bias like that cloud his opinion of the one man who had already done so much for them.

"Maybe. Or maybe, he's an ultrarich or something?" Bukubukchagama made a suggestion. "Maybe he's so well off that he doesn't need to work."

"That would be the life, wouldn't it? To not worry about a single thing and play YGGDRASIL all day. Tch, lucky bastard." Peroroncino snarked, but there was no real bite to his words, only humor.

"Whether the case may be, we shouldn't jump to conclusions without any concrete evidence. Emiya-san will share it with us if and when he is comfortable. Until then, we should not needlessly pry into his personal affairs." Momonga added. The discussion ceased after that final comment.

Immediately, notifications from all of Momonga's previously active wards flooded his head-up display (HUD).

"Oh no. We have attacks incoming!"

His words were proven true when Momonga's defenses were struck by several magic-based attacks, but fortunately, they were successfully blocked.

Peroroncino and Bukubukchagama sprung to their feet and readied themselves.

"Shit! Of all times…" Peroroncino cursed, pulling out his bow. "How many are we dealing with, Momonga-san?"

"… By the looks of it, around eight."

"I just [Message] Emiya-san, he's on his way back. He'll be here in about two minutes!" Bukubukchagama reported in, bringing her shields to bear.

'I don't think we have that long.' Momonga silently lamented, his notifications going crazy as his protective spells were dispelled one by one.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" A fourth, unknown voice made itself heard. The three Heteromorphs turned around to see a large party of Players ambling towards them.

Momonga grimaced. Their attackers had a full party and were all level 100, just like them. The party consisted of a tank, two frontliners, two magic casters, and a cleric. That left two Players unaccounted for, and Momonga could only assume they were either long-range support, such as an archer or sniper, or possibly a rogue or assassin. Given that they lacked Shirou as a vanguard, a balanced party like theirs would easily defeat the three of them.

"What are a couple of freaks like yourselves doing here?" The Player at the front of the group asked.

"None of your business, jackass!" Bukubukchagama ever so elegantly replied. An emoticon with its tongue sticking out appeared for good measure.

"We don't wish for any trouble. We're simply waiting for our friend." Momonga made an effort to diffuse the situation. A plan was rapidly forming in his head. If they could just stall for a minute or so, it should give Emiya enough time to come back, but even then, it'll be a difficult fight against a full party like theirs.

"I'm sorry, but I missed the part where I should give a flying fuck." The party leader snarked. And with that, negotiations broke down.

Tensing, the group readied themselves.

"Not so fast, evildoers! You will not be harming these innocent souls this day!" A boisterous voice declared in a loud tone. A Player in brilliant silver armor with a sword and shield descended upon them from above.

It wasn't the man's entrance that gave everyone pause, but rather, his gamertag. A name that was gradually becoming well-known throughout YGGDRASIL.

Touch Me - Lvl: 100 [World Champion]

Before anyone could process what just happened, another voice was heard.

"Damn it, Touch Me! We could have gotten them by surprise, but you had to ruin it!" A loud voice chastised.

Momonga swung around to face the new voice. Standing atop one of the stone pillars was another Player, a clear Heteromorph if he ever saw one. At first glance, he appeared to be a humanoid goat with gray fur and a pair of wickedly curved golden horns on the crown of his head. His hooves for feet and sharp, talon-like fingers gleamed in the light, adding to his menacing appearance. He was clothed in a combination of a black suit and obsidian robes, with a velvet cape fashioned to the backside. The vest of his suit was adorned with golden trinkets and accessories, while a crimson rose was sewn onto the fabric of his left shoulder. A black top hat sat atop his head, with a gold stopwatch attached to it, visible for all to see. To complete his ensemble, a crimson veil-like cloth and a elaborate golden mask concealed part of the right side of his face.

Ulbert Alain Odle - Lvl: 100

"What's done is done, Ulbert-san. There's no point in crying over spilled milk." A calmer voice assuaged.

Touch Me was joined by another Heteromorphic Player.

If Momonga were to articulate his impression of this entity, "eldritch" would have been the most fitting term. The Player's avatar bore a humanoid appearance that was both aberrant and perplexing. To begin with, his head manifested an uncanny resemblance to a contorted squid. From the sides of his mouth, six elongated tentacles protruded downward towards his thighs. His head was covered by a metallic headpiece, concealing his eyes, which were bluish-white orbs with a cloudy, pupil-less texture. The outfit he was wearing was uncomplicated, a black leather ensemble that covered his arms and legs, leaving his upper body exposed. Black belts of varying widths were wrapped around his body, with a black cape attached to his back. His skin was an eerie, inhuman shade of white, interrupted by patches of purple amidst the pale flesh. His hands featured only four fingers, but these digits were abnormally lengthy and possessed webbing between them. Despite his otherworldly appearance, there was an unmistakable aura of refinement surrounding the eldritch Player.

Tabula Smaragdina - Lvl: 100

'Where did they come from?' Momonga didn't have a single clue, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Nevertheless!" Touch Me took charge of the situation. "We shall not allow you to do as you please! If you wish to continue on this path of villainy, you'll have to deal with the six of us!"

"Seven." A familiar voice corrected.

As soon as Momonga heard his voice, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He quickly glanced in Shirou's direction and saw that it was indeed him. Shirou stood atop a nearby stone pillar, keeping a safe distance with his eyes trained on the enemy party. Momonga could see that he was armed with his trusty black bow and had an arrow already notched back, ready for action.

"You're… him! The [Heteromorphic Savior]…" The enemy party took a collective step back upon recognizing just who exactly Shirou was.

Momonga moved swiftly to seize the opportunity of their momentary relapse. "What will it be? Can you withstand the combined might of a [World Champion] and the [Heteromorphic Savior]?" Said Momonga, projecting a false image of bravado.

Tension rose as both sides braced themselves. Everyone kept an eye on their respective opponents. Both sides were waiting, to see who would make the first move. In the end, after several protracted seconds of silence, the standoff was broken. The enemy party chose the sensible option.

"Back it up, guys. This fight ain't worth it." The group of eight carefully and cautiously began to move backward, ensuring to maintain a watchful eye on the other Heteromorphic Players - for only a fool would leave their back open to their opponent. They couldn't be certain that a sudden ambush wouldn't be attempted. The process of backing away took an entire minute to complete. Even after the group vanished from sight, the six Heteromorphs and one human remained vigilant with their weapons and guard up, unwilling to let their guard down until they were sure the coast was clear.

"Are they gone, Momonga-san?" Shirou asked.

The answer soon came to him after a quick, silent cast spell.

"… Yes. They're moving in the opposite direction of us and aren't stopping."

Hearing this, the tension drained away, allowing them a moment to relax. Shirou jumped down and joined his friends.

"Man, for a second there, I thought we were goners." Peroroncino groaned in relief.

Momonga nodded, knowing that if the other three Players hadn't arrived as they did, things would have quickly turned ugly for them. Turning to face them, the undead was about to speak when the World Champion beat him to the punch.

"I must say, it's a pleasant surprise to meet you so soon, [Heteromorphic Savior]. May I call you Emiya-san?" Touch Me made a beeline to Shirou directly, disregarding the others momentarily. "It's an honor to meet a fellow ally of justice here in YGGDRASIL." He extended his hand in greeting.

"I, um, thank you…? And please, you give me too much credit. I'm only doing what's right. After all, it's only common sense-"

"-to help those in need." The two Players finished simultaneously. There was a brief pause as the two exchanged glances.

"… I think you and I are going to be great friends." Touch Me remarked, the smile in his voice was clear for all to hear.

"I concur." Shirou returned with his own smile, taking Touch Me's hand.

The two men shook hands energetically. Momonga got the distinct impression that his crimson-dressed friend was pleasantly surprised and happy with the meeting.

"Oh, great, they're multiplying." Ulbert bemoaned.

"You say that as if that's a bad thing, Ulbert-san." Tabula returned, chortling under his breath at his friend's lament.

The two Heteromorphs stepped forward and joined Touch Me. After releasing their handshake, the silver paladin addressed Momonga and the others.

"Ah, where are my manners? I am Touch Me, it's a pleasure to meet you all!" Touch Me happily greeted with a bow. He then shook hands with all three of them.

"I don't see why we have to introduce ourselves, but very well. You have the pleasure of meeting I, Ulbert Alain Odle, The Great Demon of Disaster!" Ulbert made his introduction with an extravagant stance, positioning one arm tucked in front of his abdomen and extending the other as if preparing to perform an eloquent bow.

"Hello, I am Tabula Smaragdina." Tabula waved at them. The Brain Eater's introduction was tame and straight to the point in comparison to the other two.

The rounds of introductions continued as Momonga, Peroroncino, and Bukubukuchagama greeted and thanked them for their timely intervention.

"Oi, oi, hurry it up already Touch Me. They don't need our help anymore. We're already late, so let's not keep Amanomahitotsu-san waiting any longer!" Ulbert insisted.

"… I'm sorry, but did you say Amanomahitotsu-san?" Shirou suddenly asked. All eyes turned in his direction.

"Yeah? What about it?"

"A Heteromorphic Player, looks like a humanoid crab with four arms, with one of the arms being a massive claw?"

"I-I… How did you… !?" Ulbert was caught flat-footed by Shirou's accurate description of their friend.

"We too were on our way to meet him…" Shirou explained.

The two groups fell silent and stared at each other for a moment. Ten minutes later, the seven of them were traveling across Vanaheim together. They exchanged light conversation as they made their way to their destination. Shirou and Touch Me in particular, hit it off quickly. They didn't have to travel far to get to the rendezvous location, which was a small hill with a view of a mountain range.

At the spot, two individuals stood patiently, both of whom were Heteromorphs. The first one stood out among them, catching the attention of everyone from Shirou's group.

The Player's avatar was a humanoid creature that resembled a crustacean, with a shell that had an orangish-yellow hue and numerous small bumps and spikes protruding from its surface, giving it an unusual look. The Player's physical appearance was quite peculiar, with two extra limbs in addition to the two typical hands. One was a claw equivalent in size to the human hand, and another was a massive pincer claw resembling that of a crab. His face was concealed by a red turban cloth, leaving only the eyes visible, protected by goggles. He clearly was no warrior, if the smithing attire was anything to go by, with various pockets snitched on and the lack of a clear weapon in hand.

Amanomahitotsu - Lvl: 95

The second Player donned a striking high-collar yellow overcoat, adorned with several layers of yellow mantles. Like Ulbert, the Player sported a fashionable top hat that featured a frontal design resembling a cross. The high collar and hat effectively concealed the Player's true appearance, except for their eyes. Additionally, a black cloth was fastened at the waist, extending down to the kneecaps. Two coattails were visible, alongside a metallic cross-like accessory that matched the one on the top hat. However, the most intriguing aspect of the Player's appearance was the two massive pinkish-black gauntlets that she had equipped. They appeared to be weighty and pack quite the punch.

Yamaiko - Lvl: 100

The moment Shirou laid eyes on them, Unlimited Blade Work got to work and categorized them within his reality marble. They were known as [Female Sensei's Iron Fist of Wrath].

"Touch Me-san! There you are, we were starting to get worried, and-Emiya-san?!" Amanomahitotsu exclaimed upon seeing his clanmates and his friend together.

From there, Amanomahitotsu and Yamaiko were both brought up to speed with a brief explanation by the group.

"Wow, that's quite the coincidence." Yamaiko whistled. "What were the odds of something like that happening?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it's Fate's hand at work. Moving us like chess pieces on a board, stripping us of true free will. A pawn to the power that be." Ulbert mused out loud, waxing poetically.

Shirou's group, who were only just becoming familiar with Ulbert's distinctively chunni speaking style, gave him a strange look for this. A glance at Touch Me's group revealed them all shrugging and quickly ignoring that peculiar statement made by the goat Heteromorph.

"By the sound of it, you planned for Touch Me-san and Emiya-san to meet each other later rather than sooner. Ain't that right?" Tabula guessed.

Amanomahitotsu chuckled demurely and scratched the back of his head, or rather, the top of his shell, in embarrassment.

"I wanted to surprise you, Touch Me-san. I met Emiya-san some time ago when he rescued me, and since you seemed interested in meeting him, I thought it would be nice to invite both of you to meet. Your personalities are quite similar, so I thought it would be a good match."

"That was very generous of you, Amanomahitotsu-san. Though I believe the surprise was ruined." Touch Me chuckled, patting the crustacean Player on the shell.

"Now that we're all here, I was thinking of extending Emiya-san and his friends an invitation to the clan." The World Champion admitted, surprising Shirou and his friends.

Shirou had received several invitations to join clans or guilds before, particularly from Heteromorphic Players he had saved over the course of several months. However, he respectfully declined all of them due to his obligation to remain unattached. Even though some of the invitations came from a place of genuine consideration, most were handed out for the sole purpose of recruiting someone as powerful as him to their side. This wasn't the first time that someone had sought him out solely for his strength, and it made him hesitant to commit to any groups he had just met, whether on this in-game world or back on Earth.

After conversing with the World Champion, Shirou felt a connection with him despite the brevity of their interaction. Touch Me's vision for the clan, which centered around the gathering of exceptional individuals under a unified banner, proved to be a persuasive argument for Shirou to accept his offer. That, and along with his friends joining him made him more inclined to agree to the invitation.

Peroroncino was seen excitedly conversing with his sister, while Momonga appeared intrigued. Amanomahitotsu had no reservations whatsoever about agreeing, while Tabula and Yamaiko did not seem to voice any objections.

However, there was one who disagreed with Touch Me's decision.

"Hold up, what happened to the 'only being a clan for Heteromorph' schtick we were going for? Doesn't that defeat the purpose if he allows a Humanoid Player in? The exact reason why you started up the clan in the first place?" Ulbert rudely remarked. The happy atmosphere dimmed a bit.

"Have I offended you in any way, Ulbert-san?" Shirou politely inquired.

"Don't flatter yourself." The goat demon swiftly dismissed. "I'm merely questioning Touch Me's flippant use of his authority."

"Why don't we put it to a vote?" Momonga suggested diplomatically.

"A vote that's heavily skewed in his favor." Was Ulbert's biting retort. "Amanomahitotsu will agree, seeing as they're already friends. Yamaiko and Tabula don't give two shit, and the rest are from Emiya's group that will want him in the clan. Eight to one, hardly a fair vote." The destructive magic caster snorted.

"I don't understand why this has you so worked up, Ulbert-san." Touch Me admitted, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice.

"Hmph." The World Disaster snorted. "If you're going to make such a proclamation, make sure you can follow through with it. Or else, you'll just look like a big liar, Mr. Hero." He sneered.

"Ulbert-san!" Touch Me exclaimed, taking an aggressive step forward.

"Enough, both of you!" The eldritch Player intervened before a fight could break out, placing his webbed hands on each of their chests to keep them apart. "Ulbert-san, do you have any personal grudges against Emiya-san?" Tabula addressed the man directly.

"Well, no…"

"Let us not forget why Nine's Own Goal was created in the first place and why we all joined. It was to aid those like us who have been persecuted unfairly and unjustly. The clan was always meant to be a place where all were welcome. Given Emiya-san's track record and his reputation, he has proven which camp he's on. Regardless of how you feel about it, Touch Me-san is the clan's leader and has the authority to choose who to invite. Emiya-san has done nothing to harm either us, the clan members, or the clan as a whole, so you, and by extension, all of us, have no right to deny him entry.

"Hmph, fine." The goat demon huffed and turned away.

"I don't want to create any trouble or conflicts among your clanmates. Maybe it's best if I don't join if it causes any problems. I'm happy to remain friends with everyone." Shirou expressed his concern.

"It's fine. It is not that uncommon for Ulbert-san and Touch Me-san to butt heads when it comes to certain things. Give it a day or two, and it'll be water under the bridge." Tabula assured him. "Despite Ulbert-san's abrasive attitude, he isn't that bad. Well, most of the time anyway… Anyhow, here you all go."

Opening the menu, he sent out the invites.

||||||||Tabula Smaragdina has sent you a clan invite. Do you wish to join "Nine's Own Goal"? [Yes/No]||||||||

Shirou was reluctant to accept after seeing the argument that it produced, but gentle coaxing from Momonga and Peroroncino convinced him to join. After selecting yes, a brief window congratulating him appeared. His friend list was automatically expanded to include a list of available Players within the clan.

With that out of the way, the group convened once more, with Touch Me and Ulbert putting their differences aside for the moment.

"So, Amanomahitotsu-san, what was this secret location that you spoke of?" Touch Me said.

"Yes, of course. It was around last week when Emiya-san accompanied me to an area called [The Stony Peaks]. We ran into a small PK party, and Emiya-san told me to run and hide. I remember stumbling into a cave somewhere near the mountainside that I didn't give much thought about until later."

"How do we know it's truly a secret area if it's plainly in the open?" Ulbert pointed it out.

"Because when I came back there with Nishikienrai-san, Takemikazuchi-san, and Bellriver-san, the entrance was gone. Like it was never there in the first place. We searched the entire area, and I couldn't find it again." The crustacean Heteromorph answered.

"Oh? That would mean this cave requires a condition to be met for it to appear again." Momonga said, stroking his bony chin.

"If that's the case, then what's the thing that triggers the appearance of the entrance? It isn't the number of Players, by the looks of it." Yamaiko noted.

The group paused as they digested the information to try and see what connection there was that triggered the appearance of the secret area.

Shirou came up with the answer: "Blacksmith." All eyes turned to him, curious to hear his explanation. "If the number of Players isn't the deciding factor, then it must be something that he and I share in common," He explained. "Amanomahitotsu-san, you have a job classification as a [Blacksmith], and so do I."

"A blacksmith? A bit of a stretch, don't you think, Emiya-senpai?" Peroroncino expressed, voicing the skepticism that the others shared. It seems a bit indeterminate, in his opinion.

"No, that's not entirely wrong." Amanomahitotsu defended, reconsidering their initial statement. "The description of [The Stony Peaks] suggests that it contains an abundance of minerals and ores that are unique to this world. This wouldn't be the first time the shitty devs made an area accessible only to certain job classes, as they have done in the past."

"Whatever the case may be, the location revealed itself when both you and Emiya-san were present. It should do so again if that's the case." Tabula concluded.

The next important task was managing the party. Since there were nine members, they decided to split into three groups of three. The first group consisted of Touch Me, Bukubukchagama, and Shirou, who served as the vanguard. The second group was made up of Peroroncino, Yamaiko, and Amanomahitotsu. Lastly, Ulbert, Tabula, and Momonga formed the backline. This formation allowed the party to minimize casualties and maximize efficiency. The DPS mages were placed in the back, and Momonga was a useful utility mage. Yamaiko could also serve as a frontline if needed and could switch with anyone, while Shirou could double as a vanguard and archer when necessary. Amanomahitotsu was placed in the middle to provide support and offer enchantments as required.

"Momonga-san, do you happen to know [Mass Fly] by any chance?" Tabula asked the undead.

"I do."

"Good. Then it'll make getting there easier."

The spell [Mass Fly] allows the caster to select up to five Players, including the caster, to fly. Tabula and Momonga cast the spell on the group, and they were on their way, with Amanomahitotsu guiding the party toward their destination. With the power of flight, they managed to skip the annoying terrain and trek, allowing them to avoid obstacles and enemies on the ground. The only thing they needed to worry about were the flying mobs. However, Shirou and Peroroncino were able to eliminate them with ease before they posed a threat. After just ten minutes, the group arrived at their destination, located on the snowy mountainside of "The Stony Peak," which was painted in beautiful white snow.

"Right there." He gestured with his large claw. It was a wall of stone, a natural part of the rocky mountain. At first glance, it appeared to be an unremarkable backdrop that one would easily overlook. However, as they approached, it shimmered like a mirage and gradually disappeared, revealing an entrance.

Upon landing, the group proceeded with caution, anticipating any potential hazards or enemies. The vanguard led the way, with the rest of the group following behind at a slow pace. As they continued further into the cavern, they came across a passageway that led to a staircase leading downward. One by one, they descended the staircase, with the torches lining the walls providing enough illumination to guide their way. Eventually, they reached the bottom, where they found a door leading to an unknown destination. Touch Me signaled to Bukubukchagama and Shirou, and upon receiving their nods, they prepared themselves for what lay ahead.

As one, they darted forward, weapons at the ready. Shirou kept a watchful eye, scanning the room for any threats or unusual activity. After about five seconds, he loosened his posture.

"I do not see anything." Shirou reported.

"Neither do I." Touch Me answered.

"All clear on my side." Bukubukchagama confirmed.

Once the all-clear signal was given, the remaining members of the party proceeded to enter the area. With the situation deemed safe, the party took a moment to relax and appreciate the breathtaking scenery. The cavern was not as spacious as originally anticipated, but it was still ample enough to comfortably accommodate all nine individuals with plenty of room to move about. Positioned at the opposite end of the chamber was a passageway that led further into the cave. The surrounding area was adorned with an array of crystal-like minerals that jutted out of the ground, walls, and ceiling. These minerals varied in size and color and reflected light in a magnificent manner that illuminated the entire area.

Shirou's [Blacksmith] class kicked in, and his vision was flooded with information regarding the quality of each crystal.

"Ore deposits, and not just that but also data crystal mineral deposits as well. I even see a few Legendary and Divine tiers mixed in."

"Looks like we hit the jackpot. Wooohooo!" Yamaiko whooped. The others join in as well, especially with such a rare and lucky discovery.

"Let's get them first before we start celebrating." The crustacean blacksmith interjected. "Emiya-san, do you have them?"

Shirou nodded. Operating his menu, he brought out several pickaxes and dumped them on the floor. In YGGDRASIL, items such as torches and pickaxes were consumables, thus, they would wear down or break after a certain amount of usage. It was for this reason that Shirou went to town to purchase some pickaxes for the venture. Amanomahitotsu and Shirou grabbed one each and got to work.

"Shouldn't we help you guys?" The pink slime asked, reaching for one of the pickaxes.

"No. With high-quality ores and minerals like these, only those with the appropriate [Blacksmith] class can safely extract them. Anyone else would just degrade the quality of the material." Amanomahitotsu explained.

"He's right. Leave this to us. In the meantime, we should still be careful as enemies might spawn or rush us from that other pathway." Shirou added.

With the utmost concentration, Shirou began mining the material. The mining process was akin to a mini-game, with circular sweet spots appearing on the deposit. Players had to manually use their pickaxes to chip away at the material, hitting the sweet spots to mine it more quickly. The quality of the mineral determined the level of difficulty in mining it to perfection, with a small margin for error when it came to Legendary and Divine data crystals. Absolute concentration was crucial to avoid making any mistakes, as a single error could result in a degraded ore or data crystal.

The next half an hour flew by in silence. The party remained vigilant for any potential mob spawns but quickly gave up by the ten-minute mark and remained silent to not disturb the two miners. They had little to do but laze about as they watched Shirou and Amanomahitotsu do their work. The more antsy Players like Peroroncino and Yamaiko were bored out of their minds but kept it to themselves. By the thirty minute mark, everyone else was starting to feel the effects of the inactivity. The only thing that kept their restlessness at bay was the prospect of the rewards that was to follow.

'This is quite the haul.' Shirou thought. One more hit, and he finally exhausted the vein deposit. Finishing the last spot, he looked back to see Amanomahitotsu finishing up as well.

"Alright, what's the score?" Ulbert eagerly rubbed his hands together.

"I've managed to mine plenty of high-quality ores like diamonds, ebony, platinum, and even adamantite. For the data crystals, there are plenty of Legendary tiers and a couple of Divine tiers all around."

"My mining results were similar to Amanomahitotsu-san's, although I have obtained more Divine tier data crystals and… huh?" Shirou trailed off as he suddenly realized something. "Where's Peroroncino-san and Yamaiko-san?"

"My brother and Yamaiko-san were getting a bit too antsy, so we decided to let them explore the rest of the area." Bukubukuchagama answered.

"Isn't that a bit dangerous?"

"Perhaps, but we didn't want to disturb you. We also gave them explicit instructions to retreat if they encountered anything. They haven't messaged us back yet, so…" Tabula said.

At that moment, the party received a group message from Peroroncino.

"[Touch Me: Peroroncino-san? Yamaiko-san? Is something wrong?]"

"[Peroroncino: Errr, not exactly boss. Turns out the passageway just leads into this smaller room. We haven't encountered a single thing.]"

"[Tabula: A room? Anything of note inside?]"

"[Yamaiko: Completely barren, save for this… statue.]"

"[Bukubukchagama: A statue?]"

"[Amanomahitotsu: What does it look like?]"

"[Peroroncino: It looks like… actually, I don't have a single idea what it looks like. It just looks… weird. Like, really weird.]"

"[Momonga: Weird? In what way?]"

"[Yamaiko: It's hard to describe. You're going to have to see it for yourselves.]"

"[Ulbert: Why the hell are we bothering with something like a statue? We just got the jackpot, and instead of distributing the loot, we're all suddenly interested in a statue.]"

"[Emiya: I don't see any harm in checking it out. We already know there are no enemies, so what's the harm in spending another few minutes in here? Who knows, perhaps it'll lead to more secrets.]"

Ulbert merely grumbled, while the others made sounds of agreement. With a near-unanimous vote, the party decided to dive further into the cave. Before arriving at the doorway to the other room, where Peroroncino and Yamaiko were waiting, the passageway grew smaller as they moved forward. The room was indeed small, only having enough space to barely fit the entire group at all.

Shirou was the last in line, walking in after everyone else.

"Huh, that is weird."

"I know, right? Wonder what it represents?"

"Maybe a boss from some flavor text? It certainly looks the part."

Hearing all these comments piqued Shirou's curiosity, increasing his pace to see the statue with his own eyes.

'I wonder what it lo… oks… lik… e.' Shirou never finished his thought as he laid his eye on the statue in the middle of the room.

Type Mercury.

More accurately, an extremely detailed statue of the ORT.

"W-what?!" He whispered.

As soon as Shirou entered the room, a surprise awaited him. The statue illuminated and vanished, transforming into shimmering particles of light. Suddenly, a magical circle materialized beneath their feet, and before they could react, the floor vanished, and the party plummeted downward.

"AHHHHHH!"

WHHHHAAAATTTT TTTTHHHEEEEEEE HHHHEEEELLLLLLL!"

"WEEEEEE'RRRRRRRREEEE!"

As the group continued to fall down the long, seemingly endless hole, their screams echoed and bounced off the walls, creating an eerie soundtrack to their descent. It felt like an eternity before, like the light at the end of the tunnel, they dropped into a new area. For a brief moment, the screams were replaced by gasps of awe as they stared in wonder at their surroundings.

However, the moment was fleeting, as vertigo took over and left them unable to react to the sudden change in circumstances. Righting his sense of balance, Shirou looked to see the ground rapidly approaching. He clenched his teeth and quickly reinforced his body to the maximum limit, bracing for impact.

It proved unnecessary as they experienced a reversal of gravity, which slowed down their descent. One by one, each of the nine individual Players safely landed on the ground. They collapsed, their labored breaths echoing throughout, as they attempted to calm their rapidly beating virtual hearts.

"What in the absolute fuck was that!"

"I think I almost had a heart attack!"

"That… that was crazy…"

"What the hell, I thought you said that there was nothing there!" Ulbert screamed, pointing an accusing finger at the avian Player.

"There wasn't, or else me and Yamaiko-san would have fallen first!" Peroroncino argued back.

"It only triggered the moment Emiya-san joined us. I can only assume, just like with the entrance, it too had a condition requirement placed on it, and having all of us together triggered it." Momonga threw out, swallowing and catching his breath.

"Tch, they would make something like that. Lure Players in and then rip the rug from under them. Damn shitty devs." Tabula cursed.

The others joined in with curses of their own. Shirou blamed a more specific individual, a certain trolling Root-damned immortal vampire.

"Anyway, it looks like there's more to this hidden area than we originally thought." Amanomahitotsu's comment snapped them out of their rage.

Upon taking in the new cavern, their eyes widened in amazement. The vast space before them was much larger and grander in scale than before. The area was abundant with hundreds, possibly thousands, of crystals varying in shape and size. Each crystal was unique; some resembled blades of grass, while others stood tall like colossal pillars that sprouted from the walls and ground. However, the crystal that stood out the most was directly above them, shining brightly and exuding an array of colors like a grand chandelier. The entire area was illuminated with a beautiful spectrum of hues, creating an atmosphere that seemed like a mystical realm. And in the heart of it all, a crystal-clear lake glistened, reflecting the surrounding crystals in a captivating performance.

The party was left in awe at the majesty of the new area. Even Shirou was taken aback by just how beautiful it was, admiring the splendid details. Say what one will about YGGDRASIL, but no one could deny that the game has some of the most stunning views, real or otherwise.

"As amazing as this is, we need to get ready." Ulbert called out to everyone.

"Huh? What makes you say that?" Peroroncino asked.

"Really?" Ulbert spread his arms, gesturing to the entire area. "There's no way those shitty devs would make assets like these and not have a boss fight or something."

"I agree with Ulbert-san. The question is, where is it?" Said Momonga, casting his gaze to look for the potential foe.

"Everyone, over there." Touch Me pointed to the lake.

Following the party leaders' words, all the Players looked towards the pristine lake. The serene atmosphere of the lake was suddenly shattered by a series of bubbles that started to appear on its surface. Gradually, the number of bubbles increased, and the once-calm waters were now in turmoil, with waves spreading outward in all directions. A shadowy formation slowly emerged from beneath the surface. Suddenly, a monstrous creature shot up out of the lake, sending sprays of water everywhere. Its head was serpent-like, covered in acid-green scales with spiky protrusions running along its length. It wasn't just one head, as it was joined by four identical heads that burst from the lake. Its body was partially concealed within the lake, yet that did nothing to hinder its gigantic form.

Shirou immediately recognized the creature. "A hydra!"

The five heads of the serpentine beast let out a monstrous roar, shaking the entire cavern itself. Crystal shards and stalactites shook loose and crashed against the ground, shattering into thousands of pieces.

Up above, far away from the Player's line of sight, a small crack appeared on the giant crystal.

Something inside stirred.

'Clink. Clink. Clink.'

The Forgotten Hydra - Lvl: 150

A massive health bar appeared beside its name and filled up.

"Everyone! Get into position, by the look of it, it's an Area Boss. It shouldn't give us too much trouble if we play it safe. Stay calm and keep focused!" Touch Me rallied.

The party quickly organized itself into the optimal position. Touch Me, Shirou, and Bukubukchagama positioned themselves close to the water. Yamaiko and Amanomahitotsu remained on standby, with Peroroncino taking to the air. Ulbert, Tabula, and Momonga stayed at the very back, where they had a clear view of the entire battlefield.

"[Iron Will], [Maximize Defense], [Honor Guard], [Feet of Flight], [Maximize Striking Power]." Amanomahitotsu applied several buffs and enchantments, aiding the vanguard.

"RRRRRAAAAAWWWWRRRRR" With a challenging roar, four of the hydra's heads shot toward the frontlines.

Clutching Bakuya and Kanshou, Shirou sidestepped the lunge. The monster's attack missed, its open jaw biting the crystal floor where Shirou had been standing moments before. Its long neck wriggled as it tried to free itself. Recognizing the monster's attack pattern, the magus unleashed a flurry of slashes and jabs at its scaly neck. The boss eventually shook itself free and hissed, rearing its head back.

"[Chaos Flames]!"

"[Nightmare Burst]!"

"[Electric Cyclone]!"

"[Solar Snipe]!"

Momonga and the rest remained far from idle as a barrage of spells and solar arrows struck the hydra, each head letting out a scream of pain.

'Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.'

Overall, the fight itself wasn't that difficult, especially with a coordinated team like theirs. Despite the boss's overall menacing appearance and size, its only form of attack was its lunge. Bukubukchagama would draw in the aggro of the boss, tanking all the damage, which allowed for Touch Me and Shirou to wail on the heads without worry or fear. Yamaiko kept the pink slime topped up with her healing while Peroroncino, Momonga, Ulbert, and Tabula fired off attacks and spells with impunity as the hydra was unable to reach the trio of magic casters. Within just five minutes, the boss's health was reduced to a little over half of its original HP.

The moment its health bar was depleted halfway, the Area Boss let out a terrifying screech. The hydra's body rocked the ground and cavern as its five heads shot forth in a blind frenzy.

Shirou dodged one, Bukubukchagama tanked another, and a third head flew through the air in a vain attempt to catch Peroroncino, who easily dodged out of the way. Two lunged at Touch Me, but the World Champion was more than ready.

"[Stalwart Shield]" His shield glowed brightly. Timing it correctly, Touch Me backhanded one of the hydra's heads with his skill, deflecting the attack.

"[Mountain Cleaver]!" Raising his sword high, he brought it down and severed the second head with a single swing. The hydra let out another ear-piercing screech at the loss of one of its heads. Bright green blood gushed from the wound like a geyser, spraying it across the battlefield as the neck wiggled wildly.

"Everyone stay clear of the blood!" Shirou warned.

His words were proven correct as hissing noises emerged from the spots where the blood landed. Smoke arose as the acidic blood melted everything it touched. As the hydra reared its long, severed neck back, the party was treated to a disgusting sight. The neck that Touch Me severed started to convulse. The bleeding halted, and flesh began to puff up and regrow. Its severed neck split and formed two entirely new heads from one neck.

Touch Me's attack wasn't the only one that incurred the transformation. A shot fired from Peroroncino and the spells from the backline destroyed the initial four other heads, leading to their regeneration. Where once there were only five heads to contend with, now there were ten. Twenty baleful eyes stared back at the party of nine.

'Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.'

With the number of heads doubled, the hydra attacked with renewed vigor, temporarily putting them on the back foot. Its hissing jaws snapped relentlessly to take a bite out of the Players.

Shirou's vast century of experience and rigorous training were prominently displayed as he adeptly kept up with the swift pace of the four heads that were charging toward him. His movements were light and nimble as he skillfully danced and avoided each lunge, delivering quick and precise attacks whenever possible. A brief glance to the side revealed Touch Me, standing his ground with unwavering determination even as he was relentlessly bombarded by six heads. He was like an unyielding rock in the midst of a raging river, steadfast and unbreakable. His sturdy shield effortlessly deflected any incoming attacks, while his sword struck with a ferocious zeal. As expected of one who holds the title of [World Champion]. Even Peroroncino, who was hovering in the air and sniping the boss, was no longer safe from harm as one or two of the beast's heads would make a sudden lunge towards the airborne Player.

The fight continued, with the Players redoubling their efforts. The initial gimmick and surprise of the Area Boss caught them off guard, but they quickly learned. Not much changed in the boss's attack pattern, save for how many heads lunged at the Players. While the hydra grew more heads the more its HP dropped, they were able to handle it. The battle in itself was far from difficult, being more repetitive, and downright boring in Shirou's mind, seeing as the massive boss's only method of attack was its bite, leaving those within the backline to attack without any worry even in its second stage. The only reason that it was taking as long as it did was due to the boss being a complete damage sponge. Reaching the ten-minute mark, the party lowered the hydra's HP into the high red, and it was time to finish the boss fight once and for all.

"Tabula-san, Ulbert-san! Now!" Touch Me ordered.

"With pleasure. [Super-Tier Magic: World's End]!" Unabated, Tabula began the channeling process for his Super-Tier Spell a minute before the depletion of the boss's health bar. With no means of reaching the back-line casters to interrupt the casting, Tabula finished the channeling in time to coincide with his clanmate's ultimate attack.

"Feast your eyes on he who has claimed the title of [World Disaster], you multi-headed reptile!" Ulbert declared. "Let the heavens be rent asunder, befall my machination, and bring with it despair and destruction! [Grand Catastrophe]!" As the one who holds the [World Disaster] class, his ultimate attack, [Grand Catastrophe], possessed destructive power that far outstrips even the mightiest of Super-Tier Spells at the cost of roughly 60% of his MP.

The Area Boss couldn't even finish its preprogrammed animation before the two spells struck it. For the briefest of moments, the whole world turned white, and Shirou was forced to close his eyes and turn away from the source. The hydra's horrifying shriek intensified, but it was drowned out by the collective blast that followed it.

Slowly, Shirou opened his eyes. The entire body of water was gone, having been completely evaporated thanks to the two spells. All that remained of the Area Boss was a shriveled corpse. With its health bar at zero, cracks appeared and spread across the once mighty hydra's body. It cracked and disappeared in a shower of light and polygons.

The party broke out into cheers at their victory.

All but one.

Something immediately stood out for Shirou.

'Where's the congratulations?" He wondered.

In the six months that Shirou has lived in YGGDRASIL, he has come to learn many of the world's mechanics and systems. While he generally kept away from full-on dungeon raids and exploration, he has come across his fair share of bosses and learned a thing or two. Namely, every time he defeated them, the system would always send a [Congratulation] screen to indicate that the fight was over and for loot to rain down.

Yet, none of that happened.

This meant only one thing. It wasn't over, not yet anyway. If so, then-

'Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.'

His ears perked up, picking up on a strange noise. Reinforcing his ears, the noises of his friends dimmed as Shirou recognized the sound, the crackling of glass. One that grew louder and louder by the second.

How long has this been going on?

What was more worrying was where the source was emanating from.

From above.

He looked up, stunned by what he saw. The massive and pristine overhead crystal he saw before was now riddled with innumerable cracks across its surface. It looked loose and all but ready to fall.

"Emiya-san?" He heard Momonga call out to him. "What's wrong…" The skeletal mage petered off as he followed Shirou's line of sight and froze. Like a domino effect, the rest of the party followed the undead's example and looked up.

CCCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!

Suddenly, a thunderous crack echoed throughout the chamber as the colossal crystal dislodged and plummeted towards the ground, bringing part chunks of the ceiling down with it. Large fragments broke off from the original, sending a deluge of crystals of varying sizes cascading down upon them, intermingled with heaps of stone and debris.

"Everyone, back away!"

It was an all-out mad sprint to get away from the general splash zone of the falling crystals. Shirou pumped all the prana he could into his [Reinforcement] as he made a beeline for the safety of the cavern walls. During his escape, he noticed Bukubukchagama and Amanomahitotsu struggling to keep up, so he grabbed them and propelled them forward with him. The falling debris was relentless, and each second felt like an eternity as they raced toward safety.

As they arrived at the walls, they braced themselves for impact, and the ground shook violently beneath their feet. Shirou couldn't help but fear that the entire underground structure would collapse onto them. The sound of debris slamming onto the empty lakebed echoed throughout the cavern, and the group was knocked to the ground by the force of the impact. For a full minute, the rumbling continued, and they waited anxiously, hoping that the worst was over. Finally, the trembling ceased, and they were left to catch their breath and survey the aftermath.

"Everyone alright?" Touch Me called out, calling for a headcount.

Despite only receiving groans and grunts, he managed to account for everyone in the party. Miraculously, everyone made it through without any injuries.

"What the heck was that?" Yamaiko voiced the question everyone was thinking.

"We never got a [Congratulation] screen when we beat the Hydra. Which means we're nowhere near finished with the boss battle just yet." Shirou grimly explained.

"Shit. Emiya-sempai is right. Fuck!" Peroroncino cursed. "Damn shitty devs, leave it to them to have a second boss right after the first!"

He wasn't alone, as the rest of the party released their usual diatribe, pinning all the blame on those shitty devs.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a silhouette of something standing in the spot where the Hydra boss had just been. Coincidentally, this was also the exact location where the main crystal had fallen and made impact.

"Was there something that broke free?" Shirou's eyes narrowed.

That silhouette looked familiar, very, very familiar. As the dust slowly settled, its form became more recognizable.

'Ba-dum!'

Shirou felt his virtual heart skip a bit. If his body could, it would have broken into a cold sweat. Dread and fear twisted in his stomach as the smoke cleared and he recognized the shape and form of the mysterious new boss.

'No… no… ! It… not possible!' Shirou screamed in his mind.

His friends' words faded away as his mind seemingly traveled back in time. No longer was he standing in an underground cavern but on an empty sidewalk. It was nighttime; darkness overtook the surroundings, with lamp posts providing what little illumination they could, and an eerie mist shrouding the area.

And from his memory, something walked out. Or rather, someone.

A little girl, one that looked no older than twelve years old, stood in front of him. Her complexion was as white as alabaster, and her white hair was as beautiful as snow, with two crimson eyes that glistened like jewels. She wore a long purple winter coat, complete with a purple cap. A serene smile graced her lips. Overall, she looked to be the perfect picture of an innocent little girl.

She was anything but innocent.

In a flash, those eyes held nothing but malice, glee, and a hint of insanity. Her smile became twisted and sneering, as if all those in her sight were nothing more than insects.

Shirou's heart raced as a shadow crept up, growing and growling before eclipsing the little girl entirely. It was an outline of a man, one easily eclipsing the girl's height, standing behind her like a silent vigil, its form hidden by fog. Everything about the shrouded figure screamed of monstrosity and danger, from its absurd height that no regular human could achieve to its looming presence. The only discernible feature within the fog were two burning red orbs that glowed with intense madness and power. As the orbs stared directly at Shirou, he felt a chill run down his spine, frozen in fear and anticipation of what might come next.

Her mouth opened, and she spoke. Her voice was as sweet as honey but dripped with malice and intent.

Three simple words. Three words that he'll remember until the end of his days.

"Get him, Berserker!"

Snapping out of his memories, he saw that the dust had finally settled down. Shirou's fears were proven correct. There, in the center of the dry lakebed, surrounded by enormous crystallized debris, was none other than a Servant. Not just any Servant, but the Mad Servant himself.

Standing there was Herakles, the Berserker of the Fifth Holy Grail War.

Berserker - Lvl: 250

Status - God Hand: [12]

Last edited: Nov 23, 2023

Chapter 3 - Nine's Own Goal vs Berserker I

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 12/15/2018

Chapter 3 - Nine's Own Goal vs Berserker I

"The foundation of a successful MMO-RPG is not just the land where Players roam but also the lore and creatures that bring the world to life. If a game is based on exploration and discovery, it wouldn't be as thrilling if there was a guide to follow. No, to bleed at your enemies' attacks, to cry in frustration at your deaths, and to scream in joy as you fell a giant with your sword. That is what strengthens the fantasy of your victories."

Nothing exemplifies this more than the bosses that populate YGGDRASIL's expansive overworld. These formidable foes provide Players with a challenge they won't forget.

YGGDRASIL offers nine distinct realms for players to explore, with over 5,000 bosses to defeat. These bosses come in various categories and sub-types, ranging from common Field Bosses, Wandering Bosses, Event Bosses, Area Bosses, and Arena Bosses to more challenging Raid Bosses, Hidden Bosses, End Bosses, and the infamous World Enemy. The latter of whom received their titles due to their indomitable strength and sheer difficulty spike.

Furthermore, unlike many of its competitors in the DMMO-RPG genre, YGGDRASIL bosses were never uncreative or boring by design. Where many games would recycle models to save on time and production, the developers boasted that each boss encounter was carefully and lovingly crafted to be a herald of the Player's doom. The most striking factor of their creation, however, was the way they challenged the player base.

Unlike the Players, they were not limited to a level cap. Enemies up to level 150, can be considered anything from Field Bosses that could be found randomly to Arena Bosses that could be challenged in large open spaces. The distinguishing feature between them is their location. While hard, a well-coordinated party would have little trouble against such opponents.

Then there were the Dungeon and Raid Bosses which fall into their own separate and unique category. They follow much of the same trend, with added difficulties. These Bosses were faced under specific conditions and in larger numbers, often restricted to treacherous multi-layered dungeons and arenas hidden throughout the realms. Fully coordinated parties or a full legion (a 36-player party) were usually required to complete these challenges.

The following tier of bosses were known as End Bosses. End Bosses were the previously perceived final category of bosses that Players thought were the strongest YGGDRASIL had to offer. At least, until the level-breaking World Bosses were later discovered. These formidable foes were leveled at 250, almost three times the maximum level of a typical Player. With their already incredible stats and abilities, defeating them was nearly impossible for an average party. A fully equipped legion with at least ONE World-Class item was needed to even stand a chance at winning.

However, that wasn't the end. As it was later discovered, there exist thirty-two mysterious and level-breaking bosses that were known as World Enemy. They were the highest category of bosses that YGGDRASIL has to offer, with each one possessing a max level of 500 and numerous abilities and stats that make it near impossible to win a fair fight. Only seven of the thirty-two have been found to date. The Eight Dragons, The Lords of the Seven Deadly Sins, The Ten Archangels of the Sephira, The Celestial Lord of the Sixth Heavens, The Five Rainbow Buddhas, The Five Celestial Death Throes, and The World Eater. It was speculated that no less than a hundred Players were needed to even attempt one of these broken bosses, which required the usage of at least two World Items to even earn a chance at victory. So far, none have been beaten, and many wonder if any could be.

The game's absurd difficulty has been a point of contention for many Players, leading to issues and points of discussion regarding how YGGDRASIL chooses to handle the game's rampant difficulty spike.

"Of course they're hard. They're called Bosses for a reason. It would be boring if all it takes is one or two retries just to kill it." - Excerpt from an interview with Zelretch regarding the game's absurd difficulty.

November 8th, 2129. World: Vanaheim. The Mysterious Cavern - End Boss Arena

Despite it being a lifetime ago, Shirou could perfectly describe every detail about the Servants he encountered during the Fifth Holy Grail War. None stood out more than the monstrous form of Berserker. Standing over two and a half meters tall, Berserker's skin resembled granite, giving him an almost inhuman-like appearance. At first glance, one might mistake him for a statue of a muscular man, bordering on the inhuman, the kind one would see in a museum. To protect his modesty, Berserker only wore an armored kilt, while his wrists and ankles were adorned with bracers.

At a second glance, one would notice that his seemingly inhuman face appeared to be set in a perpetual snarl-like expression, resembling something more like a mad beast than a man. A mop of raven-black hair flowed down its back, like a wild mane, giving him the barest resemblance to a human being. The face was twisted into a permanent snarl, with multiple bulging veins protruding from the skin and distorting the facial features. As if to complete the image of a predator, a weapon rests at his side. It was a crude instrument, appearing as if someone had taken a stone slab and carved it into a club with a sharp edge. However, it was effective given its massive size and the assumed strength of its wielder. This weapon has only one purpose: to kill.

Berserker stood there, menacingly, his cold crimson eyes glaring like a predator waiting for the opportune moment to seize its prey.

'Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.' Shirou felt his virtual heart hammering away against his chest.

When was the last time he felt this… genuine fear? Fighting against rogue magus and Dead Apostles was no cakewalk, but it was an entirely different affair when dealing with a Heroic Spirit, the manifestation of a true hero of legend.

Shirou closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Opening his eyes, Shirou quickly got to work with a clearer mind. Since Berserker hadn't yet attacked them, the magus focused on that first. His lack of immediate aggro meant that he was a Passive Boss. Passive Bosses were a rarity in YGGDRASIL outside of dungeons. Unlike the many different types of POPs and mobs that were programmed to attack on sight, Passive Bosses, as their name implies, do not. For a fight to be initiated, the Players would have to instigate the fight, drawing its aggro. A condition that easily allows a well-organized team to prepare and lay out traps and backup plans. But in turn, that meant that Passive Bosses were among the more difficult bosses to fight due to this extra stipulation.

A somewhat lucky break for them.

Secondly:

Berserker: Lvl - 250

Status - God Hand: [12]

Berserker's level was 250, putting it squarely in the category of an End Boss. Its level was secondary to Shirou when compared to the status that was beneath his name. The Noble Phantasm: God Hand, an Anti-Unit Phantasm that granted Berserker eleven additional lives. A cheat-like ability that was derived from Herakles's legend of the Twelve Labors. As if that wasn't bad enough, the Noble Phantasm also granted Berserker complete immunity from whatever it was that killed him. This effectively made it impossible to kill the Servant twice with the same method.

A fight with Berserker would be costly, as his history with the Mad Servant has shown. Were it not for Gilgamesh's intervention, Berserker would've been the most likely candidate to have won the Fifth Holy Grail War in its entirety. Under normal circumstances, it was next to impossible to truly defeat the raging Servant in the traditional sense. He knew that against Berserker's innate magical resistance and general resilience, the likes of 8th tier spells and below were more likely to bounce off him than do any damage. Even the higher tier spells would do only so much against the Servant.

With that in mind, what were their options? Their party numbered only nine, hardly a fully equipped legion, and some of them were still drained from the previous boss battle with the Hydra. No matter how one looked at it, the situation was stacked heavily against the group. Shirou would be the deciding factor, that much was for certain. But they still need a strategy…

"Emi… Emiy… Emiya-san!"

A voice called out to him. Drawn away from his thoughts, Shirou looked back to find everyone's attention focused on himself. His faithful undead friend was at his side, shaking his shoulder.

"Emiya-san, are you there? We've been calling out to you for a minute now, but you just stood there frozen." Despite a lack of facial animation, his voice was enough to convey his concern.

"I-yes. Sorry, I was just… thinking." Shirou replied, his eyes glancing toward Berserker. Again, it was uncharacteristically content with just standing there. "What were you guys talking about?"

"We were discussing ways of beating it, but-".

"It won't work." Shirou absentmindedly told Touch Me, cutting him off. This once again drew everyone's attention.

"You haven't even heard the plan yet, Emiya-san. How would you know if it will or will not work?" Tabula asked, his voice betraying hints of his apprehension and suspicion.

Shirou cursed himself mentally; had he really been so lost in thought that he forgot his situation? Here he was, standing among a crowd of individuals who held no knowledge of his history with this particular opponent. Sadly enough, he didn't have a way to take the words back. On the other hand, to quote a popular English phrase, in for a penny, in for a pound.

"If we were to fight Berserker as if it were just another boss, it'll only end up with all of us being wiped." Shirou explained. "Everyone, take a look at what is underneath his name." He pointed towards Berserker, drawing attention to the unique status prompt.

"Ahh, yes, the boss status. We were speculating on what the number could mean. Our best guess would be a counter, but for what, we don't know." Amanomahitotsu joined in.

"Lives."

"Excuse me?" Said Yamaiko, unsure of what he meant.

"Lives." Shirou repeated, his voice grim. "God Hand bestows Berserker additional lives. In total, he has twelve."

All was silent while Shirou watched as they digested the sudden revelation dropped on them. It only took a few seconds before the group burst out into discussion and commotion, with each person talking over the other. Half of them complained and cursed the shitty devs, while the others debated what to do next, especially in light of the new information they had just learned.

"How the hell do you know all of this?" Ulbert questioned, suspicion clear in his voice.

"… You wouldn't believe me even if I tried to explain."

Shirou's response only angered Ulbert.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?! Skip the vague crap and just tell us! We're in this mess because you were the one that wanted to check out the statue, and that led to us being trapped down here!"

"Feel free to blame me as much as you'd like, but rather than pointing fingers, let's figure out a way to win and escape!" Shirou shot back with a bit more fire than usual. Ulbert's antics were starting to grate on the magus's nerves and patience. He had been nothing but cordial to him, but Ulbert's antagonistic personality was starting to wear him thin.

"Easy, easy!" Touch Me intervened. Shirou silently backed off and took a deep breath to regain his composure. "While I mostly don't agree with Ulbert-san." Touch Me shot him a look, and the goat Heteromorph quickly backed down. "Ulbert-san does make one interesting point, how do you know this Emiya-san?"

"… If needs be, I'll be more than happy to tell you AFTER we deal with Berserker." He stressed.

"So what if the boss has some extra lives? Big deal. We've got you on our side, Emiya-senpai, along with Touch Me-san, a World Champion as well! Working together, we can beat it in no time." Peroroncino spoke up, trying to remain optimistic.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple." He replied, again, being the bearer of bad news. "Not only does God Hand grant Berserker additional lives, but it also strengthens him. For each method we use to kill him, he gains immunity to it. Meaning, we'll need to drop the boss's HP down to zero twelve times, with each life being finished off with a new method each time." Shirou dropped another bombshell.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"That means we need to kill it with twelve unique attacks?!"

"How the hell are we going to do that?"

"Great. That's just fan-fucking-tastic! Not only does it have multiple lives, but we can't kill it the same way twice and have to be creative in how we do it. Anything else you want to add, Emiya? Does it also have an instakill move or something ridiculous to add to the pile?" Ulbert sarcastically quipped, but even Shirou recognized that the arch-demon was feeling anxious.

"Were it any other situation, I would say it's impossible with our current numbers. That is, if you don't count me."

"What do you mean, Emiya-san?" Said Bukubukchagama.

Rather than directly voicing his answer, he extended his hands. Blue motes of light gathered and merged around his forearms. In a sudden burst of light, a set of eye-catching pink gauntlets materialized, an exact recreation of Yamaiko's own.

"I-what?" Yamaiko shockingly mumbled. She looked down at her gauntlets before looking at Shirou's. She repeated this a few more times just to make sure she was seeing it correctly. They didn't just look similar, they were a one-to-one copy.

"I wanted to keep this a secret, but if I had a choice, I would much rather show it all now to you all of my own volition than by accident. This is my special ability, if you will. Projection." Shirou dismissed the copy of Yamaiko's gauntlet, and in another flash of light, a traced copy of Touch Me's sword - [Heroic Triumph - Divine Tier Sword] - appeared in his hand. Holding it out to Touch Me, the silver paladin gingerly grabbed it and raised his own, appraising both weapons at the same time.

"They're identical." Touch Me breathlessly muttered. "The stats are a bit lower compared to mine, but it's practically a one-to-one recreation."

"Wait a second. I thought you were a rogue/archer hybrid, Emiya-san." Momonga immediately questioned.

Hearing this, Shirou allowed himself a small chuckle. "Ah, but Momonga-san, when have I ever said that?"

Momonga opened his mouth to answer but found none coming to him. Recalling Shirou's exact words, an epiphany struck him.

Never. Shirou never openly expressed the type of build he was using. With the benefit of hindsight, Momonga realized that Shirou never explicitly confirmed or denied any rumors about him. He performed the role of a rogue/archer hybrid class build so convincingly that everyone, including himself, assumed that was his true identity. He didn't necessarily lie, he merely avoided speaking the truth by making his actions speak for themselves and allowing others to weave a narrative of their own from his choices.

"I must say, Emiya-san, your ability or skill is impressive. However, I fail to see how it will aid us in this battle. Won't God Hand render any attempt to kill him useless?" Tabula questioned.

"That's true, but there's a catch to his power. If I were to use a particular skill to take one of Berserker's lives while wielding Touch Me's sword, then God Hand would adapt to make the boss immune not only to the weapon but also to the skill that killed him. However, if I were to use a different weapon…"

He raised his second free hand, and a golden sword appeared out of thin air.

"… Then it would count as a separate method, bypassing God Hand's parameters." Finished Shirou, showing the stats of the weapon being on par with Touch Me's maxed Divine tier weapon. One by one, it clicked into each member's head. Shirou's tracing ability was the perfect counter to Berserker's God Hand.

"How many weapons are you capable of summoning, Emiya-san?" Touch Me turned to him.

"More than enough." Shirou's answer came, matching the World Champion's gaze.

"… I see. I call for a vote to transfer leadership to Emiya-san! He appears to be the most knowledgeable regarding this boss and is our best chance at beating him. Does anyone object?" Touch Me called to order.

A round of no's later, Shirou was quickly explaining all he could. Berserker still hadn't moved a muscle, allowing the team to strategize and come up with a plan of attack to tackle the monumental challenge in front of them. They needed every second they could get.

In YGGDRASIL, unlike other MMO-RPGs, there was no easy or quick method to replenish one's MP when it ran out or became low. While certain potions could boost MP regen, there was no immediate refill available. The developers purposely designed the game this way to create a challenge for Players, forcing them to be cautious with their spells and not recklessly spam them. This added an extra layer of difficulty to the game, as low MP for magic casters could spell the doom of the battle or raid.

This was just one of the issues Nine's Own Goal was facing. The previous boss battle with the Hydra left the trio of magic casters relatively low on their total MP. They splurged their MP on the previous boss, as at the time, they had no idea there would be a second, more powerful boss fight ahead of them. Ulbert was particularly affected, as his final attack had depleted 60% of his MP bar. Shirou tried to help by sharing his limited supply of high-tier MP regen potions from his inventory. However, it would take at least four hours before any of them would fully recover, so they gathered as much as they could in the meantime. Unfortunately for them, time wasn't on their side.

At the twenty-minute mark, a timer appeared just above Berserker's head, counting down from ten minutes. It wasn't hard to guess what the countdown represented. This sudden time limit only hastens their planning and preparations, or else they would end up facing Berserker with only a half-baked plan in place. With what little time they had left, they reviewed their plan one last time.

Shirou believed in the adage: No plans survive first contact with the enemy. The virtual magus had lost count of the number of times he went in prepared only to have to improvise his way out of a situation.

As the boss battle approached, the lack of information about the Berserker they would face was a major concern. There was a chance that this Berserker was different from the one Shirou had fought years ago. It could be stronger, weaker, or possess a range of new abilities and skills typical of high-level NPCs. Shirou couldn't help but feel suspicious about the Madness Enchantment given to all Berserker class Servants. In truth, he half expected Berserker to attack them the moment he appeared, but he didn't. Was there something he was missing? Whatever scheme Zelretch cooked up, it wouldn't be good, that much was for certain.

As the timer ticked down to less than a minute, the group scattered and positioned themselves strategically. The terrain had drastically changed, now covered in broken crystalline slabs that obstructed movement and limited their freedom. The casters hung back, keeping a large distance between themselves and the boss. Peroroncino took to the air, while Amanomahitotsu and Yamaiko stood at the ready in the middle, prepared to support the front lines. At the forefront, Shirou, Touch Me, and Bukubukchagama stood, each on a different side, watching warily as Berserker stood alone on the empty lake bed.

It was decided that Yamaiko was too precious with her healing to serve as an off-tank, so that role lay solely with Touch Me and Bukubukchagama.

Only twenty seconds remain.

"Peroroncino-san. On my mark." Shirou called out.

"Roger Emiya-sempai!" High above the ground, Peroroncino floated, his golden bow at the ready. Notching the string of light back, particles of solar energy formed and condensed into an arrow. The light from it grew with every passing second, charging his shot.

Only when five seconds remained did Shirou give the order.

"Mark!"

"[Hyperion Flash]!" Peroroncino called out, releasing the arrow of condensed light.

The attack reached Berserker within half a second and struck him dead center. The conflagration of the attack burned bright, almost like a miniature star. The dust quickly settled to reveal naught but a scratch on him. The only clue that showed he did indeed take any form of damage was a slight reduction in Berserker's massive HP bar.

Finally, Berserker moved, his muscles bulging and contracting. The ground rumbled as the giant prepared itself. The Servant's two crimson orbs flared, glaring at all in his sight.

"▁▂▃▃▅▄▉█!" Berserker released a guttural roar, sending miniature shock waves and shaking the cavern. The boss's face twisted into an animalistic snarl. With a single step, the Mad Servant launched himself towards Shirou and the rest, each step cracking the floor beneath its feet.

Shirou braced himself as Berserker charged. His first target, none other than Bukubukuchagama.

"I got him! [Iron Defense], [Maximum Fortress]!" The ever-faithful tank of the party called out as the others moved to confront the rampaging Berserker directly.

Rearing his weapon back, Berserker swung his axe-sword at the Elder Slime as she raised her shields. The weapon struck the heavy defense with a powerful impact, causing ripples to shake through her pink, gelatinous form. Berserker let loose a flurry of slashes, hammering relentlessly against the slime's defense and skin. However, Bukubukchagama held strong and managed to withstand the onslaught, although her HP dropped by approximately 7% due to the initial rush of attacks.

Touch Me and Shirou swiftly entered the battle. Kanshou and Bakuya sang in Shirou's hands as he moved with lightning speed, delivering precise slashes and piercing the Servant's tough iron skin. The anti-monster attribute of his Noble Phantasm proved effective in causing damage to Berserker. Touch Me's was no slouch either, as his noble silver blade was equally impressive, its arcing strikes relentlessly pounding the once mighty demi-god.

"▃▃▂▅▅▅!" Berserker roared in pain. He swung his weapon in a wide arc in an attempt to cleave the attackers in half or at least drive them back. Shirou easily maneuvered around the massive weapon, while Touch Me used his shield to block the attack.

"Uggh!" The paladin grunted, pushed back by the powerful blow.

Berserker set his sights on the insectoid paladin and readied an attack, only to be interrupted.

"[Draw Hate]!" Bukubukchagama activated her skill, and an explosion of yellow aura poured forth. Instantly, Berserker's attention moved from Touch Me back to Bukubukchagama again. [Draw Hate] was a very useful skill that draws in the aggro of any bosses or enemies nearby, helpful in drawing attention away from non-tank Players. Berserker swung his axe-sword, and the pink Elder Slime tanked the hit, allowing Touch Me to retreat to a safer distance.

"[Rapid Fire]!" A series of light arrows fell on the giant and detonated. Growling, Berserker's attention turned upwards to where Peroroncino snipped from. Stomping his feet, Berserker showed he was full of tricks as the boss launched himself toward the golden archer with the intention of swatting it out of the air like a fly.

"[Rail Fire]!"

"[Twin Thunderclap]!"

Two spells were fired in the middle of Berserker's ascension. With little in the way of maneuvering the attack, the two spells brought the Heroic Spirit of Rage crashing back down to the ground. Berserker slammed into one of the crystal pillars. Looking at its health bar revealed that the boss had only lost 7/8 of its initial health pool but was still solidly in the green.

'So far, so good.' Shirou thought, observing the initial skirmish with Berserker going as planned. The strategy was straightforward, keep moving and attacking. In order to minimize casualties, the group would alternate the Hate and aggro of Berserker, allowing the party to kite the colossal boss with minimal effort. While it was a slow method of chipping away at its massive health bar, it appeared to be effective.

Attack. Drawback. Attack. Drawback. Rinse and repeat.

Simple, and if the fight was anything to go by, it was working.

Still, Shirou couldn't shake the sense of unease he felt. If anything, it only intensified as the battle went on. The fight was going smoothly. Too smooth for Shirou's liking. The Berserker he was facing in front of him was far weaker than he initially imagined. To put it bluntly, the fight with this virtual Berserker felt sluggish in a way. Berserker's movement, speed, and general sense of flow felt scripted, like many of the computerized bosses within YGGDRASIL. The digital Servant had a set of scripted movements rather than the natural and fluid motion it possessed during the Fifth Holy Grail War.

Shirou shook his head. Now wasn't the time to get caught up in what-ifs. Fake or not, Berserker was an End Boss, one that demanded nothing less than their full attention and strength.

Getting back to the battle at hand, the plan continued forward with little issue. Shirou, Touch Me, and Bukubukchagama would work together to draw in Berserker and do as much damage as they could. Amanomahitotsu provided helpful buffs for the party, while Yamaiko kept their slime tank topped off. Peroroncino would act as interference, drawing Berserker's attention and Hate from time to time to give the vanguard a break and strike with explosive attacks. Once the Birdman Heteromorph had Berserker's attention, the trio of magic casters in the back could attack without worrying about friendly fire. When Berserker's Hate level shifted to Momonga or one of the others, Bukubukchagama would use [Draw Hate] again to shift the boss's focus back to the vanguard.

In essence, they were leading Berserker around like a horse with a stick and carrot.

After several long minutes, they managed to whittle down Berserker's health into the red zone.

Despite Super-Tier Magic being hailed as the strongest spells in all of YGGDRASIL, there were some bosses known to have certain resistances and even immunities to them under specific conditions. The party was unsure if Berserker possessed either, so they played it safe and reserved it until they knew for certain that the spell would finish the boss off.

"Tabula-san! Start it now!" Touch Me gave the order, moving on to the last stretch of their plan.

"Roger!" The Brain Eater replied. Spreading his arms apart, a transparent dome comprised of magic circles appeared around Tabula, encompassing the eldritch magic caster. Archaic runes and letters flashed to life, rotating in motion with the magic circles.

Amongst the group, besides Ulbert, Tabula was hands down the second most powerful magic caster. His specialty came from high damaging charged-up spells and Super-Tier Magic, compared to Ulbert's short but ultimate burst of DPS spells.

All they needed to do was keep Berserker preoccupied for no more than a minute.

Simple. However, like all things in life, it was never as simple or easy as it appeared.

Something changed in Berserker, so suddenly that it came as a surprise. Berserker stopped mid-swing, frozen, as if someone had pressed the pause button on a remote. Bukubukuchagama watched with no shortage of confusion at seeing the boss halt its assault on her. The Servant's head snapped away from the slime, his burning crimson orbs seeking out and homing on Tabula. With haste, the boss ignored everyone and made a mad dash toward the squid-faced Heteromorph. An action completely out of the norm from what they witnessed before.

Shirou's eyes widened. 'What the… !' Impossible! There was no reason for Berserker to suddenly switch targets when all of Berserker's Hate was on Bukubukuchagma. To ignore his previous programming and follow his instinct instead. That was…

"Do not allow the boss to reach Tabula-san!" Touch Me exclaimed, giving chase after the Servant.

"[Splinter Shot]!" Peroroncino fired several arrows of light that promptly split apart into even smaller but speedy arrows.

Berserker once again surprised everyone with an unexpected maneuver. With great forte and speed that betrayed his bulky appearance, the Mad Servant weaved and even countered the incoming fire. Its previous stilted movement and style were replaced with something much deadlier, reminding Shirou of the original Berserker.

"[Trace bullet]!" Shirou invoked, thrusting his hand forward. The magic circuits within glowed and activated, humming as pure mana coursed through them. Appearing above him were seven or so basic swords, D-rank at best. He poured all the prana he could into these swords, turning them into Broken Phantasms.

At the rate Berserker was going, none of them would reach him in time, but his swords could.

"Trace fire!" With a command, they rocketed forward at their maximum speed. They flew across the battlefield and reached the rampaging boss. The user mentally adjusted the trajectory of their swords, directing them to strike Berserker's side and push him away from Tabula. Berserker detected the incoming danger and destroyed three of the swords, detonating them prematurely. Nevertheless, the remaining four swords hit their target, successfully diverting the giant from his original path.

"Holy shit! Did Emiya-sempai just fire swords at it?! That's sooo cool!" Peroroncino gushed.

"Fanboy later, Otouto! Keep him grounded!" Bukubukuchagama ordered, rushing to meet the boss to keep it locked down.

Pumping more prana into his legs, Shirou was the first to reach Berserker, and he kept him preoccupied. All he needed to do was stall for fifteen more seconds!

And he did.

"[Super-Tier Magic: Call of the Old Ones]!" Tabula summoned his ultimate attack, causing a surge of power to course through his body.

Shirou quickly reacted, strengthening his leg and jumping back, distancing himself from Berserker. As Tabula's spell took effect, a nauseous green spell circle materialized above and below Berserker, crackling with energy. The two circles spun rapidly, generating an intense amount of power that could be felt in the air. Without warning, the spell was unleashed, releasing a burst of neon green and black energy that shot forth from both circles. Within the stream of magic, the outline of an eldritch horror flickered. The attack lasted for a full ten seconds, leaving behind a sense of awe and power.

Where once the muscled Berserker stood, only a smoking, shriveled-up husk of a corpse remained. Its health bar was reduced to zero.

Status - God Hand: [11]

The group didn't even have time to celebrate before steam hissed from Berserker's body. God Hand had been activated, and with it, life slowly returned to the raging Servant.

"It would seem you were indeed correct, Emiya-san. Quite the frightening ability this boss has." Touch Me commented, seeing the boss slowly regenerating back to full strength.

It took all their effort just to take one of Berserker's lives, and now they would need to do it again.

"You have no idea…" Shirou wryly answered. Mentally, he was timing Berserker's regeneration. If memory serves him correctly, Berserker's God Hand typically took around seven to ten seconds for full regeneration. Here, it took a full twenty seconds.

"▂▃▃▃▅▅▆▇▇▇!" Berserker roared back to life, revived and ready for battle.

"One life down. Eleven more to go…" Shirou mumbled to himself.

Dashing towards the Servant, the battle began anew. Again, the feeling of unease returned as Berserker switched back to its scripted attack patterns.

When strategizing how to defeat Berserker, the group decided to prioritize checking off the use of magic. This included Tabula's Super-Tier Magic and Momonga's trump card. The reason for this decision was due to Berserker's extremely high resistance to magic and endurance, making it nearly impossible for any magic below the 8th tier to cause any damage to the boss. With limited MP reserves and high mana costs for these higher tier spells, the group wanted to get the magic kills out of the way first. This would allow them to focus on providing buffs and utility spells as needed during the boss battle.

Berserker's second life was a repeat of the first, with the group kiting the absolute hell out of the boss, and running it ragged until Berserker's second health bar finally turned red like before.

Tabula had his turn, now it was time for Momonga to shine.

"[The Goal of All Life is Death]!"

Momonga's trump card, and one that he stumbled upon by complete chance. This powerful skill was only accessible to him after he unlocked the super-secret job class of [Eclipse], which he obtained through the advanced undead racial class of [Overlord]. The [Eclipse] class specialized in instant death magic and necromancy, and when combined with the ultimate skill, [The Goal of All Life is Death], Momonga's power was boosted beyond compare. Any instant death spells or skills he used while this skill was activated could bypass all immunities and resistance, regardless of whether they were from Players, mobs, or bosses. For none can stand before the Eclipse Lord of Unlife!

A spectral-like clock appeared behind Momonga, it rang once like a towing bell, signaling an impending death. The [Goal of All Life is Death], while powerful, required start-up time. Fortunately for them, they didn't have to wait as long as they did in comparison to Tabula's Super-Tier Magic.

Shirou wasn't imagining it this time. He recognized the shift in the virtual Berserker's stance and actions. The boss stopped his previous assault on Touch Me and ignored its Hate value in favor of Momonga the moment he activated his skill.

'The trigger appears to be either an attack or spell that has the potential to finish it off.' Shirou noted.

"[Trace Bullet: Rapid Fire]!" Shirou summoned two dozen or so weapons and fired them as soon as they materialized. Berserker couldn't reach the skeletal mage in time because of the fast-moving projectiles. Twelve seconds passed, and the clock rang twice, signaling the completion of the skill.

Momonga's skeletal visage darkened. The shadows lengthened around him, shrouding his form as his crimson orbs burned with an ardent fury, bright and full, reflecting off the alabaster skull. At that moment, he truly became death personified.

"[Death's Embrace]!" A 10th tier spell and one of Momonga's personal favorites. On its own, it was a powerful spell. However, it has a secondary effect of instant death depending on the missing health percentage of its target. The spell had its usage in PvP, but its true calling was a finishing attack against bosses with ridiculously high HP values.

Momonga thrust his hand forward in the direction of Berserker and pulled back. In his skeletal hand was a white wisp, the 'soul' of his target. Forming a fist with his bony hands, he crushed the 'soul' of the boss.

Berserker abruptly stopped and dropped dead, falling like a puppet with its strings severed. The party watched as the boss's HP rapidly decreased to zero.

Status - God Hand: [10]

"Everyone sitrep." Shirou called out. They had twenty seconds, better not waste them.

"I'm full health." Touch Me answered back

"I'm all topped up as well." Said Bukubukchagama.

"My MP is getting a bit low, but nothing I can't handle. I'll keep you guys healed up, no problem." Yamaiko confirmed.

"Same, but I can still manage to buff the party if need be." Amanomahitotsu agreed.

"I'm a 110% ready sempai!" Chimed in Peroroncino.

"I'm down to roughly 10% of my MP." Momonga informed, using another MP regen potion.

"Same. Though if what you said is true, I doubt our spells would do jackshit against him now." Ulbert added, topping off with an MP regen potion as well.

"Unlike the other two, mine is perfectly healthy. I'll be assisting Amanomahitotsu-san if needed." Tabula reported.

"Good. We're moving on to the next step! Are you ready, Touch Me-san?"

A quick look revealed that Berserker had completed about half of his regeneration. The World Champion nodded, to which Shirou returned with one of his own.

"Trace on!" As he extended his hand, his magical circuit surged with increased power and brightness. This time, he wasn't creating a basic weapon. Instead, neon lighting erupted from his palm in a wild and untamed manner. With a firm grip, he summoned a weapon from Unlimited Blade Works.

[Durandal: The Peerless Sword - Divine Tier Sword]

The sword of Roland, leader of the Twelve Paladins of Charlemagne, boasted a striking appearance with a golden and black cross-guard and an equally sleek black hilt. Within the sword's pommel, there rests a small yet beautiful crystal orb, adding a touch of elegance to its overall design. While Durandal's blade may appear simple, the sheer brilliance and radiance it exudes prove otherwise. This sword was truly a work of art and a symbol of Roland's unwavering valor and strength. Here, it would be put to the test.

"I must say, Emiya-san, you are full of surprises. I'm curious as to what else you have stored." Touch Me spoke softly, enraptured by the sword's magnificence.

"If we make it out of here alive, I'll be more than happy to give you a peek. For now…" Shirou's attention turned solely to Berserker, who had fully regenerated.

"Indeed." Touch Me gratefully took Durandal from Shirou's hand. "Come! Let us vanquish this foe!" With a flourish, Touch Me struck a pose with Durandal pointing at Berserker, his cape flapping majestically. A radiant glow emitted from the silver paladin and Durandal, one that wasn't there before.

'Is Durandal reacting to Touch Me-san?' Shirou wondered. Roland was a paladin himself and the leader of his order, so there were some connotations between him and the World Champion paladin.

"[Lion's Pride], [Greater Force of Will], [Enchanted Arms], [Nature's Blessing], [Greater Stamina Boost], [Guard Force], [Lowe's Boost], [Lesser Essence], [Warriors Power], [Greater Boost Luck], [Pride's Strength], [Greater Regeneration]."

A plethora of enchantments and buffs were applied to the vanguard courtesy of Amanomahitotsu, Tabula, and Yamaiko.

"▅▅▃▃▃▅▆!" Berserker roared and charged forward. Touch Me let loose a passionate battle cry of his own and charged headlong into battle. The paladin easily overtook both Shirou and Bukubukchagama and met Berserker's strike head-on. The clanging of steel and stone reverberated from the clash as a shockwave pulsated outward. Touch Me not only matched the Servant's strength but even seemed to overpower it for that singular moment.

"[Cross Blade]" Durandal glowed, and Touch Me attacked. Four slashes struck Berserker and left the son of Zeus reeling. Following up his attack, Shirou dashed towards Berserker, unleashing a flurry of slashes upon the boss's unprotected flank, drawing its Hate.

The digital copy of the Greek hero growled in annoyance and tried swatting him away like one would a pesky fly, but it proved more difficult than it had originally anticipated. The attackers had moved to the other side of the cavern, where many large crystalline debris covered the area. Using one of the many crystal debris slabs as improvised cover, Shirou weaved through the field, using the terrain to his absolute advantage. Berserker's axe-sword smashed against the pillar but was unable to reach him in the enclosed space. For something as massive as Berserker, the debris field was ideal for limiting the boss's overall movement.

Dashing from cover, Shirou resumed his assault against the Servant. Touch Me quickly fell into rhythm with Shirou, and the two worked well trading blows against the boss. Should Berserker wise up and focus on the World Champion, Bukubukchagama or Peroroncino would intervene, either tanking the boss's hit or drawing its Hate with a barrage of arrows. While the strategy was indeed effective, its one flaw was how tedious it was. With magic being out of the picture for the foreseeable future, all damage relied solely on Shirou, Touch Me, and Peroroncino to deal the necessary damage to Berserker to chip away at its HP.

'Still, we're making good progress.' Shirou considered, seeing the headway they were making toward Berserker's third health bar.

"Forgive me, Emiya-san, but would it be too much trouble if I continued this fight on my own?" Touch Me suddenly requested. This snapped him out of his musing and broke his stride for a moment.

"W-what?!" Shirou exclaimed, faltering for only a second.

He was unable to say anymore as Berserker intervened, sensing an opening against the magus. Shirou managed to defend against the attack but was left reeling. The situation ceded to Touch Me as he intercepted an incoming swing with Durandal, forcing the boss's attention on him.

Matching his strength, the two locked blades in a stalemate. With neither backing down nor their weapons giving way, Berserker pulled back his fist and launched a powerful straight punch toward the paladin.

"[Reflection]!" His shield, [Earth Recover - Divine Tier Shield], glowed, and he parried Berserker's attack, staggering the demi-god Servant in the process.

"[Vorpal Pierce]!" Breaking the deadlock, he stabbed Berserker in the chest, and Durandal released a burst of energy. The boss was forced back by the attack after it pierced his back.

The World Champion didn't relent and continued his assault, giving it little time to recover.

"[Spiral Wave]."

"[Vortex Strike]."

"[Force Burst]."

"[Revenant Fang Cutter]."

"[Visceral Blade]."

"[Devastating Cleave]."

Touch Me used skill after skill, each one pummeling Berserker with the force of a truck. Every mighty blow managed to send the Servant-turned-boss reeling back. Every skill and strike flowed from one into the next and the next, resembling a graceful dance as he all but put Berserker in a constant staggered state, unable to properly recover and counterattack. Touch Me effectively had Berserker in a mini stun-lock. As the faker looked on, Shirou wondered if it was just him or if Touch Me was getting faster, never once breaking his stride.

The World Champion continued to rain down blow after blow, not allowing Berserker even a moment of respite. Shirou continued to watch, enraptured by the performance Touch Me was giving while keeping an eye out for any openings for him to enter the fray. Though, from the looks of things, it seemed that their assistance may not be needed after all. And it wasn't just him, the rest of the party watched the ongoing fight with gleaming, awe-filled eyes.

"Damn, I knew Touch Me-san was good, being a World Champion and all, but seeing it…" Peroroncino muttered, but it was loud enough for all to hear. A sentiment Shirou agreed with. In truth, the magus knew little regarding the title of World Champion. He knew it was a title bestowed upon those the developers consider to be THE best Players within all of YGGDRASIL through some tournament. However, it wasn't until he saw it in the form of Touch Me soloing Berserker, that he truly saw how appropriate and well-earned the title was.

The silver-haired Player could probably count on one hand the number of people he had met who could accomplish such a feat.

"[Heavenly Reflection]!" Blocking with his shield, sparks flew as Berserker recovered enough to attempt a counterattack. His axe-sword grinded and recoiled as it made contact with Touch Me's silver shield, unable to power through his staunch defense.

"Raarrgh!" Touch Me roared. As his skill activated, a burst of white energy expanded from his shield as he parried the attack, sending Berserker staggering backwards. Briefly dismissing his shield, Touch Me grasped Durandal with both hands and raised it for an overhead strike. A resplendent aura surged from Touch Me, the ground beneath him cracking as Durandal radiated pure holy light to the point of near blinding.

"[World Break]!" He swung, and the world went silent. The only way for Shirou to describe the sensation was as if suddenly all noise died, replaced with a distant, numbing ringing in his ear.

[World Break]. THE ultimate attack of those who bear the title of [World Champion]. The ultimate warrior skill that no other skill could compare to, be it in terms of raw damage or versatility. An attack that slashes through the very fabric of space, time, and reality.

The rest watched as Durandal descended. One second, Berserker was completely fine, his HP in the lower yellow. The next, reality shifted slightly, as if a line had been distorted and cut through. Nearly half of Berserker's right side of his body was completely gone. It didn't stop there as Touch Me's attack traveled, cleaving away in a straight line the ground behind the Servant, along the wall, and up to the ceiling. Berserker let out a dying grunt before its body flopped to the side lifelessly, its third life was taken by only a single skill.

Status - God Hand: [9]

Shirou couldn't help but go slack-jawed at what he saw. 'Was Durandal always this powerful?' He thought.

The number of times he traced Durandal and used it could be counted on two hands alone. Yet it never once displayed the power that he witnessed. Perhaps the weapon was always that powerful, or perhaps Touch Me brought out its full potential.

Peroroncino summed it up perfectly. "Holy shit…"

Jumping backward, Touch Me joined Shirou and the rest.

"I apologize for the sudden scare and request Emiya-san. I know that wasn't part of the plan, but I couldn't help myself."

"I-it's fine. It did work out in the end." Shirou coughed, recomposing himself. "Although, I do have to ask about that…"

"Apologies… It's just been a while since I've fought against something that has gotten my blood to boil like this one here." Touch Me gaze dropped to Durandal. "I got a bit overexcited." He sheepishly admitted.

'Touch Me is quite the battle maniac. Who knew?' Shirou thought, bemused.

The conversation was put on hold as Berserker revived itself once more. Due to the damage, he was slow to pick himself back up as the group organized themselves.

"Touch Me-san, if I may." Shirou held out his hand. The insectoid paladin was reluctant to let go of Durandal, but he knew he had to for the next step of the plan.

"I do have a question, Emiya-san." Touch Me said, reequipping [Heroic Triumph]. "Wouldn't Durandal be ineffective at harming Berserker due to God Hand making it immune to the weapon?"

"You would be correct, Touch Me-san." Shirou dismissed the holy blade for later. "There's an idea I wish to try. If it works, then all the better for us." Shirou got ready by projecting a fresh set of Kanshou and Bakuya.

Despite the damage sustained, Berserker was back, and their fight resumed.

Durandal was a revered sword, said to have matched the legendary Caliburn in terms of status and power. The holy sword was blessed with three miracles and boasts incredible passive abilities. Its peerless sharpness remains intact no matter what, and it was indestructible. Even Roland could not destroy his own sword, despite his attempts.

These three miracles of Durandal have been lost to time, with very little information remaining. This has led to speculation among many people. Some believe that these were divine miracles that could be summoned in times of great need. Others postulated that the miracles were simply part of the holy sword's inherent abilities. The two groups couldn't agree on which explanation was true. Shirou was similar in his thinking with the latter but didn't care much either way. He knew that Durandal was an A-ranked Noble Phantasm that required a lot of prana to trace, which he couldn't afford with his average reserves. Therefore, he preferred to use more affordable and viable options.

One of the miracles of the artifact was accidentally discovered and utilized by Shirou. While on a mission to track down Dead Apostles, he came across one in a rural town in Hungary. The Apostle had undergone modifications, making it impossible to defeat without the use of powerful holy swords. During the ensuing fight, which broke out in the middle of the night, civilians were thrown into a state of panic.

Shirou remembered the vampire ordering his servants to use them as meat shields. Desperate at the time to save as many as he could, and wielding Durandal, it granted him one of its miracles.

Mentally returning to the battlefield, Shirou discerned that Berserker's fourth health bar was low enough for the attack he had in mind to work.

"Touch Me-san! I'm preparing the attack!"

"Understood! He shall not get past us, Emiya-san!" Touch Me declared with fire in his voice. He ran forward and joined their fellow pink slime companion in holding off Berserker.

With that sorted out, it was finally time. Shirou began the incantation by calling forth the peerless blade once more.

"O' blessed sword, hear my wish…" Shirou chanted. A faint light sparked within the crystal jewel in its pommel.

As expected, Berserker instinct warned it of the danger. With a snarl, the Servant attempted to reach Shirou but was met with resistance.

"… Judge me worthy, oh sacred miracle… " Shirou continued. The light grew brighter and coursed through the sword, working its way from the pummel to the hilt, to the guard, and lastly to the blade.

Berserker roared, raging against the Players like a wild beast against a cage, denying it its freedom. Touch Me and Bukubukchagama remained steadfast.

"… Blessed thee with power, power to halt all that would do harm…" Shirou closed his eyes and raised Durandal high. Light and prana coursed from the blade and upwards, like a shining beacon.

Berserker only grew more frantic. It knew it was about to die. It needed to stop whatever was coming!

"… Let all thou shall know your name and face its miracle!" His grip on Durandal tightened. Opening his eyes, he swung the sword.

Brutely forcing his way through the assembled defenders, Berserker darted towards Shirou. Unfortunately, it was too late to stop what was to come.

"DURANDAL!"

A burst of pure white light shot forward from the swing, engulfing everything in front of him. It was similar to an Excalibur blast, illuminating the world in white. The light slowly dimmed, his vision returning to him as Shirou dismissed Durandal. Despite being within the blast zone of Shirou's attack, everyone was completely unharmed. The same couldn't be said about Berserker.

Most of its outer skin and muscles were vaporized, leaving only the skeletal remains of the boss.

Status - God Hand: [8]

"That's four lives down… Eight more to go… Shirou mumbled. Suddenly, he was struck by a wave of fatigue, bringing him to his knees. "I see that hasn't changed." He couldn't help but chuckle.

Durandal miracles were indeed powerful, however, Shirou never relied on them much during his time on Earth, as his body could never withstand the usage's aftereffects. The Noble Phantasm drew on the user's strength of will, in addition to consuming a large amount of prana, and would often exhaust him completely if used recklessly. Normally, it would take him anywhere from thirty seconds to a minute to recover, but considering his previous occupation, even a wasted second could lead to death. Unfortunately, it seemed that aspect had carried over to YGGDRASIL.

"At least I've got friends to hel-"

'PPPPSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTT'

Shirou's train of thought came to a grinding halt as his ears were assaulted by a loud hissing noise. His head snapped to Berserker's remains. Unlike the previous iterations where the Servant's flesh would simply sew and mend itself together, this time blood-red markings spread across his body, with steam accelerating the regeneration.

Where before it would've taken twenty seconds to regenerate, this time Berserker finished in ten seconds.

"▂▃▃▃▅▅▅▅!" Revitalized, Berserker roared and made a straight beeline toward the downed magus.

"Damn! [Trace Bulle-" Shirou was unable to finish courtesy of a powerful punch from Berserker that struck him squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of his virtual breath.

It hit him with the force of what felt like a hundred of Rin's signature Gandr and sent him flying back. Blood and spittle flew from his mouth as the crimson-clad Player rag-dolled through the air, crashing and tumbling against the hard ground. He finally came to a stop as his back slammed against one of the many crystalline pillars.

"Emiya-san!" Several voices screamed his name, but he was too disoriented to answer back. Unlike Players, he actually felt the pain, a feature that he all but loathed.

'Damn, Zelretch…'

Lifting his head, Shirou was greeted with the terrifying sight of Berserker sprinting towards him again. His battle-honed instincts kicked in, one born out of dozens of years of fighting Phantasmal Beasts and other great threats, and took over. His mind raced, processing all the information and deciding on a suitable course of action within the span of a second.

At the speed that Berserker was about to slam into him, he knew it would be impossible to dodge. With that in mind, he thought, why not use it to his advantage?

"Trace on!" In his hand appeared a golden spear. Bracing the spear against the pillar behind him and angling it so the flat of the blade was next to his chest as he held it, Shirou met Berserker's charge. Berserker slammed into the projection user, the Servant destroyed the pillar and sending him flying through the air once again.

A glance showed that Shirou's health was in the lower yellow range.

However, it wasn't for naught. Impaled through Berserker's shoulder was none other than the golden spear he had traced.

[Gáe Buidhe: Yellow Rose of Mortality - Divine Tier Spear]

Gáe Buidhe, the famed weapon and Noble Phantasm belonging to the Irish knight of legend, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. A weapon forged through unknown magical means and passed on to him by the king of faeries. Its ability was passive in nature, and it did not need its name invoked to call upon its power. Originally, anything wounded by the spear would receive a continuous curse in the form of an unhealable wound until the spear itself was broken. The Noble Phantasm lowered the opponent's maximum health limit, thus limiting healing and regeneration abilities to the point where the opponent received the injury. Essentially, the curse made it so the body and the world accepted the wound as a part of them being fully healed.

In YGGDRASIL, however, it seems to have gotten a neat new little side effect. A yellow sheen washed Berserker, and its health bar received a status aliment simply called [Lowered Resistance].

Seeing the spear piercing Berserker's body proved his little theory. As Berserker prepared for yet another charge, his allies were more than ready to stop him this time.

"Not so fast!" Yamaiko exclaimed. Intercepting Berserker, she cocked her fist back and released.

Her massive gauntlets, [Female Sensei's Iron Fist of Wrath], despite their rather menacing appearance and classification as Divine class weapons, were relatively weak when compared to the likes of Touch Me's swords or Shirou's projections. However, the Nephilim Spiritualist's gauntlet's specialty rested not in its damage potential but rather in its ability.

The razor's edge of Berserker's weapon clashed against her pink fist. Instead of giving way, a powerful shockwave was emitted the moment the two made contact, knocking Berserker back into a slight daze.

Knockback was Yamaiko's gauntlet's special ability. It was powerful enough to stagger anything they struck, be it Players or even bosses.

Yamaiko wasn't finished just yet.

"[Mountain Fist Artform 7: North Star]!" Her fists blurred in a flurry of pink strikes. She swung with all her strength, landing seven clean hits in total, with the last one being a wild haymaker that sent Berserker catapulting to the other side of the cavern.

"[Arc Light Heal]! Emiya-san, are you alright?" A spell circle appeared, and from it, warm light radiated. As his HP regenerated, Shirou could feel his strength returning and his pain subsiding.

"I'm fine. Thank you, Yamaiko-san." He thanked her, taking the hand offered to him as Yamaiko pulled him in.

Touch Me, Bukubukchagama, and Amanomahitotsu quickly rejoined the two.

"I'm soo sorry, Emiya-san! If I had known, I'd-" Shirou politely raised his hand, stopping the pink's slime apology.

"It's fine, Bukubukchagama-san. None of us could have expected that sudden shift."

"Indeed. Do not shoulder the blame, Bukubukchagama-san. It is an End Boss after all. Surprises are part of the game." Touch Me assured her, patting the slime's shoulder. "However, things aren't looking good. The fighting will only grow more taxing, and we've only entered what appears to be its second stage."

"I agree. Perhaps I can remedy that."

"What do you mean, Emiya-san?" The calm voice of Momonga questioned, making his and the others presence known.

"A little experiment. I think I've found a way to lower Berserker's resistance, both magical and physical." Shirou explained to the cheers of one particular Player.

"Finally!" Ulbert happily exclaimed. "Here I thought me and Momonga-san would be sitting here twiddling our thumbs for the rest of the fight while you guys get to have all the fun!"

Momonga nodded. With their part finished, he and Ulbert were left with little to do but stay on the sidelines due to their low MP. With Tabula's Super-Tier Magic and Momonga's 10th tier spell finishing off one of Berserker's lives each, it meant that magic was out of the equation thanks to the broken ability of God Hand.

It was a frustrating feeling, knowing that they couldn't contribute even if they wanted to. With Shirou's statement, they might now be able to contribute more to the fight ahead.

"Trace on!"

Once again, his magic circuits flared to life. Appearing around him were numerous copies of Gáe Buidhe. First five, then ten, then twenty, then forty! Pushing himself to the absolute limit he could, he traced a total of fifty Gáe Buidhe.

"Take this!" Thrusting his hand forward, Shirou commanded the spears to fire. Streaks of gold flew across the field, their shine reflecting off the stained-glass crystals.

Berserker, undaunted by the en masse of flying ballistic projectiles, stomped forward. He swung his axe-sword with amazing speed, displaying his skill as he managed to deflect the majority of them. Despite that, the number of weapons launched still outmatched his ability to defend, resulting in more than a dozen of them piercing the giant in various areas. Each spear casts a small debuff on him upon contact.

"[Arcane Missile]!"

"[Inferno Heat Wave]!"

"[Spatial Burst]"

With Berserker's resistance lowered, the backline casters were able to contribute to the fight once more. Touch Me, Bukubukchagama, and Yamaiko rushed forward, preventing the boss from reaching Shirou.

While the rest were keeping him distracted, Shirou hastily withdrew several potions from his inventory. He consumed them, including a few high-tier MP regen potions, as that last stunt took a lot out of him and he needed to replenish his MP as much as he could if they wanted to continue.

"[Adamantine Boost], [Strider's Swift], [Boosted Defense], [Greater Endurance]."

A new set of enchantments and buffs were applied to Shirou.

"Much appreciated, Amanomahitotsu-san."

"Of course. While I can't contribute as much as the others, I'll do what I can."

With Berserker preoccupied with the rest of the party, it gave Shirou a moment to recuperate. They were getting the hang of the boss battle and were making relatively quick progress on his HP bar. Soon, it was his turn again.

"Trace on!" Appearing in his hand was a blood-red spear with intricate carvings adorning the entire spear, running from its tip to its tail.

[Gáe Bolg: The Barbed Spear that Pierces with Death - Divine Tier Spear]

A demonic spear that belonged to Cú Chulainn, Ireland's hero, and child of light. The spear of the Hound of Ulster. Even after all these years, the cursed spear radiated a bloodlust unseen by any weapon within his domain of Unlimited Blade Works. Bathed in the blood of thousands, be they men or beasts, its sole purpose was to kill. A weapon for which its barbed blade has taken the likes of heroes and foes alike only to add to its preputial blood-thirsty nature.

Despite it having been a lifetime since his first encounter with it, Shirou could still recall in perfect detail everything about the weapon and its wielder, a certain blue Lancer. Its cold blade cut through his skin and muscles as if they were wet paper, piercing his heart with its cursed tip. The phantom pain ached over his heart at the memory of the one wound that truly left a scar on him despite Avalon's miracle and the test of time.

Twirling the spear in his hand, Shirou altered his stance and lowered his center of gravity. His arms lowered and his legs stretched apart, resembling Lancer's iconic stance. The tip of Gáe Bolg began to glow and pulsate with bright crimson energy.

Shirou wasn't the only one that felt the weapon's bloodthirst, as Berserker quickly lost interest in everyone in favor of the silver-haired magus.

"Everyone, hold him off of Emiya-san!" Touch Me ordered. By now, everyone was aware of the boss's pattern.

The group fell upon Berserker, doing everything they could to impede the giant and allow Shirou the time he needed to deal the finishing blow. With a momentary burst of power, the Greek demi-god broke through and dashed towards Shirou, but it wouldn't make it in time. Instead, its next action surprised everyone.

"▂▃▃▅▅▇▇!" Berserker threw his weapon. A strategy that would have worked were it not for Amanomahitotsu's swift intervention. Using his body, the crustacean Heteromorph took the attack meant for Shirou. Unable to move or help due to his need to focus on channeling, the faker was forced to watch as Amanomahitotsu sacrificed himself for him.

"Go Emiya-san!" With those final parting words, Amanomahitotsu's HP hit zero. His body shattered into polygons, leaving Berserker's axe-sword to fall to the ground where Amanomahitotsu had been, sticking from the ground like a gravestone.

At that moment, something within Shirou snapped.

One could easily call Shirou's reaction to his friends' death was needlessly dramatic. After all, it was just a game. Amanomahitotsu didn't truly die and would simply respawn at the local respawn point, perfectly unharmed, if only a few levels lower. Still, to someone who had lived Shirou's life, facing monster after monster, hell after hell, the battle mindset was second nature to him. And as such, it was his natural reaction as he watched someone 'die' in front of him, unable to lift a finger to help. Instinct overran the logic of the situation and enraged the fake hero.

Pure and unrelenting killing intent surged forward from Shirou. Gáe Bolg happily drank it all in, eager to fulfill its master's desire to kill. The energy accumulating at its tip tripled in size and strength and intensified, bathing the surrounding area in a field of bright crimson and bloodlust.

"Pierce! Gáe… Bolg!" Shirou hurled the crimson spear forward. All the energy it had collected was released in an instant. Like a crimson comet streaking across the sky, it flew true, aiming to take Berserker's fifth life in a single move. Being the spear that reverses cause and effect, there was nothing the Mad Servant could do, as 'He thrust his spear and he pierced the heart' had become 'The heart was pierced, so the spear must have been thrust'. As the crimson bullet speared through the Servant's iron skin and heart as if there were no resistance, momentum carried Berserker away, sending him flying back into a pillar where he was halted, pinned to it by the spear. Thousands of barbs then spread from the spear, tearing apart the heart and wreaking havoc inside his body. Berserker struggled valiantly but pointlessly, as in seconds, its fifth life was gone.

Status - God Hand: [7]

With its duty done, Shirou dismissed Gáe Bolg and the copies of Gáe Buidhe. Berserker's body collapsed to the ground with a dull thud.

"Damn! Emiya-san, it's your call. Should I revive Amanomahitotsu-san or not?" Yamaiko checked in.

A decision that shouldn't be taken lightly.

The loss of a Player in something as critical as a dungeon raid or boss battle can make or break a run. The loss of a Player meant that the remainder of the party would lose out on an entire skill set of abilities and attacks. Whether it be a tank to soak up damage and Hate, a healer to heal any massive damage done to the party and keep their allies healthy, magic casters that deal fundamental damage to the boss, or even enchanters that keep the party afloat with various buffs and debuffs against the boss.

In YGGDRASIL, there were instances where it was safer to not revive a Player. The decision to resurrect someone required weighing the positives and negatives, just like any other decision in the game. Resurrection spells were only available in the 7th tier and above and required a significant amount of MP. Additionally, the resurrected Player would be weaker, with lowered HP and MP. This meant that they might not be able to contribute as much as they could before. Furthermore, resurrection spells require a cast time and could be interrupted during a chaotic boss raid or battle. Thus, reviving a Player required careful consideration of whether or not it was worth the investment.

A difficult choice must occasionally be made, and in some cases, it was more productive to ignore the downed Player and concentrate on the boss.

Among the Players in the party, Amanomahitotsu was the most acceptable casualty when it came to boss fights at this level. While Shirou didn't think less of the crab Heteromorph, he had no choice but to admit that the blacksmith's build and classification were completely ill-suited for a boss fight of this level. Yamaiko's remaining MP also had to be taken into account, as using a resurrection spell would require her to sit back and regenerate her MP for several minutes to recoup the MP used, leaving the rest of the party without her crucial frontline healing abilities. This was far from an ideal situation, especially considering that she was their only frontline healer. Worse comes to worst, they needed to save the revival spell for someone more vital, such as Shirou or Touch Me, whom they couldn't afford to lose.

The body of Berserker was already smoking, and his wounds were regenerating rapidly. Shirou was forced to make the practical decision, no matter how distasteful.

"… No. Save it, Yamaiko-san."

His decision was made just in time as Berserker completely regenerated. Tracing a copy of Gáe Buidhe, he waited for the right moment and fired it at Berserker so that it would hit just after the boss's regeneration invincibility frames ended. Unfortunately, the golden spear bounced off Berserker's flesh as if Shirou had thrown a stick at him. It seemed that God Hand had assimilated Gáe Buidhe as a part of Berserker's death at the hands of Gáe Bolg, preventing him from attempting the same strategy.

"Tsk." Shirou clicked his tongue. "I should have dismissed Gáe Buidhe before unleashing Gáe Bolg. Peroroncino-san, how are you feeling?"

"I'm good, Emiya-sempai! I can still go on!"

"Right. Everyone, we're moving to the third step!"

"Roger, Emiya-sempai!" The avian Player gave a mock salute alongside the verbal confirmation of the others.

"Trace on!" He called upon his faithful black bow.

"[Reinforcement]!" Reinforcing his legs, Shirou leaped up onto one of the many crystal pillars that jutted out of the walls. They would provide a stable vantage point to maximize his advantage for what was to come next.

He briefly opened his menu to check the time and grimaced when he realized that almost an hour had passed since they had started the fight. They had only managed to take five of Berserker's lives in that time. The third-rate magus could sense that his allies were starting to feel fatigued. Playing and fighting a tough boss for almost an hour straight would exhaust anyone, and that didn't even include their earlier boss fight. Mentally, if not physically, each one of them was beginning to feel worn out, including Shirou, who was now experiencing a slight headache.

Thus, they quickly enacted the third step of their plan, where he and Peroroncino would take over, kiting Berserker from range to allow the rest of the party as much time as possible to recuperate.

"Trace on!"

[Hrunting: Hound of the Red Plains - Divine Tier Sword]

A weapon linked with the legend of Beowulf and belonging to the hero and legend of the same name, Beowulf. The legendary weapon was used to slay the giant Grendel and all those that stood in his way. The Noble Phantasm was a blackened blade that radiated bloodlust, but to a much lesser degree than Gáe Bolg. While Gáe Bolg was a weapon that existed to kill, Hrunting existed to, as its name implied, hunt down monsters. The difference between the two was that while Gáe Bolg would always strike the heart, Hrunting only had to draw blood. As a sword, Hrunting possessed a pull towards its prey. It didn't matter if it was blocked, parried, or dodged; the sword would even assist its wielder, redirecting the attack around the enemy's defenses and ruthlessly hunt their flesh until it bathed in the prey's blood.

However, it had another use, a technique that Shirou had shamelessly copied from his Counter-Guardian self.

A quick application of [Reinforcement] coated the obsidian weapon in red prana. Its form shifted and bent until it took the form of a pitch-black arrow with small, sharp edges coiling from the shaft to the tip. In its modified form, it still retained its tracking ability, but in a different way. When loose, Hrunting would continue to pursue whoever he had targeted unless he refocused on another target. This allowed him to use it as a Broken Phantasm that couldn't miss and track his targets, minimizing errors and making it a favorite tool of the Counter-Guardian and himself.

Shirou didn't stop at just one but traced several more.

"Fly true, Hrunting!"

Notching the modified arrows back, Shirou released them in rapid succession. The forms of the arrows transformed into crimson bullets that raced towards the Mad Servant.

"▂▃▃▅▅▇▇!" Berserker bellowed. He slashed at the oncoming weapons, knocking each of them away. Had it been any other Broken Phantasm, they would have simply exploded on contact, but not Hrunting.

It would not be denied its prey!

As if sentient, the scarlet projectiles altered their trajectories and flew back towards Berserker. They attacked from multiple angles and directions from where they had been thrown and deflected.

Like its namesake, the attack was unrelenting in its hunt, like hounds that caught the scent of blood. Berserker roared and met the challenge, swinging wildly to deflect however many he could.

But it wasn't just Hrunting that the Servant had to contend with.

"[Storm of Arrows]!"

A barrage of explosive light arrows rained down on Berserker from above. These light arrows were far weaker than Hrunting's, but they served as an excellent distraction. As Berserker turned to defend against another volley of arrows, Hrunting struck his undefended sides, the arrows biting into the iron flesh. They exploded, causing a chain reaction of massive proportions. Bursting from the smoke appeared Berserker, seemingly no worse for wear save for some regenerating burn marks where Hrunting had struck.

"▃▃▆▂▂▆▇▇▉!" Shirou was already on the move, jumping from one crystal platform to another, when Berserker suddenly leaped through the air toward him.

"Hey, Ugly! Don't forget about me!" Peroroncino taunted. "[Furious Maelstrom]!" From his bow, he fired hundreds of tiny but rapid arrows of light.

Being in the air, Berserker was unable to counter or dodge. He used the flat side of his massive weapon to shield against the barrage, but it wouldn't be enough. He was knocked off course and sent smashing face-first into the crystal pillar that Shirou once stood on.

Shirou acted quickly without hesitation, creating multiple copies of Hrunting and launching another barrage on Berserker before he could regain his footing. Striking true, Shirou watched as the explosive chain reaction occurred again, destroying the structure where Berserker had landed and sending it and the boss tumbling to the ground below. As a result, the Servant was briefly buried under the rubble, but he quickly recovered in less than five seconds and broke free from the pile. However, Berserker's freedom was short-lived, as he soon faced an incoming bombardment of solar arrows and Broken Phantasms.

From a different point of view, it could be considered a rather comical sight. Berserker broke through the rubble like a mole, only to come face to face with what one could only describe as a barrage of missiles. The opening salvo of arrows and projectiles laid waste to the area. The barrage continued, but the resulting explosion and smoke made it difficult to determine the result. Nevertheless, they didn't let up, for an End Boss like Berserker wouldn't be defeated by such a paltry method.

'So far, so good.' Shirou idly thought as he notched back an arrow. He had switched back to tracing regular arrows to conserve his remaining MP.

The battle was progressing well, albeit slowly, which was not unusual for boss battles and raids. It was common for them to take anywhere from ten to twenty minutes at the quickest, or even an hour or more if necessary. It was important to find a way to end the fight quickly, as the longer it went on, the more grueling it would become. Shirou was unsure if they could all make it to the end.

'But how?' That was the question Shirou needed to answer.

Everyone had been going strong, but they were slowly reaching their limit, Shirou included. He had already traced numerous Noble Phantasms, each with varying qualities. A swift Structural Analysis revealed that he had expended more of his MP than anticipated. He decided to take an MP regen potion to aid in his recovery, but he made sure not to overdo it. Despite their efforts, there is only so much they can do before encountering a roadblock.

Slowly, doubt clawed its way into his mind.

What if his Noble Phantasms wouldn't be enough?

What if Berserker's future lives were too much for the party to handle?

What of Berserker's Madness Enchantment?

That was perhaps the most prevalent thought in his head. The feeling of foreboding that he experienced at the start of the boss raid still lingered in his mind. He couldn't shake off the thought that there might be more to this fight. The question remained, how much more was there to it?

'Focus!' He quietly reprimanded himself. Losing focus and asking what-ifs wasn't going to help anyone in the slightest. 'Focus on the matter at hand and take it one step at a time.'

Returning to the fight at hand, Shirou noted that only a few minutes have passed and they've yet to hear anything from Berserker. Whether that was beneficial was up for debate.

Then, without any warning, a large boulder flew out of the smoke toward the golden archer.

"[Wild Flare]!" Peroroncino launched a powerful energy bolt, smashing the incoming object into fragments. Emerging from the resulting smoke was Berserker, who had cleverly used the boulder as a distraction.

"The hell?!" He exclaimed.

Peroroncino tried to evade, but Berserker came in too quickly, catching him at last. The boss swung his axe-sword with all his strength. Peroroncino tried to defend himself, holding up his bow and arms to block the attack, but it was no use. The impact was so strong that he was sent flying, crashing to the ground with a loud boom. The force of the hit was so intense that it created a small crater where he landed. The attack dropped his HP into the red.

"Peroroncino-san!" Shirou cried out, worried for his friend and angry at himself for losing focus.

He let loose a flurry of arrows in pursuit of the descending giant, but they proved ineffective as Berserker simply swatted them out of the air. Landing crudely on the ground, the massive Servant charged at the downed Player. Berserker would've executed him were it not for Bukubukchamaga's timely save.

"[Stalwart Wall], [Jericho Spirit], [Draw Defense]!" The eldest of the siblings appeared, blocking the attack and defending her brother.

"Jeez! Otouto, it's barely been ten minutes without our help, and you're already almost dead. What am I going to do with you?" The Elder Slime playfully scolded her younger brother.

"Hehehae~ Sorry." Peroroncino sheepishly chuckled, accepting a helping hand.

"Emiya-san! We'll take it from here. Do what you have to!" Touch Me called out, rejoining the fray.

He didn't need to be told twice.

Relaxing his stance, Shirou held out an open palm.

"Trace on!" Prana once again flooded his magic circuits. Slowly, a sword took shape in his palm.

No, that wasn't entirely correct. To call it a sword would be a misnomer. Unlike most swords Shirou had traced, this one appeared unique, with its blade twisted and coiling to a fine point, resembling a drill than a sword.

[Caladbolg II: The Fake Spiral Sword - Divine Tier Weapon]

Caladbolg II was the modified and bastardized form of the original Caladbolg stored within Shirou's Unlimited Blade Works. A weapon created by Archer's own design and later adopted by Shirou.

The original Rainbow Spiral Sword belonged to the Irish hero, Fergus mac Róich, father figure and rival to the wielder of Gáe Bolg, the Irish Hero Cú Chulainn. It had been said that Fergus could lay waste to entire landmasses with a single swing of the spiral sword.

Caladbolg II was considerably different from its predecessor. For one, Archer and later Shirou utilized it exclusively as an arrow rather than a blade. This was due to the special quality of the weapon, which made it incredibly potent.

"My core is… " Shirou chanted, notching the arrow back as far as it could go. Prana flowed freely from Shirou and into Caladbolg II, turning it into what amounted to a miniaturized nuclear warhead. Concentrated mana condensed at the tip, and streaks of pure red prana leaked out, flowing around Shirou.

"… Twisted in Madness… "

Sensing its imminent demise, Berserker redirected his focus toward the more pressing danger. Despite the rest of the party's attempts to restrain it, Berserker cared little for them and charged the archer with reckless abandonment.

"▂▃▃▃▅▅▋!" With a powerful leap, Berserker rushed towards Shirou faster than before. Too bad it was far too late.

"Caladbolg II!" Shirou and his opponent were only a few meters apart when he let go of the arrow. The force of his attack caused the crystal pillar beneath him to crack. The spiral sword, moving at what could only be described as instantaneous speed, flew at the incoming boss.

In a move no one saw coming, Berserker exhibited impressive agility and skill as the Servant twisted its upper body, abandoning his weapon, and miraculously caught the spiraling blade with his bare hands. The force of the attack was still great enough to pierce through the Servant's chest, causing some damage, but not enough to incapacitate the boss. Despite his valiant efforts, Berserker was unable to hold the attack at bay as momentum forced him backward. His feet dug into the ground, creating deep indentations as Berserker struggled against the Noble Phantasm and was pushed back. The sheer strength and determination displayed by Berserker stunned all watching.

The sound of steel scraping against iron flesh echoed throughout the cavern.

"▂▂▂▃▃▅▅▃▃▁▅▆▆▆!" Berserker shouted in a challenge, struggling to hold back the attack that had already begun to pierce his chest. For a brief moment, Shirou was worried that Berserker could manage to stop it.

In the end, Caladbolg emerged victorious. This helical sword-arrow, when unleashed, rotates at an incredible speed and intensity, gathering prana and creating its own field. It attains perpetual motion, accelerating and generating a centrifugal force that enhances its piercing power. This attack was so potent that it could penetrate any protection by twisting the space around it, much like the original drill-shaped Noble Phantasm it was derived from.

Berserker was no exception.

The spinning blade shredded his hands, making them slick with blood and forcing his grip to give way. Caladbolg II continued forward on its path, piercing Berserker through the chest. A fraction of a second later, the Broken Phantasm detonated, raw prana reacting and exploding.

The devastating attack reduced the surrounding area to molten rock and completely vaporized everything around Berserker. The ground zero of the explosion resulted in a massive crater, where the boss's body was found. Berserker had suffered extensive damage, with his entire left side from the waist up to his collarbone completely obliterated. The rest of his body was left as a smoldering corpse.

Status - God Hand: [6]

Shirou sighed in disappointment upon seeing the numbers. He had hoped that the attack would have been powerful enough to take out at least two of Berserker's lives. However, he realized that his unprecedented catch had significantly weakened the attack's strength.

Still, they were making good progress.

All they need to do now was…

'Ba-dum'

'What was that?' He thought.

'Ba-dum'

It sounded like a heartbeat.

"Does anyone else hear that?" Tabula asked. The other members glanced at each other, trying to figure out what it was that Tabula had heard.

So, it wasn't just him imagining it.

'Ba-dum'

There it was again. By the sound of it, it was coming from… Berserker.

Berserker's body began mending itself, but there was something different this time. Its body glowed in a sense. Underneath its darkened skin, a red glow emitted and spread across its body. A black haze sprung forth from the wounds, forming itself into the missing body parts faster than simple regeneration. The haze persisted, shrouding the Servant's body in a cloak of black wisps. To make it even creepier, Shirou could make out skull-like motifs forming within the blanket of black wisps. Two crimson orbs stared back at them, filled with Madness.

"Everyone scatter!" Touch Me warned. The rest of the party separated, with Peroroncino quickly taking to the air once again.

"▂▂▂▃▂▃▃▅▅▅▇▅▇▇▇!" Berserker let out its most inhuman roar to date. Without any preamble, Berserker jumped after the avian archer.

Peroroncino performed a last-second maneuver to dodge out of the way as the boss crashed into the ceiling.

"Hah! That's the best you got?!" Peroroncino mocked.

Berserker responded by pushing off the ceiling, having recovered in an instant, and dive-bombing the Player barely a second after hitting the ceiling. Caught off guard, Peroroncino had no time to react and was struck hard. His HP hit zero the instant they crashed to the ground, his body shattering as he died, just like Amanomahitotsu.

"Otouto!" Bukubukchagama cried out. Her mourning was cut short as Berserker swiftly recovered his weapon and turned his attention to the pink slime.

"Fire!" Shirou let loose a salvo of prana-infused arrows.

Berserker's movement was completely erratic, a wild frenzy that lacked any sense of coordination or thought when compared to the skill it displayed before. The Servant seemed more like a beast than a man now. Even when Shirou unleashed a rain of arrows, it didn't bother attempting to counter and just continued its charge forward, showing how little the attack mattered. Berserker's HP bar only reinforced that fact as it didn't budge.

"[Maximum Fortitude], [Defense Matrix]!" With no other options, Bukubukchagama braced herself. Berserker attacked with a ferocity and fervor never before seen. A multitude of blows rained down on her, each one was as wild and unpredictable as the next. Finishing its wild flurry, the Servant smacked her with the side of his massive weapon like one would a baseball, sending the party's tank off her feet and skidding across the ground. Bukubukchagama's HP was reduced to the low yellow, a frightening discovery knowing just how high her defensive stats were.

"Damn it… We're getting clobbered! We need to regroup, Touch Me! It's obvious that we've reached some form of second boss phase!" Ulbert yelled out. In doing so, however, he drew Berserker's attention.

Bolting towards the World Disaster, Ulbert knew that he wouldn't survive. His allies were too far away, and none of their attacks would slow it down. It was like the boss was invincible, unstoppable, and completely unaffected by anything thrown at it. Ulbert felt a sense of dread wash over him as he realized the gravity of the situation.

"Grrr, fine! I ain't going down without a fight!" Ulbert exclaimed as he prepared to retaliate. "[Maximize Magic: Brimstone]!" With Berserker now within range, he unleashed his last move, hoping it would buy the others enough time to regroup. A dark crimson magic circle materialized, and from it burst out a towering pillar of pure fire that engulfed the two combatants, just as Berserker launched its attack.

"Ulbert-san!" Momonga exclaimed.

"Momonga-san!" Touch Me called out to the skeletal spellcaster. "Focus! Do not let Ulbert-san's death be for not! We need to regroup now!"

The aftermath of the fiery clash left Berserker hurt but far from incapacitated, which was a concern for Shirou. However, his greatest worry was the new status that had overcome Berserker, something he had been dreading throughout the entire battle.

Berserker: Lvl - 250

Status - God Hand: [6]

[Madness Enchantment Activated]

The fight was far from over.

Last edited: Nov 23, 2023

Chapter 4 - Nine's Own Goal vs Berserker II

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 12/26/2018

Chapter 4 - Nine's Own Goal vs Berserker II

"▅▅▇▇▅▃▇!" With a ferocious roar, Berserker charged ahead, aiming for Momonga, who was en route to regroup with the rest.

"I'll handle this!" Reinforcement surged through Shirou's body, empowering him with the strength and agility he needed to take on the monstrous Berserker. With a fierce cry, he struck out with a well-aimed kick at Berserker's face, but the blow was like hitting a solid wall. Still, it distracted the enemy long enough for the magic caster to escape.

"Go Momonga-san!"

The Servant's vitriolic gaze refocused on Shirou, a shiver running down his spine at the look of madness Berserker held within his burning eyes.

Kicking off its face, Shirou backflipped as Berserker lashed out with his butcher weapon in an attempt to bisect him.

Kanshou and Bakuya danced in his hands as Shirou attacked against Berserker's rage. However, the magus severely underestimated just how much more powerful the Servant became. Each one of his strikes attacked with terrifying force, enough to make his bones rattle. Unable to take the punishment, Kanshou and Bakuya cracked and broke under the assault.

"Damn!" He was ready to trace another copy until something appeared, stopping the Servant from going any further.

"[Thousand Tomb Prison]!" Tabula cast a barrier spell around the Servant, preventing any escape and trapping the Boss in place. The spell continuously drains the Player's MP, with the rate increasing based on the duration and effectiveness of the spell.

"Hurry, Emiya-san! I can't hold it down forever!" Tabula forewarned, struggling to hold his hand in place.

Regrouping with what remained of the party, a rather startling question came to him. "Was this Berserker's true strength?"

In the Holy Grail War, Servants relied on their Masters to provide the needed prana and essence in order to keep them chained to the world. This was a rather daunting task, as two factors sought to impede this. The first was the Masters themselves and how much prana they could provide, limiting them. Secondly, Gaia, the physical manifestation of Earth's will, constantly aimed to eliminate them from the world. Hence, it wasn't uncommon for magus and others to seek out methods of collecting more prana to boost their Servant's strength.

The Servants summoned from the Throne of Heroes were not whole per se. It was more accurate to say that the summoning ritual pulled a copy of the Servant into the physical world. As such, there were sometimes inconsistencies when forcing the copy into the different Servant Classes, causing Servants to be weakened or lacking in some areas compared to their original selves.

Shirou could feel his heart pounding with adrenaline as he looked upon the monstrous Berserker. He knew that this Servant of Madness was not like any other he had faced before. It wasn't pulled from the Throne of Heroes, nor was Gaia exerting her influence on it to remove the anomaly. This Servant was operating at peak condition and performance, powered by the world's system as a boss, with no restrictions or limitations. Despite the challenge, Shirou was determined to handle the situation and protect those around him.

Berserker's once noble face was twisted into a terrifying visage, resembling a mindless beast more than a man. The warrior-like persona and instinct he showed previously were gone, replaced with full-on madness. Shirou wagered that, unlike his sister's black giant from the war, this Berserker was no different from a beast loose from its cage.

"To think the boss's second form would be this powerful…" Momonga muttered.

"It is an End Boss. Even with all of our abilities combined, it doesn't surprise me that we're failing. We would've needed a legion at best to defeat this one." Tabula said, sounding awfully resigned.

"Stow your fears, my friends! We're not out of it just yet. Emiya-san, your plan, will it still work?" Asked the Touch Me.

"Honestly? I would say we have a 50/50 chance." Shirou answered.

"That's better than nothing." Bukubukchagama coolly replied.

"We've made it this far. No point in calling it quits now!" Yamaiko spoke up, knocking her gauntlet together.

"Emiya-san, we have followed your lead, and it has yet to lead us astray. It's clear now that the boss in front of us is wholly different from the one earlier. What shall we do?" Said Touch Me.

The rest of the party turned as one towards Shirou. A hurried glance showed the barrier holding back Berserker was already cracking and wasn't going to last much longer. They were depending on him, and he needed to make a decision.

"With the exception of Touch Me-san, Berserker would destroy anyone that comes close. Bukubukuchagama-san, guard Yamaiko-san. If she dies, then our chances drop exponentially. It's important for everyone to keep their distance and avoid attracting the boss's notice."

"Surely there has to be something more the rest of us can do?" Momonga stated. To leave everything up to them while the rest sat in the back left a bad taste in his mouth. He wasn't alone in that thought, as the others voiced a few objections.

"What can you do?" Shirou returned, there was no accusation in his voice. "I understand your concern, Momonga, but Berserker's secondary phase is stronger, faster, and, above all else, unpredictable. Even Bukubukchagama-san, with a full tank build, can fall to the boss's onslaught if we're not careful. That's not to mention your still recovering MP reserve and its high magical resistance." He argued.

"That is true, Emiya-san. However, we cannot in good conscience, let you go at this alone. The only chance we have at defeating his foe is you. Should you fall, we'll have no hope of winning. We can at least serve as a distraction if necessary, but we must stand together in this fight." Touch Me countered.

And though he didn't say anything, he knew they was right.

"… Very well, but do take great care. One slip-up can easily lead to your death as well. Intervene if it looks like I won't make it. Other than that, leave it to me." Shirou compromised.

The rest nodded in agreement.

"Trace on!"

In his grasp, a lengthy sword materialized. The sword's design was unadorned, with only a subdued golden hilt and crossguard that connected to a balanced and proportionate double-edged blade. Despite its lack of embellishments, it emitted a comforting and holy energy.

[Ascalon: The Blessed Sword by Which Force is Slain - Divine Tier Sword]

The mythical Ascalon holds a significant place in history as a legendary holy blade. It was celebrated for its reputation as a dragon slayer sword, having been wielded by Saint George, a revered hero and saint of the Catholic Church, who used it to safeguard his people. Ascalon was an unparalleled force in defense, as it could easily repel all sorts of harmful or demonic forces. The sword was said to rival Durandal in terms of invincibility. However, what makes it truly captivating was its ability to transform its protective power into an offensive one, rendering it a formidable weapon in battle. Its rich history stands as a magnificent testament to its enduring legacy and incredible power, making it an object of awe and wonder.

Holding the sword in his hands, his mind traveled back to a simpler time. When he would go to the dojo and practice with his shinai.

Over the years, Shirou expanded his repertoire, expanding upon his skill sets to not solely rely on Kanshou and Bakuya. While he was no master of the sword compared to the likes of Saber, he'd like to think he has gotten better from his time as a complete novice.

After delivering a final attack, Berserker managed to break free from the barrier. As anticipated, the Mad Servant charged towards Shirou to enact his revenge. The rest of the group scattered as per the plan, with Touch Me, Bukubukuchagama, and Yamaiko keeping their distance but standing by to provide aid if needed.

"[Reinforcement]!" Prana filled his magic circuits, activating the artificial nerves. Streaks of light neon green lines appeared on his body, concentrated heavily on his arms and legs, with interconnecting streaks flowing from his body.

Slamming his foot onto the pavement, like a gun cocked and ready, Shirou shot forward. The Servant and magus met, and an explosion of force detonated from their weapons making contact.

Their dance of death resumed.

As their weapons clashed once again, an odd sense of calm washed over him. When was the last time Shirou felt such a rush?

Adrenaline was pumping through his veins.

The vibration of his arms after each swing and block.

His muscles tensed and contracted, bracing for every hit thrown.

The distant beating of his heart echoed clearly in his ear.

Every fiber of his being was coursed with intent. Where one simple mistake was all it would take to lead him to death.

All of his senses were heightened, fine-tuned, sharpened, and polished to a sword's edge. His only objective was to emerge victorious against the dread foe before him.

Slowly, Shirou lost himself in the rhythm, and his friends' presence was pushed back into the back of his head. Only one thing mattered, and that was defeating Berserker!

'clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang.'

The sound of ringing steel echoed across the battlefield.

Steel met steel. Sparks flew with every clash. Each swing strikes with impossible force.

To the onlookers, Shirou's form blurred, and for one certain skeletal necromancer, it reminded him of the memory of when he first met the weapon-spamming Player. Each of them was stunned by the display in front of them. The sight of a man keeping up with a monster.

None were more stunned than Touch Me. The insectoid paladin watched everything with a critical eye, his years of experience catching every little detail within the fight.

Touch Me would have described the scene in front of him as a storm of steel. Every move Shirou made was a blur, yet it all seemed like an elaborate dance. Ascalon struck with incredible speed, precision, and power that could rival even that of the berserk boss. The way Shirou fought flowed like practiced steps on a stage, making it all the more captivating to watch.

Shirou's fighting style was truly impressive. He moved with such grace and nimbleness, attacking without any hesitation whatsoever. He was light on his toes, and his movements were so fluid that it almost looked like he was performing an elaborate dance. Occasionally, he even pulled off acrobatic feats like jumping to avoid an attack or leaping over the boss itself to reposition himself. It was truly captivating to watch.

Warrior-type Players rely heavily on muscle movement and memory. Any movement or action that the physical body can perform can be recreated and enhanced through YGGDRASIL's system. It was why Players can leap or jump beyond what would be realistically possible or perform incredible feats of strength. As a veteran, Touch Me was capable of some impressive feats himself, and it was these skillsets and physicality that earned him the distinguished title of World Champion.

However, what he saw Shirou perform blew everything out of the water for him. Even taking into account suspension of disbelief regarding the rules of the game, it should be near impossible to react and move as he did. The reaction time needed to analyze the incoming attack, the mind processing said information, and the time needed to execute said action had to be done in a mere fraction of a second. Every movement, every turn, and every shift in posture were carefully measured and calculated, and then executed. It was clear to everyone that Shirou was a master of his craft, moving with incredible speed and precision and analyzing incoming attacks with lightning-fast reflexes.

Not even he could manage to perform even a third of what Shirou was showing. What made it all the more frightening was that Shirou never once used a class skill.

That meant Shirou was doing this all without any assistance from the YGGDRASIL's mainframe system.

Touch Me gripped his weapons all the tighter. Were it possible, Touch Me's face would form a wry but excited grin as a thought passed through his mind, "Just how powerful are you, Emiya-san?"

As the duel between Shirou and the boss unfolded, those on the sidelines watched intently, waiting for the right moment to intervene.

Touch Me and Bukubukuchagama circled the fight, waiting for an opening.

They knew they had to be cautious and not disrupt the rhythm of the fight, so they held back for the time being and allowed Shirou to do what he needed to do.

Shirou tilted his head, narrowly avoiding being beheaded by Berserker's axe-sword. Using the momentum, he slashed upwards and diagonally with Ascalon. However, unlike before, Berserker showed no signs of discomfort or recognition as the holy blade sliced deeply into the Servant's rough skin.

'I wonder…'

As Shirou and the boss continued their duel, Shirou noticed some interesting things about his opponent. It appeared that the boss had been weakened in some way, it was still incredibly tough, but it became more vulnerable to attacks than before. Shirou's light slashes and jabs seemed to be doing more damage than they had previously, and the boss was no longer blocking or dodging as much as it had been. Berserker's sense of self-preservation seemed to have dropped, having focused all its energy on attacking. Despite this, Shirou remained focused on winning the fight.

Their little song and dance continued, with Shirou narrowly avoiding death by a hair's breadth at every turn. Just a few more hits in…

Berserker went for an overhead strike, his weapon descending quickly. Caught out in a difficult position, Shirou was forced to block instead of dodging. He brought Ascalon to bear to defend, bracing himself. The Servant's weapon struck hard, forcing Shirou to a knee. Were it not for the Noble Phantasm's legend, Berserker's attack would've shattered the holy blade a dozen times over. Gritting his teeth, Shirou held the attack at bay, but before he could respond, Berserker acted.

Berserker let go of his weapon completely. Bringing both hands together, Shirou was unable to defend what happened next.

A thunderclap.

His hands slapped one another with the force of a thunderstorm, generating a powerful sound and shockwave at point-blank range of Shirou.

"Aggghhh!" Shirou screamed. The concussive force all but deafened him and disrupted his equilibrium. He experienced ringing in his ears, as if the piercing sound of nails on a chalkboard had penetrated his brain. As a result, he stumbled and was vulnerable to Berserker's attack, which landed a punch in Shirou's face and sent him sliding across the floor.

"Emiya-san!" The group shouted. Touch Me and Bukubukchagama immediately charged in to take some of the aggro away from their teammate.

With enemies moving in between him and his prey, Berserker forgoes his weapon in favor of making a mad dash to finish off the downed Player.

"[Steady Breath], [Ebony Skin], [Towering Force]!" Bukubukchagama buffed herself in preparation. However, Berserker ignored her entirely, opting to jump over the pink slime rather than engage her. "What the… !"

Touch Me appeared directly in the path of the boss's charge, forcing an engagement. Berserker swung a fist at Touch Me as he held up his silver shield.

The knockback was strong, but Touch Me held through.

"[Holy Erase]!" Brilliant white light erupted from the blade as Touch Me swung his sword.

Yet again, Berserker surprised all of them. At the last possible second, Berserker arched his body backward, dodging the attack with ease. Then, in a display of sheer athleticism, he twisted his entire body and landed in a vertical inverse. In a one-handed handstand, he lashed out with his mighty legs. His mighty legs struck his opponent with surprising maneuverability, force, and speed.

"Uugggghhhaaa!" Unprepared, Touch Me took the brunt of the attack and smashed into a crystal pillar.

With no more distractions in its path, Berserker could resume its hunt. Turning, the boss came face-to-face with an enraged Shirou. During the small interval when Berserker dealt with Touch Me, Shirou had recovered enough to stand and close the distance when it was distracted.

"Rarr!" Shirou attacked, Ascalon blurring as he swung and cleaved into the Mad Servant with the longsword. His rush staggered the boss back, and Shirou sought to finish the fight once and for all. Ascalon glowed, and a myriad of colors flowed from the weapon.

"Activate! [Abyssus Draconis]!"

Ascalon's ability was known as [Abyssus Draconis: Thou Shalt a Serpent Become]. It was an interesting Noble Phantasm ability, all things considered. The Noble Phantasm's ability was that of a skill once used by Saint George himself and later granted to Ascalon as well. The ability became part of the weapon's legend over time. The ability works by seeking out a target and determining if they are good or evil. If deemed evil, Ascalon would transfigure the target, granting them the attributes of a draconian being. This status effect made them susceptible to weaknesses associated with dragon slayer swords like Ascalon or more powerful ones, such as a weapon in his arsenal, Balmung.

A rather unorthodox method of gaining an advantage, but just the one they needed for a situation like this.

Stabbing the sword into Berserker, a circular crimson dragon motif appeared. It spun and glowed bright; a crimson pattern soon spread across Berserker's ashen, dark skin, signaling that the Noble Phantasm worked.

God Hand was indeed terrifying with its ability of individual invulnerability, but certain status-aligning abilities and non-damaging effects could easily bypass it if Berserker's magic resistance didn't stop them. Hence, what had just happened.

The first condition was fulfilled. Now, he needed to…

Berserker put a stop to any further thoughts when the Servant brought his arms together and pulled Shirou into a bone-crushing bear hug! The magus struggled to free himself but felt as if his entire torso and arms were being compressed. The Servant of rage held him in a vice grip, leaving no way for him to escape.

Were his body still flesh and bone, he was sure Berserker would have shattered his entire vertebrae and destroyed his arms.

It didn't help that his HP was slowly ticking down as Berserker crushed him.

"Emiya-san!" Touch Me and Bukubukchagama rushed to aid him, but found the task of freeing him more difficult than imagined. Berserker would not let go, no matter what the two threw at the Servant. It recognized Shirou as a greater threat than either of them and wasn't going to let go any time soon.

Shirou didn't think even a few dozen projected weapons boosted to be Broken Phantasm would be enough to make Berserker let go. That, and he would most likely die first by being caught in the splash zone of the explosions.

However, a different solution presented itself.

"[Boost Magic: Spacial Roundrobin]!"

Feeling a sense of vertigo taking over, Shirou blinked. One second, he was pinned, the very next, he was standing a fair distance away, freed from the suffocating pressure. Where Berserker once held him, Tabula had taken his place.

"Go! I'll hold him down!" Shouted Tabula. "[Cosmic Chain Prison]!" Ethereal chains shot from the ground, binding Berserker and, by extension, Tabula as well. Recognizing Tabula's sacrifice, Shirou steeled himself for what was to come.

"Trace on!"

He willed the sword of Ascalon away, recycling their MP to call forth a new Noble Phantasm. Motes of light poured forth as a new sword replaced it. A masterfully crafted two-handed greatsword appeared in his hands. The sword bore a stylish cross-themed black and silver crossguard with a pure silver double-sided blade. Embedded within the hilt of the weapon was an equally beautiful azure jewel.

[Balmung: Phantasmal Greatsword, Felling of the Sky Demon - Divine Tier Sword]

A cursed holy sword, a paradox if there ever was one, one that belonged to the famed knight of myth and legend - Siegfried. This Noble Phantasm, in addition to possessing power rivaling that of even Gram and Durandal, was famed for being a powerful dragon-slaying sword. According to the myth of Siegfried, Balmung was the weapon used to kill the mighty dragon, Fafnir, bathing it in the blood that attributed it its dragon-slaying properties. An Anti-Army Noble Phantasm and perhaps one of Shirou's strongest Noble Phantasms within his Unlimited Blade Works.

With Berserker now possessing the attributes of a dragon, weapons like Balmung recognize it as such and increase its rank and potency against such opponents.

"O sword, let thee be filled." He chanted, holding the sword upright in his face. Twisting the hilt of Balmung, Shirou poured a massive amount of prana into the legendary sword. From there, the jewel glowed, and an explosive release of light and energy flowed from the blade. A twilight aura emanated from the sword, surrounding Shirou in a luminous glow. Raising it above his head, a beam of pure and uncontrolled energy shot forth from the weapon, bathing the entire cavern in light. At the center of it all was Shirou, who held it aloft.

"Everyone move!" Tabula shouted to the World Champion and Elder Slime. Leaving his fate to his friend, Tabula strengthened the bindings as Berserker's struggles increased with the activation of Balmung. "Go Emiya-san!"

"Rarrrhg! Bal-MUNG!" With a mighty roar, Shirou wielded his greatsword and brought it down on the immobile Berserker. The beam of pure mana descended slowly but with immense power, enveloping both Tabula and Berserker in a brilliant white light. The sheer intensity of the attack caused their figures to fade into a faint silhouette amidst the blinding radiance.

The resulting explosion shook the entire area, altering the landscape once again. The ground beneath them cracked and broke under the weight of the Noble Phantasm, leaving behind a scar-like gorge that nearly cleaved the entire underground in half.

Tabula was nowhere to be seen, but the party knew he wouldn't have made it out of such an attack. The same couldn't be said about Berserker, as its body survived the ordeal. Thanks to the Brain Eater's quick thinking and sacrifice, they were still able to take down its seventh life.

Status - God Hand: [5]

'Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum'

They won, but at a devastating cost. Their already small party diminished even further, leaving only himself, Touch Me, Bukubukchagama, and Yamaiko as their only support, and their only mage, Momonga. The odds weren't in their favor at all.

Shirou felt his body jerk, his sight losing focus for a second as he fell to his knees. Shortness of breath left him as he grasped for air. Fatigue was slowly but surely encroaching. This was the first time since he was displaced in this new virtual world that he truly felt consumed with exhaustion.

The reverberating sound of heartbeats didn't escape Shirou's notice. At first, he assumed they were from himself, adrenaline pumping through him, only to realize that they were beating aloud, coming from another source. It came from Berserker, and it had the same sound and beat as before. Before the Servant entered its [Madness Enchantment] state.

Was there any meaning behind it?

Too bad Shirou couldn't ponder on it any further as Berserker got his second wind. Shirou struggled to stand back up and get back into the fight, but his shaking legs were slow on the uptake.

"Touch Me-san, Bukubukuchagama-san, switch with Emiya-san. Yamaiko-san, fall back with him to the second defense line." Momonga called out, taking command momentarily.

"Understood!"

"Roger!"

Touch Me and Bukubukuchagama rushed forward, engaging Berserker as Yamaiko pulled back, coming to stand right beside him.

Seeing this, Shirou rushed to stand up and jump back into the fight, only for a gentle hand to rest on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Easy there, Emiya-san." Yamaiko spoke in a soft tone. "You don't need to rush. Take a moment to rest and catch your breath."

"I can still fight." Shirou replied between labored gasps.

"I know." Yamaiko responded patiently. "But you're not alone. If you want to help them, take care of yourself first. Make sure you're not risking your life in the middle of the fight."

Shirou took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm himself. He knew she was right, even if he wanted to argue otherwise. It had been a long time since he last had someone there to reign in his more reckless behaviors. He expanded himself too much in the previous clash and required some time to recover. He concentrated all his energy on recovering as much as feasible, monitoring the coordinated efforts of Touch Me and Bukubukuchagama, who were attempting to subdue the Berserker. Even though their attempts appeared to be struggling, they were able to provide him with some respite.

As soon as he regained his breath, he was already up and running.

"Yamaiko-san! Momonga-san! Boost us with however many enchantments and buffs you can!" Shirou instructed, receiving affirmatives from them.

"[Greater Boost Regeneration], [Greater Boost Stamina], [Stone Skin], [Heavy Ordinance], [Lightweight], [Field Force], [Increase Speed], [Boost Sharpness]."

"Trace on!" His magic circuits flared to life, this time, however, they burned. He felt as if a fire was lit underneath his skin and in his veins. Shirou winced when he felt his circuits burn and strain themselves. This was an old feeling, one that he'd honestly forgotten in his old age. For perhaps the first time since living in YGGDRASIL, he's now feeling the strain of his circuits to the absolute limit.

"Just hold out for a bit longer…" Powering through the pain, he traced two weapons in his hands.

The first was a magnificent golden sword adorned with a circular cross-like design for its crossguard. Its stunning appearance resembled that of legendary swords, such as Caliburn or Excalibur, with its combination of blue, silver, and gold colors.

[Crocea Mors: Yellow Death - Divine Tier Sword]

The renowned sword was famously associated with the great Gaius Julius Caesar, a highly regarded Roman general and esteemed emperor of Rome. Similar to the legendary Excalibur, Caesar himself proclaimed that drawing the sword would guarantee victory. This Noble Phantasm held immense power, with a single invocation of its name unleashing the Yellow Death and ensuring a successful strike from the sword, allowing the wielder to effortlessly chain consecutive attacks. Despite its impressive abilities, the sword has little recorded history of use, due to the fact that its original wielder was not a skilled swordsman.

Appearing in his second hand was a different sword in its entirety. It was an ornate silver sword that dazzled as he gripped it. Upon closer inspection, it resembled the design of Caliburn, featuring a curved guard and a wide, flat blade. Unlike the Sword in the Stone, this Noble Phantasm had more saturated colors, with shades of silver, gray, and a striking red hue.

[Clarent: Radiant and Brilliant Royal Sword - Divine Tier Sword]

Clarent, or as it was also known, 'The Sword of the Successor.' The weapon was once a treasured sword in the times of Arthurian legend. It was said Clarent was equal to the famed Caliburn, amplifying the authority of the king. The sword acted not only as a powerful weapon but also as a symbol denoting the true right of succession to the kingship of Britannia. However, the blade was stolen by Mordred when the Betrayer sought the throne himself without King Arthur's blessing, resulting in the sword's full power never being realized.

The Noble Phantasm glowed in recognition within Shirou's hands. Even after all these years, it remains a mystery as to why Clarent seems to recognize and perhaps acknowledge the faker whenever he traces it. Perhaps it was his relationship and affinity with Arturia or another mysterious reason. Whatever the case, the weapon acknowledged him enough to remove some of the limitations it held for Mordred.

"Bukubukuchagma-san, fall back with Yamaiko-san. Touch Me-san, with me!" He called out, joining the fray and launching an attack. This allowed their slime tank to disengage.

"Nice to have you here, Emiya-san. Had a nice break?" Touch Me said conversely, almost as if he were speaking about the weather.

Despite himself, Shirou found himself chortling under his breath. Some fresh levity helped to lighten the dour mood that this long boss raid brought on.

"As much as I could, Touch Me-san." He said, clashing blades once more with Berserker.

"I'll be needing your help."

"And you'll have it, my sword and shield are at the ready!"

"I'll be needing that shield more than anything else. Forgive me, but I need you to draw Berserker's attack as much as possible, even if it means taking a few hits. I need to get in as many hits as I can."

"I must say, out of all the things I expected, being used as bait was certainly not on that list, Emiya-san." Touch Me remarked, finding the moment to jest despite the fierce battle currently underway.

"I prefer the term, distraction." Shirou cracked a small smile, earning a rousing chuckle from him.

"Using a World Champion like myself as a distraction!? My, oh my, you never cease the surprise, do you, my friend?" Touch Me boisterously laughed.

The fight raged on against the mountain of a boss.

"▅▂▃▄▄▅▅▅▇▇▇!" Berserker roared in defiance, combating the two of them with little difficulty.

And so, their dance began anew.

Their weapons clashed, the combined force shaking the ground they stood on as the environment around them was torn asunder.

"[Reinforcement]!" Again, Shirou winced as every circuit within his body activated, pumping burning hot prana through them to reinforce his body and allow him to keep up with Berserker's frenzy pace. During moments when he couldn't, he ceded the attack to Touch Me, even using him as a brief shield to avoid a dangerous attack.

Shirou wielded the two swords with amazing fluidity, considering both were two-handed swords, using both to attack and defend whenever needed. The magus favored Crocea Mors, swinging the golden sword more freely and frequently due to its lighter weight in comparison to Clarent. However, it wasn't simply for that reason that Shirou preferred it.

With each successful strike that the Yellow Death landed on Berserker, a small counter appeared on his HUD.

[x19]

"Mana burst!" Prana took the form of crimson lightning as it climbed Clarent's blade. Swinging the sword, the wave of burning lightning struck the Servant with a less-than-desirable result. Only a slight burn mark blemished the boss's iron skin.

Shirou grimaced. The attack barely bothered him, as reflected by his HP going down only a smidgen. Switching tempo, the fight continued as the faker got as many hits in as he could with the golden sword as Touch Me provided support and covered his flank.

[x30]

[x45]

[x62]

[x77]

[x89]

Slowly, the counter increased.

'Just a little bit more…' Shirou gritted his teeth.

Berserker swung his axe-sword, putting Touch Me on the defensive as he blocked the attack. This time, however, he felt something off. Pulling all its monstrous weight behind it, the End Boss swung with all its strength, knocking the armored paladin a fair distance away.

"Touch Me-san!" Shirou heard Bukubukuchagama exclaim.

Seeing an opening, he swung Clarent, only for Berserker to twist its body and block the attack with its stone weapon at the last second. At the same time, Shirou lashed out with Crocea Mors at the unprotected flank that opened up. An attempt that was stopped by the Servant grabbing ahold of the golden blade mid-swing. The two were locked in a stalemate as Shirou struggled against Berserker's vice grip.

Berserker quickly reared his head back.

Shirou was confused but was hit by a realization of its intention.

"[Reinforcement]!" He poured as much prana as he could into the head region at the last possible second.

Berserker headbutted the Player with an audible crack. It was a miracle on its own that his skull didn't crack open like an egg. His teeth clattered, his vision blurred, and his head was spinning. Reinforcement or not, a headbutt from Berserker of all Servants felt as if hundreds of jackhammers were drilling into his head. His HP dropping into the mid-yellow reflected the severity of that headbutt.

Dazed, his posture wavered, allowing Berserker to push the offensive.

"▃▂▃▅▅!" Performing what amounted to a spartan kick, Berserker kicked him back, nearly caving in his chest.

Shaking away the stars from his vision, Shirou clumsily brought up both swords in an X-fashion in time to block an attack that would have bisected him. Berserker's jagged sword sank its sharp teeth into his shoulder. He managed to stop most of it, but he still took a great deal of damage, dropping his HP into the lower red.

"[Mega Impact]!" Bukubukuchagama came in from the side, slamming into Berserker and forcing the boss to let up his attack.

"I got him, Emiya-san! [Shield Attack]!"

The pink Elder Slime used her shield and skill to allow Shirou to break away. The magus jumped back, putting some distance between him and Berserker.

"Emiya-san! This is all I have left! [Greater Cure]!" Using the remainder of her MP, the Nephilim Spiritualist healed Shirou for one final time.

"Then it's time to put an end to this! Bukubukuchagama!"

"On it! [Shield Stun]!"

Pumping prana into his arms and legs, Shirou ignited Clarent and propelled himself forward like a speeding bullet. Thanks to Bukubukuchagama skill, Berserker staggered, presenting an opening for the magus. She retreated out of the way as Shirou thrust Clarent into Berserker with all his might, succeeding in piercing the hardened skin over its stomach.

"Transfer!" Crocea Mors glowed with a brilliant golden glow that then transferred from it to Clarent. Similarly to Gáe Buidhe, Crocea Mor received an alteration in addition to its usual ability. It was known as the [Golden Combo]. For each successful strike, it grants a small damage multiplier that can stack almost infinitly, increasing the striking power of the next attack. By allowing the multipliers to stack, he can consume them all to supercharge his next attack. What made this altered Noble Phantasm ability truly fearsome was its ability to transfer said multiplier to any available weapon. In this case, right into Clarent's ultimate attack to grant it additional power.

"Mana Burst!" With a roar, Shirou unleashed the power of Clarent. The hilt of the weapon burst open, revealing a surge of red lightning mixed with a golden glow. The energy exploded outward, piercing through Berserker and shooting out of his back like a crimson beam of pure destruction. Shirou firmly grasped Clarent with both hands and pulled the weapon upward, determined to cleave out another life.

Berserker bellowed in agony, discarding his weapon, and grasped Clarent's blade in an attempt to keep the weapon in place. The two struggled for supremacy, both trying to overpower one another. Despite Berserker's superior strength, it was Shirou who won out due to his superior position. The continued crackling of Clarent's crimson lighting crisped Berserker's hands and roasted his insides, cleaving through with the smell of burnt flesh permeating the room. It was a gruesome finisher as Shirou mustered all his strength and pulled the sword upwards, from the stomach to the head, bisecting the boss.

Berserker's fifth life was taken. The Servant's face was twisted and split, with the mouth opened mid-scream.

Status - God Hand: [4]

'Ba-dum… Ba-dum… Ba-dum…'

There it was again, the sound of Berserker's audible heartbeats. This time, they had fewer beats and were more spaced out than before. As if it were on its last breath.

His fingers let go of Clarent, the Noble Phantasm breaking into motes of light the moment it hit the ground. Exhaustion permeated his body as he fought to even continue standing. Shirou could feel the numbness and pain spreading from his muscles and nerves. That last stunt took a lot more out of him than expected.

Shirou didn't know how much more he could withstand. Dealing with all of Berserker's lives in succession was a ridiculous undertaking, even in the Holy Grail War, the encounter against the Servant of Madness was spaced out. The fact that they've made it as far as they have was a testament to their perseverance.

As Shirou pulled away, Berserker's hand shot forward and grabbed his arm in a vice grip.

"W-what?!" He exclaimed, facing the previously killed boss, only to be faced with a rather haunting sight. With Berserker's face cleaved in half, the separate faces stared right at him. There was nothing sane or rational left in those crimson orbs of his, only madness and hatred.

Berserker was sentient mid-regeneration. Something that it hadn't shown was possible before. Shirou came to a frightening conclusion, with every life taken, the Servant was getting stronger, and it wasn't stopping. Despite practically being split into two pieces, Berserker still retained its motor function. With one side of his body holding Shirou in place with a crushing grip, the other half grasped his axe-sword while the devasting wound stitched itself back together, moving in conjecture with one another.

Time slowed down as he watched Berserker raise its weapon, ready to bring it down, and end his life. The cries of his companions echoed distantly, unable to make it in time.

His Mind's Eye took over, taking in and processing all the information and attempting to predict the possible scenarios. With Berserker's positioning and strength advantage over Shirou, along with his exhausted state, there was no possible way for him to defend or escape unscathed. A solution was produced, and the magus was forced to take drastic action.

Clenching his jaw shut with an audible snap and gritting his teeth for what was to come, Shirou traced Kanshou with his free arm. With his remaining strength, he severed his left arm.

An extreme measure for sure, but a necessary one as it allowed Shirou enough time and space to roll away from Berserker's attack.

"Aaaahhhh!" Shirou screamed as white-hot pain coursed through his body. He was no stranger to pain and endured some brutal injuries over his lifetime, but the sensation of cutting off his arm was completely foreign. Despite severing his left limb at the elbow, Shirou found some degree of control over his removed hand and could even feel it, however faintly.

Or maybe that was just the agonizing pain making him delusional.

"E-Emiya-san!?"

"W-what the hell?!"

"Since when was there a dismemberment feature?!"

His friends all cried out after seeing him lop off his arm. Their concern was warranted, seeing as such a feature shouldn't even be in the game.

By this point, Berserker was fully revitalized. Throwing away his left arm like a useless rag, Berserker charged unimpeded at the still-recovering Shirou.

At the same time, however, Shirou found himself at an impasse. He was momentarily struck by the disorienting feeling of a missing limb. The black spots and hazy edges in his vision threatened to blind him, and every fiber of his virtual being screamed in agony. In any other moment, he would have drifted into sweet unconsciousness. Unfortunately, his current situation didn't lend itself to a good night's sleep. Thankfully, the pure adrenaline coursing through his system gifted him with a moment of clarity. That would more than suffice.

"Trace on!"

The burning sensation of his magic circuits no longer mattered. Motes of light gathered to form the largest weapon he'd summoned to date in the fight.

[Nine Lives - Divine Tier Axe-Sword]

Wielding an identical copy of the weapon Berserker wielded, the two stone weapons smashed against one another, their razor edges grinding against each other. A horrible sound of grinding stones reverberated. Every bone in his body shook, and every muscle fiber ripped asunder as he desperately struggled to hold Berserker back.

"▅▂▃▄▄█▅▃▇▇▆!"

"Rrrraggghhh!"

The two roared, neither side giving up until the other was dead at their feet.

[Reinforcement]!

[Alteration]!

[Reinforcement]!

[Alteration]!

[Reinforcement]!

[Alteration]!

[Reinforcement]!

Reinforcement and Alteration went hand in hand as Shirou poured all the prana he could into his only arm, correcting the broken muscle and mending the snapped muscle fibers.

His blood vessels and the very marrow of his bones imploded. The structure of his body caved in, and he found himself completely armless. Or, at least, that should have been the case. Instead, he used the alteration aspect of his magecraft to hastily reconstruct his only remaining limb into a serviceable condition moments before it met a similar fate to its previous incarnations. Only to repeat the process again and again with each swing.

Mutilation plagued every one of Shirou's prana overcharged swings. He continued to inflict grizzly damage with his poor attempts at Reinforcement, all for the sake of matching Berserker's insanity-fueled blows.

Blow after blow, they struck, each one more powerful than the last.

Every swing, every strike, threatened to destroy his arm, but Shirou kept on pushing forward, faster and faster. Despite the size of their weapons, both wielded them with amazing dexterity and strength that bordered on the inhuman.

To the onlookers, it was as if Shirou was swinging multiple copies of the weapon instead of just one. Both of them attacked with such speed and tenacity that it formed a four-meter-diameter circle of open space around them, filled with nothing but their slashes. Their slashes struck all around them, leaving cracks and gashes littering the ground beneath them. Only a few cuts made it past both their defenses, resulting in both Berserker and Shirou taking noticeable hits. But where Berserker ignored them, Shirou faltered further.

The rest of the party dared not come any closer or else they'd be chopped to bits, unable to find a gap to jump in but also fearful that any sudden intervention would only cause unneeded distraction and result in the projection user's death.

On the surface, it may appear that they were evenly matched, but the truth was far from comforting. Shirou was on the defensive from the very beginning and could barely keep up with Berserker. Gradually and noticeably, Shirou's attacks were faltering. His body staggered after each attack and counter-attack. His legs struggled to stand and trembled uncontrollably, looking like they were about to collapse at any second.

After what seemed like the hundredth instance of abuse, he lost feeling in his right extremity. Or whatever it was that had taken its place. The previously unmarred skin now looked as if the meat had been tenderized and molded into a macabre rendition of an arm.

Blotches of black spots began to cloud the magus's vision. Shirou was losing focus, he could feel his consciousness slowly slipping away. His eyelids grew wry and heavy. Every part of his body ached and burned. It felt as if a thousand hot needles were pricking his skin and his insides were being roasted.

'I'm not going to make it…' Shirou realized.

The two weapons clashed one final time, and it was Shirou's Nine Lives that cracked, unable to hold its form for any longer, and shattered into particles of light. The force of the attack staggered the faker back.

Time seemed to slow down as Shirou fell helplessly, his body had reached its limit and completely shut down. He was unable to muster any strength to move, let alone defend himself against the boss's attack. It was a helpless feeling, one that left him at the mercy of his enemy. In the distance, he could hear his teammates faintly crying out and running towards him, but he knew they wouldn't make it in time.

Berserker swung down his weapon like a guillotine in preparation for its execution.

What he needed was a miracle-

In his state of delirium, everything faded away into darkness. Everything disappeared: Berserker, the cavern, his friends, everything. An ocean of darkness enveloped Shirou, and for a moment, he feared the worst.

Suddenly, a small white light shimmered into existence.

A small glimmer of something lit the way.

A warm beacon within this space of darkness.

It felt warm and familiar, like an old friend.

It only grew brighter, its form slowly becoming recognizable.

Shirou recognized it, how could he not? It was what Kiritsugu Emiya used to save him all those years ago in that blazing hell. It was what saved him and healed him during the Holy Grail War, giving him the strength he needed to fight. It was what kept him alive for so long, even after the War.

It was her first and final gift to him.

"Avalon…" Shirou whispered breathlessly.

For the briefest of moments, Shirou was transported back to that hill. The once setting sun stood proudly up above, basking its golden warmth on everything under its ray.

There she stood, dressed as he imagined. In a simple white blouse and blue skirt, she stood facing the false hero. Bright light obscured her face, but even so, Shirou could recognize her beauty anywhere.

Her mouth opened, and she spoke one singular word.

"Go…"

-And so forth, a miracle arises.

Waking from a dazed-like slumber, Shirou shouted with renewed vigor. "Like hell, I'm going to lose here!" His heterochromatic eyes glowed, one a burning golden fire, the other an unwavering steel silver.

From within Shirou's soul, light exploded forth from his body, enveloping the Player in a pillar of golden white light. Berserker's attack continued but was unable to reach Shirou thanks to the barrier of light repelling the attack and flinging the Mad Servant far back into the upper wall of the cavern.

Within the heavenly and healing glow, his body repaired itself at an insane speed. His stump healed, and his hand regenerated in a matter of seconds.

Materializing from his body was none other than Avalon.

The equally legendary Sheath of Excalibur and named The Everdistant Utopia. It was a beautiful, golden sheath decorated with blue enamel. Engraved at the center was an inscription that was unreadable by mortal men, the language of the faeries. A Noble Phantasm that was truly one of a kind. Not even Gilgamesh's illustrious Gate of Babylon has been graced with its presence. The Sheath was forged with Fae magic and sorcery, shrouding it in mystery to this very day. It was more than just a weapon or sheath; it was a symbol of dignity and nobility, embodying the very essence of these values.

'So that's where it has been…' Shirou wondered. For the longest time, he wondered what happened to the Sheath of Excalibur. Ever since arriving in YGGDRASIL, that was the one question he sought out the most. It was no longer within Unlimited Blade Works, nor could he summon it like before or detect it whenever he would use Structural Analysis on himself.

Avalon had remained hidden, dormant, until the direst of times to be called upon once more.

Internally, he couldn't resist chuckling. It was always Avalon that pulled his ass out of the fire every single time. Then again, he certainly wasn't complaining. This also clarified some unexplained factors, such as his passive health regen or his faster than normal MP regeneration, which Momonga had previously observed.

[Avalon: The Everdistant Utopia - World Item]

[Passive ability: While equipped, the Player is granted a boost to all stats and resistances. Passively increase HP and MP regeneration by 25%

Active ability: Upon calling forth the World Item's name, Avalon's true strength is activated. HP and MP are immediately restored to their fullest. Removes any debuffs on the Player and quadruples all ability stats of the Player for thirty minutes.

HP: 75 (X4) = 300

MP: 85 (X4) = 340

]PHY. ATK: 80 (X4) = 320

PHY. DEF: 70 (X4) = 280

Agility: 85 (X4) = 340

MAG. ATK: 35 (X4) = 140

MAG. DEF: 65 (X4) = 260

Resist: 85 (X4) = 340

Special: 100 (X4) = 400

Note: With the activation of Avalon, it cannot be used again for one full month upon the previous activation.]

The light died down, allowing the rest of the party who were running to assist Shirou to be taken aback to see him perfectly fine and well. The magus slowly raised his previously severed arm, bending and flexing his fingers to get a feel for it. It was back and better than before.

Berserker recovered as well, its face twisted into a monstrous snarl, snapping frantically. Its bulky body twitched uncontrollably, resembling an unchained mad beast. Snapping his head towards the lone magus, Berserker bulldozed his way forward.

"█▅▃▇▇!"

Shirou, on the other hand, simply stood there, waiting.

"Emiya-san?!" Momonga called out. The rest were already rushing forward to assist, but Shirou simply held his hand out, telling them to wait.

He would handle it.

One hundred meters between Berserker and Shirou, he stretched his arm horizontally.

"Trace on!" Prana flowed out, stronger and brighter than ever. In his hand was a new copy of Nine Lives.

Fifty meters.

Shirou took a stance, Nine Lives raised above his head, and his other hand was positioned where his biceps were as if to support the arm wielding the weapon.

Ten meters.

Shirou remained calm and collected, undaunted in the face of the mass of muscle and death charging straight at him.

At five meters, Berserker grasped his weapon with both hands and used the speed and momentum to carry the attack. Its swing practically formed a wild gale of wind that carried it forward.

Shirou remained until Berserker was in front of him, and then, he swung.

"[Trigger off. Set. Nines Lives Blade Work: Shooting The Hundred Heads]!"

Berserker swung only once, whereas Shirou unleashed all nine devastating swings in a single instant. Moving at only what would be described as light speed, a total of nine slashes struck the killing blow on Berserker.

The first: Upper arm. A downward slash, severing the limb as a whole and sending it and Berserker's weapon flying.

The second: Collarbone. A deep horizontal slash, ripping through his throat.

The third: Windpipe. A vertical slash, cutting through the hardened chest area.

The fourth: Temple. A diagonal slash, splitting its head into two.

The fifth: Diaphragm. A horizontal slash, slicing a massive gash in its place.

The sixth: Rib. A diagonal slash, cutting open its chest.

The seventh: Testicles. An upward slash, striking below and connecting upwards.

The eighth: Thighs. A diagonal slash, severing two additional limbs.

The ninth: Heart. Lastly, a piercing thrust with Nine Lives extending out its back with its still beating heart stabbed through.

Status - God Hand: [3]

For the audience, what had just happened seemed absurd. One second, Berserker looked ready to destroy Shirou while he simply posed there. The next, the reverse happened. Pieces of Berserker's discarded limbs and body parts flew everywhere, with only the magus left standing.

What truly made it all the more impressive was the fact that Shirou, throughout all of that, didn't move from his spot.

Learning his lesson from the last time, he jumped back from Berserker's mangled body. He wasn't going to fall for that a second time.

As soon as he joined his friend, they swarmed him with hugs and excitement. He didn't even have a chance to speak before they started gushing about the incredible sight that unfolded before their eyes. It was truly a remarkable experience, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride knowing that he was the one who helped turn things around.

"That was amazing! How did you do that, Emiya-san? You went from zero to a hundred percent in a second!" Exclaimed Yamaiko, one arm slung over his shoulder and jostling him around.

"Not only that, but your stats!" Momonga pointed out. "They've gained a multiplier bonus as well."

"You had us worried there, Emiya-san. Was this part of your plan all along?" Touch Me asked excitedly, patting the magus's shoulder.

"Honestly? It was a fluke." Shirou admitted. "I-

Shirou felt a shudder like no other run down his spine, his instinct blaring to life. The same kind of shiver the magus would always experience when things were about to go, as one of his previous occupational comrades would say, "Shit's about to the hit the fan and we've got front row seats!"

'Ba-dum…'

"Everyone! We need to get to the edge now!" The sheer urgency in his voice kept anyone from arguing. The party of five ran, putting as much distance between them and the boss as possible. Shirou kept a watchful eye on Berserker's corpse as they ran. What immediately triggered his confusion and paranoia was that it wasn't regenerating like it had before. Berserker's body just remained there, motionless and empty, and that was what worried him the most.

The sound of heartbeats began, but it was much slower than before. As if it was on its dying breath and about to flatline.

'Ba-dum…'

There was the sound again. Another weakened heartbeat, but there was no change in Berserker. The heartbeats came from Berserker, just like how it happened before when the boss gained its Madness Enchantment. It stands to reason that it would be a catalyst again.

The thing that concerned him was that nothing was happening. No regeneration, no hissing steam. No ominous black smoke. Not even so much as a single twitch. They still had three more lives to contend with.

It didn't help that when looking at Berserker's corpse, its name and status were still visible in his HUD.

'Ba…. dum…'

With one final beat, all was silent within the cavern. None dared to move or make a sound, their eyes peering and watching, waiting for something to happen. The tension soared as Shirou and the party prepared themselves, but as the minute mark passed, nothing happened. However, moments before anyone voiced their thoughts about a possible glitch, it happened.

The party gasped and clawed at their necks. An invisible force they could not describe laid siege to their bodies, suffocating them in the process. They felt as if it surrounded them and permeated their insides. Every breath was shallow and labored, every movement threatened to snap their bones, and an unstoppable cold crawled beneath their skin.

What was happening? Their collective minds raced for an answer to this vile and overwhelming feeling that had overtaken them. As most of them scrambled, an individual among them did the opposite. Shirou knew. He had once experienced something similar. This was the presence of a Monster, one with a capital M. During the Great War, he felt such a presence from the likes of Primate Murder and other great Phantasm Beasts.

With a force of will born from a mind of steel, he forced his body to face Herakle's regenerating corpse. He was not ready for what he saw.

The carcass was no more. In its place was a pile of sludge. It was the color of the deepest tar and seemed to shift in a manner, not unlike oobleck. It twisted in place as if trying to break apart. In fact, it did break apart.

Sprouting out of the puddle was a grotesque sight. The heart of the once-proud hero was held crucified on a pillar of the eldritch substance. Burrowed into the flesh of the still-beating heart were clusters of tendrils. They squirmed and shuddered, seemingly festering within the organ, as purple veins bloomed across its crimson surface.

If that wasn't unnerving enough, what followed caused bile to rise in his throat. As the fluid finished spreading in a manner similar to a virus, its host stilled. No more pulse. It motionlessly remained suspended in the air. Moments later, however, it moved. It contracted upon itself, shrinking till it was but half its previous size with a sickening crunch. In the next instance, the sack of meat bulged and squirmed with manic energy. As it continued its frantic dance, cancerous growths grew from its surface. In a manner akin to the bubbles frothing from a drink, the growths multiplied. What flowed from its depths was the vilest of concoctions. A deluge of metamorphosed tar ran out with the speed of highly pressurized water. Instead of splashing its surroundings, the discharge moved backward, following an invisible path. Shortly afterward, the withering mass coiled upon itself and formed a familiar figure.

It was wrong…

Ǐ̸͎̥̄͗̕t̵̰̰̜̠̓̏ͅ ̷̩̱͚̯̎̐͛̓ẅ̵͇́̿̔ͅã̶̲̼ṣ̷̰͎͍͂͂̈́̄̕ ̸̢̛̬̲̮̻̋͂̿̎ẉ̴̼̯̗̈́̄̀̌̓ṙ̶͖̲̗̼͇o̸̤̩̥̎̌̓̾n̶̡͉͐g̴͓̫͙̻̑̔̎̚͝.̵̙̯̱̀ͅ

İ̴̖̘̱̤̬͌́̀͐̚̚ͅt̷̟̙̬͙̜̬̤͑̈́̍̅͘͠ ̵̛̝̜̰̤̲̖̞̹̮̑̓̀̑̀͑͒̇w̶̧̡͔̱̩̹̦͔̏̉͊̑̎͘͜a̵͕̫̝͔̥͓͙͐̈́̄̔̐͆͒̕s̵̛̲͍̬̖̪̩͑̇̓͌̀͋͋̚ ̵̛̥͖̻̀ͅw̷͚͙͔͐̇r̵̦͎̦̬̿̓͑͗͆̕͜͠ȏ̵̻̘n̵̦̹̊̿͊̔͝g̶̡̛̭̪̼̻͙͈̭͛̇́͐͑.̴̮̬͈̥̹̞̩͚̺̄̌̀͠.̵̢͕̺͎͕̱̹͌

IT̴̮̤̗̯͌͠ ̸̛̬̦̘̽W̷̻͙̤̋̈́́̏͘A̴͖̤̣̔̃͐S̷̢̛͖̮̯̿̑͆̓̔ ̸͙͚̲͍̘̂̄͐̒̋̉Ẁ̶̨̪̪̓͑̒͌͝R̵͓̠̦̞̤͇͆̋̂͋Ơ̸̢̟̗͖̰̍̍͛͘N̴̩̆̅͘͘͝G̵̠͙͈͎̼̀̐̑͐̂

A splitting headache broke the party from their stupor. Their minds revolted against the abomination they had witnessed, refusing to accept what they had observed as truth. But denial would only carry them so far, as any misgivings they held were brutally murdered.

A roar that transcended the inhumane rang out. They could not hear it, but they felt it. The world shook, and their ears bled at the obscure sound they could not understand. This maddening presence and the shaking of their hands, what was going on? It wasn't until the roaring end that they understood. Berserker was back.

"Everyone! L-look!" Momonga stammered. His shaking finger pointed not to Berserker but above him.

Blackened Berserker: Lvl - 500

Status - God Hand: [3]

As one, they felt their hearts drop.

"Oh god… Another damn transformation… !" Bukubukchagama lamented, her voice hoarse and shrill, unable to convey the horror of what she had just witnessed.

"Forget the third transformation, check out the level! The damned boss jumped all the way to level 500! It's practically a World Enemy at this point!" Yamaiko screamed, her nerves frayed from the previous experience.

"Panicking won't do us any good, Yamaiko-san." Touch Me reasoned, though all could tell that his usual confidence was shaken.

"Touch Me-san, positive thinking will only go so far! Unless you've got a World Item in your back pocket, which I'll remind you, we don't, we can't win!" Yamiko rebutted.

The Elder Slime and Overlord only nodded their heads in agreement.

The group looked moments away from losing it. This didn't surprise the faker, braver men and women broke under similar pressure and forces. Perhaps the reason they weren't affected as much was because this Berserker was completely virtual, or it was by proxy.

A thought for another time. Right now, they needed reassurance.

"If it's a World Item, then I'll just have to trace one!" Shirou suddenly announced, blurting out the words even before they settled in on him, to the shock of his companions.

"Hold on! You can summon a World Item?!" Momonga blurted out. He was learning more and more about his friend, and he wasn't sure when the surprises would end.

"Focus!" Touch Me countered, snapping his fingers to attention. "Questions can come later. Emiya-san, are you saying what I think you're saying? That you can finish its remaining lives with this trump card of yours?"

It was too late to take back his words. He looked at them before looking back at the still-forming Berserker.

"I'm not too sure." Shirou fully admitted, causing them to pale white at the admission. "But it's the best chance we've got. However, it'll take some time to completely produce it. And unfortunately, Berserker will revive before I can complete the tracing."

"How long?" Touch Me asked, his gaze turning back to the boss, who looked to be roughly 40% healed.

"A little over a minute." And judging by the progress of the boss, they had a little less than that.

"Then the plan remains unchanged. Emiya-san is the key to victory, all we need to do is buy him enough time."

"But can you?" Shirou asked, his voice laced with lingering doubt. With the boss reaching its third phase and its increased level, it seemed impossible for them to survive even a few seconds against it. Although Shirou's stats were temporarily elevated, thanks to the incredible buffs provided by Avalon, winning didn't appear to be in the cards for them.

At this, Touch Me's shoulder silently hunched.

"In truth. I don't really know…" Touch Me admitted honestly, his voice lacking his usual confidence, replaced with an almost resigned tone.

His admission didn't go so well, as the others felt their spirits drop even further.

"… However…" Touch Me paused for dramatic effect. The rest looked at him, waiting. Raising a trembling hand, he clenched it, curbing his feelings of doubt and trepidation.

"We have come this far, have we not?" Touch Me began in a whisper, but all could hear the weight and determination behind it.

"After defeating the Hydra boss, we were faced with a new challenge in the form of an End Boss while unprepared. And yet, we managed, even when it transformed into its second form. We've gone farther than what's expected of us, and here we are, at the home stretch." Progressing, Touch Me's voice slowly grew from its meek tone, returning to his boisterous voice.

"Our friends, our allies, sacrificed themselves so that we might bring victory in their place. If we give up now, would we not be spitting in their memory?" No longer was his voice plagued with doubt, his once passionate spirit was rekindled.

"It isn't a matter of 'if' or 'can' we hold the line. We will hold the line, just like Tabula-san, Peroroncino-san, Ulbert-san, and Amanomahitotsu-san beforehand. We, too, shall do whatever it takes to give you the perfect opportunity. If you believe you can win this, then I shall put my trust in you, Emiya-san!" Touch Me finished, putting all his passion into his speech.

The others looked to the silver paladin, despite the doubt and uncertainty, he still had his spirit high. Unwavering, no matter what came.

As they heard the rallying cry of Touch Me, something inside them was reignited, like a blazing fire in the dark. Shirou took a moment to look at each of them, and even with their limited facial expressions, he could sense the sheer determination emanating from their avatars. Even Momonga, who was usually doubtful, was now filled with a newfound determination. It was as if no one could resist the fiery passion that had taken hold of them.

"Then I'll leave the rest to you then! Buy me as much time as you can!"

"Then you have your orders! Do whatever it takes to prevent the boss from reaching Emiya-san! Even if it means dying, buy him every second you can!" Touch Me proclaimed, turning to his fellow Heteromorphs.

"Roger!" The rest rallied. The ragged-tagged group went to position themselves for the coming fight. They had roughly thirty seconds before Berserker's complete revival, and time was of the essence.

Repositioning himself as far back as he could, Shirou took a deep breath. His heartbeat steadied, and his mind cleared of all doubt, leaving only the vision of victory.

They were relying on him, and he would not fail them!

There was only one weapon within all of Unlimited Blade Works that could finish off Berserker once and for all.

Shirou began the chant.

[Judging the concept of creation]

A weapon, a symbol, destined to determine and be wielded by the Once and Future King.

[20 seconds remaining]

Organizing themselves in the best possible position, it was determined that Touch Me would be the first line of defense. Bukubukchagama and Yamaiko held the second line, spreading evenly to react following Touch Me. The last line of defense was left to Momonga.

"[Body of Effulgent Beryl]" Using his remaining MP, he cast one last spell. It was a 10th tier spell with the ability to completely negate one instant bludgeoning attack. It granted him an added layer of protection and, most importantly, time.

[Hypothesizing the basic structure]

A majestic long sword, decorated with gilded gold and majestic blue, with Fae runes engraved its purpose, resonating harmony, and strength.

[10 seconds remaining]

Finally, the pools of viscous black ooze merged to form the final form of the boss. Berserker's new body was completely restored.

The menacing black miasma returned in full force, swallowing the Servant-turned-boss whole. Berserker form gave way, resembling nothing like it once did. Where flesh and blood once were, they gave way to a vicious, hollow form. It was nothing but a haunting mass of blackened wisps and tar, with a deep crimson glow eradiating from the body. The boss's deep obsidian skin was constantly slithering and writhing as if every part of it were alive and independent rather than the whole. Tendrils of black haze eradiated from the monster, shrouding it like a second layer of skin. A twisted amalgamation born from the deepest darkness.

Blackened was indeed an appropriate moniker for the monstrosity before them.

Two crimson orbs lit up, a sight filled with nothing but absolute madness and twisted intent.

A chill like no other shook them to their core, as if they were truly in the presence of death itself. Despite all of this, they persevered. This only strengthened their resolve. The clan made it this far, they weren't going to lose now!

[Duplicating the composition material]

Forge in divine steel, grafted by human hands, a weapon to which none has ever been seen before.

Time was up.

Berserker was fully revived.

"███████████▄▄█████▇!" Blackened Berserker roared, a nightmarish horror. The sound released by it was one that no human or beast could possibly make.

It charged forward to end all that stood before it.

Every step boomed, producing miniature earthquakes with every stomp. The entire cavern shook, with crystals breaking loose and falling like hail, smashing against the hard floor.

"It's been a while since I've used this." Touch Me muttered to himself, his posture was straight as a lance and unflinching in the face of overwhelming terror. He stood undaunted in the face of destruction itself. "But I cannot think of a more suitable cause!"

"[World Guardian]!"

The azure sapphire embedded in his chest plate flashed, emitting a brilliant glow that illuminated the entire cavern. And there he stood in the midst of it all - Touch Me, enveloped in a stunning aura. It was a battle of pure light against tainted darkness, and every movement seemed to hold the weight of the world.

If [World Break] was considered the strongest attack, with no form of counter or method to block or dodge it, then it was only fitting that there would be an ultimate defensive ability to match it. Enter [World Guardian], the special and unique ability granted to Touch Me's majestic armor, [Compliance with Law], as his status as a World Champion. This ability was truly the pinnacle of defensive capabilities, and there was no better protection than that offered by the power of the World Guardian.

For twenty-five whole seconds, Touch Me was completely invincible, with his strength and stats rivaling those of the level-breaking World Enemy.

"Come monster! Test your mettle against a Hero of Justice!"

His eyes shined through his silver helm, challenging the boss head-on. He quickly dismissed his sword, for it wouldn't be needed for what was to come.

"███▄▄███!" Berserker roared and accepted the challenge.

Blackened Berserker cocked its fist back and fired, to which Touch Me returned in kind. The two fists struck one another, and the world shook!

The foundation beneath cracked and splintered. A shockwave like no other shook the underground, threatening to cause a total collapse of the cavern. But Touch Me, he stood unbent and unbroken.

[Imitating the skill of its making]

Blessed by Fae and worshipped by man, it stands as the shining beacon of Hope. A symbol of Choosing.

"█▇▇▇▅▃▃▄█████████!"

"RARRGGGHHHH!"

Both let loose roars that stemmed from the pits of their very souls. One of pure destruction, the other of pure will.

With a shield in one hand, Touch Me withstood a second punch from the boss. Blackened Berserker would attack again, only to be met by another one of the World Champion's punches.

Blackened Berserker attacked faster and stronger than ever before, but Touch Me withstood it all, unwavering in his resolve. His shield weathered continent-shattering blow after blow. His fist matched the World Enemy's monstrous strength and speed. Back and forth they would go, their strength unable to surpass the other's.

With each blow, more and more of the ground cracked, unable to withstand the explosive forces of two beings that had transcended mortal limits.

'Boom!' Crack!

'Boom!' Crack!

'Boom!' Crack!

'Boom!' Crack!

'Boom!' Crack!

To the others, it was like watching a duel between titans - a battle that one could only find in legends.

The Unstoppable Force meets The Immovable Object.

Neither yielded to the other as their fists met again, and again, and again.

Touch Me was a paladin, a holy knight. He was a Hero of Justice for all, be they Heteromorph or not. He was the sword that cut all evil in his path.

But he was also a shield.

An indomitable and unshakable shield that will protect all behind him.

To attack but also protect.

That was who he was.

He was Touch Me, a Hero of Justice, and The Silver Paladin of Nine's Own Goal!

Their fists struck again, but this time, things were different. The divine light flickered, slowly fading away.

His twenty-five seconds were up.

"Then let's make it count!" Touch Me shouted with all his might.

Berserker threw a quick and powerful straight punch, but it was predictable, and Touch Me easily slipped past it, getting right in front of the boss. Summoning the last of his strength, he released an uppercut that struck Berserker's chest dead center. The impact of the blow sent shock waves rippling through the air. For the first time in the battle, the World Enemy stumbled back a step as the force of the blow connected.

The last visage of Touch Me's power dissipated, leaving him mortal once more.

"It's up to you now! Go Emiya-san!" With those parting words, Touch Me's HP hit zero, and he shattered into nothingness. His duty was fulfilled.

[Sympathizing with the experience of its growth]

There it lay in stone, dormant, waiting for the chosen one to take their rightful place as King. The one to lead all to the path of the Victorious.

Berserker continued on its warpath. The Players, Bukubukchagama and Yamaiko, both knew a head-on confrontation was suicidal. Their combined strength was nowhere near Touch Me's, but then again, they didn't have to be.

The two knew their roles. They needed to delay the boss just long enough for Momonga.

For Yamaiko, if she was going to go down, then she would go down swinging!

A similar situation repeated itself. Yamaiko's pink gauntlet jabbed forward, Berserker launched a fist of his own, and the two collided. Unlike Touch Me's version, The Nephilim had neither the strength nor durability to contend with the boss. Blackened Berserker fist punched through her attack and guard, and straight through her head, reducing her HP to zero.

Bukubukchagama opted for a more unorthodox approach.

"[Supreme Elasticity]!" The bubble gum colored slime expanded beyond her normal capabilities. Outstretched, Bukubukchagama sought to bind and restrict the boss for however long she could.

To her credit, her attempt held the boss back for a few seconds, but that was all she could manage. Peeling the slime off like she was nothing but wet paper, Blackened Berserker ripped her to pieces. Yet even in such a state, she refused to yield, mustering the last of her strength and wrapping around the boss's leg to halt him. This managed to stall the Servant for a few more seconds. Berserker broke free and brought its enormous foot down, crushing her, and so Bukubukchagama joined her fellow party members.

Together, they held Blackened Berserker back for fifteen seconds.

Only one remained between it and total victory.

[Reproducing the accumulated years]

"Wielded by the one true king, it served her well and faithfully until it was broken, but its duty was fulfilled. The King was chosen."

Watching his friends and teammates sacrifice themselves one by one tested Momonga's resolve. Whispers plagued his mind, all telling him to run away, to flee out of the boss's sight. No boss has ever caused such a fight-or-flight response within him until now. Yet, he stood his ground.

To run now would mean abandoning everything they've worked up to now and spitting in the face of those who sacrificed themselves.

And that was something he couldn't afford.

'I can do this! I can do this! I can do this! I can do this! I can do this! I CAN DO THIS!' Momonga mentally hyped himself up.

"You shall not pass!" The undead sorcerer declared. His staff struck the ground as Momonga spread his arms wide, inviting the boss to attack him.

Blackened Berserker more than eagerly recuperated. Momonga allowed the attack to make contact, thus activating his spell.

"[Body of Effulgent Beryl]!" The spell activated. A green light appeared around him before breaking. The 10th tier spell completely negated its initial attack. Not only that, as if time had rewound, the distance between Berserker and Momonga increased. This bought him a few precious seconds.

If Berserker was surprised, it didn't show. Instead, the boss continued once again, trying to eliminate the skeletal mage. With no option left and acting on pure instinct, Momonga dove forward with his arms outstretched.

Blackened Berserker's fist scraped the top of the skeleton's bare cranium but didn't manage the killing blow. Momonga found himself latching onto the titan's stomach. Like an annoying cockroach, he refused to die, trying to buy as much time as he could.

Berserker, thoroughly annoyed, figured it would play Momonga's game. Wrapping its arm around the body, the boss began to squeeze and crush the undead.

As death approached, his last thoughts were, "I hope I bought him enough time." With that, Momonga disappeared, leaving only Shirou remaining.

And he did.

[Excelling every manufacturing process]

Its physical form gave way, lost to annuals of time, but its spirit remained etched in memory. It has borne many names, The Sword in the Stone, The Sword of Selection, but to him, it was known simply as The Golden Sword of the King.

Berserker turned just in time as light poured forth from Shirou's hand. A heavenly and divine light unlike any had seen before it. Not even Touch Me's [World Guardian] or Durandal could even compare to such a holy light. It only intensified, as if Shirou was wielding an entire star within the palms of his hands.

Golden particles swirled in his hands, gathering and uniting. A torrent of wind picked up, his coattails flapping within the mighty gales.

First came the handle. It was a deep ocean blue color with a spherical jewel pommel. The hilt was adorned with a dazzling golden curved guard that was embroidered to perfection.

Lastly, the blade was formed, made of fine silver and brilliant gold with runes that shone brightly.

It was a sword beyond comparison. A holy sword matched by none save for its successor. With great power, the wielder summoned forth this Noble Phantasm from his very own Reality Marble. From the vast hills and plains of steel emerged an impressive single hill, towering over all others. There his strongest weapons rested, awaiting their time to be wielded once more. And there, at the summit of the world - his soul - it stood watching and waiting to be called upon once again. To bring victory, and now was that time.

With a wonderous cry, Shirou called out its name.

"Caliburn!"

[Caliburn: The Golden Sword of The Victorious]

More golden particles flickered into existence, floating aimlessly like fireflies in the night.

The golden rays that poured forth were unmatched, filling the cavern with light.

Shirou's heart swelled as he gazed upon the majestic blade, having long forgotten its divine glow. If he could, his face would be one of reverence and wonder.

Opposite of Shirou was Berserker, who was writhing in place. Its skin burned from the light, quivering as if being in Caliburn's very presence was hurting the darkened boss. In an attempt to try and overpower it, Blackened Berserker's form grew and intensified, with darkness creeping in and spreading all around.

As the Light grew, Darkness rose to match it.

It was time to end this.

"Sing, Caliburn." Shirou invoked.

[Caliburn: The Golden Sword of The Victorious - World Item]

[Active ability: When summoned, the user of this weapon has the option to convert any of their ability stats into energy to be used for Caliburn's next strike. For every 40 ability points sacrificed, it grants a double multiplier (2X) to the user's next attack. The stat will remain like that until the weapon is dismissed.

HP: 75 (X4) = 300 reduced to 1

MP: 85 (X4) = 340 reduced to 0

PHY. ATK: 80 (X4) = 320 reduced to 0

PHY. DEF: 70 (X4) = 280 reduced to 0

Agility: 85 (X4) = 340 reduced to 0

MAG. ATK: 35 (X4) = 140 reduced to 0

MAG. DEF: 65 (X4) = 260 reduced to 0

Resist: 85 (X4) = 340 reduced to 0

Special: 100 (X4) = 400 reduced to 0

Total level exchange (X): 2,720/40 = 70.5

Total multiplier bonus: 2*(70.5) = 141(X)

The next immediate attack shall be boosted by the multiplier bonus.]

Combined with Avalon's buff to his ability stats, Shirou sacrificed it all to Caliburn. This next attack would be his last.

It was all or nothing.

A surge of golden prana burst forth from the blade, a shining pillar illuminating the path to victory.

"Let's end this…"

"███████████████████████!"

Blackened Berserker seemed to agree, and with one final horrific screech, Berserker rocketed itself towards the faker.

Grasping Caliburn with both hands, the pillar of golden light increased in magnitude and brilliance. Kicking off the ground, Shirou met the monstrous Servant's assault.

Meeting in the middle, Shirou swung.

"CALIBURN!"

And then, everything went white.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

When a Player dies, they were transported to a desolate and infinite void. When Momonga finds himself in the Void, as the flavor text or lore calls it, he has a few options for where he might respawn.

He could choose to respawn at one of Vanaheim's many spawn points, log out right then and there, or respawn at the clan's registered building since he was now a part of Nine's Own Goal.

Selecting the third option, a sudden and blinding burst of white light illuminated the vast emptiness that surrounded Momonga. As he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a spacious, circular chamber. This particular room served as a designated respawn point and a teleportation hub for the clan's buildings. There, the rest of the party stood around, waiting. They perked up upon seeing another comrade join them.

"And that makes eight." Chimed in Ulbert.

"Momonga-san!" Peroroncino called out. The golden archer ran up to the necromancer, grabbed a hold of his shoulder, and shook him. "What happened?! Did you buy Emiya-senpai enough time?! Did Emiya-senpai make it?!"

"Otouto!" Bukubukchagama appeared next to him and firmly smacked him upside the head. "One, you're being rude! Two, if you give Momonga-san some space, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to tell all of us."

"Appreciated, Bukubukchagama-san." Momonga gave his thanks. "I'm afraid I won't be of much help in that department. I held out for as long as I did. I died before seeing it, but I think I bought him enough time for Emiya-san to summon his World Item."

"And Touch Me was just getting to that." Ulbert interjected. All attention turned toward him. "So not only can he summon Divine tier weapons out of his ass, but also a World Item as well?! What the hell kind of build does he have that lets him do that? Better question, why didn't he start with that in the first place?!" As he continued rambling, it seemed as if the goat Heteromorph was only using the chance to vent.

"To be fair…" Tabula joined in, webbed fingers interlocking patiently as he sat there. "I'm sure he has his reasons for keeping it a secret. Emiya-san's rather special ability, Projection, if I'm remembering the name correctly, is extremely powerful on first impression alone. That's the kind of information you keep under wraps, no matter who or what the situation is. Using it carelessly can lead to Players finding counters for him and can lead to PK's revenge considering his track record and general dislike within the Humanoid community already. The fact that he showed it to us in its entirety despite only knowing each other for a few short hours speaks volumes of his trust in us. Secondly, you forget, Ulbert-san, that while World Items are indeed powerful, they can't be used without careful planning and strategy. A trump card like that can't be exposed so easily. If placed in the same situation, you wouldn't be any different now, would you?" Finished the intellectual Brain Eater, playing devil's advocate.

Ulbert stood with his arms crossed, voicing his discontent with a grumble that nonetheless hinted at his agreement. Although he was prone to complaining, he couldn't deny the truth of his friend's words. When he finally obtained the coveted [World Disaster] job class, he made sure to boast about it, especially against those he fought, relishing in his newfound power. However, this pride also made him a target, as the [World Disaster] class, though a formidable spellcaster, was still vulnerable to coordinated attacks and skilled opponents. It was a lesson he learned the hard way after one too many instances of his cockiness leading to his downfall. As a result, he wisely chose to keep his mouth shut from then on.

"Alright, fine, that solves one mystery. But what about the fact that Emiya somehow knew about that boss despite it being revealed for the first time?" Ulbert grunted, bringing up another point of contention.

"Indeed, even I am puzzled by that. The only way for him to possibly know of the boss's ability would be if he fought it beforehand, which is an improbability. Or, he somehow hacked his way into YGGDRASIL and came across its features and code. It could even be that he was a part of the programming team for that specific boss. We don't truly know." Tabula speculated.

"What about you guys? You know him better than any of us." Asked Yamaiko, turning to the trio that knew him the best.

Momonga looked to Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama. The siblings shared the salaryman's uncertainty. None could produce a definitive answer, as while the passing months had strengthened their friendship, there was also a layer of mystery around him, one that left them speculative about what it was that he had hidden.

At the same time, memories of when Shirou would ask him odd and seemingly random questions replayed in Momonga's mind. Questions that should've been obvious or common sense for any other Player.

"We can speculate all we wish, but it is Emiya-san that holds the truth. He promised he would tell us, so for now let us wait and hear what he has to say." Amanomahitotsu sagely added.

Conversation petered off as the eight Heteromorphic Players remained silent, waiting for their friend to bring them the news.

The first ten minutes went by in a hurry, leaving the group with nothing but to wait around and kept themselves occupied while waiting for Shirou.

By the twenty-minute mark, everyone was getting a bit antsy. Peroroncino wouldn't stop pacing. Ulbert's pointer-finger talon constantly tapped against his other forearm. Bukubukchagama was a bit difficult, but Momonga recognized that she was moving her head around, her vision sweeping from side to side, waiting for any clue. Yamaiko herself was tapping her foot impatiently. Momonga wasn't immune either, fidgeting in place and wringing his hands. The only ones that remained calm and collected throughout were Tabula, Touch Me, and Amanomahitotsu.

As tension and doubt rose among the group, it suddenly came to a head when a message appeared in the group chat.

It was from Shirou.

Momonga accepted the call in record time. "[Emiya-san! Are you alright?! What happened?! Did you win?]" His emotions were on full display.

"[… It seemed I might have worried you guys a bit. I'm sorry for that, picking up all the loot took a lot longer than expected.]"

Wait…

Loot?

That implied that he…

"He won! YOSSSHHH!" Peroroncino beat Momonga to the punch, happily blurting out what everyone was thinking.

Cheers and hoorays' broke out, with the party jumping for joy. Peroroncino ran with his hands in the air like an excited child while Bukubukchagama and Yamaiko high-fived each other. Tabula and Touch Me shook hands, with Amanomahitotsu earning a pat on the back. Even Ulbert wasn't left out, standing much taller compared to the slouched stance he had.

For Momonga, he simply let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"[Where are you guys at this moment?]"

"[We are at the clan's base. Head to a teleporter, and it should be a selectable option for travel.]" Touch Me informed him.

"[Understood. I'll arrive in five minutes.]"

Once again, the group shimmered down and waited with palpable excitement for the final party member to join them. It wouldn't be long before Shirou joined them. He barely got a word in before everyone surrounded him, patting him on the back or congratulating him. And why wouldn't they? They managed to defeat an End Boss with just the nine of them, a feat that took extraordinary prowess, skill, and a whole lot of luck, and it was all thanks to him. Though the celebratory mood wouldn't last for long.

"Now that you're here, maybe you owe us an explanation as to what the hell you meant by 'we wouldn't believe you' back in that cave."

"Not this again, Ulbert-san. Please, have some tact-"

"It's fine, Touch Me-san." Shirou interrupted. "I promised you all answers, and I intend to keep my promise."

Patting the World Champion's shoulder in appreciation, he stepped forward, the others parting and giving him space.

"Before I begin, I ask that you all allow me to finish what I have to say first, and please do not interrupt me. I shall take any question at the end."

Seeing no objections and with their undivided attention, Shirou gave his side of the story. The clan leaned in, curiosity mixed with excitement for what was to come.

"The reason I know about Berserker and its ability, is because I, in part, helped inspire it. Zelretch and I…. we're friends… no, that wouldn't be the right word… acquaintance. Yea, let's go with that. We've been acquaintances for several years. The idea, theme, appearance, and ability of Berserker, as you all saw, was something from my past. There were hundreds of designs and ideas for monsters and creatures that we accumulated over the years. It seems Zelretch incorporated them within YGGDRASIL, and that's how I recognize Berserker."

"Hold on!" Ulbert called out. "If the two of you know each other, then that would imply you had a role in the design of the bosses for YGGDRASIL then!"

"Ulbert-san! We all agreed to allow Emiya-san the courtesy of finishing first before anything else!" Touch Me voiced disapprovingly. The others also gave him disapproving looks.

Ignoring Touch Me and the others, Ulbert continued. "I may not know jack shit about game design, but I know how companies work. Dozens of bullshit legal hoops to jump through and contracts of privacy. No way in hell would a multibillion-yen company like Kaleidoscope Industry would allow someone that high up or with so much knowledge of the game free reign to potentially spill every secret within the game or to its competitors. Not without an extensive NDA to cover their investment. They'll sue your ass to the moon and back!"

"You would be correct, Ulbert-san. However, it's hard to indict someone who doesn't have a physical body anymore." He sarcastically quipped.

By dropping another bombshell like that, the previous hostile atmosphere dissipated completely. Each member was stunned into silence over what they heard.

"I'm sorry, Emiya-san, but can you please repeat that?" Yamaiko whispered, her mind reeling from what he said. The others were in a similar state of shock, their minds trying to wrap around the absurdity of his words.

"I'm saying I don't have a physical body." Shirou bluntly repeated.

"… Haha! H-ahah! T-that's a good one, Emiya-senpai! T-that's quite the joke." Peroroncino awkwardly laughed, a silly spasmodic giggle, believing his friend and mentor was playing a small ruse on them.

Only for it to quickly give way to the muted realization that he was being serious.

Before anyone could voice their opinions, Shirou leaned back against one of the many pillars dotting the area. His entire posture was slouched, and a sense of weariness and fatigue radiated from the silver-haired Player. For a split second, his image seemed to have slipped, and for the briefest of moments, he appeared to be older. More worn and so very, very tired. It was gone as quickly as it came.

Taking a smoldering deep breath, he exhaled.

"Before I continue, let me tell you a little story. A long time ago, way before I even met or knew of Zelretch. A story beginning with a boy named Shirou Emiya."

Everyone perked up upon hearing his full name. So Emiya was his surname and either the inspiration or origin for his nametag.

Shirou took a moment to collect himself before beginning again. "Shirou Emiya was not a normal boy, at least by the averages of the world at the time. A boy that grew up without ever knowing of his parents, an adoptive father that left this world too soon but imparted onto him a dream. A boy that wanted to become a Hero." He began heavily.

The sheer weight and emotion he placed on the word 'Hero' could be sensed by everyone. The longing, regret, admiration, everything. All mixed in a volatile cocktail of emotion and intrigue. He spoke that word as if it were something more, something much grander, but at the same time, a burden.

They subconsciously straightened their backs upon hearing this. Their undivided attention was focused solely on him.

"My life was rather mundane in all aspects, at least insofar as being a twice-over orphan goes. I lived by myself after my foster father died, with my guardian being my next-door neighbor and my teacher. A woman with a voracious appetite and unrivaled skill with a kendo sword. As for friends… I honestly only had two at the time. My kouhai and someone I talked often to while I did repair work at the school while he was Student Council President. It was around high school that others came into my life. One of them was actually my little sister, though I did not learn about it until much, much later." He said this, mulling and musing over almost long-forgotten memories of easier days… of better days.

At the mention of a sister, Momonga and the others remained quiet while Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama leaned in with interest. The siblings were surprised and curious, as he had never once mentioned or talked about having a sibling before.

"I then met, or rather, you could say, was rescued from a stupid situation of my own making when I met my future girlfriend and lover. From there, an old friend of my father's finally tracked him down to our home and decided to help take care of me. It was an odd assortment of people I became friends with, but they were my treasure, and I wouldn't give it up for the world. One thing that bonded us all together was our love of mythology. From monsters to magic, from Greek mythology and Irish folklore to Britonian legend and Japanese folktales, we each had a love for the stories and myths of old. We made a small little group over it and made fictitious adventures where we each controlled one of those beings from old legends."

He paused for a moment to gather himself.

"To answer your question, Ulbert-san, the boss we faced, was Berserker, and he belonged to my sister. He was none other than Herakles, the demigod and one of the most well-known Greek heroes. Many of his abilities were taken from the tales of his infamous Twelve Labors, most notably the number of lives he had. She loved his tales of courage and his larger-than-life myths almost as much as she loved me." A small, rueful chuckle came to mind as he recalled Illya's REAL feelings about him and Berserker.

After pausing to take another breath, even though it wasn't needed, he continued. "For a time, everything was okay." I was happy… Eventually, time passed, and our tight-knit group began to fall apart, one by one. My kouhai had left, never to be seen again. My classmate had gone on to be a full-time monk at the shrine he was raised at. As for my sister… before I realized it, she was gone, her life snuffed in honestly what felt like almost an instant." If he had the ability to shed tears, he would have, because Illya had not deserved the fate she suffered that day. Just another life he couldn't save.

"My lover and my father's friend both ran into Zelretch, who at the time was intrigued by my lover's intelligence, money management skills, and her at times zealous imagination. He offered to take her under his wing, and she agreed, taking me and my father's friend with her. It would be the last true moments of peace I would come to enjoy."

Another pause, another moment of silence.

In the silence, each member mulled over the information. Each one had differing thoughts on what they had been told.

Midway through the conversation, when Shirou spoke of his little sister, the saddened and almost hollow tone of voice got to the avian Heteromorph. Peroroncino had reached out and gently cupped his hands with his sister's. Bukubukchagama returned the gesture with a reassuring squeeze. Hearing that Shirou, his senpai, and the Player who accepted him, pervert and all, had lost his sister frightened him. The thought alone of losing his sister made his stomach churn and his knees weak.

For Bukubukchagama, to learn that her cherished friend had a little sister, it was heartbreaking to know that she was no longer of this world. She couldn't even fathom how Shirou must have been feeling, having lost all three of the people closest to him and being left all alone. The sheer feeling of isolation rattled her. While she and her brother had their differences, the two cared for and loved each other, for they were all that they had.

For Momonga and Ulbert, his words struck a chord with them. While everyone else could only sympathize with Shirou after hearing about his loss, Momonga and Ulbert were the only two who could truly empathize with what they had just heard. Both of them lost their parents at very young ages and were forced to grow up without any true parental figures, to never have a proper childhood. The two didn't have any friends or family in real life. At best, they could say they had acquaintances. So, they dedicated their own lives to the game and to this virtual world. One where they could be free, liberated from the harsh truth of the world that was known as reality.

For Momonga, he gave himself to this virtual world in hopes of starting anew. A second chance at life for something more than what reality gave him. It says quite a lot about him that he considered Shirou his first and true friend in his life.

On Ulbert's end, it was to escape from the shitty world called 'reality.' For him, even if it was only for a moment, he wanted to immerse himself in the world and leave behind his real name. He desired to truly live and breathe as Ulbert Alain Odle!

For the rest, they kept their thoughts to themselves and waited in respectful silence until Shirou started again.

"Like all things, time passed, and even with the bond we shared, the three of us went our separate ways, and eventually I drifted apart from them. I, who still clung to the dream of becoming a hero, went out to fulfill that dream. Unlike everyone else, who wanted to make things better for everyone around them, or at the very least for themselves… I… I was more suited to taking things than I was at creating."

"What do you mean by taking… ?" Bukubukchagama asked nervously. She did NOT like the way he had worded what he just said.

The group as a whole couldn't shake the ominous feeling that pressed down on them. The way he said 'taking' rang all sorts of bells in their minds.

"Fighting…" Shirou elaborated. "I was more suited for a battlefield than in an office cubicle, whether it be a skirmish… or a full-blown war."

"A war…?" Yamaiko whispered, her voice aghast as she realized what he was talking about.

"Wait a minute… The only war in recent times was the Arcology War with the newly reformed Neo Nazis. That was at least thirteen years ago, beginning in 2118, right?" Momonga asked, recalling the news as best he could. Tabula met his gaze and nodded, reaffirming his words.

Hearing this, they all turned towards the lone Player.

Shirou said nothing, but his silence was damning enough.

For context, World War I lasted for four years.

World War II was slightly longer, lasting around six years before it ended.

The Arcology War blew both out of the water as it lasted for nine years. It earned a place in history as one of the most brutal wars of all time, rivaling even the previous World Wars in terms of devastation and sheer brutality.

After the war, many rumors and speculations arose. Some people believed that the Neo-Nazis were determined to fulfill the Führer's dream, while others thought that the war was prolonged to curb overpopulation issues in the European countries where it had started. Some believed that the conflict arose due to one party's desire for complete control over the region and its resources, while others claimed that the world's mega-corporations had a hand in the war, hoping to weaken those countries' governments and expand their reach. Regardless of the cause, the war was catastrophic for all sides, and there was no clear winner, only survivors.

What made it so frightening compared to the other two World Wars was not the death toll but rather the absolute mayhem and devastation that laid waste to nearly all of Europe. The time of simple kinetic weaponry had vanished, making way for more destructive forms of weaponry that their ancestors could only dream of. Magnetic and even laser-based weapons became commonplace. Countries and land were burned, scarred, and destroyed by these weapons. Soldiers and basic militia were sent to the slaughterhouse, dying by the thousands every day, and whoever survived that day was sent in the day after that and the day after that, until there were truly none left and the next batch of drafted recruits were sent to take their place.

The mortality rate, once researched after the war was over, was discovered to be a staggering eighty-five percent. It was considered a miracle if one could even live past a week in the 'Hot Zones', let alone the rest of the war.

Some individuals, who were believed to be very unlucky, managed to survive the battlefield. However, they emerged from it as hardened individuals, but also with scars and brokenness.

The rest of the clan silently gulped.

Two in particular, Touch Me and Yamaiko, paled and shuddered at the thought that their friend was a survivor and veteran of that personal hellscape.

"I've fought in so many battles and skirmishes across the world that it all blurs together. For a time, I thought I could keep my ideals and dreams true. That I could save, help, and protect everyone. Yet, I quickly learned that if I truly wanted to save lives, I needed to take lives as well. I would need to take the lives of those who would take the lives of the innocent. As a priest once told me, if I truly wanted to be a hero, I would need to save people. But that would mean there would be a need for people to be saved in the first place…"

Shirou reared his head back and let out a humorless chuckle.

"A paradoxical and flawed ideal…" He said this, slowly raising his hand in front of him. The others could see that it was trembling.

"But even after these years, after all that I've been through… I still don't regret it. I know that my dream is unreachable and incredibly naive. But still, just because my dream of saving everyone is out of reach doesn't mean it's not worth chasing. I'll keep on chasing after it, no matter how wretched others say my ideals may be." He clenched his fist, his voice, and his eyes, resolute to the very end.

Touch Me and Tabula was of two minds after hearing this.

Upon hearing Shirou's ideals, Touch Me found himself reflecting on his own. In the world beyond YGGDRASIL, Touch Me was regarded as a fully-fledged member of society, a privilege he owed to his upbringing in a prosperous and loving household. Throughout his childhood, he was consistently provided for and brought up with a strong sense of justice and heroism instilled within him. Such values remained with him into adulthood, leading him to graduate from a prestigious policing academy and become a member of the force, all with the intent of serving justice to all.

How quickly those ideals turned to ash, and the bitter taste of reality stabbed him for thinking so naively.

The law he fought so hard to uphold was bent and twisted to suit the needs of a corrupt society. Lives were wasted and discarded at the whims of those higher up in the chain of command.

But what truly broke his spirit and his heart was when he learned that those he looked up to, those that he was inspired to be, were just as bad as the people that he arrested and put behind bars. His fellow officers and former friends, those to keep the peace and justice… were all dirty. Dirty cops paid by one thug or another, to always look the other way.

He vowed to be an honest cop, a true cop, like in the olden days when Law and Order truly meant something.

It was a vow that didn't last a month before the commissioner of his department heard of his ideals. How quickly his tune changed once they started to threaten not only himself but also his wife and family.

And so, his once proud dream of true justice slipped through his fingers as he was forced to abide by and follow the rules of a corrupt society. Lest he and those he loved pay the price for his ideals.

It was why he started YGGDRASIL in the first place. Just like the real world, it too was plagued with evil. However, here he saw an opportunity to make a difference. In this virtual world, Touch Me had the chance to finally become a Hero of Justice!

The World Champion straightened out his back and puffed out his chest. He couldn't help but feel a distinct kinship with Shirou. To hear of Shirou's trials and tribulations and how he accepted the burden of it all on his terms. Not unlike his own, he ashamedly admitted in his mind. It was worthy of respect.

For Tabula, while he was sympathetic to the man's plight and burdens, his attention was drawn more towards the intricate details that had finally come to light. As Shirou displayed his combative prowess, Tabula couldn't help but wonder who he truly was. He observed Shirou's movements, his fighting style, and his precision and realized that something was amiss. It was too natural, too instinctive to be done by a simple controller or even thought-based motion. It was apparent that the level of finesse Shirou possessed was beyond that of an average citizen or even a skilled gamer. Not even Touch Me, who was considered a World Champion and one of the BEST players in all of YGGDRASIL, could match Shirou's level of instinctive precision.

In Touch Me's case, it was justifiable, as he had training in the field of self-defense within the police academy and many others. Shirou's remarkable reaction time and composed demeanor during intense situations, like their recent encounter with the Boss, could be attributed to his survival through the entire Arcology War, which was a miraculous feat on its own.

Shirou's existence was a mystery to the Eldritch Player, and Tabula was eager to uncover the truth and learn more.

Once he saw that everyone's attention was back on him, Shirou continued his story.

"And so, I fought and fought and fought some more. I kept on fighting until it eventually became too much for me to continue on, even if I limped and dragged myself to those battlefields. In the end, I was hospitalized after suffering crippling injuries, and the world moved on without me. I was confined to a bed, a prisoner in my own body, as I watched the world move on as I slowly wasted away without living a proper life. But Zelretch, he reached out to me. My friend… my ex-girlfriend at that point, who worked under him and is still working under him, reached out to the man himself. She asked him to help me-for another chance at life, you could say. And, well… Let's just say that I wasn't ready to waste away what little of my life was left confined to drab walls and horrible tubed food. So I signed away my consent and hoped that it would work out. Thankfully, it has… at least so far anyway."

"That's all well and good, but that still doesn't explain the how and all that bullshit." Ulbert asked in a surprisingly polite tone, reserving his normally abrasive attitude for the moment.

"I was just about to get to that." Shirou reassured. "A question for everyone. Does anyone know the exact mechanism of the Neural Nano-Interface and how it operates?" He looked up, tapping the side of his temple.

Hearing the non-sequitur question, the group was momentarily confused. When no answer came, he continued.

"No one knows? Well, you're not alone. Neither do I, to be honest."

That managed to rouse a few chuckles, albeit small and quiet ones, out of a couple of them. It helped to lighten up the mood, if only by a little bit.

"From what I gather from Zelretch's rambling, nanomachines within our body are the mediums that link our mind within the real world to that of the virtual space. Signals are sent via electrical and neural impulses from our brain and are intercepted by the nanomachines, and then converted into data. Our bodies are left in an almost REM sleep-like state where our mind and consciousness are awake but separated from our physical bodies. Making it so the body doesn't move around while your mind is occupied. You could say our body is in a pseudo-comatose state."

The others nodded, the science made sense.

"I say this as I still do not know how exactly it was that Zelretch did this. From what I gathered, he somehow managed to transfer my entire consciousness and digitalize it. The how and why are a mystery. I am unable to log out, making me a permanent resident of this virtual world. I honestly wish I could explain it to you, but I can't. And that's my story." Finished Shirou.

Silence hung heavily in the air for what felt like an eternity as the weight of the revelation settled in for each person present. The impact of the truth revealed was palpable as each member grappled with the enormity of what had just been shared. None dared speak, their feet shuffling restlessly and their eyes darting to meet one another's gaze before veering elsewhere, searching for some sense of clarity or direction.

The words spoken by Shirou echoed relentlessly in Momonga's mind, sparking an endless stream of questions and doubts that threatened to overwhelm him.

Like pieces of a puzzle coming together perfectly to paint an image, everything began to make sense. His thoughts traveled back to the past, to the first time he met the silver-haired Player. The confusion he felt when he learned of the world of YGGDRASIL, and him crying out Zelretch's name in disbelief. Then there was his altruistic and kind nature when it came to gaming and helping people-one that was out of place for a community as hostile as YGGDRASIL. It all suddenly clicked. It explained so many discrepancies that Momonga wondered about his best friend. More than that, it solves the mystery of why he always appeared online. It wasn't because he was a NEET or because he was an addict, it was because he couldn't even log out if he wanted to.

Momonga turned to look at how the others were taking it. The brother-and-sister duo looked at one another as if communicating telepathically. The rest were in their own varying degrees of contemplation. Their true thoughts and emotions were hidden behind their stoic avatars.

Shirou's countenance contorted into a grimace as the quietness lingered. He struggled to keep in check the anxious exhale that was welling up inside him.

Of course, they wouldn't believe him. It sounded completely ludicrous.

The plot of a Sci-Fi B-movie

He knew he had come clean. Or at least, as clean as he could be without talking about his true origins. Surprisingly, the tale came rather easily for him as he pondered and schemed when he took his time collecting the various loot drops within the cave. In his long career as a fake hero, he has done many, many things. Some of which he wasn't proud of doing but understood as a necessity. Lies were something the faker could never get over. While he was okay with little white lies, he found that he could never bring himself to tell a complete falsehood. Instead, he got better at twisting the truth.

After all, the best lies have some truth as their foundation.

What he told them was indeed true, but not the entire context of the situation. He did know Zelretch by association, and he knew of Berserker and that it was true that he belonged to his sister, Illya. He had fought in numerous wars and battles in his life, but he never specified which. Honestly, when Momonga mentioned the Archeology War, he quietly ran with it, turning the second half of his explanation into a slight improv. He was telling the truth when he said he did not know how exactly the Wizard Marshall trapped him within YGGDRASIL.

He simply omitted the circumstances and situation of each part. He left it purposely ambiguous enough to let them fill in the blanks and come to their own conclusions. Some way for them to rationalize the absurd. He spoke the truth-merely the truth that would be accepted. After all, they would be hard-pressed to believe this version of the story, the inclusion of the Moonlite World would be too much.

Still, this was a large amount of trust he was showing them, more than he expected from himself. What could have influenced him to be so open towards people he had never met face-to-face and would never meet? Perhaps it had to do with the terrifying challenge they had recently overcome together, strengthening their bonds. An old comrade from his Enforcer days once said that nothing bonded people better than a 'life-threatening situation where you only made out by the skin of your teeth.' Or perhaps, it was the desire to be heard, to let his doubts be known, to open up to others, where once he was simply all but ignored.

However, that didn't stop the nervousness that was bubbling up in his stomach. After all, what were the chances that his story would be believed? From their reactions to Shirou's tale, they had never encountered a situation similar to what was discussed. In other words, while the world outside the game had many technological advances compared to his, brains in jars were not one of them.

When the silence became too much, he was unable to contain it anymore. His heavy sigh echoed through the chamber.

"You don't believe me." He said it was more of a statement than a question.

None of the members answered, but Shirou expected that. The faker glanced away, a mirthless chuckle escaping his lips. He shook his head. Of course they wouldn't. Those that he only met today had no reason to believe such a ridiculous idea, while his friends and those that knew him the longest, Momonga, Peroroncino, and Bukubukuchagama, would be hard pressed to take his words at face value.

Even after all these decades, some things never change. A fool in the beginning and still a fool now-

Before Shirou's thought could be derailed further, however, the group had a reaction outside of pondering. More precisely, Momonga stepped forward.

"I-I believe you!" His avatar remained stoic, but his voice told another story. It was shaky and laden with anxiety. Despite that, there was a strong conviction in his words.

Momonga released a breath he didn't know he was holding. He had said that which he wanted to say the most. Sure, he had stammered, but he had done it. Now, he had to convince the others.

"Y-you… believe me?" Shirou repeated, unsure if he heard him correctly.

Hearing this, Momonga straightened his back and stood proud. "Yes. I believe you." He repeated himself, his voice firm and serious.

Not long after the lich's declaration, the others shared their own opinions. It was a mess as each tried to talk over the other. A cacophony of words and exclamations. Finally, when the chatter had ebbed away, three factions had been born.

The group was divided into three distinct factions. Momonga, Peroroncino, Bukubukchagama, and Touch Me were on one side. In the center were Yamaiko and Amanomahitotsu, who simply watched everything with a critical eye, neither accepting nor denying such a notion. Ulbert and Tabula were in the minority, with Ulbert facing the opposition with a stern gaze. A stare-off ensued, with each side silently passing judgment on the other.

Finally, the silence was broken.

"You can't be serious." Ulbert's statement was deadpan. If he could, he would show them how slack his jaw was. How naive could they be?

"I don't know about the rest, but I'm serious about my decision. Emiya-san has never lied before, and I don't believe he would lie to us now!" Ulbert's question was responded to by Bukubukchagama. Her voice projected a degree of confidence rivaling Momonga's, despite her initial hesitation. Such was the vocal prowess of a voice actress. Of course, that's not to say that underneath her bravado wasn't a river of inquiries regarding Emiya's story. The interrogation could come later. For now, her friend needed her support.

"Sis! Don't leave me out like that! You know that I would never doubt Emiya-senpai!" Peroroncino followed up on his sibling's unintentional challenge. His response lacked the calm and collectedness found in his sister. Instead, his tone was juvenile and spirited. In his mind, why would his senpai and friend ever need to lie? And even then, it was understandable why he would be hesitant to talk about it in the first place.

Ulbert glanced at the three before his sight focused in on Touch Me, his glare dripping with pure incredulity.

"Those three, I can kind of understand. But you? I know you're daft in the head sometimes, Touch, but please don't tell me you actually believe him." Ulbert challenged him, unable to put into words the emotion building within him.

Touch Me didn't respond right away. Instead, he turned to look at Shirou, and the two of them briefly locked eyes. He slowly turned his attention back to the World Disaster.

"I would be lying if I said it didn't sound crazy." Touch Me admitted with a shrug. "However! Emiya-san has placed his trust in us by speaking truthfully. I believe it is only fair that we respond in kind!" Touch Me's boisterous exclamation tore through the tense atmosphere that had previously been brewing. In his mind, he couldn't quite fault Shirou for his logic, coming to understand some of his choices and reasoning. Those around him were caught flat-footed by his over-the-topness. At least, most of them.

"You're all crazy…" Ulbert wanted to pull his virtual hair out. After hearing Shirou's story, he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but even he thought the idea of Shirou being what amounted to a digital ghost was way too farfetched. He knew the idiotic Hero of Justice was very trusting, but this was beyond moronic!

To say they were jumping the gun would be like calling the ocean deep or the sky large, a massive understatement.

"How are you so sure about that? He could just be stringing you around to avoid further questioning." A cold practicality killed off any chances of being interpreted as antagonistic. By playing the role of devil's advocate, Tabula aimed to scrutinize the validity of the claim and ensure that it was not baseless.

It was Momonga who stepped forward.

"Perhaps, but if that were the case, wouldn't Emiya-san have picked out a better story or an easier lie? One that is more believable and wouldn't draw attention to him? Yet, he chose to share with us his story, one that borders on the unreal. Maybe… maybe he is lying, or just maybe, he's also speaking the truth. As the saying goes, sometimes reality can be more bizarre than fiction. Who's to say this isn't just one example of it?" Momonga argued, invoking a quote he had heard long ago in defense of his friend.

Tabula paused at this, his head tilting as he was reminded of something.

"There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Ulbert's ears twitched, catching Tabula muttering something under his breath. The extent and meaning behind the Brain Eater's words were lost on Ulbert, but Tabula did noticeably perk up as if intrigued.

"Whatever the case may be, I believe he should be given the benefit of the doubt at the very least. I would like to think I speak for everyone here when I say that we believe him. No matter how you look at it, Emiya-san has always been nothing but good to us. For me and for some, he is a hero."

As Momonga mentioned this, his eyes swept across the standing members, and the others standing behind him lowered their heads. Momonga and Amanomahitotsu stood tall and firm.

"He has also been a teacher and a helper." Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagma soon joined them, their postures firm and unwavering.

"And to others, he is an inspiration." Touch Me was next, standing tall and proud. Not even the others were left out, with Yamaiko and Tabula straightening their backs.

"But, most importantly of all, he is our friend! And I chose to believe in my friends." As he finished his speech, Momonga followed the others in lowering their heads at the last bit.

Without saying a word, Yamaiko and Amanomahitotsu exchanged a look, their minds were made up, and they walked over to join Shirou's growing group. It was clear where they stood on the matter.

"I-I… Tabula-san! Come on, use your big brain. Tell these guys that they're crazy!" Ulbert tried to reason.

Said Eldritch Player said nothing. His avatar remained silent as a corpse, never once diverting his focus or attention from Shirou's group.

In the silence that followed, Tabula pondered. While he normally would be more critical of their blind faith, in the face of such devotion, he couldn't help but find himself wavering. At the very least, not being completely dismissive of the magus's words.

After hearing Shirou's story, it did put plenty of things into context. Context, which, if he suspended his disbelief for even a tiny moment, aligned with the situation at hand. Even though he had only known Shirou for less than a day, there was an air to him, one that was welcoming and trustworthy. It reminded him very much of when he first met Touch Me. While he can't claim to know the man well when compared to the likes of Momonga or the others, Tabula was of the adage that actions speak louder than words, and Shirou's action showed that he could be trusted to say the least.

It didn't hurt that he shared Tabula's humbleness, which was quite refreshing to speak with. Speaking in practicality, Shirou lying to them would do him no favors, as Momonga pointed out. Especially when it in no way, shape, or form benefits him and would be more detrimental had he just outright lied. And as brought up, Shirou could've easily told a more believable story, but instead, he went with what he revealed.

Tabula found himself in a interesting conundrum, grappling with the conflict between his rational mind and his inclination towards the fantastical and extraordinary. While logic dictated that his story was implausible, his fascination with the supernatural wavered such rigorous adherence to reason.

After much deliberation, he made his decision.

"I'm still skeptical… but…" Tabula paused, the others hanging onto his every word. "I shall choose to believe you, Emiya-san. So long as you continue to prove your words are no lie." Silently, one more joined their group.

Ulbert exclaimed in disbelief, "You can't be serious?!" as Tabula walked away.

Without turning around, he said this.

"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."

On that final note, Tabula joined the others. And now, there was only one left.

Ulbert was shaking. His hands were drawn into fists, and he seemed moments away from blowing his casket. However, moments before he went ballistic, he gave up. His muscles uncoiled, his back slumped, and a heavily aggravated sigh escaped his lips.

"You know what? You win. Fuck it! Sure, whatever! Emiya is some kind of self-conscious digital ghost. I don't care one way or another. I'm not going to stand here and argue against a foregone conclusion." With the white flag officially raised, he stepped forward. Only to be dragged into a group hug initiated by Touch Me and Peroroncino. As he was being crushed, he wondered what he had done to deserve this fate.

In the center was Shirou, who was still reeling from the shock of it. Part of him felt numb, knowing that they believed him. Another part questioned if he was insane for trusting them or them for putting so much trust in him. Then there was a small part of him that felt guilty for hiding so much and twisting the truth, but he told himself that it was necessary. There was no need for them to learn of the Moonlite World or muddle the already complex issue.

In the end, he simply settled for being content with what he had.

"Well, that went better than expected…" Shirou thought out loud, calm disbelief filling him.

The group continued until Ulbert fought to be free, untangling himself as the rest dispersed.

"Umm, any questions?" He asked, simply going with the flow and unsure of what to do next.

Several hands shot up.

"Yes, Amanomahitotsu-san."

"I've noticed this before, but your avatar seems more lifelike compared to others. Could this be due to the digitalization process done on you?" He asked, unable to mask the curiosity in his voice.

"Your guess is as good as mine. In truth, I'm quite surprised that Zelretch didn't have me modeled as some goblin or something equally hideous." Shirou chuckled, shrugging.

"So, this is what you look like? I must say, you look quite dashing, Emiya-san. How old are you? Your avatar looks around the early to mid-thirties." Asked Yamaiko, inspecting him with a keen eye.

"A bit rude to ask for a man's age, don't you think Yamaiko-san?" Shirou quipped.

"Hey! Only us girls get to pull that card." She retorted, playfully punching his shoulder.

"So, this character model is your actual appearance in real life?" Bukubukchagama suddenly asked. Her tone took on a higher pitch and an almost eager inflection.

"Technically, yes. This was what I used to look like." Shirou answered truthfully. There was a period where he resembled Archer to a T. He noted that she sounded very interested all of a sudden.

"Have you ever thought of returning to your own body again, Emiya-san?" Momonga asked the question they all had in the back of their minds.

Shirou gave a humorless chuckle.

"You already know my story, Momonga-san. The circumstances of my life before the transfer were… to put it lightly, not kind. Truth be told… my time here in YGGDRASIL has got to be the best I've had in years. And it's thanks to you all. For now, I'm content." He answered truthfully.

"Emiya-senpai!" Peroroncino suddenly called for him.

"Yes?" Shirou gave him his full attention.

Peroroncino had been uncharacteristically quiet. This was the first time he had ever heard the light-hearted man sound so serious. A contrast to his normally excited and perverted self. Even his posture lacked the usual vibrant energy that he always displayed. Shirou wasn't the only one that noticed, as Momonga and Bukubukchagama cast worried glances towards the out-of-character tone of their friend/brother.

"If what you said is true, then that means you don't have a real body anymore. R-right?" The avian Player's voice cracked near the end, as if he had trouble wrapping his head around such a notion.

Worry began to build within Shioru after seeing the sudden shift in his friend's demeanor.

The others swiftly picked up on the sudden mood change.

It was here that his protégé in the art of the bow suddenly hugged him from out of nowhere. Peroroncino's arms wrapped around the faker. His shoulders shook and trembled as he clung to his senpai.

"Emiya-senpai… To think it was like this… I'm sorry…"

Everyone was thoroughly taken aback by this. The sheer, raw emotion and heartbreak only made it more disconcerting.

Was Shirou's reveal affecting Peroroncino this much?

"Otouto…" Bukubukchagama softly said. "I'm sure everything's going to be-"

"Everything's not going to be alright!" Peroroncino shouted, taking everyone aback. "You couldn't even fathom what he went through!"

What he went through? What had gotten Peroroncino so riled up?

"I-I don't understand."

"Of course you don't understand. You could never understand something like this, nee-san! Surely you too understand Emiya-senpai's plight, don't you, Momonga-san?!" Said the Birdman, turning to his companion.

"I-I… Uhh…" Momonga's lame response was brought on by the sudden spotlight.

"Peroroncino-san. I think you should calm down and explain what you mean." In an attempt to take control of the situation, Shirou addressed the problem immediately.

"Oh, my god… It's already too late." He dropped to his hands and knees. At this point, everyone's nerves were shot, each one on the proverbial edge.

"Of all people, why did it have to be Emiya-senpai?!" He exclaimed, his fist hitting the floor.

"Peroroncino-san! I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong! Please! We're worried." Shirou cried out, shaking the avian Player from his stupor.

"It's…" He began.

"It's what…? You can tell me."

"It's your…"

"My what? What is it, Peroroncino-san?" Shirou slowly coaxed the answer out of him.

"Your penis is gone!"

Skrrreeek!

In the background, Shirou swore he heard a record scratch. Moments after hearing Peroroncino's words, the tense and almost depressing atmosphere disappeared. If it were possible, Shirou's jaw would've hit the floor, as would everyone else's.

He had no words. He was truly speechless at what he heard.

What truly made it all the more surreal was that Shirou was fairly certain that Peroroncino was being 100% serious about it. It certainly fit the bill.

He continued, oblivious to how shocked everyone was by his ludicrous statement.

"To never know the pleasure of the flesh! To never feel the rush, the euphoria of a huge masturbation session after a long day's work. To never feel a fire in your loins, threatening to break you and challenge your resolve. To never eye the female form and feel tingling in your third leg! Could fate be any crueler?! Oh, Emiya-senpai, it's a fate worse than death!" He wept.

"Otouto…" In a false sing-song voice, the eldest sister hissed. "You had us all worried… FOR SOMETHING AS STUPID AS THAT?!" The inflection of her voice changed as her sentence progressed.

"It's not stupid!" Peroroncino shouted with righteous indignation. "Girls like you would never understand us!"

"And what exactly are you implying, little brother?" Bukubukchagama politely questioned, her voice as icy and unforgiving as an arctic waste.

Common sense must've snapped back into place as Peroroncino slowly backed away from his sister. He didn't get very far before she lunged at him and proceeded to discipline him. In other words, beat the ever-living snot out of him.

"Ow! Nee-san! Stop, ouch, stop it!"

"You idiot! We were all worried over nothing!"

"Hey! Ouch. This is a big deal for all of us! You're just mad now that you can't ask Emiya-senpai out like you wanted to!"

"Shut up!" The slime's attack only grew wilder as her voice cracked for a second there.

"Now that I'm thinking about it, if we go by Emiya-senpai's avatar, he's at least a decade older than you… No wonder you were looking in those categories of my porn sites. You're into DILFs!" Peroroncino suddenly exclaimed as if he had uncovered a massive revelation.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! SHUT up! SHUT up! SHUT UP!" Her voice only got more hysterical, like a shrieking banshee, trying to drown out her perverted brother's words and keep what little dignity that was left hidden.

The rest of the group watched on with deadpan eyes.

"All in favor of pretending this did not happen?"

"Aye." A unanimous agreement.

Despite all of that, spontaneous laughter broke out amongst the group. No one was sure who laughed first, but it quickly spread amongst the Players. Even Ulbert got a few chuckles in. This unexpected turn of events infused the previously somber atmosphere with much-needed lightness and humor.

"Alright." Touch Me clapped his hands, earning their attention. "I believe this is quite an understatement, but today's been a hectic day, what with all that was revealed. I know everyone has questions, some more pressing than others, but I ask that you hold off on them for now. There will be plenty of time to ask Emiya-san questions in the future."

Touch Me looked to Shirou, who nodded, agreeing and giving him his consent. Even though the others still had questions, those can be addressed at a later time.

"Moving on, I'm sure everyone's curious about the fight and loot." Shirou began, grateful for a change in topic.

"How was the loot drop?" Amanomahitotsu asked with barely concealed excitement.

"Well…" Shirou began, his tone smug, and the group got the impression he was grinning. "You can determine that for yourselves." Operating his menu, an avalanche of items and materials flowed forth. Literally.

The floodgate was opened, and all manner of loot spilled onto the ground. Once more, the group was stunned, but in a good way. By the end, the floor was littered with loot. The biggest prize was the massive haul of data crystals, two hundred and fifty Legendary tier data crystals with another two hundred Divine tier data crystals-he should know, he counted them all. Combined with the previous sum that they mined in the cave beforehand, that brought their total to three hundred and twenty-five Legendary data crystals and two hundred and sixty-five Divine tier data crystals. It was a significant sum, weighing on par with the rewards of clearing out some of the most dangerous dungeons in the game.

Their rewards weren't only data crystals but also a massive variety of miscellaneous items, like armor, weapons, potions, shields, accessories, grimoires, tomes, ores, fine silk, crafting material, various rare metals, gems, and so on. All of varying high-tier quality. Lastly, there was the literal mountain of gold that piled up on the side and reached up to Shirou's height and was nearly three times in width and size.

The group was silent, even the siblings stopped bickering in favor of gaping at the sight before them.

The group wasted no time and jumped in, dividing out the reward among each member. Shirou also returned their dropped item following their deaths during the boss fight, something they were all thankful for, even Ulbert, who begrudgingly thanked him.

The gold was split evenly amongst the Players, but that was secondary compared to the true prize. It took some time, roughly half an hour to be exact, of distributing and bargaining with one another over who got what and how many.

For Momonga, Peroroncino, and Bukubukchagama, they did not need the high-tier data crystals as much compared to the others. Being friends with Shirou had its perks, and thanks to him, he often gave away high-tier data crystals liberally. Hence, the three were fine with taking the other spoils in place of the crystals.

The rest of Nine's Own Goal split the data crystals evenly between them.

For Amanomahitotsu, he was more than content to take the rare ores and metals for future smithing projects.

Touch Me took an interest in the various weapons and accessories that provided various boosts to his stats. Yamaiko was much the same, seeking to boost or upgrade any of her current equipment.

Tabula desired the various high-grade potions, crafting materials, and ingredients. Being an alchemist, he wanted to experiment to see what he could make.

Ulbert readily picked out the various tomes, grimoires, and books within the pile. As a powerful magic caster, he was always looking to expand his arsenal of destruction.

Even Shirou got his fair share, taking what remained of the loot, which was a significant portion, as a form of gratitude from the party. After all, they wouldn't even be distributing said prize in the first place were it not for the digital magus's success. With the group high on their victory and prizes, Shirou slowly slinked his way out of sight and towards the teleporters. Midway, he stopped and stood there, silent as a grave.

"Emiya-san?" Momonga spoke, drawing attention back to him as his back was turned towards them.

With his back to them, they only saw his shoulders hunching before relaxing. It looked as if he was taking a moment to compose himself.

"Everyone, I wasn't being completely honest when I said that was all the loot. There was one other drop that I didn't show you all." Shirou admitted, his voice tight with a hint of shame.

"One loot drop? That doesn't sound so consequential, Emiya-san." Replied Tabula.

"It is when it's a World Item."

The group was momentarily shocked by the news. The fact that their friend was hiding one of the most powerful items in the entire game hit them a few seconds later.

"Bastard! You were holding out on us!" Ulbert accused.

"Ulbert-san! Let us first hear him out. Surely he must have an explanation for his actions." Touch Me defended.

Their gaze returned to him, and this time, Shirou lowered his head in shame.

"It… the item wasn't just any random World Item. I knew of it and it…"

"It reminded you of your sister, didn't it?" Finished Tabula. The story of Shirou's sister was still fresh in his mind. If Berserker belonged to or was related to his sister, as he had said, and if the item was linked to the boss and, in turn, her. Well, it wasn't hard to put two and two together. It would stand to reason that he would be reluctant to give it up.

Shirou nodded.

"See, Ulbert-san. He didn't withhold the World Item for himself out of selfishness. It holds a lot of sentimental value to him." Touch Me readily provided.

Ulbert grumbled, not entirely satisfied, but he didn't push the issue.

"I'm sorry." Shirou apologized. "I-I… wasn't too sure if you would take it away or store it in a vault somewhere…"

"I understand, I truly do, Emiya-san." Touch Me patted the Humanoid Player on the shoulder. His words held no true scorn, only understanding. "While it is a bit disheartening for you to think that we would try and take away something you worked for and rightly earned, even if it's a World Item, we do understand your concern. No, on this, you have nothing to fear. But do give us the benefit of the doubt from now on."

The others gave reassuring nods, showing that they weren't too upset about his deception.

"Thank you… I will, I promise."

"Good man! Now then, if it's not too much trouble, would you mind if we catch a glimpse at the World Item?" Touch Me requested. His voice betrayed a tinge of excitement at the opportunity. The others were equally interested, their eager stares waiting for him to reveal the coveted item. Even Ulbert, who leaned against a nearby pillar with his arms crossed, trying to look indifferent, couldn't hide his curiosity as he watched closely.

Opening his menu screen, his mind flashed back to the battle's end with Berserker.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Light met Darkness, and the world was enveloped in golden white. It was a clash of epic proportions, almost biblical in nature. Caliburn's pure burst of prana stood in stark contrast to the entire force of darkness. And in the end, Caliburn emerged victorious, cutting through it all with its unyielding power. The darkness was consumed, the light eating away at the corrupted taint until there was nothing left but pure, unadulterated radiance. As the light slowly faded, Shirou was treated to a truly amazing sight, one that he would never forget.

Everything was restored, the once tarnished and nearly destroyed cavern was completely fixed. The floor, walls, and ceiling were unblemished. The previously empty lake bed was filled with sparkling water. It was a pristine image, one of immaculate beauty.

Lastly, there was Berserker in his original physical form.

Shirou's body tensed up, but he quickly noticed something different this time around. Unlike before, there was no indication of madness or darkness in the Servants' presence. Instead, the demi-god simply stood there contently, seemingly at peace with himself and his surroundings.

As he beheld the Servant, what truly convinced him were his eyes. They appeared so authentic, like real eyes with a white sclera, a pale golden iris, and a black pupil. The once Heroic Spirit of Berserk Rage, which had previously resembled a wild beast, no longer appeared to be one. Instead, the Heroic Spirit stood with the poise and elegance of a warrior from his legend.

What stood before him was not Berserker but Herakles.

The once heroic form of Herakles had become wispy and transparent, reminiscent of when a Servant enters its astral form. As Shirou and the Greek hero locked eyes, the warrior inclined his head in recognition and gratitude towards the magus. It was a surprising turn of events, and Shirou couldn't help but return the nod to the noble Servant.

And just like that, Berserker disappeared into the ether.

[Congratulation!]

There it was, the congratulations screen. They had done it.

It was over…

Shirou let out a shuddering breath as he all but collapsed to his knee, relief filling him.

[You have cleared the Titan's Crystal Cavern! For conquering this perilous Arena dungeon, along with defeating both bosses on your first try, and with a party with less than 12 players, a 70% increase in loot drop will be given as a reward.]

As the screen had promised, loot materialized from the sky and fell like raindrops. The coins glistened as they fell and bounced around, accompanied by an array of items and equipment. However, what caught Shirou's attention were the beautiful data crystals, shining brighter than anything else. They fell without end, filling up the ground.

Taken aback by the sheer quantity and quality of items, Shirou turned away but froze as he looked upon something else, something that wasn't there previously.

Where once the astral form of Berserker stood, something else occupied the space.

Shirou's eyes ignored everything, and his body walked over to it. His hand was outstretched but wary of the touch. Biting the bullet, he grabbed it. Even as he held it in the palm of his hand, he still couldn't believe it…

It was a card.

Not just any card.

No. It was…

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

[Berserker Class Card - World Item]

Shirou found what he was looking for. He gazed down at his palm, and there it was-the very same card that he had discovered in the cavern. The card was made of shimmering gold and featured a fearsome humanoid beast with the head of a monstrous hound and brandishing a massive sword. As he held the card, he noticed that it had a magical quality to it, as it appeared to be floating and rotating effortlessly. The card was adorned with special particles that created a mesmerizing display of colors, almost like a miniature rainbow that he held in his very hand.

The others were equally enraptured by the card, their minds spinning on what potentially powerful and broken abilities it might contain.

"So? What does it do, Emiya-sempai?" Giddily asked Peroroncino.

"That's the thing, I don't know."

"Huh?" The Players spoke in unison.

"What do you mean, Emiya-san? What is the condition for its use?" Momonga wondered.

"That's the thing. There is no condition. It cannot be used at all. The item does not provide any descriptions or flavor text, and there is no console command or activation index. It's just… a card." Shirou finished lamely.

"There's no way that can be true." Tabula shook his head at the absurdity of it.

"It's the truth. Here, you can give it a try if you still don't believe me." Shirou handed the World Item over to the skeptical Eldritch Player.

Tabula was determined to unlock the card's ability and spent the next several minutes trying everything in his power to do so. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain, as Shirou had predicted. The card appeared to be nothing more than a simple, flashy card with no indication of how to activate it. Despite passing it around and having every member try their hand at it, the World Item remained unresponsive. Ulbert was the last to attempt it, and he let out a frustrated growl in the end.

"The hell!? Fucking shitty devs, what idiot designs a World Item of all things and has it be just a plain card with no abilities?! If the World Item is really just a useless card, then Emiya can have it for all I care." Handing the worthless item back to Shirou, the World Disaster marched off.

With nothing left for them, the rest of the group disbanded and went their separate ways. Shirou's gaze remained transfixed on the card, and he couldn't help but wonder. He was indeed curious about the card's true purpose, but that took a backseat to a more pressing matter.

Namely, what was Zelretch's game in all of this?

If Berserker was within YGGDRASIL, then it stands to reason that other Servants may be included as bosses. Lancer, Rider, Assassin, and so on.

If that were the case, wouldn't that imply that there would also be a Saber?

If so…

"What are you up to, Zelretch?"

Kaleidoscope HQ

Speaking of said Dead Apostle Sorcerer, he was currently in a board room meeting. While everyone was sitting together at a long table, Zelretch sat at his personal adjacent desk that connected to the head of the table, his feet kicked on the top. Why did he have a personal desk in a board room? Because he could, and anyone who says otherwise got pranked by the vampire. Complaints died down after the last manager was sent to a psych ward screaming something about rubber ducks.

He held a bored expression as he listened to the investors and shareholders rattle on and on about losing profit. As the dull meeting droned on, a sudden ringing interrupted the session. The various suits looked at one another, trying to figure out who the ringing belonged to. It didn't take long before they figured out the source.

The ringing was coming from Zelretch. The Magician casually picked his phone from his pocket, an extremely old flip phone of all things, and flicked it open.

Like a switch being flipped on, Zelretch's entire bored demeanor changed. He straightened up in his chair, and his lips twitched into the barest smile. A deep chuckle rumbled from his throat.

"It seems it has begun much sooner than expected." Zelretch cryptically said, pleased with whatever it was he read.

"Umm… Sir?" One of the employees gathered enough courage to ask. "Is everything alright…?"

Zelretch smiled. His pearly white canines were on full display.

If anything, this only unnerved them even further. Everyone began sweating bullets. The only time Zelretch ever looked that happy was when he was pranking someone or up to something.

"Indeed. Indeed, they are."

Everyone in the room would later swear it was a trick of the light, but his eyes twinkled and glowed a frightening crimson.

Chapter 5 - The Birth of Ainz Ooal Gown

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 05/03/2019

Chapter 5 - The Birth of Ainz Ooal Gown

December 28th, 2131. World: Niflheim. The Fields of Ever Frost. Recommended level: 80-85

Within the myth of Yggdrasil, the World Tree bore nine realms, each with its own unique characteristics and serving important roles. One of these realms was Niflheim, located at the roots of the World Tree. It was believed that Niflheim was one of the first, if not the very first, realm to come into existence. In old Norse, the name Niðavellir meant "mist world," and true to its name, the entire realm was filled with cold mist and empty stretches of land. Despite its desolate nature, Niflheim played a crucial role in the nine realms, as it was the source of all the rivers that flowed through them.

The world of Niflheim within YGGDRASIL seems to reflect its harsh and barren origin. The place was stuck in an eternal winter that makes it seem like there's never been any other season. The landscape was almost entirely frozen, with barely any plains or ranges that weren't covered in ice and snow. To make things worse, around 70% of the surrounding area was enveloped in fog and mist, making travel an incredibly perilous endeavor. One could never know what might be lurking within the shadows, hidden from sight by the veil of darkness and snow.

This continues as one travels further and further out, large mountains and plateaus decorate the rockier ventures and world.

Near the farthest edge of the realm lies [The Fields of Ever Frost]. An area said to have an everlasting winter. A fitting theme for the realm of the ice.

What made this area unique was that for most of the year, it was inaccessible through normal means. Players could not normally traverse the lands as there's always a blizzard storm preventing Players from even making it. Anyone caught in the storm would be inflicted with several status ailments such as [Hypothermia], and [Frostbite]. It didn't matter if they came prepared with articles of clothing or items to reduce the effects, the storm would weather them down regardless. There was only one time when the area was accessible.

For a single month, specifically December, the never-ending blizzard came to a halt and laid its secrets bare to the rest of the world. It was a rare opportunity to explore the mysterious land, but one that would not last for long.

The trip to [The Fields of Ever Frost] was quite an investment. Any party or group that wished to enter had to make the trip manually, and there were few safe zones along the path. It was reported that it would take two hours just to reach the area, and that didn't even take into account any possible encounters or trekking through the hazardous and rocky landscapes. A party had to prepare for weeks, if not a month in advance just to gather all the gold and equipment necessary to make the trip. It was definitely a perilous journey, but one that was worthwhile.

The best way to describe the area was a winter wonderland.

Snow lazily fell from the virtual sky above, clear and shining with hundreds of stars this night as the backdrop.

The fields, also known as a forest to some, presented an awe-inspiring spectacle that was truly breathtaking. This vast expanse of land was entirely blanketed by a glistening layer of snow, which transformed the entire area into a pristine, frozen world. The pine trees stretch as far as the eye can see, creating a picturesque landscape that was both serene and otherworldly, leaving one to feel as though they have stepped into a winter wonderland. However, this forest was not only a beautiful sight to behold. It was also home to a wide variety of high-level monsters that could not be found in any other realm. These creatures were known to drop valuable loot, making them a highly sought-after target for adventurers who dare to venture into the forest.

Amidst all this beauty lies a stark reminder of the past. The ruins of old towns litter the landscape, serving as a haunting reminder of what once was. These buildings stood as a testament to the power of the frozen storm that swept through the land, leaving nothing but ruin in its wake, adding an element of intrigue to this already mysterious place.

The Fields are truly a sight to behold, with the lone rocky cliff at the center of the area being particularly striking. This rocky landmass appeared as if it shot up from the earth, and on top of it sat a massive gothic castle that overlooked everything. The castle was built precariously on the cliff, which adds to its grandeur and majesty.

With how thin and narrow the cliffside was, it would be impossible for such a structure to remain perfectly situated, yet it did. It stood there, a monument for all to see.

A stone bridge connects to the bottom of the mountain and leads directly to the front gates. It was obvious to anyone that the castle was an explorable dungeon.

The last interesting feature was a giant stone statue of some creature. To most Players, it would look like an intimidating boss or creature. Most simply ignore it, assuming it was simply part of the esthetic or a decoration.

It was a statue of Type Mercury.

Standing at the massive open gates to the castle was a lone Player in a full-body fur coat. There he stood, his attention solely on the statue as the harsh wind blew against him.

"Figured one of them would be here. The question is…" He looked away and toward the opened doors of the castle. "Which one…"

"Oi, Emiya-san! You coming or what?!" A voice called out to him.

Up ahead were two figures, their arms waving, trying to catch his attention, their voices urging him to hurry or else they'll leave him behind.

Smiling, and without another word, Shirou slowly walked into the castle. His two companions were at his side, ready to take on anything.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

The majority of the castle's interior was desolate, void of any life. Broken furniture lined the hallways, and the dim lighting only added to the eerie atmosphere. It felt like an abandoned palace, with dust and debris scattered across the floor. The cold wind seeping in through the cracks in the walls only reinforced the idea that this place had been left untouched for a long time. It was a haunting reminder of the past, a once grand structure now left to decay.

Residing in the many empty, shadowy hallways was a small group; no more than three Players all huddled together. The three all wore large winter coats, a necessary item to prevent any of the cold status aliments from affecting them. Namely, the [Frostbite] status effect that reduced their movement speed and the continuous damage that came with it.

"How many did we lose?" One of the Players inquired. In his hand, he wielded a massive greatsword with blue veins running down the weapon. Underneath his coat was a set of bright blue armor. He was a Rune Knight.

Vigur Loust - Lvl: 100

"I've just received a message from the others, they died as well. We're all that's left, Vig-san." Answered one of his companions, a large and round Player who wielded an equally large bagpipe. Underneath his cloak, he wore a tunic and breeches. He was the bard of the group.

Areo Instrument - Lvl: 100

"Fuck!" Vigur cursed, slamming a fist against the wall in frustration. A number flashes, showing he took a single hit point of damage.

"What should we do?" Meekly asked their third member. The Player was a female priestess going by the steel staff with a cross at the top and holy garbs underneath her coat. She was the party's remaining healer.

FullofJoy - Lvl: 100

"We move on. We can't go back because of those damn things, so all we can do now is keep on pushing forward." Responded the Rune Knight. The remaining two Players shared a reluctant look but followed their leader's lead. It wasn't like they had much of a choice in the matter.

In the beginning, they came into the castle a full clan, a total of thirty Players altogether. The clan had been planning this trip for three weeks. Gathering enough supplies and equipment to make the trip to The Fields of Ever Frost to conquer the castle dungeon and reap the rewards. They made the journey with minimal causality and resources wasted and breezed through the forest to reach the castle.

The clan was prepared for anything, ready to tackle the previously unclaimed dungeon in their name. They had brought everything they could to grant them every advantage they would need from facing multiple POP's to a boss at the end of their trek. Unfortunately, they weren't as prepared as they thought.

As soon as they opened the impressive double doors of the castle, they were greeted by a single NPC standing in the middle of the room. And to their surprise, it wasn't just any standard NPC or POP monster. It was the dungeon's boss right off the bat.

It faced them as if it was waiting for them.

Assassin - Lvl: 125

The Dungeon Boss was draped in a thick and flowing black cowl, which concealed most of its body and form. Its body was rather large in width and lanky, contrasting with its other anatomy. The only thing that was made visible was its rather eerie skull mask sewn into its face with its eyes narrowed into slits. Its form and feature granted the shadowy boss an eerie and haunting first impression.

It was a surprise for the Players to encounter the dungeon's boss as their first enemy. It was far from common to see a dungeon open up with the boss as the first challenge, especially when it was not the final battle. While unorthodox, it wasn't too outlandish to comprehend why. The boss's level also gave them some pause as its level was rather lacking. The level of the boss was also a bit lower than expected, especially for a large castle-sized dungeon. They expected the boss to be a Dungeon or Raid boss with a higher level.

Whether or not this was an attempt at the devs throwing something out of left field to catch the Players off guard, they wouldn't be swayed. The surprise and shock disappeared as they coordinated themselves. Whatever the situation was, they would deal with it swiftly and efficiently. The group immediately launched themselves into battle, ready to slay the boss.

The team's astonishment grew as they came to realize the boss's incredible capabilities. It was able to dodge their attacks and allude them, evading their CC (Crowd Control) skills and spells with remarkable agility. The battle soon turned into a game of hide-and-seek, as the boss expertly used the decrepit interior and surroundings to its advantage. Despite their best efforts, the group struggled to corner the elusive NPC. However, they eventually managed to trap it, and one Player successfully dealt a fatal blow with their spear, seemingly bringing the boss down for good.

The attack was powerful, but it seemed to only tear through the boss's cloak, leaving the body unscathed. However, when the Player's spear made contact with the cloak, something strange happened. The cloak expanded and twisted around the boss, ensnaring Assassin completely. When the Player pulled their spear back, all that remained was the boss's shredded cloak. The body had vanished without a trace. They didn't even hear the cracking of glass to signify its death.

Through an unknown means, Assassin managed to disappear and escape right underneath their noses.

The clan tensed up, watching and waiting for when the boss would reveal itself and strike again. Minutes passed before it slowly dawned on them that the boss wasn't going to show himself.

The group was left completely taken aback by the boss's unexpected action. It was completely out of the norm for them, as boss fights were usually pretty straightforward - a powerful NPC attack, and then the Players would retaliate until one side came out victorious. However, this boss had done something that had never been seen before - it had run away from them. Needless to say, the group was bewildered and unsure of what to do next.

A few even joked that the game glitched out on them.

With little else to do and fueled by greed and desire, the decision was made to split up into five groups of six and explore the castle for either loot or any trails that the boss might have left them. They strode forward, deeper into the mysterious castle, confidence swelling at the lack of resistance.

That was when things took a turn for the worst. Separated from the whole, the parties were ambushed by copies of Assassin. These clones appeared from every corner and every shadow, hunting them down relentlessly.

No matter how many of them the Players slashed, destroyed, or blew up, another one would take their place.

None of them were the original going by the varying differences between each one such as height, length, build, and so on. Vigur was pretty sure a few were females if the bumps on their chests were any indication. Which only added to their confusion.

The teams were separated even further and shepherded away deeper into the castle's halls as numerous copies of the boss swarmed and surrounded them, forcing them to retreat.

Effectively separated, they went their separate ways, unable to backtrack or regroup lest they fall to the dozens of sharpened daggers waiting in the shadows.

Isolated, the parties were forced along a path, all the while fending off attacks from the assassin-themed boss like pesky flies.

Divided from one another, the Players found themselves slowly backed into a corner. They were constantly under attack and never had a moment of rest. Danger lurked behind every corner, and some of the parties and Players succumbed quickly to deceit and surprise attacks, while others only managed to survive by the skin of their teeth.

Where the clan boasted thirty full Players when they first entered the dungeon, their numbers dwindled to a mere three, a tenth of our initial strength. Only Vigur's group remained. With so many of their comrades slain, they were forced to continually make their way forward, or in this case, up the varying floors of the castle.

The most accepted hypothesis was that the boss was a Mob Boss. The term was coined to describe bosses that rely on summons and aids during the fight. These bosses were known for relying on minions and other aids during battle, which helps to balance out their lower level compared to other high-end Dungeon Bosses. These minions can range from mini-bosses to powered-up basic monsters, and they can be incredibly frustrating to deal with. It was not uncommon to face dozens of enemies before even getting a chance to take down the boss. A not-so-easy task to accomplish, what with the situation where said minions function as improvised meat shields for the boss and usually came in limitless supply as a way of inflating difficulty.

Just the kind of tactic that those shitty devs would naturally employ.

Carefully making their way up, the group was vigilant for anything. They've had run-ins with the shadowy boss appearing literally anywhere and at any time, striking without warning. At this point, it wasn't too far off to say they were jumping at shadows.

They continued on their path, each watching one another's back. For the most part, they traveled unaccosted, but that only heightened their caution. For they knew just because it was quiet, it didn't mean it was safe. Assassin could be stalking them this very moment and they would be none the wiser.

Soon, they arrived at a converging hallway with a large set of doors at the end. Opening it, the group shambled into what they could only describe being a throne room.

The room was expansive, roughly one-hundred meters in length and width, allowing for plenty of space and maneuverability. The dust and cobwebs that covered everything hinted at years of neglect. It was as if time had stood still within these walls, frozen in a moment that was now long gone.

The moon's glow shined through the windows, a poor substitute for proper lighting but it illuminated enough to where they weren't completely blind. Several large pillars were erected within the room, holding up the ceiling. Various tapestries and paintings were torn and ruined, collecting dust along the walls. At the end of the room was an empty, rusted, and dirtied throne.

A fitting boss arena if Vigur ever saw one.

As if called upon by his thoughts, numerous shadows emerged from every nook and cranny, even from the ceiling as well. Now that they were in a room with relatively better lighting, Vigur scowled. None of the Assassin's present was the original. The small army of Assassin numbered roughly three dozen, all armed with deadly daggers. Without any fanfare, they charged straight at the Players.

"[Rune Burst]!" Vigur slammed his sword down, striking the ground and calling forth a burst of blue energy at the oncoming enemies. He struck a clean blow, but like the previous attempts, it did nothing as for every Assassin they took down, another would simply take its place.

As the fighting continued, the Rune Knight noticed something different. One of the Assassins' wasn't attacking, simply content to say in the back. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was the same one from the very beginning.

"There's the main body! You guys, boost me!"

"[Bardic Inspiration], [Bestow Blessing], [Youthful Melody], [Song of Requirement], [Noble Blessing]!"

Enhanced by his teammate's spell the knight bolted forward.

"[Speed Rune Activate]!"

Green runes lit up along his legs, granting him further speed. Bypassing the fodder, he charged directly at the main body. Vigur swung his sword downwards but Assassin jumped at the last possible second, avoiding the attack His weapon slammed down onto the pavement, and the floor cracked, sending dust and concrete everywhere.

Vigur gave chase, not intending to let the boss out of his sight.

A couple of the copy Assassin broke off to intercept the charging knight.

"Out of my way!"

With finesse, Vigur swung his sword, easily cleaving through the bodies of the duplicate bosses. However, a couple of them managed to damage him before they expired, their daggers lashing out when close. He pointedly ignored his HP dropping into the low green in favor of the boss right in front of him.

"[Runic Air Burst]!"

His sword glowed a brilliant azure blue and he swung the weapon in the direction of Assassin. The air crackled with runic energy, exploding outwards. The attack proved quick enough that Assassin couldn't dodge completely, grazing the boss and taking a small chunk of its HP. The skill also served a secondary purpose as the cloak was ripped to shreds, revealing its true appearance.

Now that the cloak was gone, the Player took in the boss's full appearance on display. Assassin's body was much more lithe and lengthy when compared to the other copies, to an unnatural and uncanny proportion. The only interesting thing of note was its disproportional right hand, bound completely by black wrapping and leather.

Confidence swelled within the Rune Knight after seeing his attack successfully landed. With another charge, he once again activated [Runic Air Burst] only for Assassin to shimmer and disappear just before the attack connected.

"Where did it go?!" Vigur exclaimed.

"Over there!" Areo pointed.

Turning, the Player found his target at the end of the room. Before he could close the distance, a sinister orange glow radiated from beneath its bounds. The wind picked up, and the tightly bound wrappings flickered and loosened. Assassin looked up, making eye contact with Vigur and a chill like no other ran down his spine. The masked boss rushed towards the knight like a speeding bullet. Far faster than he could expect to reasonably dodge or react, the Player braced himself.

However, before Assassin was in range of the Player's attack, it struck. A glow of burning orange broke free from its binding. The various black bounds and straps flowed freely and slithered around the limb, adding to its creepy factor. The arm for which the binding hid was monstrously long, practically double in length as its regular one. The monstrous limb extended towards the Player, twisting and turning, bypassing the knight's meager defense and pierced his chest.

"[Zabaniya - Delusional Heartbeat]!"

Retracting the arm faster than Vigur could react, the knight saw the boss holding an image of a beating heart before Assassin's finger closed into a fist and crushed it. Blood poured forth and dripped down the horrifying limb. Faster than Vigur could even blink his HP hit the low reds, his eyes widening in surprise at the damage he just took.

"S-shit!" He exclaimed, jumping back and desperately trying to avoid being killed.

"H-heal me, already!" Vigur screamed.

Before anything could be done, he saw a pair of arms appear from behind him and then wrap around his body.

The knight turned his head. There, gazing from behind his shoulder was the bone-white mask of Assassin, but like the others, there were noticeable differences that differentiated this one from the rest. This Assassin had short, violent hair with a headpiece that formed short black horns, and a form-fitting outfit that exposed a fair amount of skin.

There Vigur stayed, embraced softly like a lover. So stunned was he that he didn't notice his HP bar ticking away until it was too late, his body shattering into polygons. His runic sword dropped, marking his death, and leaving his remaining two companions to fight the army of Assassins all by their lonesome.

The horrifying limb contorted and coiled back into its binding, ready to take another life. The long-limbed Assassin relaxed his stance and was content to stay back while the violent-haired Assassin slinked back into the shadow. The numerous copies of Assassin slowly swarmed and cornered the two frightened Players.

"What are we going do now!?" FullofJoy panicked, her entire form shuddering and shaking.

Areo grimaced. At this point, nothing.

What little hope they had at escaping or winning was completely thrown out the window now that their leader and only form of damage was dead and gone. Neither of them possesses any form of offensive magic or attack, leaving them useless in the faces of the Mob Boss.

'The raid was a bust…' Areo shook his head. He knew they were done for a while back but kept his tongue.

It was why as one of the Assassins charged at the bard, he did nothing but wait. They were already defeated, so why delay the inevitable?

The Player sighed, bracing himself as he wondered which one of his precious gear would be dropped upon this death.

The Assassin's dagger lashed out, fully intending to take the bard's life, only for something to skewer it and send it flying into the walls and exploding for good measure.

It wasn't just the one as several more blurs shot forward, killing any Assassins close to the two Players. The rest retreated to a safe distance, avoiding the bombardment.

"What the…"

"Huh?"

"Are you all alright?" A voice called out. Both Players turned to see a new Player that'd they never seen before entering the throne room. He too wore a winter coat to resist the environmental ailments, leaving only his face visible to the two clan members. Their eyes widened upon catching his gamertag.

Emiya. The infamous [Heteromorphic Savior]. How ironic that someone with such a title would be their rescuer.

He strolled confidently in, unafraid of the small army of Assassins before him. However, he was far from alone.

"Darn, why'd you go and do that Emiya-san? There goes two perfectly fine loot drops to our collection." A second voice quipped up, appearing at Shirou's side.

The crimson archer gazed up at the imposing figure beside him, a towering presence covered head to toe in gleaming, steam-punked armor. The metallic monstrosity was a sight to behold, of glimmering steel with smoothed bronze, electric coils jutting off the back, emanating arcs of electricity. In each hand, he wielded two equally towering shields with a reflective surface, mirror shields. A cycloptic eye peered out of the helm, like a tall watchtower, scouring all within the Player's field of view with a watchful gaze. It was the only hint of the Player's abnormal origin.

Variable Talisman - Lvl: 100

"Are you saying I should've let them die?" Questioned Shirou.

"Duh. I mean, they were kind of dead to rights anyhow, why waste a perfectly good opportunity?" Replied Variable Talisman with an emoticon.

"Perhaps we can save the debate for later? We are still in the middle of a boss fight, gentlemen." A third voice entered the conversation before it devolved into an argument.

In contrast to them, the voice belonged to a dark and viscous oobleck slime. The Elder Slime advanced steadily with its skin squirming and dripping incessantly, while two luminous green orbs served as the Player's eyes.

Herohero - Lvl: 100

As if on his word, the numerous Assassins jumped into action, their shadowy form racing towards them.

Half a dozen of the copies jumped at the armored cyclops alone, determined to take him down. The mechanical cyclops raised his mirror shields as the copies of Assassin attacked, their gleaming blades barely making a dent on the reflective surface of the shield. Suddenly, streaks of light shot forth from the shield, skewering the copies and sending them flying backward. He effortlessly swatted at the others with his shield, crushing them with ease.

The black oobleck slime charged forward fearlessly, taking several attacks as the Assassins tried to defend themselves. However, as they reeled back, they found their daggers had been shortened, their blades melting against the Player's touch.

"[Acidic Burst]!"

Herohero's tar skin bubbled before exploding outwardly, catching the Assassins around him as gobs of black slime clung to them. Then came the smoke and smell as the acidic ooze burned against their form, their bodies melting before their very eyes.

One of the Assassins survived and charged again, only for Herohero to meet him head-on, two slimly tendrils extended out and wrapped around the boss. What came next stunned all as the black slime built up momentum before performing a German suplex, slamming the Calvary Class Servant against the hard ground, killing the Assassin on the spot.

Distracted by the new arrivals, Aero and Joy were left wide open and would've died had Shirou not intervened, Kanshou and Bakuya cutting through the copies of Servant with ease. The air sparked around him as Noble Phantasms were traced and fired off, detonating across the massive room.

Slowly, they were whittling their numbers down.

This managed to kickstart the bard's brain once more, his mouth opening with questions filling his tongue but from Aero's peripheral vision, he caught an ominous orange glow. The familiar deadly glow that had nearly one-shotted his friend and leader.

Turning, he saw the long arm Assassin rushing towards them as the binding released the demonic arm.

"Oh no! Don't get hit by that or else it's an instakill!" The bard warned.

"Regroup!" Shirou shouted, his teammates disengaged on the order as he jumped in front of them all.

"Trace on!" From his hand, neon lightning erupted before it extended, forming what initially looked like a spear. But as it unfurled, the bard realized it was actually a flag. The flag was primarily white and gold, and it held a radiance that the bard couldn't properly describe.

"Luminosité Eternelle!" Twirling the flag, he planted it on the ground straight up. Golden light sprang forth from the flag, illuminating all within the room with a blinding light. The golden rays encircled them, forming a barrier of light.

"[Zabaniya - Delusional Heartbeat]!"

Assassin's attack jetted towards the group with the intent to take another life. However, the glowing inhuman hand was unable to penetrate through the barrier of light. The hand reeled itself back, smoking from the holy light of the barrier.

The other Assassins tried their hand, throwing various sharpened daggers only to have them bounce uselessly off the dome.

Recognizing that none of their attacks will work, The Mob Boss chose to wait. The group watched on as Assassin stalked and waited for another opportunity to show itself and strike.

Inside the barrier, the two Players were gobsmacked at what they witnessed. Without the looming threat of the boss, the two were able to breathe easily.

"Everyone ok?" Shirou asked.

"I-I… thanks." Areo expressed his gratitude with Joy following up with one as well.

Managing to gather his wit and voice, he spoke up, a question burning within his mind.

"Not for nothing, but why the heck did you save us?" Came the bard's question.

YGGDRASIL was a unique MMO-RPG game, unlike many of its competitors. It was known for its extreme difficulty that applied to just about everything. One of its most controversial features was its completely opened entry dungeons. YGGDRASIL had a plethora of hidden and unexplored locales and areas, which were open to all. This meant that just because one group of Players entered, another group could enter as well. It wasn't uncommon for multiple parties of Players to encounter each other within the same dungeon. While YGGDRASIL had a large overworld, it had happened in the past before.

It was an easily exploitable feature. Hence the many debates and controversies surrounding its inclusion.

In YGGDRASIL, a common tactic employed by larger guilds to clear newly discovered hidden dungeons was to make others do it for them. They would wait for other guilds or clans to discover the location, and then trail behind them into the dungeon. This allowed the first group to do most or all of the heavy lifting, fighting off any enemies or obstacles that stood in their way of reaching the end of the dungeon. Once the initial group had fought their way through and were exhausted of their resources, the sneaky guild would swoop in at the last moment and launch a surprise attack on the first group, reaping the rewards without any hassle.

This practice led to numerous complaints and rants on discussion boards and message threads on the forums. Many Players felt cheated and frustrated when they found an unexplored dungeon and worked their way through it, only to have another group come in, finish them off, and take all the credit for their hard work.

Despite being a downright scummy tactic, it was an extremely effective one, to say the least.

Hence why any smart and well-prepared party would first scan the area for any possible Players presence within the vicinity that might stumble upon the location. It wasn't too uncommon to leave a small party behind to act as sentries to dissuade any possible intruders.

The bard asked this as before they entered the massive castle, the clan made sure they double and even tripled checked the surrounding area for any potential Players. It would've spelled disaster had they been taken off guard while completing the dungeon. Not like it mattered now.

Before anyone could say a word, Variable Talisman walked forward, dwarfing the both of them with his towering form. For a second, Aero and Joy was worried that they would be killed despite having just been saved.

An outstretched hand stopped him. Shirou stepped in between his teammate and the two Players.

"We're not killing them." He said without any preamble, already knowing what was going through Variable Talisman's head.

"Why not? I mean, come on, you heard him. And just look at them. They were just standing there, gawking. They were begging to be killed." The mechanized tank argued.

"We're not killing them." Shirou repeated, admonishing his friend.

"Come on, I know being fair and righteous is kind of your shtick, but no need to be a stick in the mud about it. Besides, they ain't going to lose much besides a few levels and a piece of their gear." Variable Talisman groaned, an emoticon popping up to match the Player's exasperation.

"I don't have a problem with PKing PKers or those who harass and bully others for their own amusement." Argued Shirou, looking Variable Talisman right in the face despite the towering height difference. "But it's not right to actively kill Players who just want to play the game and have nothing to do with it. If we do that, then we're no better than the people we're fighting against."

A brief stare-off ensued between the human and the cyclops.

"Gonna have to agree with the boss on this one, Talisman-san." Herohero chimed in.

"There's being playful and then there's being an absolute tosser, and what you're suggesting is leaning towards the latter."

Variable Talisman leaned back and looked away.

"Yeah, yeah." He grumbled half-heartedly.

With that matter settled, Shirou turned back to the bard, answering his previous question.

"Are you saying that you would have preferred not to be rescued?" Shirou countered rhetorically.

"I ain't complaining, just curious." Aero responded by shrugging. "Most people would've agreed with your friend."

"Maybe, but, that's not how I do things. If you see someone in need of help, then it only makes sense to lend a hand." Shirou answered with unwavering conviction.

The bard doubted that Vigur or their clan would have acted with the same decency and generosity if the roles had been reversed. They would have simply left him to die for the chance at his dropped gear.

"You have quite the bleeding heart, Emiya-san. I can't tell if you're just incredibly generous or stupidly naïve." Aero stated bluntly.

"Areo-san!" His companion hissed. The last thing they needed was for their savior to get pissed and render the save pointless by killing them.

"Preaching to the choir…" Variable Talisman commented, earning an elbow jab from Herohero.

"Is there an issue with that?"

The bard couldn't help but snort at the rather innocent-sounding question.

"No. Not like it matters anymore." Aero sighed. The clan's attempt on the dungeon was a bust. What did it matter now that someone else was here with them?

"Here." Shirou suddenly opened up his inventory and pulled out a scroll. Handing it to the bard, his eyes bulged at what he held in his hand.

A [Gate] scroll. With this, they can open up a [Gate] and leave!

"I-I…" Once again Areo was at a loss for words, taken aback by the generosity the stranger was giving them. Not only did he choose to save them, but he even provided a means to escape.

"Thanks." Areo thanked the stranger once again and quickly unfurrowed the scroll, activating it.

Before them, a black oval portal materialized after the scroll burned up. As the remaining Players of the clan walked towards it, they noticed that Shirou and his group remained.

"Umm, aren't you coming with us?" Asked the cleric.

"No. I do hope you don't mind if we take over."

If Areo had eyebrows, they would have reached his hairlines at the stranger's rather absurd request.

If they wanted to try their hand at fighting the boss with only three Players, and one that managed to take on and nearly caused a full thirty-Player party wipe, then they were welcome to it.

Besides, there wasn't anything either of them could do to stop the three of them anyways. Shirou was kind enough to offer a way out and cut their losses then and there. The silver-haired Player wasn't going to hear any complaints from the bard. Aero knew that their leader would throw a hissy fit, what with them abandoning and potentially handing all loot drops to the trio. But at this point, the two were beyond caring.

"No, and you're welcome to it. A word of advice, the boss will constantly summon duplicates of itself. You'll need to attack the one with the oversized right arm or else you'll never win the fight! Also, keep an eye out for the one in short purple hair, it might be a buff copy or co-boss." He warned them.

Areo walked through the portal with FullofJoy following behind him. The [Gate] collapsed on itself after a few more seconds, its function fulfilled.

Alone, Shirou and his companions glanced back toward the outside. It seemed that while the magus was chatting with the two Players, Assassin appeared to be preoccupied with their own affairs. What had once been a group of roughly twenty-four Assassins had now swelled to an astounding fifty or more. A small army faced them down, their imposing presence was unmistakable, as they stood stock-still, their eerie bone-white masks hiding all traces of emotion and their unwavering gaze fixed upon the trio.

The information Aero shared with Shirou was helpful, albeit a bit redundant, considering he was able to quickly discern the theme of the fight. There were in actuality three forms to the True Assassin boss. The information and identity of them immediately came to him. The first form belonged to Hundred-Faced Hassan, the same Servant from the Fourth Holy Grail War. The ability of Zabaniya: Delusional Illusion was the only one that could fit the parameter for which the boss could spawn an almost infinite number of Assassin copies.

The second main Assassin was none other than Cursed Arm Hassan, the very first Assassin the clan mistakenly believed to be the sole boss of the dungeon. Evident by the demonic right arm that the Servant kept tightly sealed so it did not constantly seek the hearts of everyone around it.

Lastly, there was the Hassan of Serenity, whom he was able to identify thanks to Unlimited Blade Works gleaming her signature poisoned daggers and dirks.

Assassins' boss fight was certainly unique from many other boss encounters that Shirou experienced before. The challenge lay in the cunning and deception the Assassin's brought to the fight, which perfectly aligned with the theme of the Servant.

The Fourth Holy Grail War Assassin's Noble Phantasm allowed for the spawning of copies almost without limit. To prevent another copy from taking the original's place and perpetuating the cycle, it was necessary to eliminate all of the Assassins almost simultaneously. A task that was easier said than done when taking into account the capacity of Cursed Arm's instakill attack and Serenity's lethal presence.

This boss fight would require an extensive amount of coordination, teamwork, and even a stroke of luck.

'Then again… this is a Servant we're fighting against.' Shirou mused.

"How are we doing this, Emiya-san?" Asked Herohero, his calculating gaze took in the army of Assassins before them.

"Cover my flanks and be ready to engage if necessary." Shirou told them.

Though vague, the two nodded, getting ready for whatever the magus had in store.

He knew he was being a bit selfish, but this presented the perfect opportunity to finally test it out.

Dismissing Luminosité Eternelle, the Assassins instantly pounced. The numerous Servant copies descended upon the Players to end their lives. None more so than the Cursed Arm himself. Cursed Arm Hassan dashed forward, his arm coated in the sinister orange glow as it was released from its bindings. The remaining Assassins closed in with their daggers gleaming, ready to slice Shirou and co into ribbons. Hassan of Serenity watched from the backline, ready to slip in at a moment's notice. The deadly cursed arm flew forth and twisted in all manner of impossible angles in an attempt to disorientate, ready to rectify its previous attempt and mistake.

As for Shirou, he remained calm and still.

"Trace on!"

Magic circuits ignited across his body as a surge of glowing neon prana discharged from his body, streaking through the air. Gradually, the lights coalesced and transformed into tangible shapes that filled the room.

Mere centimeters away from touching its target, the glowing hand stopped. Assassin's fingers and hand struggled, but no matter how much the Servant tried, it couldn't reach the magus. It wasn't just the Cursed Arm, but also every other Hassan was halted and bound, unable to break free no matter how much they struggled.

The reason for their sudden imprisonment; chains.

The Hassans were bound by silver steel chains that wrapped tightly around their every limb, rendering them immobile. The appearance of the chains was rather basic, made of interlocked metal with intricate accents carved onto its surface.

[Οριο: The Chains of Prometheus - Divine Tier Chain]

The chains rattled loudly as the Hassans struggled futilely to free themselves to no avail.

Shirou heard Variable Talisman let out an impressed whistle, chuckling at something under his breath.

Now, with all of the Hassans tied up in front of him, Shirou no longer had to worry about their escape. However, they had little chance of surviving given what he had in store.

"I am the bone of my sword." As soon as Shirou spoke the incantation, his magic circuits were activated. Prana and Od began to gather in his hand, in a larger quantity than any of his previous tracings. With a sweeping flourish, the streaks of prana condensed and and formed into a weapon - a metallic red spear.

At first glance, the spear could easily be mistaken for Gáe Bolg, the blood-thirsty Noble Phantasm of a certain Lancer. However, upon closer examination, the spear in Shirou's hand had a unique design that set it apart from its infamous counterpart.

The spear was just as tall as Shirou, and its intricate carvings running up the shaft caught the eye. Unlike Gáe Bolg, this weapon did not have thorn-like wrapping around the shaft. Instead, it had rune-like carvings in the form of branches. The blade end of the spear was also unique in design, starting from the beginning of the blade, it seemingly split and was interwoven to form an almost crisscross pattern, ending with it connecting and forming the spear's tip. The base where the blade connected with the shaft of the spear depicted an intricate design of Yggdrasil, the tree of life from Norse mythology.

The spear's color was not as pure, saturated blood-red as Gáe Bolg. Instead, it had a more muted and metallic hue, giving the weapon an almost regal appearance.

[Gungnir: The All-Seeing Spear - Divine Tier Spear]

With the weapon completely traced within his hand, Shirou couldn't help but reminisce over the years gone by.

Two years. Two long years have passed in what felt like a blink of an eye. The memory of that day still rang true.

The battle with Berserker revealed that there were more powerful enemies and bosses in YGGDRASIL than he had thought. He couldn't continue to be complacent with his daily venture of only saving Players and battling mid-tier monsters and bosses anymore. He knew that there were others, more powerful beings, that dwelled across the nine worlds in addition to the Servant bosses. This realization, combined with the existence of Servants and the Class Card in YGGDRASIL, motivated him to expand his arsenal. Fortunately, YGGDRASIL provided the means to do so.

At first, Shirou seriously underestimated just how truly diverse and in-depth the system was and would've remained ignorant were it not thanks to Amanomahitotsu showing him the ropes.

The world system allowed for the creation of various weapons, like swords, shields, scepters, staffs, catalysts, spears, hammers, axes, and more. Furthermore, each weapon could be customized with unique special abilities and stats.

In contrast to his tracing ability, which only allowed him to replicate what he saw, YGGDRASIL gave him complete freedom to customize anything he desired. This included adding elemental effects, special abilities, power, bonuses, enchantments, the ability to boost or debuff Players and mobs, summon familiars and monsters, and much more. Essentially, the possibilities were endless, and the magus found himself spoiled for choice.

However, all of these options depended on one crucial item that everyone coveted and would even kill for.

That being Data Crystals.

If a Player wishes to create a weapon of their dream, they would need to pack said weapons with enough high-tier Data Crystals to make it happen. That was how the game was played.

Data Crystals were a sought-after commodity and Players were always looking to expand their craft and equipment.

The creation of top-tier armor and weapons required the use top-quality materials and Data Crystals. The strength, abilities, and features of the equipment depended on the quality of the Data Crystal used. In order to create an item with special abilities and stats, Players had to ensure they used the highest-tier Data Crystal available.

However, the path to success was not without its challenges. Road bumps and failures were commonplace in YGGDRASIL, often leading to a loss of materials and time wasted on a failed project. Crafting and upgrading equipment was no easy feat in this virtual world, requiring Players to be strategic and careful with their resources.

There were only a few confirmed methods to acquire high-tier data crystals. One was to find deposits of them and mine them, as Nine's Own Goal did before the lead-up to the fight with Berserker. Another was defeating high-end bosses in dungeons or secret locations, which was no easy feat. The last method would be to kill a Player with said high-tier equipment and then break it down for the material. This yielded the least out of the three methods.

It was quite common for Players to spend several weeks or even months of playing and grinding for rare Data Crystals and materials to enhance their equipment. This was a tedious process that often required a significant amount of time, effort, and energy on the part of Players. Moreover, their personal life often interfered with their gaming time, making it even harder to gather the necessary resources. As a result, it was more common for level 100 Players to be found using mostly Legendary tier gear and a Divine tier weapon, rather than full-on Divine tier equipment. Even some guilds struggled to accumulate enough resources to equip their Players with the best gear.

However, Shirou's unique circumstances gave him a immense advantage over the rest of the Players. He was able to play and grind for materials 24/7 without needing breaks, which meant that he could gather materials in just a few weeks that would have taken months for any other Players. Moreover, Shirou's job class as a [Blacksmith] gave him bonuses when he smithed his ideal weapon.

At last, all those rare and high-tier materials and Data Crystals that were just collecting virtual dust within his inventory were going to be put to good use.

Within his head holds a century's worth of knowledge of varying myths and legends, be they obscure or well-known. Additionally, he has extensive knowledge of Noble Phantasms of varying degrees. With the YGGDRASIL system at his fingertip, Shirou was fully capable of bringing them to life.

Over the course of two years, Shirou has expanded his arsenal to include numerous Noble Phantasms formed solely within the mechanics of YGGDRASIL. Although these weapons were only pale imitations of their original counterparts, they were classified as proper Noble Phantasms by Unlimited Blade Works.

Take for example: [Luminosité Eternelle: God is Here With Me - Divine Tier Battle Flag]

Shirou successfully recreated the holy battle flag that belonged to the legendary Saint of Orleans: Jeanne d'Arc. The Noble Phantasm functioned very similarly to its original counterpart, producing a barrier of light that can safeguard the user from both physical and magical attacks. It was worth noting that the shield generated by this Noble Phantasm was entirely impenetrable and depended on the user's Resistance ability stat. The Noble Phantasm served as a wonderful addition to his arsenal when taking into consideration the lack of defensive Noble Phantasm Unlimited Blade Works possesses.

The same could be said of the other YGGDRASIL-made Noble Phantasm. Both of which were inspired by their legend.

Shirou was inspired by the Greek tale of the Titan Prometheus. The Titan Prometheus defied Zeus and gifted Humanity with the gift of fire and the knowledge and skill of metalwork. As punishment, Zeus chained the Titan to a rock and forced an eagle to devour his liver every single day. By the night, the Titan would regenerate its liver, only for the same eagle to come again the next day to devour it again. So strong were the chains that not even the strength of a Titan was enough to break them.

It was this inspiration, plus the idea of possessing a Noble Phantasm akin to Gilgamesh's own Enkidu, that lead to the construction of the YGGDRASIL-based chain Noble Phantasm. The Greek word 'Οριο' was chosen as the fitting name for this manufactured Noble Phantasm, as it embodied the concept of containment and binding. The Noble Phantasm grants its wielder the ability to halt anyone or anything, be it Players, mobs, or even bosses, with unparalleled durability and strength.

Then, there was the weapon in his hand. A weapon of great renown and one all recognized: Gungnir. This spear takes its name from the very weapon wielded by the Norse All-father, Odin.

Its reputation precedes it, as it was widely known to be a weapon of immense power, befitting the King of Asgard. Legend has it that Gungnir was imbued with the ability to always strike its intended target, whether thrown or thrust. No one can evade its deadly accuracy, and no defense can withstand its piercing force.

In fact, Gungnir and Gáe Bolg shared a lot of similarities when one stops to consider both of their abilities along with their respective legend. Gáe Bolg's causality manipulation of 'He thrust his spear and he pierced the heart' becomes 'The heart was pierced, so the spear must have been thrust'. Ensuring that the spear would never miss its target. Why, that sounded awfully like another never-miss weapon currently in his hand.

It was this correlation that helped Shirou assign the ideal usage for the copied weapon.

Whereas Gáe Bolg was an Anti-Unit Noble Phantasm, designed for single-target elimination, Shirou had a different role in mind for Gungnir. He designed it to be a trump card, similar to the likes of Caladbolg II and Balmung, near the level of an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm. However, summoning and boosting it to its maximum potential required a considerable amount of prana, and it was meant to be used for a single, decisive strike.

As he held the spear horizontally, Shirou tightened his grip and channeled his mana directly into the weapon, causing arcs of prana to leak and crackle from his arm. With each passing moment, the spear grew denser and more powerful until it was on the brink of becoming a Broken Phantasm.

The blade glowed with bright crimson runes. Whereas Gáe Bolg radiated bloodthirst and the desire to kill, Gungnir instead radiated power and the strength to see all that stood before him vanquished.

At the tip of the spear, a small whirling cyclone formed and spun. It continued to gyrate, getting faster and faster, evolving into a miniaturized storm. The crimson glow only got stronger as torrential winds blew harshly. Arcs of intense ardent energy shot and spiraled around the weapon as it quickly reached its eclipse speed.

Variable Talisman braced himself, his shields locked and ready along with a few defensive skills for good measure. Herohero took cover behind him. Whatever was coming, it would be big.

A mighty vortex of pressurized wind and force begins to form, growing in strength and size with every passing moment. The various Hassans' struggled fruitlessly to escape from the chains that bind them, but to no avail. Suddenly, all the windows within the room shattered into a thousand shards, and a whirlwind of dust and debris fills the air as the violent gusts of wind wreak havoc in the room. In the eye of the raging storm stands Shirou, holding his weapon, Gungnir, firmly at the ready.

The intense noise drowns out all other sounds, nothing but a cacophony of raging winds and crackling of pure energy.

It was time to see if all the work he put into crafting Gungnir was worth it.

As he raised his arm back, the red glow of Gungnir intensified, ready to be unleashed.

"Gouge… Gungnir!" A streak of crimson flew forth from Shirou's hand as Gungnir's form was encased in crackling crimson prana. It shot forward, impaling the Cursed Arm Hassan completely. The weapon emerged from the body through the back, then turned impossibly sharply, at a ninety-degree angle no less, and impaled itself through the back of another Hassan. One by one, every Hassan within the room was gored by Gungnir. As the spear penetrated the final Hassan, chained in the middle of the room, Gungnir detonated with the force of a Broken Phantasm.

A force like no other shook not only the throne room but the entire castle itself. Tremors vibrate through the castle and even shook the bedrock of the castle. Stone and many others broke loose, threatening to send the precariously placed castle tumbling down the mountain. Yet, it managed to hold.

Where once Shirou stood within a throne room, now exists nothing but ruin. Over half of the room was gone, leaving a massive hole in the room to the cold outside world. That mattered little to the silver-haired Player as the dungeon would automatically reset and restore itself once he and the others were gone.

A simple glance showed that it was only them that were left standing.

"Hot damn." Variable Talisman muttered breathlessly at the level of destruction displayed in front of him. "Remind me again why we're here if Emiya-san could do that?"

Herohero walked out, offering a playful shrug.

[Congratulation!]

[You have cleared The Lost Castle of Frostborne! For conquering this dangerous dungeon with a party of fewer than four Players along with defeating the boss on your first try, a 70% increase in loot drop will be given as a reward.]

After reading and dismissing the victory screen, loot started to appear and fall as usual. His two companions cheered and high-fived in glee before running to claim their rewards.

For the time being, Shirou disregarded everything else. His focus was solely on the one prize that was important enough to warrant his attention. The magus held the floating Assassin Class Card that was waiting for him, neglecting the downpour of gold coins and other items around him.

Opening up his menu, he stored it with all the rest.

[Berserker Class Card - World Item]

[Rider Class Card - World Item]

[Lancer Class Card - World Item]

[Assassin Class Card - World Item]

And Assassin makes four in total.

Four out of seven had been found.

For a brief moment, Shirou just stared at them. He heaved a small sigh. Despite the victory and rewards, the faker couldn't help but feel a bit let down.

"Where are you?" His voice carried softly through the mostly barren and damaged room, but no answer came to him. Nothing remained for him to do but collect their spoils and leave.

He felt a shudder run down his spine as he turned to leave, his senses alerting him that there was another presence. He whirled around, his dichromatic eyes seeking the source of his discomfort.

Surprisingly, the back part of the room seemed to have held up fairly well. The throne, still in its place, glistened in the dim light. Shimmering from the shadows of the throne, a figure emerged from the depth of the darkness.

The figure was tall and imposing, shrouded in a dark woven from the very fabric of night. From beneath the hood, a skeletal visage peered at him, reminiscent of Momonga's, with two curved horns. However, instead of the expected crimson orbs, two piercing azure flames burned fiercely. The figure's gaze was as macabre as its appearance, scrutinizing the magus as if to pass judgment.

"The evening bell has not yet rung for you…" A faint, raspy voice echoed, a statement followed by the ringing of towing bells.

"Oi, Emiya-san, you alright?"

Shirou shook himself out of his daze and quickly looked back at his friends. When he turned back around, the cloaked figure had vanished without a trace. It was as if the figure had never been there at all.

"Is everything ok? You've been staring at that back wall for like a minute now."

Variable Talisman and Herohero stood by, observing Shirou as they waited for his response. After a few moments of quiet, Shirou eventually faced them again.

"S-sorry. Thought I saw something." Without another word, he walked back.

The two Heteromorphic Players exchanged a brief look and shrugged, taking him at his word. They wasted no time in gathering up their loot and departed from the castle, as Shirou had obtained what they had come for.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"Satoru-san." A masculine voice called out his name.

Satoru Suzuki, the true name behind Momonga, quickly looked in the direction of his boss when he heard him calling out his name. He felt a momentary surge of panic before regaining his composure.

"Sir!" The middle-aged salaryman crisply responded, straightening his posture. The man standing before the salaryman was his district branch manager. "Is there something you need, sir?"

"Do you remember that proposal you suggested some weeks ago?" The manager asked, coming to a stop near Satoru.

The incident in question occurred when Satoru was in a board meeting with other managers and a few directors and was discussing matters regarding the company and ways to increase profit margins. Satoru absentmindedly spoke out in the middle of the meeting, throwing out his idea during one of the brainstorming sessions.

Instead of being accosted or ridiculed, many of the managers within his branch latched onto the idea. That was around two weeks ago.

Satoru slowly nodded.

"It turns out your suggestion has shown some promising results. The higher-ups have decided to take it up and implement the idea. They've also been informed that it was you who suggested it. You've been doing good work recently, Satoru-san. I, and the other heads, have decided that you would be perfect for a small management position we've been looking to fill. Do you think you'll be up for it?"

A promotion, Satoru quickly realized.

Outwardly, Satoru's face remained stone-faced. A straight poker face that revealed none of his true thoughts and emotions. He had developed this trait over the years during work whenever he was scolded by his superiors or others. He learned early on to never allow a moment of weakness to show, or else the vultures would come pecking. Inwardly, he was very much the opposite of cool and collected as his face might have suggested. His internal state could be described as full pandemonium.

For a salaryman who used to be at the bottom of the proverbial stepping ladder, this would be a dream come true! Workers like himself worked themselves to the bone, often literally, just to make ends meet. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see workers putting in decades of hard work and being rewarded with nothing.

Only those who were lucky enough or proved themselves had even the slightest chance of catching the attention of the higher-ups within the massive corporate conglomerate that runs Japan.

Many would've been overjoyed at such news. A promotion, this one granting him a higher position within the company and with it, a higher pay wage, some measure of influence, and a slightly more relaxed schedule as opposed to the rigorous schedule of a simple salaryman that saw a ridiculous amount of hours and worktime with little off time.

However, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. The biggest tradeoff was the new level of responsibility that would be thrust on his shoulders. He would not only need to worry about the new workload that came with his position but also those under his management.

Internally, he was sweating bullets. He never intended for the idea to work, and now they were offering him a job with greater responsibility and one that was outside his comfort zone. The thought of others looking to him and relying on him made him queasy.

Some would call him an underachiever, but that was fine in his book. While certainly not pessimistic, he knew from a young age that he would never truly break out of the mold that he and so many others were in. While it was not a bad life, as he knew some were worse off than him, he was content with what he had, and he made peace with that. The salaryman had earned himself a few small promotions in the past, granting him a minimally higher salary and little else. The work, while menial at the best of times or daunting at the worst, was manageable. His salary kept him afloat and covered all his necessities. Plus, he had a generous amount of time devoted to himself. I.e., free time that he would spend in YGGDRASIL.

On one hand, he wanted to deny the promotion, seeing as he was content with where he was. Of course, he didn't say that aloud. That, and mostly because he was afraid. As if someone like himself could manage or lead others. However, he knew such a rejection would be spitting in the face of all those who had tried before and failed. This was an opportunity that not many in his line of work could ever boast of reaching. He also wasn't too sure how they would react to a rejection. And that wasn't even considering how the higher-ups would feel upon hearing him reject their 'generous' offer.

Would they be spiteful toward him for turning down what many would consider a generous promotion?

Would his bosses get angry that a lowly salaryman spit on their offer?

A worse fear was him accepting the role only to fail completely and utterly.

Would they let him go for such a mistake? Scorn him and bar him from ever working again?

He could feel each question, concern, and doubt weighing on his shoulders. He struggled to remain upright, as if gravity had been multiplied tenfold. His heart hammered in his chest, ready to burst through.

In the end, the pressure got to him, and he snapped.

"I would be honored!" Satoru accepted. The salaryman bowed deeply to his manager.

"Excellent! I'll inform the others and let you know the details later. Now off you go, I'm sure you have a lot of work ahead of you, Satoru-san!" The manager clapped him on the shoulder before heading off.

Satoru stood there for a moment before speed walking towards the closest men's restroom. He kept his head low and avoided everyone. He got into one of the stalls and immediately collapsed on the toilet seat. Shakingly, he covered his face with his rattling hands. A wordless whimper left his mouth as the reality of the situation hit him.

Thankfully, no one else was in there to hear him in his moment of weakness.

"Fuck…" He let out a hoarse swear.

The rest of the day finished off much quieter than Satoru imagined as the news of his promotion spread amongst his coworkers. He imagined some might congratulate him, or even a few might glower at such an opportunity being presented to him and not them. Instead, he was faced with indifference. Then again, it wasn't like he was close to any of them, and vice versa.

Within a few hours, he was finally home. His thoughts were still plagued by his meeting with the manager. The one thing he was thankful for was that he was done with work for the week. He had the weekends to look forward to. A weak smile wormed its way onto his face as the stress of the day was replaced with the thought of spending his leisurely time in YGGDRASIL with his friends to get away from his real-world problems.

If only for a short time.

Satoru reached into the pocket of his large protective coat and took out his keycard. He swiped the card. The electronic lock on the door beeped and flashed green. Entering, Satoru grunted as he peeled off the heavy coat, suffocating mask, and goggles that protected him from the polluted outside world. He hung them half-heartedly on the walls, too tired for anything else.

Satoru's apartment wasn't that large, even though he had more than enough money from his recent promotions to afford one of the nicer apartments closer to the city. The room was quite empty and basic, with only a fridge, stove, an old wooden table, and a small couch. There were two doors that led to Satoru's bedroom and the bathroom. The only notable item in the room was a high-tech electronic chair, connected to several pieces of machinery and computers, which were hooked up to the wall. It was his gaming setup and the only thing of true worth inside his apartment.

It wasn't much, but it was home, and that was what mattered most to a simple man like Satoru. The salaryman never considered himself to be materialistic and kept his possessions to a minimum.

With ease, Satoru booted up the CPU, and the lights around his electronic chair flickered as the system and machinery powered up. Rolling his shoulders, he sat down on the cushy chair, he let out a contented sigh, feeling his entire body start to relax. The tension and stress of the day melted away, allowing him a moment of peace. He connected the Neural Head Set, attached the router and cable, and with a few more clicks, everything was ready to go.

A small window displayed a meter that read [Nano machine level at 86%]. He quickly dismissed the notification but not before writing a quick reminder to head to the pharmacy later this week for his refill.

It would suck if he accidentally got kicked out of the game just because he forgot.

As he strapped on the Neural gear, his field of vision immediately darkened. Numerous windows and pop-ups appeared, along with a Heads-Up Display (HUD). Despite the overwhelming amount of information, he quickly located and opened the window to YGGDRASIL. However, as he pressed the icon, a message popped up, requiring him to download an update.

Suppressing a sigh of annoyance, Satoru reluctantly complied and patiently waited as the progress bar slowly moved towards completion. While he waited, his mind wandered to his friends, with one person in particular occupying his thoughts.

It had been two long years since he had joined Nine's Own Goal with Shirou and the siblings. During that time, the clan had expanded, taking in new members and growing in size. And in those two years, a lot has changed, but as the saying goes, just as things change, some things remain much the same.

Only the original eight members present at the time knew about Shirou's condition. The rest of the clan members, both old and new, remained in the dark, a result of the digitalized human request.

Despite the mind-boggling reality of Shirou's existence, which amounted to a consciousness being turned into Artificial Intelligence, surprisingly little has changed in his relationships with his clan members and friends. Despite the potential for this knowledge to drastically alter their dynamic, Shirou didn't wish for this knowledge to affect their current relationship, and each member strived to do so. Over time, the idea of Shirou being trapped within the confines of the game has faded away into obscurity, thanks in part to the chaos of their individual lives and the various dramas that come with them. To be honest, there have been moments when even Momonga has forgotten about Shirou's unique situation. Shirou himself has never brought up the subject, allowing it to gradually fade from their collective consciousness.

In the end, there wasn't much any one of them could do about it anyway. As Shirou stated, he gave full consent to Zelretch despite not knowing the exact method he would use. None of the clan members had any real financial power or sway to even think of going up against a powerful CEO like Zelretch. Nor did Shirou wish for any of them to fight on his behalf.

With regards to the rather frightening prospect of one's mind being digitalized and stored like he was, Shirou assured them that so long as they didn't go blabbering about it, they would be safe and fine.

Two years have passed since the reveal, and they have continued with their daily lives unabated, showing that Shirou was telling the truth.

As time passed, their relationship with the silver-haired Player grew stronger and more meaningful. The members of Nine's Own Goal saw improvements in their daily lives thanks to their interactions with Shirou They often joked amongst themselves that they didn't need to waste money or time on speaking with a therapist when they had Shirou around to listen to their woes and offer a helping hand. They wouldn't even need to travel far; they could simply boot up their rig and hop onto YGGDRASIL, where he always was. It was a role that Shirou took on effortlessly, offering all kinds of advice and words of wisdom whenever needed.

Shirou's presence in their lives was consistent and positive, and no one benefited more from it than Satoru. He found solace in his routine chats with his best friend and closest confidant. As a salaryman, Satoru often shared his doubts and anxieties, and Shirou would lend a compassionate ear, offering invaluable advice. Over the course of two years, Shirou's advice proved to be invaluable to Satoru, helping him to achieve those small promotions, and providing him with more leisure time to indulge in his favorite pastime - playing YGGDRASIL with his buddies.

A dinging noise took him out of his thoughts. The update finally finished, and the icon for YGGDRASIL appeared. Wasting no time, he selected it and waited as his vision darkened. The nanomachines within his body light up by the thousands, interfacing with his neural interface system.

Suzuki Satoru found himself staring at an image, an avatar, before entering the virtual world of Yggdrasil.

The Japanese salesman was struck by a sense of awe and wonder as he laid eyes upon the colossal Elder Lich. Its alabaster skull was smooth and pure, yet its empty eye sockets glowed with dark red orbs that burned bright and full. The Lich figure was draped in a great obsidian robe with a hood, and an additional dark mantle overlapped the illustrious robe. Lavender and golden accents ran down the length of the garment, adding to its regal and imposing appearance. In the center of the Overlord's chest, the robe opened up, revealing a skeletal ribcage and a floating red orb that added to the already frightening and inhuman appearance of the being. The skeletal fingers were adorned with glittering rings, and in one hand, the Elder Lich held a twisting obsidian staff with an orb floating at its tip. Truly, it was a sight that would remain etched in the salesman's memory forever.

The Elder Lich's appearance was the epitome of a dark overlord one might find in fiction or fantasy.

This was Momonga, his second, and arguably, his true life. It felt like he was staring into a mirror-metaphorically speaking, of course.

Satoru touched his character, allowing the waves of binary codes and data to wash over him. Within seconds, the form of Suzuki Satoru vanished, replaced by the Overlord of Death, Momonga!

In a flash, Momonga appeared in a too-familiar room, the spawn zone of the clan's hideout. Taking only a few steps forward, Momonga spotted three figures waiting at the connecting doorway that led deeper into the building.

Recognizing who they were, Momonga felt his spirits lift.

The first was Peroroncino, the Birdman sniper of Nine's Own Goal. His appearance remained relatively the same over the year, save for his equally impressive divine-tier golden armor and aesthetic. Next to the avian was Amanomahitotsu, with the same appearance he'd maintained for years now.

Rounding up the trio was Warrior Takemikazuchi, The Nephilim Samurai.

Warrior Takemikazuchi - Lvl: 100

Cutting an imposing figure and height, Warrior Takemikazuchi stood as one of the strongest Players in all of Nine's Own Goal. The Heteromorph was bedecked head to toe in bulky, deep red samurai armor that fitted the avatar's rather impressive model and form. Everything about the warrior was enlarged, from his frame and aura to his chest plate, armored kilt, and massive spaulder-like pauldron that rested on his shoulders, running down his arms. His head was unnatural, much like that of his fellow Heteromorphs, with bone-like teeth sharpened and filed to a point. Disproportionate horns sprouted from the top of his head. He held no visible eyes save for tiny holes filed evenly into the skull-like head. His main weapons of choice was the sheathed katana he kept at his waist.

As Momonga quickly took note of his companions, Peroroncino perked up, having heard his footsteps. The Birdman excitedly turned his head in the salaryman's direction, yet when he saw the undead, he almost visibly deflated.

"Ahhh, darn. I thought you were Emiya-senpai there for a second, Momonga-san." He said.

"Hello to you all, Peroroncino-san, Amanomahitotsu-san, and Takemikazuchi-san." Before anything else, Momonga greeted all of them before addressing Peroroncino.

"Do you need something from Emiya-san?" An emoticon with a question mark over his head appeared.

"Yes! Err… well, no. Kind of? I-we…"

"What he means is that there's something we wish to discuss with Emiya-san." Amanomahitotsu interjected on behalf of the avian Player.

"Have you tried using [Message]?" Momonga suggested.

"I wanted to, but then I remembered Emiya-senpai saying something about him being busy with something important. I didn't want to disturb him." Peroroncino answered.

"You worry too much, my friend." Warrior Takemikazuchi chuckled heartily, his deep and powerful voice befitting that of a seasoned warrior. "Today's the day of our usual clan meet. Emiya-san has always been punctual when it comes to such matters. I'm sure he'll pop up any second now."

"… Is there something the matter?"

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Turning as one, the four Players turned to see the only Humanoid member within all of Nine's Own Goal. Following behind him were flashes of light, signs of teleportation as Variable Talisman and Herohero appeared as well.

"Emiya-senpai!" Peroroncino greeted him excitedly.

"Nothing is wrong. We were simply waiting on you. We've something we would like to show you. If you're not busy, that is." Said Warrior Takemikazuchi.

"No, we just finished and came back." Shirou answered, shaking his head and turning to Variable Talisman and Herohero.

"Can I leave it to you guys?" He asked of them.

"No problem. We'll drop off the loot, so you go ahead Emiya-san." Answered the black Oobleck.

"Yup. See you guys at the meeting." Said the cyclops, waving as Shirou nodded in thanks and followed after his friends.

After exchanging pleasantries, the group of five began to walk through their base. The Players fell into idle conversation, chatting about their day and whatever else was on their minds.

"Oh, Takemikazuchi-san. I also have something I would also like to give you." Shirou said during the halfway point of their walk.

Opening his menu, several bright red Data Crystals appeared in his hands.

"I managed to find some of those specific data crystals you were looking for. Here." He then handed them to the armored Heteromorph.

"I cannot thank you enough, Emiya-san. Were it not for you, I doubt I would be able to indulge like I am now." The samurai humbly bows his head in thanks. "With these, I'll be one step closer to perfecting my Takemikazuchi MK 6!" He crowed giddily.

"It's fine Takemikazuchi-san. They would be of better use to you than me anyhow. You don't have to thank me for something as small as that."

"I doubt many would consider handing away valuable Divine class data crystals as a 'small' thing, Emiya-san." Amanomahitotsu spoke in good humor. "Compassionate as always."

Didn't take them long before they arrived at their designation, the clan base's workshop. The room was used mainly by Amanomahitotsu, Warrior Takemikazuchi, and Shirou, seeing as they were the only ones with the [Blacksmith] job class and interest in creating. As a result, they have the entire room to themselves to tinker away as they please.

The room was divided into three areas, designated for each one of the Players. Each had a workshop and smithy in their respective corners.

Looking at their workstations, it was clear that Shirou, Warrior Takemikazuchi, and Amanomahitotsu had different styles of organization. Shirou's corner was impeccably arranged, with a vast array of weapons, scraps, and materials neatly categorized by weapon type. Meanwhile, Warrior Takemikazuchi's workspace appeared to be an organized mess, with materials, weapons, tools, and parts scattered about seemingly at random. Lastly, Amanomahitotsu's area was much like Shirou's, with a tidy and organized layout, but with a scattering of armor pieces and various junk items to add a touch of personality.

"So, what was it that you wanted to discuss with me?" Shirou asked, turning to them.

"I also hope you don't mind that I'm here as well." Momonga spoke up, realizing that he might be intruding on their discussions.

"It's fine, don't worry about a thing, Momonga-san." Peroroncino reassured him, waving away his friend's idle worry first. "As for you, Emiya-senpai, we wanted to give something."

"Yes, a gift." Amanomahitotsu added.

"As a show of appreciation for everything that you've done for us." Finished Warrior Takemikazuchi.

"A gift?" Shirou blinked. "You guys, you didn't have to-"

"We understand, but we still wanted to." The samurai interrupted politely. "You have done so much for the clan and for us personally. You have been helpful and provided for us, and we felt we needed to repay the favor." The Nephilim spoke in a tone that said they would not be denied.

"I see. Very well, what did you have in mind?" Shirou relented. Part of him was curious as to what the gift would be.

"It was quite a challenge to figure out the perfect gift to give you, considering you are skilled in creating cool and fancy weapons and armor by yourself. So, the three of us put our heads together to come up with something special and unique for you." Peroroncino ran towards Amanomahitotsu station and pulled a trolley with a sheet over it.

"It took us a lot of time, effort, and data crystals to get it just right. We hope you'll like it." With a flourish, the crustacean Heteromorph unveiled the gift.

Shirou and Momonga leaned in, their curiosity rising to see what exactly it would be.

"A… gun?" Momonga voiced.

Indeed, sitting innocently in the middle of the trolley were two guns, pistols to be more accurate. They looked sleek and compact, almost resembling a hand cannon. One of the pistols was colored chrome silver with white accents running along its body, while the other one was black with red accents. The barrel and slide of the guns were elongated, and they even had blades fashioned on the underside of the barrel, making it look like Kanshou and Bakuya were fixed to the guns like bayonets. It was quite an impressive design, to say the least.

"Sooo? What do you think?!" Peroroncino eagerly awaited hearing the magus's opinion.

Shirou reached out and grasped the two pistols. He was surprised to see that they felt right in his hands. Not too heavy or bulky, nor was it too light. Some subtle and small grips gave the weapon a nice feel to them. Like it felt right to be wielded in his hands.

"I… it's nice, but you guys do remember my fighting style, right?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Of course. Emiya-san, if you would twirl them at the trigger guard." The crustacean blacksmith instructed.

Shirou raised an eyebrow at the instruction but did as he was told. Loosening his grip, he twirled the gun. He was then treated to the sight of them glowing, their shape taking on a new form. Upon catching them, the guns transformed into exact copies of Kanshou and Bakuya.

Shirou was pleasantly surprised. He wasn't expecting that at all. However, the surprise didn't stop there.

"Try connecting the ends of the weapons." Instructed Warrior Takemikazuchi, a gleam of excitement in his voice.

Shirou did just that, connecting the ends of the faux Kanshou and Bakuya, and watched with surprise as the married blades changed once more. They connected, or perhaps intertwined was the more apt description. The pommel and grip of the swords combined to create the grip and arrow rest of a bow. The blades extended to form the upper and lower limbs, as well as the recurve of the bow. Finally, a long bowstring stretched the length of the weapon, completing the transformation. Unlike Shirou's Black Bow, this one followed the same color scheme as the other forms, a mixture of chrome silver and white, and the obsidian and red patterns of its previous alternate modes.

Silently, Shirou plucked the bow's string, and it responded with a satisfying 'dnnggg' sound, showing its tautness. The grip on the bow was comfortable, and it wasn't too heavy or too light either. Just like the other forms, the bow felt right in his hands.

This time, he was left truly speechless. A weapon with three alternative forms, even he knew that such complexity would've taken an enormous amount of time, coding, and materials to get it just right.

"We had a bit of a challenge figuring out what would be the best to give you. Peroroncino originally suggested the idea of making a sniper rifle or even a railgun. However, he seemed to have forgotten in his excitement about your conventional mean for attacking at long ranges." Amanomahitotsu explained.

"If by conventional, you mean summoning swords and shooting them like missiles, or using a massive bow to shoot swords, then sure, let's go with that." The Nephilim samurai quipped.

"Hey! If Emiya-senpai can do amazing stuff with his bow, then he would be unstoppable with a sniper!" The golden avian argued.

"You do realize that Emiya-san would have needed the appropriate classes just to use said weapon effectively, don't you?" Warrior Takemikazuchi fired back.

The crustacean Heteromorph continued whilst the two bickered.

"Takemikazuchi-san suggested a more traditional weapon as you are a close-quarter fighter. Ideas were brought forth, such as falchions or katanas, that complimented your particular style of fighting. I suggested the idea for the bow, seeing as you do possess the [Archer] class. But Peroroncino-san was extremely persistent, so we shifted our focus to a weapon with medium to close-range uses. Ultimately, we came up with the idea of combining all three, a firearm, a sword, and a bow, into one versatile packet. It took a little more preplanning than we'd like to admit, but we finally nailed down the idea of the weapon being able to switch from Kanshou and Bakuya to gun form and bow form. A trick weapon, if you will."

"I can't imagine the work needed just to get this all right." Said Momonga, admiring the craftsmanship and inner mechanism of the weapon.

"I had to slave away at the design and coding just so I could get it just right. It took a dozen alternations and reworks, but we finally got it down. I'd say it was worth it." The four-limbed crustacean admitted.

Now that Shirou had a moment to think about it he did remember Amanomahitotsu asking for a blueprint/design of Kanshou and Bakuya some months back.

"What do you think, Emiya-senpai? Do you like it?" Peroroncino anxiously asked, similar to a child gifting their father a present. A sense of giddiness sprinkled in with a touch of nervousness.

The others, too, were waiting to hear his thoughts.

The first thirty seconds passed in silence.

Then came a minute.

Then two.

As time stretched on, an air of uncertainty started to surround the cheerful avian. Did he not like the gift? Or, perhaps, he had offended his senpai? Did he not like the gift somehow? What if… the weapon brought back memories of the war? A hundred and one possibilities swarmed his brain. And not just him, but the other three were starting to feel the trepidation building in the silence.

The others quietly glanced at one another, unsure of what to say or do but also hesitant to speak up.

Of course, Peroroncino couldn't have known that the individual who currently encompassed his thoughts was having an even more frantic train of thought.

What did he think of it?

Honestly?

The weapon… it was weak. Far weaker than anything within his Unlimited Blade Works.

The main gimmick of the weapon being able to change between three alternate modes was certainly unique and appealing, but it was simply that.

A gimmick.

With a simple glance at it and Unlimited Blade Works working its magic, Shirou learned of the weapon's strengths but also its limitations and flaws. The three alternate modes have their strengths, but as a whole, they weren't that powerful when compared to the powerhouses he held within his Reality Marble.

Heck, even his [Trace Bullet] far exceeds the gun and bow's damage value simply because he could break them into Broken Phantasm and use them as impromptu artillery. Even a simple traced version of Kanshou and Bakuya edges above the one in his hands in terms of damage and viability.

In all honesty, there would be no practical or realistic reason for Shirou to even think of using it when he had a dozen other more viable and powerful options to choose from.

And yet…

As he gazed down on the weapon, a single thought echoed throughout his mind. "When was the last time someone gifted him something?"

Shirou was many things. A wannabe hero, a great cook, and a selfish idealist. What he wasn't, was materialistic. Of course, he never said this out loud. However, perhaps it was the way he acted toward objects that gave people this idea. He never took more than he needed and never asked for anything in return. Shirou never felt entitled to receive gifts, as he didn't believe that he deserved them.

But now, as a man who has seen and done so much, looking back on his life, he realized just how scarce gifts were to him.

Kiritsugu wasn't the gift-giving type. Well, besides imparting onto Shirou his ideals and dream of being a hero. But that hardly counts. In a way, it was thanks to him that Shirou's unmaterialistic mindset was fostered. They didn't have much, but what they did have growing up was more than enough for them. He indirectly taught Shirou to take and keep only the most important items. Everything else was replaceable.

Taiga was pretty much a freeloader for a good chunk of his teenage years. A lackadaisical and almost demanding woman who took many things for granted. While Shirou would never think ill will of her, he would acknowledge her faults and vices. She mooched off of Shirou's goodwill and food, mostly food, for years. And it was only thanks to her grandfather, Raiga, that Shirou had the money necessary to help feed Taiga's food addiction. But then again, Shirou was also at fault for never trying to correct her behaviors.

Tohsaka doesn't fare better than Kiritsugu. In a way, she was the complete opposite of Shirou, avaricious when it came to gems and wealth. The twin-tailed magus was, at times, the very definition of a magus. Persistent, covetous, manipulative, and even dismissive at the worst of times. Due to the nature of her magecraft, she could never have enough, and rarely did she ever think of spending it on him. Of course, Shirou's unmaterialistic mindset and habits did nothing to dissuade her otherwise. There were times when she did gift him with one thing or another, but they never lasted. The only thing he could truly say he coveted was Rin's pendant.

Issei followed a similar mindset to Shirou's own. Due in part to his own humbleness and lifestyle as a Buddhist monk. The two had an understanding of sorts, as Issei would always call on Shirou whenever they needed something fixed to save on expenses. And he would be more than happy to help out.

There was Shinji, and enough was said.

As for Sakura… his kouhai was a lot like him, or rather, she picked up a lot of his habits as she stayed with him. The most she would gift to him were groceries or kitchen toolsets for his birthday or Christmas. Completely expendable items.

In a way, it was partially Shirou's fault as well. He had always wished to help others at no cost to himself, doing anything and everything for free. All in some vain belief and hope that it was the right thing to do, as any Hero would.

If he was being honest, he had no idea how to feel. It had been a long time since he had received a gift. And had they not, it wouldn't bother him in the slightest.

But they did.

His clanmates and friends did this for him out of the goodness of their hearts and of their own volition, because they believed he was worth it. He was worth being gifted something-something that they poured their time, energy and hearts into.

He recognized that it wasn't powerful, but even Shirou would admit that such a trick weapon would be quite useful in the right situation.

But there was one thing that separated this from all the rest. It was forged by mortal hands, by his friends. It possesses no true origin or purpose but symbolizes something much more. Their friendship. And that alone makes it priceless in his eyes.

"I… like it." Shirou finally professed.

The audience let out a collective breath.

"Jeez, senpai, did you have to make it so dramatic?" Peroroncino jest.

"Sorry…" Shirou apologized softly, his finger running along the surface of the bow.

"Why don't you give them a try and let us know what you think?" Amanomahitotsu suggested.

Adjacent to the workshop was a small training field. The field was decorated with various practice dummies, set up to provide ample opportunity for experimentation with the weapons.

Amanomahitotsu took the lead and explained the mechanics of the weapon. He demonstrated how it could transform from gun to sword to bow, and then back to gun seamlessly and in that order. Returning the bow to its gun form, Shirou decided he would start with that.

Shirou stood at a safe distance and paused for a moment to adjust his posture to suit the use of the firearm in his hand. Eventually, he settled on a basic stance. With his silver and white pistol raised, Shirou aimed at the dummy ten meters away and fired. The initial kick and recoil caught him off guard, but he quickly got it under control. Despite aiming for the chest, he hit the dummy's shoulder.

"Hmm, [Reinforcement]!"

Activating his magic circuits, Shirou tried again, but this time the kick was almost nonexistent. The shot was on target, hitting squarely on the dummy's chest.

Shirou spent the next half hour or so firing and experimenting with his new weapons. Eager to test their limits, he pushed the guns to see what he could accomplish with them. He discovered that the guns had a capacity of twenty-five rounds each, with a total of fifty rounds between them. One thing he was pleasantly surprised to learn was that he didn't have to to contend with a pesky reload mechanic similar to the rifle-style weapons, as the guns auto-generated a new shot every five seconds. Both pistols could be fired semi-automatically or in rapid-fire bursts, allowing him full versatility.

As he continued testing, Warrior Takemikazuchi suggested a spar to break in the weapon and get a better feel for them. Shirou readily agreed, and they began their practice.

During the close-range testing, Shirou truly began to enjoy himself. Despite not being all that proficient with firearms, he found that the weapons offered offered a wide range of moves and attacks. The guns allowed him to keep his foes at bay or to lay into them to close the distance. Even close-range combat was possible with the guns, thanks to the weapons' bladed underside. The blades under the barrel were as deadly as the guns themselves, as evidenced by the shredded dummies.

As Shirou wielded his trick weapon, he marveled at its versatility. With the trick weapon's ability to turn from bladed guns into his signature blades, this allowed Shirou to control the flow of the fight easily, when in other situations he might have had to expend more prana tracing new weapons.

Its bow form boasted extended range snipes that the gun form lacked. While the bow couldn't be used as liberally as the other two forms, it was nowhere near worthless. Shirou could already imagine several scenarios where its extended range would be advantageous. And thanks to the weapon's quick and easy-to-switch alternate modes, he could cover his bases should any enemies get too close.

And those were but a few options he managed to glean from his short spar with the katana-wielding Heteromorph.

Shirou couldn't praise them enough for their ingenious idea and integration of the trick weapon. The weapon covered all bases for close, medium, and even long-range encounters. The ability to freely switch between the forms allowed for further avenues to explore in the weapon's move set. This would allow him to control the flow of battle depending on his opponent. And that was not even considering swapping them mid-fight, allowing for an even greater variety of move sets and surprises.

Shirou figured that with enough time and practice, he could master the weapon's fighting style and incorporate it into his own.

"So, what do you think, Emiya-san? Do you like it?" Asked Amanomahitotsu as he and Warrior Takemikazuchi finished up their last duel.

"I do, I really do. Thank you." Shirou nodded to the three, and while his character model couldn't show it, they got the distinct feeling he was smiling. And so, the three smiled as well.

"Wonderful. Now all that's left is to name it. After all, a weapon is never truly complete unless it possesses a name." Warrior Takemikazuchi patted his katana, Takemikazuchi MK 5, proudly.

"A name…" Shirou looked back down at the weapon.

They did have a point. Every weapon in his Unlimited Blade Works had a name; even the YGGDRASIL created Noble Phantasms. It was only right.

Kanshou and Bakuya were used as the basis of the weapon's design. And just like their original counterparts, they weren't forged for a grand purpose or a desire to be a powerful weapon. They were created for Shirou and him alone. They had the unique ability to switch to three different alternate modes. An alternative form and method of fighting.

"Kanshou and Bakuya… Alternative."

"Alternative? Huh… Not the name I would've gone for, but it's your choice, Emiya-senpai." Peroroncino and the rest shrugged at the odd name, but it was his choice, so that was that.

Shirou activated his Magic Circuits, allowing them to flow freely into the weapon. They ran along and down the weapon, categorizing every fundamental aspect of the weapon. Within a few seconds, Unlimited Blade Works took Kanshou and Bakuya Alternative in and stored them.

Within his soul, amongst the hills of swords, lay the original Kanshou and Bakuya - the married blade. Shimmers of blue light popped, and from them appeared Kanshou and Bakuya Alternative, the married trick gun-sword-bow.

There the two sets of weapons stood, almost like they were distant kin.

With nothing left for them, the four Players walked out. The call for the clan meeting hadn't come in yet, so they had time left to burn.

Shirou easily spotted Momonga browsing the weapon on display at his side of his workstation.

"See something you like, Momonga-san?" He asked, coming to his side.

"No, I was just looking, that's all. I've been meaning to ask you this, but how come you don't use any of these weapons?" Momonga asked curiously, gesturing towards the weapons on the walls.

"I… they weren't good enough for my liking." Shirou answered.

"They are not good enough?" Peroroncino couldn't help but repeat incredulously. While the avian Heteromorph was an archer, even a simple glance at the various weapon's stats showed that they were powerful. Most of the weapons on display were all Divine tier.

And these weapons were what he considered not good enough?!

"They didn't turn out exactly how I hoped they would be." The magus rephrased.

"Doesn't mean they can't be useful. I know many Players that would kill just for even one of those." The Nephilim pointed to a particular row of weapons.

They were a powerful set of swords that Shirou dubbed the Excalibur series: α (alpha), β (Beta), ζ (Zeta), δ (Delta), ε (Epsilon), and Ω(Omega).

At first, he came up with the idea of forming alternate swords in the hopes of reaching the likes of Caliburn or Excalibur. The idea died down rather quickly, and now they serve as simple set decorations.

It didn't seem right to create and use what amounted to cheap copies or gimmicks of the true Excalibur.

"It seems a bit of a waste to have them collect digital dusk." Amanomahitotsu agreed.

"Still, I do wonder. What? Planning on taking on a guild or something in the future, Emiya-san?" Warrior Takemikazuchi teased.

"It never hurts to be prepared."

"Of course, but realistically speaking, even with your unique build, it's not like you can use all of them at once." The armored Heteromorph pointed out. He knew his friend's build and abilities were absurdly broken. He would go so far as to say it was the most broken build he'd seen in the game, having seen what Shirou could trace. But even the magus admitted that there was a limit to what he could bring out. It didn't make sense in Warrior Takemikazuchi's mind. What was the point of having twenty different weapons if all had the same function when one would serve just as well?

"Funny, I could say the same to you, Takemikazuchi-san. How many weapons have you created as well?" Amanomahitotsu interjected.

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it; I would be quite the hypocrite to admonish Emiya-san for something I too indulge in." Warrior Takemikazuchi fully admitted with a casual shrug. "I can understand being prepared, but it seems more likely that you're kitted out to go to war with someone or something. I like making powerful weapons as much as the next guy, but it does seem like overkill to make an arsenal worth of weapons. Especially since you have some terrifying ones already, Emiya-san."

The others nodded, showing they too thought the same.

"You never know when they might come in handy, Takemikazuchi-san. Just in case…" Shirou trailed off.

"Just in case of what?" The Humanoid Player remained silent to the Nephilim's question.

While the samurai Player was curious, he knew better than to badger his friend. If he was not comfortable saying it, he would not broach the issue. Still, he was curious as to what enemy a Player of Shirou's caliber felt the need to create so many powerful weapons for. A question for another time, as the group of five received a notification via [Message].

It was time for the clan's meeting.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

One by one, all the members of Nine's Own Goal filtered into the conference room. Each member of the clan was a different species of the mighty Heteromorphic race, and no two Players looked similar to one another, bringing forth a colorful cast to the Heteromorphic clan. Shirou included.

Taking familiar seats at the circular table, they all sat down and awaited the leader of the clan, Touch Me. In total, there were twenty-nine members seated. Seeing everyone present and accounted for, Touch Me stood up and began.

"Thank you all for coming." He greeted. "I see that everyone was able to make it, and so we'll begin." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I do have an important announcement to make, however, before that, is there anything anyone wishes to announce at this time?"

Immediately, all eyes turned toward the lone humanoid Player. During these meeting sessions, Shirou was often the first to speak and get the ball rolling. It wasn't uncommon for him to start the meeting off by revealing some event or informing the rest of the clan of any dungeons or areas he had recently discovered and subsequently conquered.

"Yes. I just finished my excursion from [The Field of Ever Frost] with Talisman-san and Herohero-san."

This sparked excitement and discussion amongst the group as Variable Talisman and Herohero regaled their adventures to those sitting nearby.

"The time-limited event location within Niflheim, if I remember correctly." Punitto Moe, the Death Vine, uttered, his voice holding a slight inflection of awe.

"All by yourself as well I'm assuming?" Luci*Fer, the corrupted angel, commented, leaning forward.

"I had helped."

"If by help you mean extra hands to grab the loot, then sure." Variable Talisman spoke up, playful snark coloring his voice. "You should've seen it, Emiya-san all but soloed the bosses."

"That's Emiya-sempai for you!" Peroroncino excitedly praised.

"Woah…"

"As expected of our resident [Dungeon Master]."

Shirou couldn't help but blush in both modesty and slight embarrassment at the praise his friends were handing out.

Over the course of the past two years, Shirou had slowly opened up to the clan. The peculiar nature of his 'build' had become a commonly known fact among the members. Due to the nature of his abilities being translated into a game and his condition, he took to hunting down the remaining Class Cards in his free time.

This endeavor was no small feat, as it required him to scour dungeons far and wide, in search of the elusive Servant bosses that he needed to defeat. As a result, entire dungeons were often cleared out thanks to the many game-breaking weapons Shirou could trace as easily as one would breathe. Often, entire dungeons would be cleared out by Shirou's sheer prowess, leaving him to walk away with the rewards and loot. The ones he could go solo anyways, but even then, Shirou's accomplishments were nothing short of remarkable.

His tireless pursuit saw him clear dungeon after dungeon that even the most hardcore of Players would gawk at.

Thus, the name was given to him one day by Warrior Takemikazuchi as a joke and it just stuck within the clan.

"Any good loot?" Asked Bukubukchagama.

"Indeed." Nodded Herohero. "We deposited them all in the vaults, so if anyone needs something, you can swing by there." Answered her fellow slime companion.

"That and more." Shirou opened his menu and held out his hand as four items materialized. The four Class Cards appeared and were visible to all.

"And that makes four in total…" Tabula counted.

A new clan member, Wish III, asked. "Have you had any luck figuring them out yet?"

Shirou shook his head and replied. "I'm afraid not. Just like the others, they remain unresponsive no matter what I try."

"Hmmm, you did say there are potentially seven cards in total. Perhaps all seven must be collected before its true worth is revealed?" Momonga theorized, his words raising further speculation and intrigue.

'Assuming that's all Zelretch put in.' Shirou mused. It was already complicated enough. The last thing he needed was the addition of Avengers or even Ruler Class Servants.

If what Momonga theorized was true, then that brought up the matter of other guilds and Players possibly possessing even just one of the few remaining Class Cards available. If so, what then? Shirou had exhausted nearly every option available to him, yet the purpose of the World Item still alluded him. It wasn't like he could just head to the forums and write up a complaint about them. That would be putting a target on his and the clan's backs.

Not to mention their status as World Items. Items of extreme rarity that only fifty or so have been confirmed by the developers to have been found. Fifty out of two hundred within the six long years that the game has been out. And they, he, possesses four of them.

The fact that Shirou managed to track down and collect four already within two years was commendable enough and could only be described as a lucky streak.

'And I still haven't been able to track down Her card yet…' Shirou mused.

"Sounds like something those shitty devs would come up with."

"Leave it to them to make us work even harder for a World Item."

"Damn shitty devs."

The group shortly deluged into the typical banter of insulting the developers. Once the usual tirade and banter were out of the way, the group quickly got back on track.

"Anyone else?" Touch Me posed.

"Ohhh! Me! Pick me!" The golden archer excitedly raised his hand.

"Oh, brother…" Thanks to his enhanced senses, Shirou was able to catch the exasperated tone coming from Peroroncino's sister.

"I've managed to get a new girlfriend!" Peroroncino boasted, puffing his chest out in pride.

"Ohh, how long has this lasted?" Asked Beast King Mekongawa. A few of the clan members leaned in, curious as well. Especially since they knew how perverted their friend could be at times.

"Two weeks, baby! Three days longer than the last!" Peroroncino proudly bragged.

"Congratulation." Momonga responded, clapping. On the surface, it would appear that the Elder Lich was being overly sarcastic but in truth, he was completely genuine.

Considering the perverted Player's general disposition and attitude towards a member of the fairer sex, the fact that he managed to keep a relationship going with the opposite gender for this long was worthy of praise. It was commendable on both sides, Peroroncino managing to not drive the girl away with his usual perversion and the girl herself for sticking with him through his antics and all.

"Congrats. I can't wait to see how long this one lasts until she runs for the hill." Ulbert snarked.

Shirou frowned at the World Disaster's sarcastic comment but quickly gave up, knowing he wouldn't apologize. The goat Heteromorph had always had a troublesome personality and was very unapologetic when it came to his actions and words.

Instead, he too showed his support for his friend.

"That's great, Peroroncino-san."

"Thanks, Emiya-sempai!" A happy, smiling emoticon appeared over Peroroncino as he threw him a thumbs up.

"Ok, ok. Enough." Said Touch Me, quieting down his companions. "Anyone else?"

"I too have something I wish to share!" A hand shot upward, drawing everyone's attention.

It was none other than Nishikienrai.

The Player donned an all-black and white ensemble that immediately brought to mind the attire of a ninja. The outfit was expertly crafted from a combination of luxurious silk and rugged leather, with a layer of white armor with accents of gold adorning their hands and arms, as well as their legs and thighs. The most striking feature, however, was the intimidating mask that concealed the Player's face, resembling a monstrous creature. Underneath his attire, it would be difficult to guess the ninja's true racial class, but he was firmly of the Heteromorphic race as a Half-Golem.

"Have you found something?" Asked the player sitting next to the ninja, a Player by the name of Nubo.

"Indeed, my friend!" Nishikienrai's jovial voice confirmed it, sounding rather exorbitantly happy. "Listen closely, my friend, for I'm about to share with you a most wonderful secret!" He paused, allowing the anticipation to build as he held the attention of the clan.

"Get on with it!" Blue Planet, a druid, urged.

"Fine, fine. My friends, I discovered a hidden dungeon!" He declared.

The ninja's revelation caused quite a stir among the group, with everyone chatting and asking questions. While everyone else was growing excited, Shirou kept to himself. That was not to say he too wasn't feeling the buzz and excitement in the air, but it came with a sense of familiarity. After finding and entering so many, the thrill of discovering new dungeons became a routine rather than a monumental moment like it was in the beginning. However, he wasn't complaining. Another dungeon meant the possibility of a Servant Boss.

"Where is the location of this dungeon?" Bellriver asked, the multi-mouthed warrior's voice carrying a layer of curiosity and cautiousness.

"Helheim. More specifically, within the outer layer of the world, located within a massive poisonous swamp in the marsh."

"You wouldn't happen to be talking of the Poisonous Swamp that is home to the Tuvegs, would you?" Bukubukchagama questioned.

"The very same."

"A moment, please." One voice sprang up, belonging to none other than Tabula, the resident's clan intellectual. "Correct me if I am wrong, but did you not once travel to this very same swamp yourself, Emiya-san?"

"I did, and I think I would remember a structure or something of that nature. But I didn't, and all I saw were poison marshes and dying trees."

"There's also another matter of other Players performing aerial recon over the swamp as well, and for them to turn up nothing. I should know, I've seen the recording, and I agree with Emiya-san's word that there was nothing that would indicate building or structure for a dungeon." Backed up Tabula.

Nishikienrai chuckled, sounding awfully pleased within himself.

"Emiya-san, when you journeyed there, did you happen to fight the Tuvegs by any chance?"

"… I did." Shirou confirmed the Half-Golem's question, confused about what exactly his fellow clansmen were getting at with his question.

Nishikienrai continued to chuckle for a few more seconds, and by the sound of it, he was smiling along the way.

"Whereas Emiya-san no doubt fought his way through the Tuvegs, I, on the other hand, avoided them completely!"

"Forgive me, but I'm still doubtful, Nishikienrai-san." Another voice objected, being none other than Punitto Moe, the clan's strategist.

"Tuvegs have an annoying mechanic where they will shout and alert any nearby allies or even tribes, making them an annoyance to fight as all it would take is one misstep and you'll be fighting a swarm of slippery worms." The Death Vine continued.

"Do you doubt my skill? You wound me so, Moe-san!" Nishikienrai playfully prodded, but the Death Vine didn't rise to the bait. "In case you might have forgotten, I specialize in one-shot-kill assassination thanks to my build's specs. Stealth is the name of the game, and I can be very stealthy." He boasted before going in-depth with his explanation as to how he did it.

"All I had to do was play it safe and kill any Tuveg in my way as quickly and quietly as I could. Once dead, they won't be able to call for backup, and I get to continue unhindered. Plus, my sneak skills and natural abilities help me avoid getting detected by them. And that's what I did."

Nishikienrai crossed his arms and held his head up high, content to stand and bask in his friends stunned silence. Punitto Moe in particular.

Shirou, too, was impressed. He remembered the encounter with the poisonous worms. The poisonous marsh for which the monster made their home was a difficult area to fight and maneuver in. The thick, sludge-like water would limit any Player's movement, and that was also not considering the poisonous smog that filled the air.

To traverse without being detected in such difficult circumstances was well deserving of praise.

Shirou momentarily tuned out the discussion where the group was talking and discussing Nishikienrai's build before Touch Me stopped the group from getting even further away from the topic.

"Let's get back on track. Nishikienrai-san, please tell us about the dungeon." Touch Me-san requested.

"Of course, my apologies for getting sidetracked. The dungeon is situated deep within the marsh, and is almost separated from the swamp on a small patch of land. It is called the Tomb of Nazarick." Nishikienrai narrated.

Some of the members quickly mumbled to themselves, testing the name. Shirou was willing to admit the name certainly sounded quite ominous, yet there was also a uniqueness to it, one that made it all the more enticing to the clan.

"That still begs the question: how was it that the dungeon wasn't discovered before with aerial reconnaissance?" One of the members, Shizyuutensuzaku, wondered.

"From the sounds of it, it appears that the dungeon can only be happened upon under specific conditions. Just like Titan's Crystal Cavern." Shirou added, alluding to the location and the events that transpired in the past.

Several of the members, namely the ones that were there with him, nodded along, seeing the correlation.

"If we take all that we know and compare Nishikienrai-san and Emiya-san's journey, we can see a clear distinction and perhaps the conditions for which the Tomb appears. It seems that the dungeon is only accessible to those that travel on foot while stealthily avoiding any enemies along the way." Tabula theorized.

It certainly wouldn't be the first that this has happened to them.

The magus could name off the top of his head several locations and dungeons that had specific conditions attached to them. Some were small and simple and involved a certain number of Players or required a set time or even a specific day or month to enter. Other examples include ones with specific conditions and could only be accessed within a narrow time window. One example that stood out was the Field of Everfrost, a timed event that could only be accessed for a single month out of the year. Or even this rumor Shirou heard of an ancient city within Midgard, which was purportedly only accessible on a specific date and time each year.

"Since it hasn't been conquered yet, why don't we have a go at it?!" Nishikienrai proposed excitedly.

This got everyone talking again. Discussion and speculation only grew more pronounced as everyone threw in their own opinion. Some agreed, while others were on the fence.

"We could always just throw Emiya-san at it." Luci*Fer playfully offered.

"You give me too much credit. I can handle small dungeons and arenas. If you remembered Luci*Fer-san, there were plenty of dungeons that I discovered and couldn't conquer on my own and needed everyone's help with." Shirou said, downplaying his prowess.

"There's also the mystery of what kind of dungeon this Tomb of Nazarick is. I do not doubt Emiya-san's skill, but we cannot simply rely on him forever." Momonga added.

"Add to the fact that this dungeon has been kept hidden for so long, and it's clear that it won't be an easy one. It might even require a fully stocked legion to tackle it. Even with Emiya-san's build." Said Whitebrim, backing up his two companions' concerns.

"All the more reason for all of us to try it." Nishikienrai countered, drumming up excitement and support.

"So far, we are the only ones who know of its existence, giving us a monopoly on it. If the dungeon proves too risky or large, we can default to trial and error. We should stockpile everything we can, including the layout, routes, monsters, possible traps, and even bosses, for when we finally conquer it. The more of us there are, the less likely we will be caught off guard if something unexpected happens. Besides, it has been a while since every member of Nine's Own Goals has attended a meeting. Why not celebrate such an occasion with this?"

Nishikienrai was right. While the clan did have regularly scheduled meetings every two weeks or so, that never guaranteed everyone would show up. A majority, yes, but not always everyone. Each member had different timetables, schedules, and personal and work-related matters that would get in the way occasionally.

Not even Touch Me, the clan's leader, was an exception, having missed a few meetings due to his personal life.

"I agree." Said the silver paladin. "It's been a while since all of us have been in attendance. What better way to mark this occasion than for all of us to conquer this unexplored dungeon together!"

Several of the members cheered in support Touch Me's passionate declaration. However, Shirou noticed that a few of them remained skeptical of the situation but chose to stay silent for the moment.

"For now, we can discuss more of this later. Is there anything else they would like to share? If not, then there is something I wish to say."

Hearing no objections, Touch Me proceeded to drop quite the bombshell.

"I would like to dissolve the clan."

For a second, all was silent. Every single Player was frozen stiff at the paladin's words. Suddenly, pandemonium erupted as everyone jumped to their feet, talking and shouting all at once, creating an atmosphere of complete chaos.

Shirou immediately jumped into action, recognizing the situation at hand. A situation he too has made in the past, far too many times than he could count in his long life. Something that he still holds over his head was his lack of tact and awareness with his wording, which often leads to misunderstanding more times than he can count.

Before the commotion could spiral out of control, well more than it could have, Shirou intervened.

"Everyone quiet!" A subtle application of Alteration to help his vocal cords, allowing him to speak loudly and clearly for all to hear. He also slammed both hands against the table for good measure.

All discussion immediately died down at Shirou's outburst, their undivided attention on him.

"Touch Me-san…" Shirou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please reconsider what you just said and what you truly mean. Because I know you have no ill will to suddenly get rid of all that we worked for."

As everyone stared at the World Champion, they could all see the dots slowly connecting within Touch Me's head. It wasn't long before the metaphorical light bulb inside his mind lit up with understanding. After a few seconds, it finally dawned on Touch Me the severity of his words.

"Ahahaha…"

He let out an embarrassed and sheepish chuckle while rubbing the back of his neck. Suffice it to say, many were not happy at the heartbreaking news that Touch Me involuntarily delivered.

"I can see why my choice of words could be misunderstood…"

"Geez, you think?" Was Ulbert's scathing retort.

Many grumbled alongside the World Disaster, while others glared at the mistake. The insectoid warrior, for his part, cleared his throat and rectified the situation.

"Apologies. What I meant to say is that I wish to dissolve the clan to reform it into a full-fledged guild."

'Oh's and 'Ah's' could be heard throughout the group, hearing and understanding Touch Me's true intentions.

"Couldn't you have just started with that instead of dramatically stating you were going to disband the clan?" Shirou couldn't help but deadpan at the rather glaring oversight.

To which Touch Me responded with another weak chuckle along with a shrug.

"Idiot." Ulbert scoffed.

"Well, you know what they say. Hindsight is twenty-twenty." Another member of the clan sitting next to Ulbert quietly added. The two shared a quick laugh at the World Champion's expense.

Shirou glanced over.

The Player's name was Arcadia. The Player was dressed in a rather flamboyant manner, in a multicolored outfit that invoked the jester archetype with frills, ribbons, and a ruff around his neck. He wore a mask, one side black and frowning, the other white and smiling. He was a friend of Ulbert, and one day he asked that Arcadia join Nine's Own Goal. Something he adamantly fought to make happen.

The faker watched as the two talked, a small, contemplative frown hidden away behind his character model.

Shirou never openly expressed this, but he didn't quite trust the jester-themed Player. It was irrational, but in the moments he interacted with the man, the magus always felt on guard when around him. As if there was something more to him than what he may appear. He was the one who contributed the least to the clan, his presence was sparse when interacting with other members within the clan, despite Ulbert's continuing to vouch for him.

Shirou kept quiet about it, as with no real proof besides a "gut feeling", he had little in the way of backing up his suspicion. He knew that pointing fingers would do nothing and only lead to divisions amongst them, especially with someone as volatile as Ulbert at times. So for the moment, he would remain vigilant. If it was nothing, then no harm was done, but if there was something more…

"Moving onwards." Shirou heard Touch Me clear his throat, his thoughts returning to reality.

"Since we've grown in size, I believe a guild would be much more suited for all of us. Are there any objections?"

Touch Me's gaze swept across the table to see if there would be any objections. There were none.

"I would also like to make a follow-up announcement. For the guild, I shall be stepping down from the leader position." Touch Me once again made another shocking announcement. "I hope you all can understand." He bowed.

Quietly, everyone turned to one another, unsure of what to do next. They would go through with rejoining to be a full-fledged guild. Of course, this brought up an entirely new dilemma. Who would be the Guildmaster then? Who would be the one to lead them?

Each Player looked over one another, evaluating their fellow peers to see who would be the best fit for the role. It was Peroroncino who offered the first candidate.

"I vote for Emiya-senpai!" He boldly announced.

"Hmm, not a bad choice." Said Tigris Euphrates.

"I agree, he would make a great leader." Yamaiko also supported this.

Other members quickly agreed, with small mumbles and praise here and there. It was namely Peroroncino, Bukubukuchagama, Touch Me, Momonga, Amanomahitotsu, HeroHero, and Yamaiko who were his staunch supporters in the decision.

Shirou said nothing, but from the corner of his eyes, he scanned the room, taking note of a few key members.

Finally, he gave his answer.

"Sorry, but I have to say no." Shirou declined.

First came the abrupt silence, then the questions.

"Everyone, everyone!" Touch Me raised his voice, quieting everyone, the loudest of which was Peroroncino. "We should not force him into the position if he is not willing. But I'm sure everyone would like to hear your reasoning, Emiya-san."

It took a moment for everyone to finally calm down. Satisfied, Shirou began.

"Does anyone know the difference between a leader and a commander?" Shirou asked, much to the confusion of his friends, bringing up a question out of left field.

"Uhh, aren't they kind of the same thing, senpai?" Peroroncino asked, scratching his head, confused.

"You would not be wrong. In a way, the two terms are rather synonymous with one another, but they have distinct differences. To me, a leader is one who can do just that, lead. They must be able to motivate and inspire others to work towards a common goal. They guide their followers like a beacon shining above, inspiring them to reach far beyond what they thought possible. On the other hand, a commander simply commands and issues orders. While a commander is responsible for executing orders, it is the leader who provides direction and guidance." Clarified Shirou.

He looked back to his clanmates, all of whom were silently musing over his words.

Shirou holds a certain standard for what a true leader should embody. He believes that a leader should possess qualities such as honesty, trustworthiness, respect, and the ability to inspire others. All qualities and traits that Shirou does not believe he possesses. At least, not the more admirable qualities. He didn't inspire people to better themselves and improve. If anything, it was the opposite. His time as the Second Magus Killer earned him a fearsome reputation, painting him as someone who evokes fear, envy, jealousy, and so much more by the likes of the Clock Tower and Church. He was respected for his skills and abilities, but that was about it. Not his personality or character. Only his magecraft and skill.

He was the farthest thing from a leader. He could come up with battle plans and schemes and work in joint operations with others. He could even give out orders, but they were blunter than they were inspiring. There were indeed times when Shirou did command from time to time. But he couldn't possibly lead. If anything, it would be better if he had someone in charge to lead and issue commands for him to follow.

Sure, in the years since he had joined Nine's Own Goal, he had successfully selected and led a fair number of missions and raids for the clan. Shirou would guess that they were equating battle smarts and experience to being the same as a leader. It was not necessarily an incorrect correlation, but it was a misnomer.

Give him an obstacle and directions, and he would see it through easily.

He knew who he was. What he was.

Just his Origin and Alignment, he was a sword.

A weapon. To be used when fit.

To be wielded and given a purpose. To either cut down anything in his path or to protect. Never was a sword to lead, but rather the wielder.

"So, you see yourself more as a commander? Is that what you're implying, Emiya-san?" Said Touch Me, understanding the message the Humanoid Player was trying to get across.

"I still think you'll be a good leader, Emiya-senpai." Peroroncino defended.

Shirou sighed ruefully and gave the avian Player a grateful nod.

"I appreciate the goodwill, Peroroncino-san, but my answer is still no."

"Drop it, Otouto. If Emiya-san doesn't want it, we shouldn't force him into it." Bukubukuchagama added.

"Alright." The younger brother reluctantly did so. "But if not Emiya-senpai, then who else would be good enough to be the Guild's leader?" He asked, leading the question back to where they were at the beginning.

"A leader…" Shirou began. "Doesn't necessarily have to be the strongest, smartest, or even the most graceful. They would need to be understanding and supportive. To know the goals and desires of their fellow allies and have the will to see them through. Someone that any one of us can go and trust explicitly…"

Someone who was well trusted and known.

Someone who willingly puts the goals and well-being of everyone first and foremost.

Someone that every one of them would follow with little hesitation.

Someone like… Momonga.

"Momonga." Shirou absentmindedly said out loud.

"M-Me!" The skeletal necromancer exclaimed in surprise. Even pointing a finger at himself in emphasis.

Hearing the accidental proposal for Momonga's name, the rest of the clan quickly began discussing. Shirou took note of the enthusiastic support being offered, which reminded him of when Perorocino had put his name forward. Whereas he received roughly half the number of supporters from his close friends, Momonga, on the other hand, received almost universal support. Everyone seemed to have something positive to say about the undead Player.

Besides his usual knit of friends consisting of Momonga, Touch Me, Peroroncino, Bukubukuchagama, Amanomahitotsu, Yamaiko, Tabula, Warrior Takemikazuchi, and Nishikienrai, everyone else he considered amiable at best. He would consider them allies, but not friends on the same level as those closest to him. There were even a few that he would even say he disliked interacting with on a daily basis.

Those slots were reserved for the likes of Ulbert, when the two butted heads, and Luci*Fer, who was quite rude and too much of a troublemaker for Shirou's liking.

Momonga, on the other hand, got along with almost everyone on a level that Shirou himself couldn't quite accomplish, even during his stay with YGGDRASIL. Thinking about it, Momonga was the perfect choice for the position. And if the chorus of voices throwing their support for the nomination were anything to go by, it was a unanimous decision all around.

Sure, were Shirou to be elected as Guildmaster, no doubt, they would follow either out of respect or obligation. However, he knew there would be no true willingness when it came to some of the members. He was neither close enough nor friendly enough with with everyone in Nine's Own Goal to have the same level of rapport that Momonga had.

Momonga would be one that he and his fellow clan members would follow willingly, no matter the cause.

Shirou did feel a twinge of guilt for throwing Momonga under the bus like that. However, he knew in his heart that the Overlord had what it took to lead them all, despite his crippling lack of self-confidence. Throughout his life, Shirou has witnessed the full spectrum of leadership. From poor leaders, able leaders, and even great leaders throughout his life. He firmly believed that Momonga had the makings of a great one.

"I-I… I mean… there has to be someone better than me!" Momonga floundered about.

"I concur. Besides Emiya-san and Touch Me-san, I too believe you would be the next ideal choice." Punitto Moe threw his support behind Momonga.

"Following the criteria laid out by Emiya-san, you do fit into a number of them, Momonga-san." Bellriver added.

"I'm sure that I don't even qualify for even half of the qualities Emiya-san mentioned!" He shouted back.

This was a level of anxiety Momonga had never felt before in his life, and he could feel the uncertainty starting to get to him. He wasn't as charismatic and skilled as Touch Me, nor did he have the confidence and resolve of Shirou. He was just himself.

The memories of his talk with his manager came racing back to the forefront of his mind. It seemed almost like fate was conspiring against him, thrusting him into a position that he loathed but could do nothing about. He felt he was one step away from having a panic attack.

He wasn't brave, charismatic, or any of the other traits Shirou noted for a leader. He had always been a follower, and now they were asking him to lead.

"I think everyone is overestimating me! There's no way I can be the Guildmaster!" The salaryman tried to dissuade.

"You give yourself far too little credit, Momonga-san. You'll do fine." Tabula waved off his concern and assured.

The others quickly threw in their support, but Momonga was deaf to them as he was pulled in by his self-deprecating thoughts. First, it was this morning with the sudden promotion, and now his friends were trying to push him into another big and important role.

He wanted to scream and yell, "Why?!" Why did they think he would be the one to lead them? He could name anyone off the top of his head that could reasonably do a better job than he could.

Instead, his shoulder sagged and he slouched in his chair. His head lowered and he stared at nothing. Seeing this, the rest quieted down. A few were even concerned, worried that they were pushing their friend too far despite his reluctance.

"Momonga-san." Tentatively, Momonga looked towards Shirou, his first-ever friend within YGGDRASIL. "I know you may not think of yourself as capable or deserving, and maybe you're right. As you are now, that is true. But you possess a trait that I believe is crucial to being a great leader. Would you like to know what that is?"

"What's that?" He asked tentatively.

Momonga didn't know how or why, but he knew Shirou was smiling at and for him.

"You are humble, Momonga-san. You know exactly what you're good at and where you fall short, and you're not afraid to admit it. But that does not mean you cannot learn; it doesn't mean you cannot grow and develop. You may stumble, you may doubt, and you may even fall and fail completely, but there is no other Player I would rather follow besides you, Momonga-san. If you fall, we'll be there to pick you up. It doesn't matter if you fall once, twice, or even a hundred times. I-no, we'll be with you every step of the way."

Momonga looked at every seated member, gauging their looks and stance. Despite the virtual masks of their respective characters, Momonga could feel the weight behind their gazes. No judgment or scorn was present, merely silent support.

"D-do you… Do you really think so?" Momonga's eyes returned to his friend.

"I know so." Shirou replied confidently.

No more words were exchanged as everyone waited for Momonga's answer. The room fell into a deep silence that seemed to stretch endlessly. Finally, Momonga slowly rose from his seat and stood straight up. He cast his eyes around the table one more time and cleared his throat.

"I-I… I will not say I am happy or excited that you all have so much trust in me. It's rather scary, actually…" Momonga chuckled nervously. "But seeing you all putting your faith in me. I-I'll try and give it my all! I know there will be many areas where I will fall. I know I may even be unreliable at times, and no doubt there will be problems. All I can ask of you is that you please be patient. And should I ever stumble and fall, I ask that you be there to help me back up. Would… that be acceptable?" He finished. His words, a silent plea.

And his friends were there to answer.

"You already know my answer, you have my support, Momonga-san!" Said Shirou.

"And so shall I." Touch Me was next.

"Me too!" Peroroncino followed up.

"And me, three!" Temperance quickly joined in.

This continued until every member of the table gave their open support.

"Then I shall take the position of Guildmaster, and I shall endeavor to make you proud!" Momonga promised. He bowed to them as the group cheered and applauded. "And as my first decree as Guildmaster… what should we be called?"

Momonga started strong, only to peter off timidly at the end with the question.

The group collectively blinked at the same time, though it was impossible to tell that on the surface. Huh, that thought never crossed their minds.

"Why not keep the clan's name?" Ancient One questioned.

"There is nothing wrong with Nine's Own Goal, but for a new guild to rise from the ashes of our clan, a new name would be appropriate." Touch Me vouched.

"Out with the old and in with the new, eh?" Genjiro muttered, drumming his fingers against the table.

"Well, if we're voting for something, I call for our rebirth to be under the banner of Ultimate Evil Supreme!" Ulbert exclaimed.

The rest of the Players turned and gave the goat Heteromorph an incredulous stare.

"Ulbert-san, we're looking for a name that will be respected when we make our debut." Touch Me quipped. The others snickered in agreement to the rather embarrassing chunni name.

"Get bent!" Ulbert retaliated angrily and sulked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"How about guild Rock Hard?!" Peroroncino threw out a suggestion.

It took a few seconds before the rest caught on to the innuendo and collectively groaned. Peroroncino, on the other hand, snickered like a madman, only to get hit in the head by Bukubukuchagama.

"The Avengers!" Nearata decided.

"Pretty sure that's copyrighted." Bellriver burst his friend's bubble.

"Yeah, besides, what the heck are we even going to 'avenge' anyway?" Garnet wondered.

"Got any ideas, Emiya-san?" Warrior Takemikazuchi asked, leaning over.

"Hmm, how about… Phantasmal Apostles?"

Shirou would fully admit that he ripped the names from their respective categories of Phantasmal Beasts and Dead Apostles and just slapped them together haphazardly. Their group consisted of Heteromorphic beings, either monsters, demons, beasts, or races of anything in between. A hodgepodge of monstrosity, one could say, hence the idea and inspiration.

A couple of the Players nodded their heads at the name. Testing the name in their heads, a few agreed that it was quite a cool name. It was certainly a lot better than the ones offered so far. However, there were still others on the fence.

"Perhaps we should keep on going until we exhaust all other options." Amanomahitotsu suggested.

The next fifteen minutes or so saw everyone spitballing ideas and names, hoping for one to stick. Some good, and others, horrendously terrible.

To name a few, they were…

"Monster Mashup."

"Total Underworld."

"The Legion of Heteromorph."

"Champion of Heteromorph."

"Freakshow Circus."

"Send Lewds." Two guesses who suggested that.

"Monsters in the Closets."

And lastly, "Heteromorphic Zoo."

It was slowly looking like Phantasmal Apostles would win the poll until, at the last second, Punitto Moe and Warrior Takemikazuchi began arguing over a different name that paid homage to the clan's name and origin. Sometime later, the name 'Nine's Own Goal' morphed into 'Ainz Ooal Gown.' In the end, Ainz Ooal Gown won over Phantasmal Apostles, not that Shirou minded it at all.

"With that done, all that's left is to form the guild and invite everyone. I shall dissolve the clan then." Touch Me waved his hand and opened up his menu. A few presses here and there, and Shirou received a pop-up window that said [Clan Nine's Own Goal has been officially disbanded].

"Momonga-san, if you would do the honor." Touch Me prompted.

"With pleasure." Now it was Momonga who opened his menu, and a few presses later Shirou and everyone else received a new notification.

|||||Momonga has sent you a Guild invite. Do you wish to join "Ainz Ooal Gown"? [Yes/No]|||||

Hitting yes to the invitation, Shirou was greeted with the sound of a happy chime. The sound persisted as every guild member accepted the invitation.

When the last chime rang out, Nine's Own Goal was no more. In its place stood a new guild; Ainz Ooal Gown.

"As my first official decree as Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown, I say we conquer the dungeon that Nishikienrai-san discovered!"

The group easily showed their support with their cheers. But Momonga wasn't done just yet.

Momonga gulped, his mouth suddenly dry for what was about to come next, but he steeled himself through. This would be it, to prove not only to the others but also to himself that he was worthy of the title of Guildmaster. Steeling himself, he committed to what he would say next.

"Not only that, but I declare that we shall conquer The Tomb of Nazarick in one try!"

It was almost comical how quickly the group and atmosphere went from boisterous and merry to speechless and alarmed in a split second.

Even Shirou couldn't hide his surprise, being caught completely off-guard by Momonga's sudden brazen declaration. Such a bold statement didn't fit the usually cautious and careful necromancer.

Naturally, Momonga's rather outlandish declaration received quite an uproar.

Over two dozen voices rose, a cacophony of noises as each guild member tried to make their voice heard and known.

The most prevalent issue was that nothing was known about the dungeon. Had Momonga simply said that they would try and beat the dungeon regularly, the guild would have employed Nishikienrai's idea of maintaining the monopoly on the tomb. They would have slowly and carefully learned everything they could before mounting the final assault. That way, their chance for success would rise as they continued to learn more and more about the dungeon. Instead, their new Guildmaster was suggesting that they throw that all away and weigh it all in one large gamble.

To walk blindly into danger would be courting death itself.

Surprisingly, there was a vocal minority that supported Momonga's crazy idea.

Warrior Takemikazuchi laughed, his voice full of mirth.

"A Guildmaster only for a few minutes now, but I see you're kicking things off with a bang, eh Momonga-san?! I say let's do it!" He declared. This motivated some of the others to vocally show their support.

"Absolutely not!" Punitto Moe objected vehemently. "Momonga-san, please reconsider!"

"It's not like this is the first time we've headed into danger blind before." Argued Peroroncino.

"On lower-level dungeons, sure. But that's only because we got lucky. We have no idea of the difficulty of the dungeon nor what it might entail." Tabula returned.

"What do you think, Emiya-san? Think we've got a shot?" Nishikienrai spoke, turning towards the guild's resident dungeon expert.

"It's not completely impossible…" Shirou answered carefully. "While what Tabula-san says is true, there is also a certain luck factor to it."

"That still leaves a big possibility of us failing speculatively." Punitto Moe rebuked, firm in his stance.

"Come on guys, have you all forgotten? This is a game, a game!" Warrior Takemikazuchi spoke aloud, his hands pressed squarely against the table surface as he stood up. "So, what if some or all of us die or we lose a piece of our equipment? It's all part of the game. It's all part of the fun! Or have you all forgotten that?"

"We have not forgotten, Takemikazuchi-san. But that doesn't mean we should do this with reckless abandonment." Said Bellriver. "We should also think of the consequences. We stand more to lose than just our equipment."

The four-armed Heteromorph words did give pause to some of the supporters. Shirou understood where he was coming from. Going from the emotional high they experienced at the beginning to now, it would be more reasonable to ride the high and play it safe.

Momonga's plan was one of high risk but equally high rewards. Should the group fail, it would set a damaging precedent for what's to come in the future. It would be an inauspicious beginning to a promising future together as a fully-fledged guild. The same could be said for the reverse, should they emerge victorious. It would lay the groundwork for the future of Ainz Ooal Gown. A celebration for what would come.

The argument would have gone further had Momonga not stepped in.

"I understand how ridiculous and crazy I sound when I said it. And in some way, it's a willful and selfish wish of mine. I understand your concern and your fear, and I do not blame you for this. However, I still think we should do this. Because I believe we can do this. You all elected me to be the Guildmaster because you all saw something within me. Something worth leading and worth following. Now I'm asking if you're still willing to follow me. Will you help me in this foolish quest?" Momonga lowered his head and waited.

For a moment, all was silent as their friend and newly appointed leader's plea continued in their heads.

"Hearing your heartfelt plea, how could I say no? I shall stand by you, Momonga-san!" Touch Me vowed.

"You already know my answer, Momonga-san!" Warrior Takemikazuchi spoke next.

"You can count on us." Shirou followed up.

More and more were throwing their hats into the ring. Hearing the overwhelming support, Bellriver turned to his friend.

"It seems that the beds are made, Punitto Moe-san. It's only fair that we lay in them." Bellriver said, his voice oddly full of acceptance.

"… I still don't agree, but… that doesn't mean I won't try my damnedest to see it through." Punitto Moe said reluctantly, but still there was a burning passion raging within.

As he heard the two individuals who had been the most vocal in their opposition to his idea step forward to express their support, Momonga felt a wave of inspiration wash over him. Soon, one by one, the rest of the guild joined in, until all twenty-nine voices were united in a powerful chorus of agreement. The overwhelming show of solidarity and encouragement from his friends caused his heart to swell with pride and joy. It was deeply touching to see that they were willing to stand by him, even in the face of his seemingly crazy request. With newfound confidence, he stood up straight and addressed the group as a whole.

"Then it's decided!" Momonga boomed. "Then I, Momonga, the newly appointed Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown, hereby declare our first quest! The conquest of the Tomb of Nazarick!" Ending his speech, a lone clenched skeletal fist was raised high into the air, punctuating his declaration.

"Oh!" The others followed suit, rising from their seats and following their leader's actions. Twenty-nine arms were raised, followed by hearty shouts.

And so began the conquest of The Great Tomb of Nazarick.

Chapter 6 - The Conquest of the Great Tomb of Nazarick

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 06/22/2019

Chapter 6 - The Conquest of the Great Tomb of Nazarick

December 29th, 2131. World: Helheim. Piercing Crystal Plains. Recommended level: 80-85

Within one of the far corners of Helheim lies a perilous locale known as the [Piercing Crystal Plains], renowned for its unforgiving and hazardous terrain. The [Piercing Crystal Plains] were one of the many treacherous locations that dotted the realm of the dead and was as hazardous as any normal wandering monster. On first viewing, one could mistake the frozen vegetation for being made of ice. In reality, they were, but it was not any ordinary ice. These deadly blades of crystal-frozen razor grass were nothing to scoff at as they inflicted damage whenever trampled upon, even to Players with Legendary tier equipment. Players were highly recommended to be at least level 80-85 before attempting to venture into this perilous region, as the [Piercing Crystal Plains] were among the furthest in the territory of Helheim.

Further along, the frozen grassy lands of the plains receded, growing grotesquely and haphazardly, leading to the [Poison Swamp]. A thick and almost permeating smog divided the two locations.

The guild members of Ainz Ooal Gown stood just a few meters away from the Swamp, appearing inconspicuous to any onlooker. However, this was thanks to the marvel of magic - an invisible, shimmering dome created by the 10th tier illusion spell, [Mirror World]. This spell functioned as a one-way viewing bubble, allowing them to observe their surroundings while remaining hidden from the outside world. Moreover, the spell had the added benefit of deflecting any incoming attacks towards those within its range.

Aside from [Mirror World], Ainz Ooal Gown had also set up an array of defensive spells and wards that enhanced their protection from any potential threats. With this level of defensive measures in place, they could strategize and plan without any apprehensions.

Such measures were necessary, not only to protect themselves from any wandering monsters and POPs that would aggro on them should they get in range, but also from any potential Players lurking about. The very last thing the guild needed was the possibility of any PKers catching wind of them and following them. The designated location served as an excellent staging ground for their upcoming expedition. It allowed the guild to conduct reconnaissance of the entire area and pinpoint the most direct route to the dungeon. Furthermore, they carefully scanned the surroundings for any potential threats or hostile Players who may be monitoring their movements from afar.

In preparation for their maiden venture, the newly formed guild spared no expense. All twenty-nine members of Ainz Ooal Gown were equipped with their most powerful and reliable gear, including secondary equipment and items to counter any environmental hazards. Each Player also received health and mana regeneration potions to ensure their sustained performance throughout the mission.

In the bubble stood Momonga, and his avatar, the Overlord, stood imposingly and stoically. Despite his facade of composure, Momonga's nerves were on edge. His heart thrummed with a thunderous beat, and his bony fingers spasmed involuntarily.

There was little noise within the bubble save for the occasional discussion and callout by Nubo, Flatfoot, and Nishikienrai as they coordinated themselves.

As the atmosphere settled into a near-silent state, Momonga found himself lost in a maze of contemplation. The past hour had seemed to slip by like a mere blink of an eye for the skeletal necromancer. He had gone from being a mere member of a clan to being declared the Guildmaster of said former clan. However, his mind was mainly occupied by his recent proclamation. He had announced that they, Ainz Ooal Gown, would embark on a journey to a dungeon that was yet to be explored and would emerge victorious in a single attempt.

He wondered what exactly emboldened him to make such a crazy promise that was completely out of his character. At the time, he promised himself that he wouldn't regret making the decision. Only to break that promise no more than ten minutes later as he began second-guessing himself. The nervousness from it all plagued his thoughts and was more than a little self-destructive.

He carefully glanced back at everyone, all twenty-nine Players that vowed to follow him. It wasn't the thought of failing the raid that rattled him to the core. But rather, the thought that he might fail them.

The sheer thought of him disappointing his friends and letting them down weighed heavily on his shoulders.

What if he fails them?

What if they get angry at him if the raid fails?

Would they blame him? Hate him?

What if they decide to quit or join another guild?

What if they quit-

[Message]!

The notification cut through his self-deprecation, knocking him out of his self-induced trance. He blinked in confusion, wondering who might be trying to message him and why they were using [Message] instead of just going up to talk with him directly. He carefully looked around. The rest of the guild was milling about, some sitting and going over their inventory, others having their weapons drawn at the first sign of danger, and many more standing about, waiting. Confused and curious, he opened the [Message] and recognized the sender.

"[Emiya-san?]" He answered back quickly through [Message] so he didn't disturb anyone.

"[You're nervous, aren't you? That we might fail. And you're probably thinking heavy self-deprecating thoughts like we would all hate you for it or something equally ridiculous.]"

"[I-how did you know?!]" Momonga's eyes widened upon hearing how Shirou nailed his thoughts down to a T.

"[Because you just told me.]" It took Momonga a second to realize that Shirou tricked him into confirming his suspicions. "[That, and you've been standing there, still as a statue, for a good five minutes now. You get like that whenever you're deep in thought and oblivious to the world.]"

"[I can never get anything past you, can I, Emiya-san?]" Momonga let out a rueful chuckle.

"[Remind me again how long we've known each other? I would be a poor friend and a blind one at that if I hadn't caught onto your defeatist attitude and crippling lack of confidence yet.]" He answered back with a hint of amusement in his voice before getting serious. "[You know you can trust me. Are you angry at me because I nominated you instead of taking the position of Guildmaster myself?]" Shirou asked him.

Momonga paused for a moment before opening up to his closest friend and confidant.

"[No… I don't think I could ever hate you.]" The magic caster fully admitted. "[When I said we should go to conquer the dungeon on our first attempt, it was on the spur of the moment. I wanted to prove to you all that I would be the leader you all thought I would be. That your faith in me wouldn't be misplaced. Now, I'm afraid that if we fail, you all will blame me for it. That you would hate and resent me and leav-]"

"[Our trust in you wasn't misplaced.]" Shirou interjected firmly, putting an end to the nonsensical thought.

Momonga silently gulped at his friend's no-nonsense tone.

"[Do not believe just because you're now our Guildmaster that you must bear all the burden on your shoulder. Any one of us could have said no or rejected the idea, but in the end, we all agreed. We all agreed and decided to do this together. To follow you, our Guildmaster, our friend through this. No matter how absurd or impossible it seemed. And that hasn't changed.]" Shirou said, his voice softening and supportive.

"[I'm just worried… ]" Momonga whispered.

"[And that's fine. Anyone in your situation would be as well. But it is only when you let your doubt and your indecision cloud your judgment and stop you from asking for help, that you will have completely failed. We trust you, Momonga-san, so please trust in us as well.]"

"[I do. I really do. It's just myself that I don't completely have confidence in.]"

"[Well, we trust you. So, if you cannot believe in yourself, then believe in us who believe in you.]"

Despite the serious nature of their conversation, Momonga couldn't help but chortle a little at his friend's quirky phrasing of his encouraging words.

"[Since when did you give corny lines, Emiya-san?]"

"[What can I say? I have my moments. Even if the line was stolen from a series I was forced to watch while stuck in the hospital.]"

This time, the two shared a short laugh. While the conversation did not completely erase the apprehension he felt, he did feel better.

"[But what if we do fail? What if I fail?]"

"[Then endure, learn from your mistake, and move forward wiser than you were before. And we'll be there to give you a pick me up.]"

As the [Message] came to a close, Momonga was left to his own devices once again. His undead figure slumped slightly as he replayed the words of his dear friend in his mind. Though the encouragement was appreciated, the looming fear of failure persisted like a sharp guillotine, haunting his every thought with its weighty presence.

Momonga pushed the matter aside for now. Just in time, too, as the others were finished and ready to relay their findings.

"Momonga-san, I have completed my scouting." Nubo, the divination specialist of the guild, reported. "I detected no scrying or divination spells on us or the surroundings. We're clear to proceed."

"Likewise." Added Flatfoot. "I have thoroughly inspected the surrounding three hundred meters and have found no other Players or Player presence anywhere."

"As for me…" Nishikienrai spoke up, "I have finished mapping out the safest and most efficient path to the dungeon. We should be able to avoid most of the enemies if we proceed with caution and stealth. Still, we should be prepared just in case things go south."

The three reports filtered in, and with that, preparations were complete, along with numerous countermeasures set in place.

"I understand…" After inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, Momonga strode towards the group and turned to face his companions. The recent exchange with Shirou lingered in his thoughts, but he summoned his courage and spoke with conviction, projecting his voice loudly.

"Everyone! Are you ready?!

Each Player flashed a thumbs-up icon, showing they were. Momonga nodded and turned back to Nishikienrai.

"Lead the way, Nishikienrai-san."

"Roger!" With a crisp salute, he led the guild into the Poison Swamp.

For the next ten minutes, the group trudged through the hazardous expanse, their only company being the sound of their own footsteps and the occasional rustling of the poisonous foliage. To ease the monotony and maintain their vigilance, they exchanged small talk and discussed various topics. However, amidst the chatter of his fellow guildmates and friends, Momonga couldn't shake off the feeling of isolation that crept up on him.

Momonga's thoughts traveled back to his friends and their individual lives. Each Player was from a different walk of life, but all were united under one common theme, under a single banner.

The common thread that bound them together was their shared love for the game and the virtual world they inhabited.

As he pondered his own circumstances, he couldn't help but feel how unremarkable and solitary his life was before he found solace in YGGDRASIL. He was a loner in the real world, with no one to call his own. It was only in the digital realm that he found true companionship and friendship, albeit with individuals he had never met and would never meet in person. The thought of his guildmates departing from the game, leaving him behind, and the prospect of being alone once again, just like before, weighed heavily on his mind.

Dark thoughts began to form, and where normally they would consume his mind, he held them back. But he did not fully dismiss them. Instead, they remained in the back of his mind, kept there as a reminder.

He felt an additional surge of motivation fill him up.

Using an analogy, if his life was like a Visual Novel, then that could be considered the true Bad Ending. Then all he had to do was avoid it at all costs.

They placed their trust in him, and he would make damn sure he saw this through!

"We're here." Nishikienrai's voice cut through the chatter, and everyone quieted down.

There, almost cut off from the mainland of the swamp, was a miniature island of sorts. It was a strange sight to see, as the dense fog that blanketed the swamp was nowhere to be found on this isolated piece of land. From their position, they were able to spy on various stone structures held up by old and worn pillars. The land was surrounded by long, stone archways that encircled the area, with broken walls providing minimal protection from the outside world. Its massive front gate was open, as if enticing the Player to enter. Through the front gate, the guild was able to spy a large and imposing mausoleum-like building in the center ahead of them.

"Alright, Nubo-san, Tabula-san, and Garnet-san. We shall first survey the surrounding area for any possible hostiles in the area. I don't trust those shitty devs not to do so." Momonga voiced.

A round of agreement followed after his order, and they got to work.

Momonga easily recognized the structure and aesthetic of the dungeon. Areas with structures such as these typically involve undead mobs to fit the theme.

As an Elder Lich, and thanks to his racial and job classes, he was the guild's go-to Player when scouting for any undead presence.

"[Remote Viewing]."

Activating his spell, an arcane eye appeared. With precision and skill, he controlled the flying organ and directed it through the gate. His eyes were alert, waiting to see if he would pick up on anything. Focused, he surveyed the entire land, looking for any possible enemies hidden in the shadows. However, none triggered any alerts on his radar, showing that there were no undead present.

"I finished surveying the area, there was no undead reaction by the looks of things."

"Same, I don't see any possible monsters wandering around either."

"There are also no magical traps in place, so we should be safe to walk right on in."

One by one, the reports filtered in. Once it was deemed safe, at least on the surface, the group nodded to one another and marched forward. Caution was still taken, with the vanguard keeping their eyes peeled and the rearguard watching their backs. Everyone knew better than to take anything within YGGDRASIL at face value.

As the group stepped onto the island, texts appeared on their HUD. The title of The Great Tomb of Nazarick appeared with an icon next to it. The icon indicated that the location was an unexplored dungeon and that they were the first to discover it.

As they marched forward, Momonga finally had time to take in the surroundings.

Most of the eerie ground functioned as a massive cemetery, if the multitude of smashed tombstones that seemed to stretch out endlessly were anything to go by. Moss and vines had overtaken many of them, and some were so old that they were barely legible. The statues that dotted the landscape were equally haunting. Angels stood sentinel over the graves, while others depicted men and women frozen in time. It was clear that this place had once been a burial ground, and the broken limbs and missing bodies only added to the creepy atmosphere. It certainly helps to build up a creepy vibe for the dungeon. Momonga would give the developers that much.

More interestingly, there were four other buildings similar to the large main one in the center. They were located in the four-cardinal direction of the central mausoleum.

"Tigris Euphrates-san, Flatfoot-san." Momonga called out.

"Yes, Momonga-san?"

"Need something?"

"Do you see those small tomb-like buildings at the far edges? I need you two to recon the area, just in case there might be alternate entrances."

"Can do."

"Roger."

The Ranger and Assassin raced towards the building, following their orders. It was after they had left that Shirou walked up beside him.

"I think we should also send someone to investigate the central mausoleum for any clues or hints it might give us about the dungeon. I'll volunteer."

"I also agree with Emiya-san." Nishikienrai joined in. "We already know that there are no enemies in or around the buildings. We should be safe to explore the interior."

"Are you sure it's safe? What if the dungeon activates prematurely?" Momonga immediately questioned.

"Don't worry. I've seen and been in plenty of dungeons, Momonga-san. I won't accidentally trigger it prematurely, and I know when to call it quits." Shirou confidently assured him.

Had it been anyone else, Momonga would assume them to be arrogant. An unknown dungeon meant unknown dangers. But he knew his friend and his capabilities, so he trusted him with scouting the area out.

"Fine. But do not push any further than you need to, and be careful." The Guildmaster counseled.

The two nodded.

"I suggest we split up. I'll recon the interior while you take the outisde, Nishikienrai-san."

"Fine by me, Emiya-san. Remember, if you see anything, run." The ninja forewarned.

With a nod of agreement from Shirou, the two were off. The silver-haired Player raced forward, up the stairs, and swiftly into the building. Nishikienrai's form flickered, and he was off, stealthily double-checking the perimeter for any clues. It was crucial that they gather as much intel on the dungeon as possible before the guild fully committed to the mission. Every bit of information, no matter how small, could make a significant difference.

While the two were on reconnaissance, the group made a steady march before reaching the very base of the massive stairway. Sometime later, Tigris Euphrates and Flatfoot reported back in. The four tombs along the outside were empty and seemed to only serve as esthetics. Hearing their reports, Momonga gazed back at the structure.

"While it is certainly large, I do wonder if this entire tomb is all that the dungeon has to offer." Momonga pondered.

"I doubt it. More than likely, the dungeon is the basement of the building." Tabula offered.

"Then that leaves the matter of how long and expansive the underground would be." Punitto Moe tapped his foot against the soiled ground. "You can fit an awful lot from plain sight and underground."

"Nazarick… Nazarick…" Momonga muttered, testing the name. "It doesn't sound remotely like any Norse mythology I've heard of. Nor does it sound Latin, Greek, or even close to Japanese."

Momonga had hoped that the name would sound familiar, if not to him, then perhaps to his friends, and that it could at least provide them with a little bit of insight. YGGDRASIL drew heavy inspiration from various myths and legends, not just Norse mythology. The game world incorporated many themes and stories from different mythologies to create a unique experience. Unfortunately, it seems more likely that the name was not derived from any mythology at all, and was simply a creation of the developers.

"We'll wait for Emiya-san and Nishikienrai-san to return before continuing. Blue Planet-san, a base if you would." Momonga advised.

"One base coming right up!"

As the guild's druid cast the powerful spell [Nature's Shelter], a bunker materialized from the earth, providing them with a spacious base of command. They all entered the bunker and took a moment to relax and unwind, knowing that they had a safe haven to wait for the scouts to return with any valuable information. It wasn't long before the massive double doors swung open, announcing the return of the scouts with their findings.

The two walked in, but Momonga quickly noticed something. Their stance and movement were off; they were tense.

"Alright, we finished scouting the area. And we've got good news and bad news. For a dungeon of this size and scale, along with the architect from some that I encountered in the past. I say there's a high likelihood that the dungeon is a guild base-type dungeon." Nishikienrai informed.

As he listened to this, Momonga felt a sense of unease settle in his stomach. He knew that YGGDRASIL had a wide variety of dungeons, each with its own unique challenges. Some were located in cities, while others were nestled deep inside castles or caverns. However, the guild-based dungeons were by far the most difficult to conquer. These massive structures were designed to test even the most skilled Players, and were often located in precariously specific locations within the playable realms.

Of course, the reward for conquering such a harrowing dungeon was that they had full authority over the dungeon and its surroundings. A daunting feat in its own right, with some of the greatest boons given to the Players if they succeed.

He could feel the enthusiasm he had been building up slip again. But now wasn't the time for hesitation.

"And the good news?" Momonga dared to hope.

"That was the good news."

"How the hell is that the good news?" Ulbert said incredulously.

"Would you have preferred me saying, we have bad news and horrible news?" Nishikienrai countered rhetorically.

"Then at least start with that! Now's not the time to be facetious!" Ulbert hotly fired back.

Before the argument could go any further, Momonga intervened.

"Dare I ask what the bad news is?"

"I did a quick reconnaissance of the inside structure. I spied what seemed to be five statues along with five distinct hallway passages. After some more inspection, I recognized the interior design and aesthetic of the dungeon. Unfortunately, they match those dungeons that were classified as simultaneous attack dungeons I encountered in the past." Shirou grimly stated.

And the bad news kept piling up. This one managed to get a collective groan from the guild. More than a few of them swore and threw in 'shitty devs' to the mix of curses.

The simultaneous attack dungeon was a dreaded concept within the entire community. Everyone knew these dungeons as the "die-by-yourself" dungeons, and with good reason. They were the most challenging dungeons that YGGDRASIL had to offer. They deviated from the traditional formula of dungeon raiding and required all the members of the adventuring party to attack the dungeon together. This meant that several parties had to split up within the dungeon, with each group playing a crucial role. Success was only possible if every group succeeded, and there was no room for any mistakes.

Simultaneous attack dungeons were designed in such a way that they compelled the Players to fully commit themselves to the game. One of the major challenges of these dungeons was that they completely locked out the use of teleportation spells and items. This means that spells such as [Gate] or [Teleportation] were rendered entirely useless. In such a scenario, if a single party wipe occurs, it could potentially spell the end of the entire raid. As a result, it was imperative to ensure that every member of the group was fully prepared and equipped to handle such challenges. Any failure on the part of even one or two groups can have a detrimental impact on the morale of the entire group.

"We should at least look on the bright side."

"And what bright side might that be, Nishikienrai-san?"

The rest of the guild waited for the ninja to continue, some holding hope that there was a light at the end of the dark tunnels.

"As soon as I can think of one, I'll let you know…"

His lame attempt at a joke earned him more unamused looks from the rest.

"Jeez, I'm just trying to lighten up the mood." Nishikienrai mumbled under his breath.

The guild was once again divided, with both sides having their own thoughts and concerns for the raid. Their voices intermingled as they spoke.

"What are the odds we would find the hardest type of dungeon like this?"

"It'll be a challenge, that's for sure."

"More like a waste of time."

"What are the odds that we can actually first time this dungeon?"

"Somewhere around a 5.2 to 7.6% chance of succeeding."

"… Is that an actual statistic, or did you just pull a random number out of your ass?"

"What's the plan, Momonga-san? Do we go through with it or try something else?" Punitto Moe popped up with a query.

They all turned to their Guildmaster and waited for his response.

The unexpected redirection of the guild member's focus caught Momonga off guard, leaving him frozen with surprise. He sensed their unwavering gaze fixed upon him, their expectation palpable in the tense silence that followed.

'You are their leader, so lead!' He screamed in his mind. He knew that, as their leader, his team depended on him just as much as he depended on them. The spotlight was now on him, and he couldn't risk disappointing them. The pressure was immense, but he had to rise to the occasion and lead them towards success.

While Punitto Moe's question offered him an alternative, Momonga was hesitant to use it. It wouldn't be too late to try for a more pragmatic dungeon or area. But he wondered what they would think-would they think less of him for backing out at the last second, or perhaps worse?

Indecision weighed down on him. Heavy was the burden that the title of Guildmaster brought. For it would be he who must make the hard decision.

'Damn it, this is what I get for diving in headfirst! In hindsight, I really have no idea what to even do in this situation! Ahhh! Ok, ok, calm down and think. Think, damn you! They don't need a spineless leader, but a man of action. Someone like…'

And then Momonga was struck with an idea.

'For once, stop acting like Satoru Suzuki. Think like Momonga, think like how Touch Me-san or Emiya-san would think! What would they do in a situation like this?! Something stupid, no doubt to the normies, but maybe that's exactly what we need!' He reevaluated.

He's always been in the background, always watching everyone. His bosses at work, Shirou and Touch Me when they ran clan operations, and more. He has witnessed their heroic deeds and their ability to lead and inspire others. While Touch Me was known for his bold and boisterous personality, exuding a sense of determination that no matter what came their way, they would overcome it. And with Shirou's calm and collected demeanor, there was never any doubt that victory was within their grasp. They all shared a common trait of confidence and sureness in their actions.

'Better yet, why not combine them…? He thought. A wild plan came to mind.

Unexpectedly, Momonga began to chuckle. His soft chuckling quickly evolved into full-blown laughter. For a moment, the rest of the guild wondered if their friend had lost it.

"A simultaneous-attack guild base dungeon! What a welcome surprise!" He laughed jovially, reminiscent of their previous leader, Touch Me. "My friends!" He turned towards them, his arms raised and apart like a king addressing his citizens. "It would seem that fate has handed us a worthy challenge. What better way than to show the world the strength of Ainz Ooal Gown?! My guildmate, my friends! Do not despair, for there is no doubt in my mind that we shall conquer this dungeon! Just like all those before it, it shall fall to our might. When we emerge victorious, our victory shall taste all the sweeter!"

Momonga declared, his voice carrying far and loud. The others were swept up by the sudden and passionate speech and responded in kind, with roars and cheers of invigorated vigor.

In the back, Shirou watched the proceedings. His lips twitched into a small, contemplative frown. While he did admit the speech was passionate and inspiring, it wasn't him. Shirou was quick to recognize the mask his friend had put on. Role-playing was a cherished pastime among the group, which had evolved from a clan to a guild. The Heteromorphic Players within the guild had created distinctive personalities to match their characters, adding depth to their gaming experience.

Despite the many insistences and denials from the Overlord about how embarrassing it was, it was quite evident that Momonga possessed an exceptional talent for it. He would portray himself as a character who was the complete antithesis of his usual meekness and politeness. His depiction of the "Dark Lord" persona, which his friends relentlessly teased him about, was that of a deadly and cool Player, devoid of any insecurities and brimming with confidence and assertiveness. The speech, in particular, felt borrowed in a way that even Shirou could sense that such a bombastic delivery was more befitting of Touch Me than Momonga, and in the midst of it, the magus felt a part of himself being channeled through the words of the speech.

It was almost like my friend had put on a mask and become someone else. Although his words still carried his unique passion and voice, it wasn't really him. It was as if he was pretending to be someone he wasn't.

As the guild was riled by Momonga's speech, Shirou silently slipped towards his undead friend until he was standing by his side, with Momonga none the wiser.

"I do have to say, for someone who's adamant about not being into role-playing, you sure are good at it." He whispered.

The only sign that Momonga was surprised by Shirou's unexpected presence was the stiffening of his shoulders; he himself was taken completely off guard.

"Emiya-san… Geez, you scared me!" Momonga whispered back. His voice returned to its usual polite inflection.

"It was a nice speech… but it wasn't yours." Shirou said suddenly.

"W-what do you mean?" Momonga replied, confused by his exact statement.

"The speech you gave. It was inspiring, no doubt about that, but it felt as if it was someone else giving it. I could easily picture Touch Me-San delivering such a speech, but not you, Momonga-san." He clarified. To which Momonga didn't respond immediately.

His shoulders hunched upward before slumping just as quickly, a wry sigh leaving his skeletal lips.

"I needed to do something, Emiya-san… You saw how they were." The Elder Lich answered back.

Shirou would admit that. Morale was extremely important, and any sudden shift could lead to disastrous results. He understood his friend's concerns, but…

"There's nothing wrong with you projecting a little bit. Whether it be myself, Touch Me-san, or anyone else. But it wasn't you giving the speech, more like a persona."

"It worked, didn't it?" Momonga argued back.

"Perhaps." Shirou was willing to concede. "But it wasn't you. And I'm sure some of the others know it or will figure it out." The magus repeated.

Hearing Shirou repeat himself, a small sense of frustration bubbled within Momonga.

"You know as well as I do that I couldn't lead even a child out of a paper bag. I needed something that they would truly follow. Out of everyone within the guild, I thought you would understand the most. What they need isn't some insecure nobody, but an actual leader to lead them. And seeing as how everyone thinks I'm more than qualified for a position that I have not even a single ounce of experience leading, excuse me for trying to do what I think works best!" He replied in a snappish tone, with a hint of accusation in his words.

Momonga immediately snapped his mouth shut, and his eyes widened at the caustic tone. Regret instantly filled him for snapping at his friend. Shirou was just trying to help him out, and despite it, Momonga saw some truth in his words.

He could sense his friend's surprise, no doubt from the sudden amount of bite and resentment in his words. Perhaps he wasn't speaking the whole truth when he said he was fine when the role of leadership was thrust upon him.

Before Momonga had a chance to apologize, Shirou recuperated his words.

"I know, and I am sorry for throwing you in the deep end like that." He admitted it with a sigh. "But I still stand by what I said in that meeting. No one starts out as an amazing leader, Momonga-san. There's no real or proper method of leading. If you wish to emulate us, then follow Touch Me-san's example. Act through action, not words. To me, there isn't a difference between Satoru Suzuki and Momonga. You're my friend, and I am yours, and so are they."

He inclined his head towards the others.

"You don't have to pretend to be someone you're not for us." Shirou softly whispered.

"Then what do you suggest I do? I don't know the first thing about leading." Momonga finally beseeched.

"I think you are stressing yourself out by trying to do the impossible. As I said before, no one starts off as a great leader. I know that, and no doubt they do as well. You're allowed mistakes, Momonga-san. You have time to grow, learn, and experience all the trials and tribulations to build yourself into the leader we all know you'll be."

"T-then how am I supposed to lead you guys if I don't actually lead?" Momonga begged for an answer.

"Simple. Trust us, but not just our abilities or competency but also our character. Have faith that we trust you, flaws and all. Just as we do for you. And most importantly of all…"

Shirou paused and looked Momonga straight in the eye.

"Be your own man, Momonga-san." With those parting words, Shirou left the undead Player to muse over his words.

Watching his friend leave, Momonga played back the words of caution in his mind. He kind of understood where Shirou was coming from and knew he was just looking out for him. Yet a small part of him, the one responsible for the sudden outburst, couldn't help but comment.

'Easy for you to say.'

Shaking away the residual frustration, Momonga could focus on the problem later.

The next and most important matter to deal with would be the formation and assignment of the parties.

Shirou reported that there were five different paths to take. This meant that there would need to be five separate parties, each consisting of a maximum of six Players, for a standard attack. However, with only twenty-nine players in the guild, it was inevitable that one group would be one Player short.

The decision about which party would be the odd man out came rather easily. Shirou, with his tracing abilities, could easily fill numerous roles. Primarily, the role of the Physical Attacker, the Magic Attacker, and the group's Wildcard. He was more than able to compensate for the lack of a sixth member.

That was what Shirou originally thought would happen, but it didn't.

As the parties were being finalized by the group's resident raid expert, Punitto Moe, with help from Tabula, Shirou noticed a small discrepancy with the format of the parties. It wasn't just him, but Momonga as well. The two shared a look and quietly and politely took Punitto Moe aside to talk to him.

Shirou saw that mainly two of the teams were unbalanced, or rather, overbalanced, to be accurate. The two parties were Momonga's group, consisting of Ulbert Alain Odle as the Magic Attacker, Warrior Takemikazuchi as the Physical Attacker, Bukubukuchagama fitting the role of the Tank, Yamaiko as the Healer, Nishikienrai being selected as the Seeker, and Momonga taking the Wildcard spot.

Shirou's party consisted of Variable Talisman as the Tank, Tabula as the Magic Attacker, Blue Planet taking up the role of Healer, Touch Me as the Physical Attacker, Tigris Euphrates as the Seeker, and the magus himself as the group's wildcard.

Instead of attempting to evenly distribute power among all groups, it appears that the focus was placed primarily on Shirou and Momonga's party. While the other groups were not completely disregarded or made up entirely of weaker members, it was evident that these two parties were comprised of the best Players within Ainz Ooal Gown.

"Punitto Moe-san, are you sure it's a good idea to have all the eggs in one basket? What about the others?" Momonga questioned.

"I would be lying if I said I believed that we would all make it through to the end. Maybe we will, or maybe we won't. But it's always a necessity to have a fallback plan." The Death Vine bluntly admitted. "You twelve are the best Players within the guild. Should it come down to it, it'll be your groups that will have a high likelihood of clearing the dungeon if all else fails."

Shirou and Momonga exchanged looks.

"He does have a point, Momonga-san."

"… I know…" The undead sighed. Perhaps it was a bit foolish and naïve of him, but he believed that they, all of Ainz Ooal Gown, would make it to the end. No, it was more like he wanted them to all succeed and make it to the end. He wanted everyone to bask in the glory and celebrate together when they conquered the dungeon.

"Don't look so down, Momonga-san! If there's anyone who can see this through, then it would be you and Emiya-san's party. After all, it's only right that the Guildmaster be the one who clears the dungeon. If not for us, then for yourself, Momonga-san. Wouldn't you agree, Emiya-san?" The strategist looked to the magus for support.

"My sentiments exactly, Punitto Moe-san."

Hearing their praise and trust, Momonga responded in kind. "Then I accept your trust, and I shall endeavor to see this through completely!"

But he wasn't done just yet.

"However, I also expect you all to give it your all. It would hardly be a celebration if there's no one to celebrate with." Momonga made them promise.

"As you command, Guildmaster." The Death Vine mock saluted, and the three shared a group laugh.

Ainz Ooal Gown gathered at the foot of the towering, worn staircase that stretched up towards the mausoleum. Its architecture was grand and imposing, seemingly designed to accommodate both Players and monsters of any size. As they made their way up the steps, they couldn't help but feel a mix of caution and anticipation rising within them. Though the prospect of battling through an intimidating dungeon was daunting, a sense of excitement bubbled within all of them. The thrill of what might lie ahead in the unknown and the nervous energy that came with it only fueled their determination to see it through to the end.

Finally, they reached the entrances and walked in, their surroundings quickly going pitch black as there was no light source to illuminate the interior of the tomb.

It wasn't long before they arrived at the five stone statues that Shirou warned of. Much of the statues were cloaked in shadows, their forms and features obscured by the darkness.

"Who dares enter and desecrate the noble walls of the Great Tomb of Nazarick?! For such insolence, you all deserve a thousand deaths!"

A loud voice boomed, one full of demanding wrath.

"Fools, no doubt, driven to gluttony by their greed. Turn back now, and perhaps we will show mercy and spare your lives. Only the truly foolish dare continue forward!"

A different voice spoke, this one feminine with a haughty undertone.

"Or perhaps it is bravery that drives them. A spark of determination perhaps?"

A third voice simply said. The tone and voice sounded much older and inquisitive than the previous two.

"Brave or not, know this intruder, your venture here was but a foolish journey! Foolish! We shall make sure of it."

"Hoooowww fooolllisshhh."

"FFooOOLLlliiIISSsSHhHh… FfffoOOooLllLiiIIIISSSShhhHH YyyEEEsSSss…"

"YOU SHALL PERISH, AND YOUR DEATHS SHALL SERVE AS A REMINDER FOR ALL!"

Another statue spoke, this one containing four distinct voices but belonging to the same speaker. The first was a dark and growling voice, similar to that of a beast. The second voice was more distorted compared to the first, more drawl-like. The third was the most distinct, taking on a screechy and ear-grating high-pitched voice. The fourth was the most malicious, filled with anger and bloodthirst.

"It matters not if they continue forward or retreat, their fate is all but sealed. But do try and put up an effort. Or else this venture would be a waste of your time and, more importantly, ours."

The final voice was a large contrast to the previous four and perhaps the most normal sounding. Regal, but at the same time, condescending.

After concluding their part, a heavy silence engulfed the room, leaving nothing but a profound stillness in its wake. Suddenly, five pathways lit up with blazing torches running along the walls, their light piercing the darkness and stretching endlessly into the unknown void beyond.

"Well, Guildmaster, any inspiring last words before we take the plunge?" Warrior Takemikazuchi broke the silence.

As Momonga gazed upon the faces of those gathered before him, he felt a wave of emotions wash over him. These individuals were more than just his guildmates, they were his friends, and dare he say it, even his family. Together, they had embarked on a journey to achieve a common goal and had risen to a position of both respect and fear amongst the other clans in YGGDRASIL. However, they now stood at a crossroads, poised to take the next step forward not just as a guild, but as a collective. Each and every name on the party list held their own dreams, fears, and ambitions, and it was up to Momonga to lead them towards a brighter future. In his mind, he heard the words of his closest friend echoing back to him. Though he had already addressed them as their Guildmaster, it was now time for Momonga, the friend, to speak. With a deep breath, he posted an 'All-Party Message', cleared his throat, and began to speak with a sense of purpose and determination.

"My fellow guildmates. We've come to the last point. Beyond this, we will face two things. Absolute victory, or a crushing defeat. Our little clan, Nine's Own Goal, came together to show exactly what Heteromorphs can do despite our setbacks. Now, look at us. From our humble beginnings, we have forged a new beginning for ourselves. A guild, Ainz Ooal Gown! We've made it farther than we had any right to thanks to the tireless dedication we put forward. I, for one, say let us GO FORTH. WE WILL FIGHT, WE WILL WIN!"

He threw up his bony arms in a grand gesture, uncaring that not everyone could watch this.

"WE SHALL SHOW EVERYONE THAT HETEROMORPHS CAN DO JUST AS SPECTACULARLY AS ANY OTHER RACE! THE NAME 'AINZ OOAL GOWN' DOES NOT KNOW DEFEAT! MY FRIENDS, MY COMRADES, TOGETHER WE STAND, OR TOGETHER WE SHALL FALL WITH OUR FISTS RAISED HIGH, DEFYING ALL THAT OPPOSE US TO THE LAST BREATH!" He proclaimed to the heavens above, his Guildmaster persona returning full force.

"OOOOOOHHHHHHHH!" All twenty-nine Players cried out. Their voices echoed their leader's own, together as one.

With nothing more left to do, they pushed on forward and towards the unknown. Their goal was within sight.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

As Shirou looked around, he couldn't help but feel disoriented. He had been walking down a narrow hallway just moments ago, but now found himself in a completely different location. The sudden change in scenery had caught him off guard, and he couldn't quite make sense of what had just happened. Despite his confusion, Shirou tried to keep a level head and take in his new surroundings. There was no telling what dangers or surprises could be lurking around the corner.

He stood in a common room cluttered with worn-out furniture that was either damaged or turned upside down. A worn steel chandelier hung from the ceiling, the candles casting the room in a saturated and dull luminescence. There were no windows, allowing only artificial light to provide the Players with sight. The room was neglected, dirtied with cobwebs and dust that covered everything in sight.

A glance back revealed a stone wall. There were no doors or passageways, nothing to show from whence they had entered, except for the one exit at the far end of the room ahead of them.

The second and perhaps most immediate and alarming thing he noticed were his party members. Or rather, the lack thereof.

"Huh? Emiya-sempai? What are you doing here?" The question came from none other than Peroroncino.

Peroroncino, who was not in his original party.

A swift headcount showed that it was himself, Touch Me, Peroroncino, Blue Planet, and Amanomahitotsu. Tabula was completely gone, and Variable Talisman and Tigris Euphrates were unaccounted for. One member of their original party was missing entirely, with the other two being swapped around.

It took a few seconds before the rest of the party recognized what was going on.

"Shit…" He cursed under his breath.

It wasn't too hard to figure out what had just happened. The dungeon had split up their original pre-made party.

"[Tabula-san.]" Shirou quickly used [Message] to contact the Brain Eater.

"[I know.]" Tabula simply returned.

If there was one person Shirou could rely on for quick and decisive action and order, it would be the guild's resident intellectual.

"[We're down a member. Variable Talisman-san and Tigris Euphrates-san are also gone. Peroroncino-san and Amanomahitotsu-san have taken their places. " He informed, getting straight to the point.

"[Damn it… ]" The magus heard the Brain Eater click his tongue. "[I'm with Wish III-san's party, and they lost Whitebrim-san and Garnet-san. The only good news is that we still have a full and decent party.]"

"[The others will no doubt be confused as well.]"

"[Just when I thought those shitty devs couldn't get any shitter, they pull this.]" Tabula lamented.

"[We'll have no choice but to make do.]" Shirou simply answered back.

"[And isn't that the kicker? We've come too far to even think of stopping now.]" Resigned Tabula. "[Check up on Momonga-san and his group, I'll check up on the others.]"

"[Roger.]" Cutting their transmission, Shirou established a new [Message] with Momonga. After a few seconds, he received a response.

"[Emiya-san? Is something wrong?]"

"[Momonga-san, is everyone still in your party?]" He asked, cutting right to the chase.

"[Ehh? Umm… yes…?"] He answered, confused about the sudden inquiry.

"[Looks like your party lucked out, Momonga-san.]" Shirou lightly commented.

"[Lucked out? What are you…? Oh-no… ]" Momonga whispered in a tiny voice. The situation dawned on him.

"[The situation is bad, but it's not unsalvageable, Momonga-san.]" Shirou was quick to assure. The last thing they needed was for their Guildmaster to suddenly degrade to his usual pessimistic attitude.

"[What about the others? Were they affected as well?]" The undead asked after calming down.

"[That seems to be the case. The dungeon seemed to have swapped around the compositions of our parties. The good news is that things aren't as bad as they look. The other parties can still manage. Our group is the one missing a Player, but I am more than enough to compensate.]"

"[Damn shitty devs. I didn't think they would pull a stunt like this so early in the raid. So much for Moe-san's planning.]"

"[It's bad but it's not impossible. We'll keep you posted, Momonga-san. If worst comes to worst, it'll be all up to you, Momonga-san, and your party.]"

"[Understood… Good luck to you and your party, Emiya-san.]"

"[You as well.]"

The two said their goodbyes and ended the call. The rest of his party was waiting for him as he turned back to his dispersed group.

In the end, Shirou's party and roles were switched around to better accommodate their needs. Touch Me was more suited as the Physical Attacker, but he has the skills and specs to function as the party's off-tank, which was needed as Peroroncino was relegated as an additional Attacker. Blue Planet remained the Healer, with Amanomahitotsu taking up the party's role as a Wildcard. This left Shirou to fill whatever role or expertise was lacking, whether it be a Physical Attacker, Seeker, or Magical Attacker.

It was far from the most ideal of situations, but they would make it count.

With that dilemma settled, they then moved into formation. Positioned at the forefront were Touch Me and Shirou, serving as the vanguard, while Peroroncino assumed the role of the rearguard. Blue Planet and Amanomahitotsu formed the middle section, poised to extend support to either the vanguard or the rearguard as required.

With nowhere to go but forward, they opened the door, moving on to the next area. Shirou was half-expecting an underground complex, or a similar structure that would complement the tomb-like atmosphere of the dungeon. To his surprise, they were greeted by a vast hedge maze. The maze stretched far and wide in every direction, making it difficult to discern right from wrong. The green labyrinth was composed of towering hedges, acting as dividers and walls. The surroundings were shrouded in a misty veil, giving the maze a queer and unsettling horror movie atmosphere.

Fortunately, the ceiling was high and open to them, and they had just the right man for the job.

"Peroroncino-san, we need eyes in the sky. See if you can figure out how large this maze is and find out where the exit is." Shirou instructed.

"Roger that senpai!" The avian replied as he spread open his wings.

"Be careful, I bet those shitty devs accounted for Players with flight capabilities. There might be magic traps guarding the air." Blue Planet warned.

"I'll be fine! No stinking trap or anything will ever take down the great Sky King: Peroroncino!" He proclaimed loudly as he launched himself into the sky.

His form was quickly enveloped by the mist a few moments later.

"Since when has anyone ever called him that?" Blue Planet wondered aloud.

The rest simply shrugged, chalking it up to his usual antics.

While Peroroncino was on aerial reconnaissance, Shirou scanned the area and strained his hearing as far as it could go, watching for any sign of trouble. So far, not a single monster or enemy has popped up, and he could not hear anything from inside the maze itself. This only roused further suspicion and unease as to what they'd encounter.

It would take a few minutes before Peroroncino returned to them.

"What are we looking at, Peroroncino-san?" Touch Me inquired.

"For starters, the maze is huge!" Peroroncino emphasized, stretching his arms apart. "Like, one wrong turn and you can get completely lost kind of huge."

"Were you able to find the exit? Where are we supposed to go?" Asked Amanomahitotsu.

"Sure did, and the best thing is that the fog doesn't cover up as much as it looks. I'll be able to direct you guys to avoid dead routes and where to go."

If that was true, then the maze appeared relatively straightforward. However, nothing in YGGDRASIL was ever as easy as it appeared.

"We'll leave it to you to lead us through the maze. Keep an eye out for anything unusual. Let's form up. I'll take the lead, and Touch Me-san, you'll bring up the rear." Shirou instructed.

"Copy that, Emiya-senpai!" Taking the air once more, Peroroncino hovered just above all the hedges, where they could still see and hear him.

The rest gave affirmatives and quickly took formation.

The group quickly started moving and entered the hedge maze. The group advanced farther into the maze by following Peroroncino's directions.

Even with Peroroncino's observation of the maze and its sheer size and scope, Shirou couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to it than just a simple puzzle. He knew that the developers wouldn't have created something as seemingly harmless as a maze without some sort of danger lurking within its walls. But as they continued, Shirou couldn't help but wonder: if there were no enemies present, then what was the true obstacle of the maze?

Traps were the obvious answer. Only, they continued with no form of resistance whatsoever for a good five minutes.

As they continued to navigate deeper through the twisting and turning pathways of the maze, Shirou began to realize that there was something more to this challenge than just a simple walking puzzle. The intricate design of the hedges seemed to hold a deeper meaning, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation as they pressed on.

Every turn and every path looked identical to the last, making the journey almost indistinguishable. The surroundings remained unchanged no matter how many twists and turns they took, making it hard to differentiate between the right and wrong way. The walkways were narrow, tight, and enclosed by tall, muted green hedges that further intensified the sense of being trapped and lost. The mist acted as a veil, obscuring just enough of what was ahead, adding to the challenge.

Shirou could see where the challenge lies if a party does not have any form of advanced sight magic or flight, as their group was implementing.

One wrong move could be disastrous, forcing them to retrace their steps through the same surroundings. Every mistake, no matter how small, would cost them precious time and lead to confusion, leaving the party in disarray. While there might not be any enemies to hinder them, the challenge of figuring out where to go would leave them stalled and make the progress of everyone else that much harder.

Like a house of mirrors, the concept of direction was distorted the longer they reside in this maze. Left becomes right, moving backward to traverse forward.

There was almost a psychological bent to it. The very maze itself was playing tricks on the mind via their senses and surroundings.

"Turn right here, you guys." Peroroncino instructed when the party stopped at an intersection.

Taking their nth right turn, the group marched down another identical path. But this time, things were different.

"Hold it." Shirou stopped and held up his arms, signaling the others to stop as well.

"Emiya-san?" Touch Me said, as he and the others braced themselves. They scanned the surroundings with their eyes, but saw nothing.

Without a word, Shirou traced a simple longsword in his hand and tossed it forward. The weapon landed blade up, and not a moment later, dozens of spears shot out of the surrounding hedges.

Had the group continued, they would have been impaled and taken a lot of damage, maybe even killed.

When they entered the maze, Shirou remained completely vigilant. Even though he wasn't as skilled as Nishikienrai or Tigris Euphrates in detecting traps, his keen eyes and senses allowed him to pick up any oddity within the maze with relative ease. He was like a hawk, scanning his surroundings for any potential danger.

"Whoa… Nice catch, Emiya-san." Blue Planet complimented from behind.

"Thanks, but I wonder why we haven't encountered any traps beforehand." He said aloud.

"Perhaps the developers intentionally avoided placing traps in the beginning because they wanted to lure us into a false sense of security. By making us think this entire labyrinth was safe, the trap would catch us off guard. Sounds like a scummy thing they would think of." The crustacean Heteromorph shrugged.

With the danger of traps in their immediate future, they would need to play it safe from now on.

Shirou couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment lingering at the back of his mind. The task at hand was not as challenging as he had hoped for. In fact, it was more tedious and time-consuming than anything else. Considering the infamous reputation of simultaneous attack dungeons, he had expected a lot more from this particular mission.

What happened next proved him wrong.

"Where to, Peroroncino-san?" Asked Shirou. The group stopped in front of another intersection, this time with five alternate pathways.

"Umm… Take the second path to the left, then turn right." Following their guide's directions, they came to yet another long pathway.

Projecting several weapons, he measured the distance and threw them evenly to trigger any possible traps. They bounced and landed, triggering a few traps to activate. Deemed safe, Shirou took the lead. He managed to walk a few paces forward before the true trap activated.

A magic circle flashed to life the moment the silver-haired Player stepped forward.

'A magic trap!' His eyes widened at the hidden trap.

He rolled forward to avoid it, only to trigger a second magic trap the moment he recovered. This time, he was too late to escape.

The trap detonated, sending lightning shooting upward. Electricity coursed through his body as he let out a surprised and painful yelp.

"Damn… I got careless." He chastised himself as he dropped to one knee. It didn't hurt him as much as his HP indicated, but damn, was it painful regardless.

"Emiya-san! Are you alright?!" Touch Me hurried to Emiya-san's side, offering him a helping hand.

"I'll be fine." Shirou replied, accepting Touch Me's hand and pulling himself back up.

Peroroncino, who was hovering above them, couldn't help but wonder aloud. "Why the hell didn't the trap trigger like the others?"

"Clever." The party's blacksmith chimed in. "By luring us in at the beginning with the prospect of there being no traps, it leaves us open for the physical traps to get us. But they are also merely another part of the ruse, as we would be so focused on looking out for physical traps that we would disregard or forget about the possibility of any other traps."

"The question now is how to deal with these magic traps. They clearly have a distinct activation trigger from the physical ones." The druid added.

Narrowing his eyes, Shirou traced another weapon and broke it. Firing it forward, the weapon exploded and prematurely triggered another magic trap. Seeing his idea as a success, Shirou fired a few more, clearing the way.

"Well, that was easy." Amanomahitotsu commented, earning a few chuckles from the others.

As they cautiously made their way through the maze, they couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The magic traps scattered throughout the labyrinth added an extra layer of danger to their already treacherous journey. They proceeded with extreme caution, their movements were slow and deliberate as they scanned the area for any potential threats. The added vigilance slowed their progress considerably, as they were forced to double-check every step they took. After what felt like a small eternity, they finally reached the end of the maze. There, looming before them, was a massive wooden cellar door that led further down into the unknown depths below.

With Touch Me's help, Shirou managed to open it. There, a set of perfectly carved stairs were revealed, leading deeper into the earth. Torches lined the wall, providing the only form of light. The party walked down a seemingly endless flight of stairs before coming to the bottom. Exiting, they entered an underground complex.

Well, a complex wouldn't be the correct word, more like an expansive stone courtyard fitted underground, one that stretched out before them. The ceiling was held up by sturdy stone pillars. What stood out about the chamber and its surroundings was that the architecture wasn't completely natural. The designs of the floor, archways, and pillars were too polished, too smooth, and too man-made for any of them to be naturally occurring. The archways and buttresses seemed to be strategically placed to keep the ceiling from collapsing on top of them. As they looked up, they noticed rows of sharp stalactites hanging from the ceiling above, looking down on them. Finally, at the end of the chamber, they saw a set of closed double doors, waiting to be opened.

So far, the sole hindrances they've come across upon delving into the dungeons have been cunningly placed traps. The wide, open space before them presented a multitude of routes that could be taken in order to reach the door at the far end. The entire room, in his estimation, was likely riddled with these perilous contraptions. It would be akin to traversing a treacherous minefield, with no way of determining what dangers lie ahead.

Once the magus finished examining the entire area, a plan came to mind.

"Alright everyone, listen up." He addressed. "We've wasted enough time already back at the maze. It's time to speed things along. Peroroncino-san, on my signal, I want you to use the most area-covering skill you have. We'll try to trigger most, if not all, of the traps simultaneously. Blue Planet-san, prepare your most powerful barrier spell."

"Right away, Emiya-senpai."

"Understood."

The two replied in unison. Without wasting any time, Peroroncino elevated himself to the perfect height to unleash his skill while Blue Planet prepped his spell.

"[Trace Bullet: Burst]!"

"[Bolt Scattershot]!"

Shirou fired a salvo of projections across the room, as much as he could, aiming to set off any physical traps. Meanwhile, Peroroncino unleashed a barrage of solar arrows, each one designed to trigger any magical traps that Shirou's swords might have missed. The party immediately huddled up for the fallout that would come.

"[Gaea's Virtue]!" Blue Planet quickly erected a barrier around them, shielding them from what was to come next.

As Shirou had hoped, their attack triggered the hidden traps, setting them off simultaneously. He would almost say they got them all, although that was a debatable claim as the countless explosions and rocking from the trap going off made it difficult to tell which was caused by the traps and which was caused by their attacks. The entire room shook like crazy, with explosions and other manners of ear-deafening sounds bouncing off the walls and reverberating inside the cavern. The stalactites hanging from the ceiling shook loose and plummeted to the ground. Every spike sent tremors throughout the room, threatening to cause a cave-in, but the pillars managed to hold. It would take a full minute before everything died back down.

Once the dust settled, Blue Planet dropped the barrier, allowing the group to take in their new altered surroundings. The once spotless stone courtyard was gone, a wreckage of its former self with numerous cracks, broken tiles, burns and scorch marks, and large stone debris covering the area.

"Hwoooo!" Peroroncino whistled. "Great idea Emiya-senpai. Ha! Come on! The last one to the door is a rotten egg!" The golden avian egged on as he raced forward.

The others were quick on his tail.

"Slow down, Peroroncino-san! We can't rush forward recklessly." Touch Me called out.

Peroroncino slowed down but kept his jaunty pace, turning around and walking backward while facing them, allowing the others to catch up.

"Come on, you saw what we did. We totally got them all!"

"But that doesn't mean there might not be other surprises. Knowing the shitty devs, I wouldn't put it past them to put a secondary trap right after the first. There's the chance one or two might not have triggered." Amanomahitotsu cautioned.

"Oh, come on, Amanomahitotsu-san. What are the odds of tha-"

Click.

Peroroncino's dismissal died in his throat as the entire group froze upon hearing the clinking noise. As one, they turned towards the sniper. More specifically, his feet, where one of them happened to have landed on a pressure plate.

Robotically, Peroroncino turned his gaze back toward the rest of the party.

"Well fuc-AHHH!"

Peroroncino and the rest of the group taken by surprise and sent screaming as the ground suddenly gave way beneath them. The trap seemed to have caused a part of the floor where they stood to descend rapidly. The harsh sound of stone grinding against stone filled the air as the floor descended lower and lower.

Gravity was working against them as their bodies fell freely. Finally, the ride came to an abrupt stop. Gravity and momentum took effect, causing the Players to bounce harshly against the floor due to the turbulence. Aside from some minor damage to their HP, they were fine, albeit a bit disoriented.

What wasn't fine was that they were trapped at the bottom of the pit, enclosed by walls that rose several dozens of meters high.

"Peroronicino-san, please think and listen before you act!" Shirou reprimanded.

"I'm sorry, senpai." He apologized, ashamed of his amateurish behavior.

Tearing his sight away from the regretful archer, Shirou quickly assessed the situation. They were a long way down, but that meant there had to be some way back up. A lever or maybe a mechanism of some sort.

What confused him was the purpose of the trap. He half expected deadly spike traps waiting for them at the bottom, instead, they had gotten an impromptu roller-coaster ride. Where were the dangers, the enemies?

As he surveyed his surroundings, his eyes caught sight of peculiar semi-circular holes that ran along the walls and extended upwards. Initially, he had assumed that they would have to use the raised ridges on the walls to climb their way up. However, his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an eerie, garbled moaning sound that echoed through the space.

The noise picked up; the sound of something scraping against stone came from all around them. It wasn't until he spied a rotten and skeletal head that he realized the implications. Shirou's eyes widened. They were entryways! And by the sounds of it, there were several dozen more to come.

The undead freed itself from the narrow hole and unceremoniously smashed onto the ground face first.

Undead Walker - Lvl: 60

The mob took a bit of damage, but it was still alive. Unaffected by the drop, it shambled to stand upright. It wasn't just the one, as more undead popped out of the woodwork, appearing from the numerous holes. Their decayed fingers scratched against the stone, desperately trying to free themselves.

The situation in which the party found themselves was extremely precarious, despite the weak and easily defeated adversaries surrounding them. Trapped within the pit, their movements were restricted, and their ability to attack was severely curtailed. The limited space made it impossible for them to move freely and attack with impunity. Even the usually powerful Touch Me was unable to unleash his full range of moves due to the restrictive environment. Peroroncino's flight ability proved to be of little use, as the undead monsters emerging from the higher holes could easily fall onto him. Shirou's attempt to trace Broken Noble Phantasm's level of weapons was a recipe for disaster and would likely be the cause of their deaths more than the Undead Walkers. In short, the party was caught between a rock and a hard place, with little room to maneuver.

The undead didn't appear to be slowing down as they continued to crawl out of Root knows where. They risk being overwhelmed by the sheer rate at which the undead were spawning if they do not kill enough of them.

"Emiya-san!" Turning, it was Amanomahitotsu, and he was tinkering with an odd control panel on the wall. Recognition lit up in his eyes as he looked over the machinery.

"Can you get it on?" Shirou asked the important question.

"Yes, but I'll need time! At least two minutes!" The blacksmith answered back. Normally, the Seeker would be the one to disarm and reconfigure the trap. But with no Players with the appropriate job class, it was left to Amanomahitotsu to work on it.

"Peroroncino-san, snipe down any undead you can! Blue Plane-san, fall back to Amanomahitotsu-san, guard, and deal with any undead that come for him while he deactivates the trap! Touch Me-san and I will try and thin out their number." He quickly ordered, forming a perimeter.

Peroroncino raised his bow and fired as quickly as he could, culling the number of undead dropping onto them. Touch Me and Shirou brandished their weapons, slicing any that got too close. Blue Planet awkwardly raised his less-than-threatening shovel staff, ready to ward off any that got too close and slipped past the two vanguards.

The undead shuffled forward, their decayed bodies bumping into one another in the mindless movement. If there was one good thing about the lack of room in the enclosed space, he didn't have to worry about aiming as any one of his swings cleaved away at the undead.

Shirou decapitated any that stalked towards him while Touch Me hacked them to pieces. Peroroncino sniped at them from freefall while Blue Planet bashed their heads in, knocking them back with his shovel.

Fortunately, they were low-level mobs, being at level 60, making it so that the group didn't have to waste any skills or spells to kill them. One good attack, and they were dead. They were killing them fast, sure, but the undead were replenishing their numbers far faster than the four of them could kill them. At the rate they were going, they would drown from the sheer number of undead.

"We're slowly getting overrun here, Amanomahitotsu-san!" Shirou cried out.

"I still need another minute!" He shouted back.

Shirou stepped forward, ready to split an Undead Walker's head wide open, when he felt a bit of resistance in his movements. Something was clinging to him. A glance down showed a few undead without legs grappling with his stomach and legs. The weight shift pulled him off balance for just a second. Enough where Shirou was caught off guard for just a split second that the mobs capitalized on the opening and swarmed the silver-haired Player, knocking him to the ground.

They were relentless, pressing forward and dogpiling on him. Shirou quickly raised his left hand as several of the undead bit down on his limb. Their rotten teeth chewed away, but they were unable to do any large damage besides feeling like an insect bite. But it didn't help to resolve the claustrophobic feeling of having so many bodies press down on him.

"Emiya-san!" Touch Me cried out. He advanced to help, but the multitude of undead blocked his path.

Raising his right freehand with Kanshou, he was nanoseconds away from swinging, only to have another undead fall from above. It slammed onto his arm, knocking the Noble Phantasm out of his hand.

Another was rapidly approaching, its hands outstretched to take hold of any prey, and its mouth opened wide, ready to bite down on anything.

"Trace on!"

The zombie bit down on something as it lunged forward, but the flavor was cold steel rather than digital flesh. There, the barrel of the chrome silver and white pistol, Kanshou Alternative, was shoved right into its gullet. Shirou didn't waste any time in firing his weapon, the undead's head exploded, spilling virtual gray matter everywhere. He then placed several precise shots through the heads of the undead biting down on his left arm and body. Free, Bakuya Alternative was traced to join its partner.

"[Reinforcement]!"

His magic circuit fired up, spreading down his arms, legs, and onto the married gun. In a move of acrobatic fitness, he swung his body from the ground up, performing a miniature breakdance maneuver to get him back on his feet while knocking down any undead closest to him. Jumping to his feet, he lashed out with Kanshou and Bakuya Alternative, splitting the heads of the oncoming undead with the bladed under-end of the guns and firing his guns at any that got too close.

Managing to free himself and regroup with the others, he turned his guns towards the crowd of undead. Depressing the triggers, Kanshou and Bakuya Alternative unleashed a hail of bullets. They tore through the mobs easily, riddling them with holes and cutting a swath through the sea of Undead Walkers. A few of the shots even ricocheted, taking out more undead in the process. Within fifteen seconds, Shirou emptied all of his shots and, in turn, took out most of the horde.

"I've got it!" The crustacean Heteromorph exclaimed.

Shirou felt the floor kick for a second before they were launched skyward. Any of the undead that were still trying to escape from the wall were soon crushed to a fine paste by the speedy elevator. Within seconds, they were back on the surface before Peroroncino had triggered the trap. Killing the leftover undead proved trivial. And with that, they earned themselves a momentary respite.

As Shirou leaned against a sturdy pillar, he took a few deep breaths to recover his energy. Suddenly, he received a [Message] notification from Momonga.

"[Yo~ Free to talk?]" Momonga said conversationally.

"[Momonga-san… Is something… wrong?]" Feeling a bit winded, Shirou replied with effort.

"[Is everything alright?]" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

Steadying his breathing, Shirou answered back. "[We're fine. We just got ourselves out of a sticky situation, taking a moment to recover. How is everything on your end?]"

"[Our party has been doing fine. We're actually just outside the boss's room right this moment. The others have checked in during that time. Punitto Moe-san and Herohero-san party have started fighting their respective bosses already. Tabula-san party reached their boss recently and [Message] us a few minutes ago.]" Momonga replied, giving a detailed update on their progress.

"[It seems we're lagging a bit behind everyone else, huh?]"

"[Do try and hurry, we would like to complete this dungeon sometime today.]" Momonga teased. The lightheartedness in his voice disappeared for what was to come next. "[Unfortunately, I also have some bad news as well.]"

Shirou suppressed a sigh.

"[Lay it on me.]"

"[It seems those shitty devs are more sadistic than we thought. From what the others passed on, they each received an announcement once they entered the boss's room. Depending on the order of encounters that each party enters, the bosses get progressively stronger. With the last party… ]"

"[… having to face the strongest.]" Shirou finished. His face twisted into a grimace.

Shirou understood his friend's concern. Out of all the teams, his party was the most skewered. They had no dedicated front-line tank save for Touch Me, but compared to either Bukubukuchagama or Variable Talisman, there was no competition for who was better for the role. Peroroncino's role as a long-range attacker, while useful, wasn't what the group needed. That left Amanomahitotsu the odd man out, as the only aid he could realistically bring was buffing the party with enchantments.

Of course, the fact that he and Blue Planet were present did offset the imbalance, but nothing was guaranteed.

Add to that the fact that now they would face the strongest boss within the entire dungeon, and they would have a tough fight ahead.

"[We can hold off entering the boss room until you find yours, our party is the most well-rounded, so we'll stand a better chance than yours.]" Momonga offered.

"[I appreciate the offer, Momonga-san, but I'll have to decline. If all else fails and we lose, there's still a chance for you guys to still win.]"

In a simultaneous attack dungeon, the loss of one party did not always mean the end of a run. In a scenario where one of the parties fails to defeat their assigned boss, another party could pick up where they left off and save the raid. If it came down to it, Shirou's group would try to learn as much as possible about the boss's abilities, attacks, and nuisances and pass the information on to them to give them a much-needed edge.

"[… Alright.]" Shirou could hear the restrained reluctance in his friend's voice.

He could understand his undead friend's apprehension. He wanted them to all succeed and share in the victory together. And by some miracle, they were so close to achieving their goal. All that was left was the home stretch.

"[Hey, no need for the doom and gloom thoughts. Leave it to us. After all, when was the last time I failed?]" He said this, trying to cheer him up.

"[Well… There was that one time with that dungeon in Muspelheim and the incident.]" Momonga brought up.

Shirou remembered the incident in question. Were it possible, his cheeks would have colored in the embarrassment of the memory.

"[That was one time! Plus, it was an accident.]" He coughed flimsily.

"[That accident almost cost us the raid!]"

"[We still beat it.]" Shirou argued back.

"[Barely. I, along with Touch Me-san and Warrior Takemikazuchi-san, were dead not even two minutes into the boss fight because of it.]" He countered.

"[Ok, fine. Well, besides that one time, I haven't steered you guys wrong yet.]"

"[Midgard and the Forever Lost Dungeon.]" Momonga said succulently, bringing up another infamous incident.

"[That was Luci*Fer-san's fault, and you know it!]" Shirou immediately retaliated.

"[Sure… ]" He drawled out sarcastically.

Not a second later, the undead chortled before breaking into full laughter. Shirou felt his lips twitching, and he quickly joined Momonga, sharing in the laugh.

The two shared a short but much-needed laugh, lightening up the previously troublesome atmosphere.

"[If there's any incentive, I doubt the others will let you guys live down the embarrassment of being the only group to lose while so close to the finish line.]" Momonga playfully teased.

Shirou huffed good-naturedly. "[I think you mean Luci*Fer-san and Ulbert-san will take every opportunity to remind me and Touch Me-san of it. Oh gods, they would be insufferable.]"

"[Then all you have to do is win then.]" He said, half playfully and half seriously.

"[We'll get it done, trust me. Good luck in your fight.]" Shirou bid farewell, for the moment.

"[And to you as well. We'll see each other at the end.]" Momonga assured. With that, the [Message] ended.

Shirou pulled out a healing potion and used it. Hearing the news that the boss they would fight would be much tougher, it was important to conserve Blue Planet's MP for the upcoming battle. It was better to use consumable potions than to rely on their healer to heal them every single time. Those precious MP would be better put to use during the boss fight than in a small scuffle.

Back to full health, Shirou informed the others.

"If they have reached their bosses, then ours shouldn't be too far away either." Blue Planet deduced.

"I am more concerned about what we will be facing soon." Amanomahitotsu worriedly added, his large claw snapping anxiously.

"It matters not our foe or how powerful they are. We shall defeat them all the same! We wouldn't want to keep our friends waiting, now do we?" Voiced Touch Me.

"Well, bring it on!" Peroroncino smashed his fist into an open palm, feeling energized and determined. "Like hell, we're going to lose when we've made it this far!"

The party then double-timed it towards the door, throwing caution to the wind in the hopes of speeding through and avoiding any possible leftover traps. Thankfully, no other traps were triggered, and they made it to the end safely.

Opening it, the door led them to a small, darkened room. In the center was something that was referred to as a teleportation circle. They were often used and implemented in dungeons as a method of fast travel, either to different locations or boss arenas. Shirou was willing to bet it was the latter. And if that was the case, then they'll need to prepare.

The group spent a good few minutes quickly applying buffs and enchantments and downing as many potions as they could in preparation for the fight.

Another thing that proved to be a surprising boon was Shirou's level 10 [Chef] job class. Shirou was capable of creating powerful consumables that provided buffs and stat-boosting effects on par with Legendary grade potions and elixirs. It helped to supplement their overreliance on potions, allowing them to save it for any dire situation during the boss fight.

"Everyone ready?" He asked.

The rest of the party flashed a series of thumbs-up emotes. Satisfied, the party of five stepped onto the teleportation circle and disappeared.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

As soon as the light from the teleportation circle faded away, the five adventurers found themselves in a courtyard housed within a mysterious underground temple complex. The location was massive and seemed to have been built ages ago. The walls were lined with old and crumbling buildings that had been carved out of the rock that encircled them, creating a sort of arena for the boss battle. There were also smaller buildings scattered throughout the courtyard. It was a daunting sight, and the group couldn't help but wonder what kinds of challenges lay ahead of them in this ancient place.

The sheer size of the chamber was what surprised Shirou the most. It made him doubt if they were still within the Tomb of Nazarick or if they'd be transported elsewhere. Dark clouds colored the air above them, concealing the ceiling and gave off the illusion of an open sky box, making it difficult to determine if they were still underground or not. The entire locale oozed with a sense of melancholy and dread.

They had expected to find the boss waiting for them the moment they teleported in, only to find themselves alone.

Carefully, everyone surveyed their surroundings, making sure that their backs were to each other as they looked for any sign of the boss.

An unholy scream ripped through the air, a sound born from the deepest and darkest pit of a nightmare. The sound of something had never once known the light of day. The party tightened their grip on their weapons, their eyes scouring the surroundings for signs of the impending boss.

Then came the rumbles.

The earth beneath their feet quivered and quaked, the vibration barely perceptible at first but growing more pronounced with each passing moment. Straining to listen, the sound of footsteps became louder and more defined, emanating from the direction of a dilapidated temple along one side of the enclosed wall. The noise persisted for several more seconds, then abruptly ceased. Complete and utter silence took over the grounds.

A silence so deep that one could hear a pin drop from hundreds of meters away.

In an instant, the oppressive silence was shattered by a thunderous explosion that ripped through the section of the wall where the rumblings originated. The sheer force of the blast reverberated across the area, sending a hailstorm of dust, rubble, and debris hurtling outward in all directions. Reacting on instinct, the party frantically scattered, seeking cover in the various smaller buildings that peppered the field. They huddled together as a lethal downpour of stone and debris pummeled through the flimsy shacks and structures around them. A thick cloud of smoke obscured the spot where the wall previously stood, and a colossal claw emerged from the haze, gripping onto one of the dilapidated buildings. Gradually, the boss emerged from the veil of dust, dragging itself forward with immense power and determination.

Shirou had seen his fair share of monsters and beasts in his long life. Some mythical and other monsterous.

But with the thing in front of him, he could confidently say he had never once in all of his life seen a creature like that, either in the past or within YGGDRASIL.

The boss's was colossal in size, easily dozens of meters tall and dwarfing the Players. Its lower body was extended backward, a total of six flat elephant-like legs on each side of its lower body supported the monster's upper frame. The boss's torso stood upright, covered in a thick carapace. It possessed only two arms, with sharpened spikes running along its limbs. Each of its hands wielded razor-sharp talons that could rip apart any man with ease.

The creature in question had four distinct heads, each one more terrifying than the last. The first head, with its reptilian features, boasted an angular structure and a long, gaping jaw filled with small, serrated teeth. From its head down to its neck, the creature's skin was adorned with muted brown scales, and a long, slithering tongue emerged from the corner of its mouth. The second head was reminiscent of a centipede, with a flat face and a chitin exoskeleton that ran down its head and neck. Its elongated skull was split, forming sets of deadly mandibles, while two scythe-like appendages extended menacingly from its cheekbones. The third head was reminiscent of a dragon, with pure red scales that covered its head and neck, along with black spikes that ran down its neck. A horn protruded from the center of its head, and its jaw was lined with sharpened teeth. Finally, the fourth head bore a striking resemblance to a demonic goat, with an elongated snout and a set of curved horns that rested on top of its head. This head was firmly attached to the body, unlike the others, which boasted long and sinewy necks. A long, lithe tail whipped around, its sharp spikes glinting in the light.

The four heads reared back before letting out a collective roar. The screech was so loud and powerful that the air rippled around them, shaking the ground with the force of an earthquake.

"So you have made it, impressive. No matter, you cannot hope to defeat us as you are now! You will die here and now!" The dragon head boasted.

"Deeeaaadddd… Ddddeeeeeaaddd!" The reptilian head drawled out.

"YOU ARE ALL BUT INSECTS BEFORE US! PREPARE TO BE CRUSH!" Screamed the demonic goat head.

"CCccCrrRRUUuSShhHH… YYYeeSSsSSS…" The centipede head hissed.

Yggseria: The Chimera Abomination - Lvl: 150

Its name appeared, and with it came a single massive health bar.

Abomination indeed, for that was the only word that could even hope to describe the monstrosity in front of them. An amalgamation of, well… honestly, he had no idea what the hell it was even. All he knew was that it was big, it was scary, and no doubt powerful.

The party did not waste any time and dashed forward and out of cover. Peroroncino took to the open air and soared as high as he could. Shirou and Touch Me dashed forward to meet the goliath of a boss, while Blue Planet and Amanomahitotsu kept a safe distance.

The crimson dragon head was the first to attack. Great balls of fire spewed forth from its mouth. Instead of firing towards the vanguard as Shirou thought they would, they instead targeted the backline where Blue Planet and Amanomahitotsu were stationed.

"[Trace Bullet]!" Quick to intercept, the fireballs detonated against his Noble Phantasm. The rest hit the hulking boss with ease but did minimal damage, as shown by its HP bar barely moving.

The centipede head clicked and hissed, jolting straight at him. Shirou tried firing some Noble Phantasm at the speedy mass, but the head continued unflinchingly despite the attack. He was forced to jump out of the way at the last second.

Above, Peroroncino sailed through the air and provided air support in the form of raining down bolts of solar energy. His arrows slammed against the chimera boss, but just like with Shirou's [Trace Bullet], the boss took minimal damage. Their attacks were like pesky bug bites to a boss of its size and HP.

The reptilian head lashed out, racing toward the avian Player. Peroroncino proved that he wasn't easy prey by ducking and diving to avoid its snaps.

Touch Me rushed forward, closing the distance with his sword raised. Reaching striking range, Touch Me readied a skill.

"[Devastating Pier-"

The chimera quickly reacted, revealing its fourth and final head's attack. The demonic goat's jaws opened and unleashed a devastating sonic howl at the oncoming paladin.

Touch Me raised his shield to weather the attack, but it proved too much as the powerful sonic attack knocked him back and off his feet.

Deprived of the ground on his feet to keep himself balanced, he flopped in the air before clumsily recovering his landing.

Befitting its sinuous guise and nature, the reptilian head aggressively lunged forward when Touch Me stood at his most vulnerable, akin to a venomous serpent attacking an unguarded prey. Its aim was to make a meal out of the Player, a feat that may have been accomplished had Shirou not intervened with the use of [Trace Bullet]. The head recoiled, expressing frustration through its hissing, as the magus disrupted its intentions.

"Appreciated Emiya-san." Touch Me thanked him.

Shirou simply nodded, and the two rushed back into the fight.

The boss may have been large and very intimidating, but at the end of the day, it was just a complex sequence of codes and programs. Just like any other boss, big or small, it had patterns that could be memorized and exploited. It didn't take long before the party uncovered them.

The goat head was the most defensive, only attacking if anyone got too close, unleashing a deafening howl to keep them at bay. The centipede head was the most dangerous, with its long reach and a penchant for attacking the Player with the highest Hate value, using its razor-sharp mandibles and sickle blades with wild abandon. The reptilian head was the most conniving, waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity to strike and lunging forward when one of them was distracted. The dragon head was the most relentless, unleashing a constant barrage of dragon fire and fireballs, no matter the target. Not even in the backline where Blue Planet and Amanomahitotsu kept to was safe, forcing them to be constantly on the move.

Momonga was not joking when he said that the final boss would be the most difficult. Despite its relatively low level of 150, it proved to be a tough opponent compared to higher-level bosses like a level 200 raid or an End boss. This was due to the boss having several specialized defensive bonuses that made the challenge even greater.

[Protection Against Projectiles]: Reduces any projectile base attack damage.

[All Seeing]: The boss was capable of spotting any Players within the vicinity, bypassing any invisibility spell or stealth.

[Iron Defense]: Elemental attacks deal only half as much damage as intended.

[Breakdown]: Any physical attack launched has the chance to inflict crit damage and induce the [Confusion] status ailment.

The situation they were in was tough. Even a party as well-balanced as Momonga's would struggle against such a boss. It was a challenge to keep track of all four heads, each with unique attack patterns and moves to look out for. And on top of that, they had to make sure their own party maintained cohesion and didn't lose momentum.

Shirou, Touch Me, and Peroroncino continued their attacks, learning more about the boss as the fight progressed.

Observing that his typical approach of discharging low-level Broken Noble Phantasm was proving to be ineffective, Shirou switched to a different strategy. He projected his black bow and retreated from the front lines towards the rear end of the battlefield.

"Let's give this a try. Trace on!" Arcs of prana shot out of his hand to form the familiar corkscrew sword. As he ran, he readied Caladbolg II with his distinct black bow.

"My core is twisted in Madness…" He hastily incanted.

"Emiya-senpai, watch out!" Peroroncino warned from above as the dragon head decidedly fired out a massive fireball toward the fleeing projection user.

Caladbolg II was ready and notched as he skidded to a stop and swung on the heels of his boots.

"[Caladbolg II]!" He fired the Noble Phantasm.

The false spiral sword drilled through the air, meeting the dragon's fireball head-on. It was no contest to see which of the two respective attacks would prevail. Caladbolg II punctured through the fireball effortlessly, continuing on its path until it struck Yggseria with a resounding impact.

The attack hit its mark and detonated right in the center of the chimera. The massive boss staggered and wobbled from the explosive force. For just a second, it looked as if it would tumble over, but it regained its balance at the last second. Caladbolg II had done its job, dealing a significant blow to the chimera by taking away a good chunk of its HP and reducing it to yellow.

Shirou was already on the move, relocating to another spot to provide him with another opportunity to prime his more powerful Noble Phantasms.

"YOU ARE ANNOOYYYYINNNGGG!"

"AaaAAAannnnnnNNNNoOoOOOyyYYyYYIIiiinnggGg!"

Two of the heads shrieked in unison.

The boss then moved, walking towards one of the nearby buildings. As it approached, its long, slithering tail coiled around the base of the structure, while its sharp claws dug deeply into the masonry. Shirou felt his feet slowing down as he could only gape as the chimera ripped the entire building loose from its foundation. The boss lifted it high up above its four heads and turned towards Shirou.

"Oh fuck…" He whispered, taking a step backward as he noticed all of the eyes on the beast narrowing.

It then threw the ruined building at him.

He knew he couldn't dodge it. It was far too massive, and [Reinforcement] wouldn't provide him with enough strength and speed to get out of range in time. His only hope was to lessen the initial payload heading straight for him.

"[Trace Bullet: Maximum Fire]!"

His magic circuits exploded into action, channeling a massive amount of prana into them. He projected and fired numerous weapons towards the toppled building, causing a crackling sensation in the air like fireworks. Without hesitation, he continued to trace and fire as many weapons as possible, causing bits and pieces to chip away from the structure. However, his efforts were not enough to destroy the building completely.

It was far too large, and he was out of time.

"[Reinforcement]! Trace on!"

In an instant, a pair of colossal tower shields materialized in both hands of the magus. The activation of [Reinforcement] caused his entire body to radiate with an intense glow, augmenting every single part of his body to its utmost limit. With unfaltering determination, Shirou firmly anchored the shields in front of him, preparing himself for what was to come.

A force like no other slammed into him, rattling his entire body and slamming him down. Shirou was quickly buried under several hundred tons of concrete, stone, and debris. The building shattered instantly upon impact, being reduced into a mountain of rubble and burying the magus beneath it.

"Emiya-san!" The rest of the party cried out in unison. They were left stunned at the sight of their friend buried and possibly dead by the boss.

Distracted, Touch Me was taken by surprise when two of the heads rushed towards him.

"[Vanishing Striker]!"

At the last second, Touch Me used one of his skills and slashed at the reptilian head that attempted to swallow him whole. While he was successful in repelling one head, the same couldn't be said for the other. The insectoid head impacted Touch Me like a runaway freight train, sending him on a crash course with a building.

"Touch Me-san!" Peroroncino cried out and circled around. However, he didn't get very far before the goat head set its sights on him and let out a pressurized howl. This caused the Birdman to become disoriented and knock him off course. The golden archer had to quickly maneuver out of the way of the lunging reptilian head, dodging and diving to avoid its whipping tongue and monstrous jaw.

The druid and crustacean Heteromorph tried to run towards the rubble to pull their friend out, only to be halted by blasts of fire from the dragon head.

"Touch Me-san! Are you alright?!" Shouted Blue Planet as the two non-combative Players dodged the dragon's attack.

Slowly, Touch Me stood back up, with several scuffles and dents along his armor. His HP was reduced to yellow. The centipede head snapped back towards the insectoid paladin and lunged. This time, however, he was ready.

"[Heavenly Reflection]!"

Touch Me countered the charge attack by bringing his shield to bear. The ground shook beneath him as the centipede barreled towards him with immense speed. Despite the force of the attack, Touch Me managed to hold his ground and absorb the blow with his shield. His feet dug into the ground as he was pushed backward, but he stood firm, determined not to let the monstrous creature get the upper hand. As the charge attack continued, Touch Me's silver shield began to glow with a bright light. Tightening his muscles and with a burst of white energy from [Heavenly Reflection], he used his strength to parry the attack and backhanded the centipede's head away with his shield. The head kept its course and crashed into yet another cluster of ruin complexes. The centipede easily shook itself loose with nary a scratch, while the complex it was embedded in collapsed altogether.

Up above, Peroroncino saw it all happen. A light bulb suddenly lit up in his head as he was struck with a crazy idea.

"Touch Me-san! Hang back, I've got an idea to free Emiya-senpai!" Peroroncino called out.

"What?!" The paladin reasonably exclaimed.

"I need the boss's complete attention! Trust me!" Peroroncino urged.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Peroroncino-san…" Touch Me reluctantly relented, racing back towards the other to recuperate.

"Let's do this!" Peroroncino glared defiantly down at the chimera boss.

"[Solar Snipe]! Plus [Maximum Quiver]!"

The archer skill [Maximum Quiver] works similarly to a magic caster's metamagic, increasing the archer's skills and abilities. In this case, the skill allowed the Player to repeatedly fire a selected skill infinitely for a short duration without using up any arrows.

From the dark skies above, an onslaught of brilliant solar beams rained down upon the menacing chimera. The underground briefly lit up orange from the bombardment and explosions as Peroroncino relentlessly pounded the boss with his attacks. As the smoke dissipated, it was evident that Peroroncino had captured the undivided attention of the beast. The four heads of the chimera glared malevolently at the archer, ready to retaliate with their own devastating powers.

"AaaannnNNNnnooOOOOOooYYYYyyIIiinnnngGGg!"

"Kkkiiiiiillllll! Kiiiiiilllll!"

With lightning speed, the reptilian and insectoid heads lunged forward, their menacing jaws snapping hungrily. Unfazed by the danger, Peroroncino fearlessly swooped towards them head-on, his agile wings slicing through the air with grace. The others could hardly believe their eyes as they watched the avian archer execute a daring nosedive towards the dual threats, showing not a shred of hesitation or fear. Peroroncino was a seasoned veteran in the art of aerial combat and maneuvering, and he evaded the two heads with masterful finesse. Despite his best efforts, the two heads were quick to follow him like white on rice, their hunger driving them to attack. With a sudden burst of speed, Peroroncino tucked his wings inward and made a beeline towards the goat head, which unleashed another deafening roar at the brazen avian.

"Now!" Timing it at the last second, Peroroncino spread opened his wings, and executed a barrel roll, evading the attack. The shockwave attack completely missed but continued its course toward the two heads right on his tail. Unable to react in time, the howl struck the reptilian head. The attack was enough to stagger the head backward in pain. The same couldn't be said for the other head, as the insectoid head smashed through the attack as if it were nothing. The centipede's mandibles slammed into the horned goat head, its sickle bone blades digging into its body.

Yggseria roared in pain and anger, its entire body recoiled and swaying from Peroroncino's little trick.

"Why are you hitting yourself?" Peroroncino mocked.

"You pest!" The dragon head boomed. It opened its mouth and unleashed fireballs at the golden archer, all of which Peroroncino avoided with ease. Explosions rocked the air as he circled over the massive boss.

"Miss me, miss me, na-na na-na boo-boo!" Peroroncino mockingly sang.

With a growl of frustration, Yggseria lunged forward in pursuit of the pesky yellow fly, determined to crush it at any cost. The chimera lumbered after the airborne Player, its massive body proving to be a cumbersome weight that slowed the boss down considerably. Despite the best efforts of the centipede and reptilian heads to capture him, Peroroncino remained one step ahead, outsmarting his foes with ease. Even the dragon's fiery blasts proved ineffective, as Peroroncino deftly maneuvered his way through the chaos, always staying out of reach of his pursuers.

'Here should be close enough!' Peroroncino calculated, his eyes trained on the mountain of rubble. All he needed now was to bait them, just like last time.

"Come on, what's the matter? Should I slow it down for you all to give you guys a fighting chance?"

Peroroncino got a response in the form of an ear-piercing screech as the two aggressive heads made another attempt to attack him. With swift and calculated movements, he executed a perfect nose dive, effectively drawing the heads into a frenzied pursuit. Just as he was about to make contact with the unforgiving terrain below, Peroroncino gracefully unfurled his wings, adjusting his trajectory with precision. In a seamless display of skill and agility, he picked up momentum, narrowly avoiding a catastrophic collision.

He came in low and fast, the feathers along his chest practically touching the floor beneath as he flew mere centimeters above it.

His eyes were on the prize. There, the mountain of rubble lay untouched. A glance backward showed the two heads right on his tail and they were none the wiser.

He would need to time it perfectly!

'Come on, come on, come on, come on…' He chanted as he got closer and closer, and closer…

"Now!"

Peroroncino was quite the sight to behold as he gracefully tucked in his wings and landed in front of the pile of rubble. His feet touched the ground for no more than a second before he jumped and soared straight upward. Like a matador leading a bull, Peroroncino lead the heads into doing exactly what he wanted them to do. Unable to turn or correct its direction, momentum carried their course, and the heads slammed into the mountain of rubble. The force of the collision blew away massive chunks from the pile. The heads whipped around and bawled in pain, dislodging even more of the wreckage, which worked out in their favor.

"Emiya-senpai! Are you still there?!" Peroroncino cried out, his eyes scouring for Shirou's form. In that moment of hesitation, the dragon head launched a fireball at the avian archer.

"Peroroncino-san, look out!" Blue Planet warned, too little, too late, as the attack caught him in his blindside.

The force of the attack knocked him out of the air as he careened downward and crashed. More than 2/3rd of his HP was taken from just that. The insectoid and reptilian heads lunged forward, ready to end the golden archer's life.

Before Yggseria could deal the finishing blow, several streaks of sharp blue appeared and slammed into their sides, detonating.

Shirou emerged from the debris, his lower body still encumbered by the rubble, but he was free. With a flourish of his arm, his magic circuits ignited, sending streaks of neon lightning outward.

"Rarrgghh!" With a fierce roar, he willed more weapons to be traced and fired.

A storm of steel flew forth, striking and exploding upon contact with the boss. The explosions rattled the entire area, causing the boss to jerk back in pain. Blast burns and cuts marred the chimera's entire body from the onslaught of fire and steel that the magus wrought. With all the grace of an obese elephant, Yggseria staggered and tipped over, crashing backward into another row of buildings.

The boss's HP lowered into the red.

"Blue Planet-san, go help heal Peroroncino-san! Amanomahitotsu-san, help me pull Emiya-san free!" Touch Me pressed.

The two rushed to do as they were ordered. Blue Planet came to Peroroncino's side and quickly got him healed up. Touch Me and Amanomahitotsu got to work digging out their friend. Shirou was unable to hold back the wince and hissed in pain as his friends pulled him free from the rubble. His hand clutched his sides, and he felt some of his ribs were fractured.

"Are you alright?" Touch Me asked worriedly, seeing the state his friend was in. He knew that his friend felt every injury and damage to his virtual body, which reflected physical pain.

"I'll… live…" Shirou strained.

Pulling out a few potions, he drank them all greedily and applied [Alteration] to his body to help speed up the healing and stitching process. He could feel the potion and his magic circuits slowly but steadily mending the wound and correcting it. Avalon was a godsend, but some extra aid did not hurt. Within a few seconds, he was back to full capacity. Blue Planet was finished with Peroroncino as well, evident by his full health bar and himself back in the air.

And not a second too soon, as the boss slowly and clumsily got back on its feet.

The four heads glared at the party with baleful eyes. The boss radiated such hatred for them that the group couldn't help but collectively take a step backward.

"You worthless, miscreant, insignificant insects! You have annoyed us long enough!"

"YOU WILL BURN! BURN! BURN UNTIL NOT EVEN YOUR ASHES SHALL REMAIN!"

The draconic and goat heads shouted as one.

The dragon head opened its maws, and a magic circle formed in front of its jaw. This particular circle shone with a brilliant blue hue that contrasted sharply against the dragon's scales. Suddenly, a blazing blue fireball began to take shape, slowly growing in size and intensity with each passing moment.

It was winding up for an attack, Shirou recognized. That meant the next attack would be an extremely powerful one and most likely an AoE attack to boot.

Not even a minute after he was free, the situation had already gone south. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Quite literally in this case.

"Peroroncino-san, fly towards me! The rest, get behind Touch Me-san!" Shirou urged.

If the attack was fire-based, then he had just the Noble Phantasm in mind to counter it.

"Trace on!" Shirou's magic circuits sprung to life once more.

He searched the undulating landscape of Unlimited Blade Work with unwavering focus. Concentrating his thoughts, he located the perfect Noble Phantasm. As he did so, the prana coalesced into two majestic golden shields, each bearing a striking eight-pointed star. Delicately etched into the outer rim of the shield were ancient Norse runes, adding to the shield's already impressive appearance. The shield was truly massive, easily covering his entire body and then some, providing a formidable defense against any threat.

[[Svalinn: The Shield that stands before the Sun - Divine Tier Shield]

"Touch Me-san! Catch!" Shirou threw the shield like a frisbee. The shield spun gracefully through the air before Touch Me caught it.

Peroroncino grounded and immediately fell behind Shirou, just as Blue Plant and Amanomahitotsu did the same for Touch Me. The two held their shields at the ready and steeled themselves.

The attack came no sooner.

"[Wild Fire Cataclysm]!"

The dragon then shut its mouth, consuming the all-encompassing ball of flame. Fire leaked from its mouth, licking its fiery scales. The glow from the azure fire gave off a beautiful contrast with the draconic heads' fiery red scales. The imagery didn't last as the dragon arched its head back before shooting forward and opening its jaw to release a stream of pure, concentrated blue flames.

As its name implies, the blaze was indeed untamed, rampaging through its surroundings with alarming speed. It spread relentlessly, its fiery tendrils stretching outward with an unquenchable hunger. The area surrounding the inferno was bathed in a ghastly light, an otherworldly blue that illuminated the dusky air. The heat emanating from the flames was so intense that even solid stone would yield to its scorching touch.

The flames licked what remained of the old and crumbling building and surrounding, their very stones liquifying and dripping like wax off of a candle. Anything it comes into contact with was quickly consumed and melted away.

Well, almost everything.

In the midst of a tumultuous sea of blazing blue flames, two shields glistened with shimmering golden light. Despite the overwhelming inferno raging around them, the shields remained unscathed, almost as if they were drawing strength from the flames. In the heart of the azure inferno, a small vortex swirled like a miniature whirlpool in a vast ocean, with Svalinn at its center. The radiant golden shield seemed to be absorbing the fiery tempest, creating a mesmerizing display of pure energy and power.

Svalinn, in Norse mythology, translated roughly to mean cold or chill. Legend recounted it to be a remarkable shield that could stand before the sun itself, withstanding the heat and power of the radiant star effortlessly. Very little was known of it, save for its legend and the speculation regarding its mythos. It was an obscure myth when compared to other, more common, and mainstream legends of old Norse.

The shield was yet another Noble Phantasm that was created from within YGGDRASIL. One of the few pure defensive styles of Noble Phantasm Shirou crafted. The shield was capable of negating practically any firebase attack, regardless of its strength or tier.

As the others in the party remained completely safe from the raging inferno, Shirou couldn't help but feel like he was slowly being cooked alive. The heat was almost unbearable, and the air around him was arid, making it feel like thousands of needles were raking against his skin. It extended inside his body as he felt his virtual lung dry up, gasping for air. Although the inferno was halted from harming him, it wasn't a perfect solution.

It felt so much like the times when he would overclock his magic circuits, resulting in them burning his nerves and, by extension, his skin and insides as well. But he would endure!

The attack finally came to a stop, Yggseria's breath attack letting up.

Besides themselves and the small space of ground they stood on, the entire arena was irrevocably changed.

The area surrounding the party was left charred and blackened, with the remnants of the once towering structure now reduced to a mere shadow of its former self. The intense heat had ravaged the building, causing most of it to melt and twist into deformed, molten architecture. The entire arena was reduced to a blackened kiln with only the party of five remaining in the center of the charred and singed cavern.

"Impossible!" The chimera bellowed in disbelief.

While Svalinn was capable of protecting against any firebase attack, Shirou did not stop there and designed the shield with a neat secondary ability to the created Noble Phantasm.

"Touch Me-san, throw it at the boss!"

Touch Me didn't understand the reason behind the instruction, but he had gone on numerous adventures with Shirou and had faith in his judgement. Therefore, the paladin followed Shirou's lead and hurled his shield along with him.

As the two golden disks spun through the air, the shields were set aflame, and fire similar to the one the shield absorbed jutted outwards, forming blades.

Shirou's creation, Svalinn, possessed the remarkable ability to not only counteract any firebase attack but also imbue the Noble Phantasm with the very essence of the attack - thus empowering itself in the process. The processed worked similarly to breaking a Noble Phantasm with the bonus of Shirou not needing to expand any additional MP to do so.

As the two golden shields began to spin, they were propelled forward with great force and velocity thanks to the blazing blue flames that enveloped them. The shimmering blue and golden glow that emanated from the shields was both dazzling and ominous, a testament to the devastating power that they wielded. Like lethal saw blades, they sliced through the air at breakneck speed, homing in on their target.

The spinning shields slashed deep within the abomination's flesh, one hitting the boss's shoulder blades and the other its belly before exploding spectacularly, releasing the boss's flames against it.

The chimera let out a horrifying, ear-piercing dying shriek as it burned. The wildfire spread quickly across Yggseria's entire gargantuan body as the hungry flames consumed the boss. The counter-attack rendered the boss's remaining HP down to zero.

Shirou had thought they had won the battle and beaten the boss. However, one thing immediately clued him in on something wrong. The body remained, whereas many times before, it would typically shatter into shards of polygons.

Instead, it persisted.

Slowly, the boss's dying screech devolved into an incomprehensible gurgle of sounds. It wasn't much longer before it was silenced.

The party was then treated to a disturbing sight. The only way Shirou would properly describe it was that the boss… melted.

The skin gave way first, melting like ichor and dripping off its body. The muscles and organs followed, liquefying and merging with the melted skin to reveal the bone-white skeletal structure beneath its body. Every inch of the virtual body's innards and flesh was reduced to a tar-like sludge that dripped and pooled carelessly on the floor. The heat caused the ooze to boil and pop, emitting an unpleasant, rubbery odor. The boss's immaculate skeletal remains was all that was left; not a scrap of flesh remained.

For a few seconds, all was silent.

Shirou quickly glanced back towards his teammates,, and while he could not read their facial expressions, he knew they were thinking the same thing as he was.

The fight was not over just yet.

As if called upon by their thoughts, the skeletal frame of the boss rumbled.

The distinct sound of something whirling echoed through the heated and barren arena.

There, within the center of the boss's ribcage, spun a glowing red orb. It gyrated, faster and faster, all the while emitting a pulsating crimson glow. Red veins coursed from the core throughout its skeletal body. They etched themselves deep into the marrow as the rumbling continued.

Shirou astutely observed that the markings were not haphazardly placed, rather, they seemed to possess a discernible pattern, almost resembling runes or some sort of mystical symbols. However, Shirou's curiosity was momentarily interrupted as the boss gradually came back to life.

Suddenly, one of its claws slammed onto the ground as the boss pushed itself back into a standing position. Despite possessing no muscles or tendons of any kind, the entire skeletal frame was able to hold itself together.

Shirou couldn't help but draw a similar connection between the boss's core and that of a Magic Core.

But there was another immediate concern that was at the forefront of his mind. The boss had a second stage.

Shirou was sure that Momonga and the others would have forewarned them had that been the case with their respective bosses. But that didn't come to pass.

That meant their bosses did not possess a secondary phase.

'Is this because we were the last ones to fight our boss?' Shirou speculated. That was the only reason he could think of. Plus, it would be in line with the shitty devs and their sadistic thinking by granting the last and most powerful boss a second life and phase.

His thoughts were put on hold as the skeletal remains of the chimera returned to life. Its once empty eye sockets flashed red, and in their place were crimson orbs. The four skeletal heads reared back and released a deafening scream.

Its health bar was replenished back to full.

"Do not think we shall fall that easily, intruders! We shall kill you all, in one life or another!"

"KKiiiiilllllll….KKkkkkiiiiiiiiiilllllllll… aaalllllllllll…"

"WE ARE YGGSERIA! THE ULTIMATE AND PERFECT CREATION! YOU STAND NO CHANCE FACING US!"

"cCCHHHHaaAAnnnNNNNcCccEEEeeE…. NNnNnnNNooOooOooOOOO…"

The four heads spoke in unison, their voices were disjointed and distorted.

"Scatter!" Touch Me immediately ordered upon seeing that the fight was not yet over.

"[Trace Bullet: Rapid Fire]!" Shirou launched a barrage of projected weapons as the group scrambled once more. Their aim was true, and they exploded upon hitting its chest.

For the briefest of moments, Shirou caught a glimpse of something peculiar flickering before being obscured by the smoke of his attack's detonation. The thought was immediately pushed to the background as the smoke cleared.

Yggseria took no damage from his attack.

"What?!" Shirou exclaimed in disbelief.

"[Crusher Wave Slash]!" Touch Me roared.

The paladin swung his sword, unleashing a magnificent crescent slash that was imbued with pure energy. The blow hit the boss, causing it to stagger for a moment. However, despite the powerful strike, the boss remained unscathed, as not even a minuscule fraction of its HP was depleted. Shirou, who was observing the battle closely, noticed the same odd red flicker that he had seen earlier just as the paladin's attack landed.

"What the hell?! Why isn't the damn thing taking any damage?" Peroroncino cried out. He unleashed a flurry of solar arrows upon the boss. They exploded against the chimera, but like the rest, there was little to no sign of damage on the surface.

Shirou focused all of his attention on the boss, his dichromatic eyes scrutinizing every single detail.

This time, the magus knew what he saw. The attacks never truly connected. Each time their attacks were milliseconds away from landing, the boss would flicker red before the attack would connect.

They needed more information.

"Everyone! Whatever you do, hold the boss off until I'm ready!" He called out to them.

"What are you planning on doing, Emiya-san?" Asked Blue Planet.

"Solving this mystery." He said nothing more, much to the confusion of his friends. However, they knew to trust Shirou and did as they were told, keeping the boss distracted as he got to work.

"Trace on!" With a single command, his magic circuits surged with power as prana began poured forth. In a swift motion, he flexed his fingers, the form of Caladbolg II took shape once again. Unlike the last time he used it, when the shot he fired was incomplete, this time he intended to utilize the Noble Phantasm to its fullest extent.

"My core is twisted…" Shirou recited the incantation, filling the sword with prana and breaking it apart in the process. Streaks of dark crimson prana surged from Shirou's body into the Noble Phantasm, imbuing it with immense power. "… in madness!"

The chimera boss was too slow to react, turning around only to be met by the fully charged Caladbolg II. The Noble Phantasm was primed and ready to unleash its might.

"[Caladbolg II]!" He fired.

The Caladbolg II was released and instantly reached its maximum velocity. However, just as the corkscrew arrow was about to make contact, it abruptly stopped mere centimeters from its target.

No, it was more accurate to say it was halted.

Caladbolg II continued to spin, but it was unable to pierce through the odd barrier that protected the boss. However, it was thanks to the Noble Phantasm that the party had a good look at what was going on. An almost transparent red sheen covered the entire chimera, protecting it.

Without any obstructions, Shirou could see the rune-like etching across the creature's body pulsed, casting an eerie red glow that seemed to act as a second layer of skin, shielding it from harm.

Despite its best efforts, the Caladbolg II was unable to penetrate the barrier and eventually, its rotation and spin slowed until it exploded. The smoke cleared, revealing the boss to be unharmed, like before.

However, they had resolved one of the new mysteries regarding the boss. The red barrier functioned as a secondary health bar, slightly overlapping the original one, and displayed a depletion of approximately 25% due to the attack. This discovery shed light on a previously unknown aspect of the boss's capabilities.

Shirou had initially suspected that Caladbolg II would not deal much damage to the boss. However, he was surprised to find that the attack was weaker than he had anticipated. Unlike the previous incomplete version, this one was on par with the attack that defeated Berserker, an End Boss who was much more powerful than a mere level 150 Raid Boss.

The only logical explanation for the low damage output was that the boss boss must have been under some kind of modifier or buff that was likely caused by a passive ability or skill.

Shirou quickly assessed what little information they could glean from the boss. Firstly, it was clear that Yggseria could still take damage, ruling out any invincibility ability or mechanic, which was a relief for Shirou.

Secondly, the boss had a form of defense buff that greatly reduces any damage dealt to it. This was evident from the minimal damage caused by a fully charged Caladbolg II.

Thirdly, the boss had a passive ability that created a barrier, which was etched into its bones. This shield-like defensive ability was represented by a second health bar and protected the boss's true health bar. As long as the barrier was active, they couldn't inflict any significant damage on the boss.

Despite their efforts to unravel the mystery, there were still a few small but crucial pieces of the puzzle that they were missing. Unfortunately, Shirou and the rest had to flee from the boss's renewed assault, without being able to ponder their next move.

"Emiya-san, what should we do?" Amanomahitotsu deferred to the leader of the party. They all saw how one of his strongest attacks did close to nothing to truly damage the boss's HP.

"There's nothing we can do but wait and test out its defenses…" Shirou reluctantly ordered. "Divert their attention and keep them as far apart from one another as you can! Amanomahitotsu-san, stay close to me. Blue Planet-san, go with Touch Me-san! Peroroncino-san, keep on firing at the boss! We need more information!"

At this point, it was clear that attacking it head-on was a futile effort, as it was nearly impervious to their spells and skills. All they could do now was survive until the boss revealed more of its tricks.

The next two minutes saw the group practically running laps around the boss, desperately avoiding its attack. There was no longer a pattern to its move set or attacks, only randomness as the chimera switched targets between the three groups seamlessly.

What made it all the more challenging was that nowhere was safe as the entire arena burned down, leaving nothing left but the open ground. This left the Players only with the choice of running and counter-attacking whenever one of their heads would attack.

"Damn it…" Shirou muttered under his breath as he dodged a fireball.

Four minutes had passed since the reveal of the boss for its second phase, and no headway was made. Shirou's and Peroroncino's prodding attacks yielded little result. Were they perhaps missing something fundamental about the boss, or perhaps it was just that long?

As he thought of this, a sound pierced through his thoughts.

A high-pitched whirring sound resonated through the air. It came from Yggseria. Crimson lightning began to generate and crackle from the core's rapid rotation. The rune-like carving running along its entire skeletal body lit up in a burning red glow. All four heads unhinged their jaws as a pulsating, magic circle formed. Immediately, several more flashed along the ground and into the air.

"Everyone, move!" Touch Me warned.

"[Nova Burst Quasar]!"

The four skeletal heads let loose beams of super-condensed bursts of crimson energy. The burning rays traveled everywhere, across every surface, leaving behind a glowing trail and exploding a second later. The massive AoE attack fired everywhere, bathing the entire surrounding in an apocalyptic glow.

Countless explosions rocked the field, forcing the party to scramble just to avoid the attack.

Amanomahitotsu was unlucky enough to be caught by one of the beams.

"Agrrh!" He let out, and half of his HP was lost from the attack.

"Amanomahitotsu-san!" Shirou knew the crustacean Heteromorph wouldn't survive the subsequent burst of energy that came after the initial beam. He used [Reinforcement] and tackled both himself and the blacksmith to the ground. They managed to dodge within a hair's breadth of the following explosion.

"T-thanks. That was a close one." Amanomahitotsu gratefully thanked his rescuer.

Shirou was just about to reply when a sudden noise caught their attention. It was a hissing sound that seemed to be coming from the boss once again, even after the explosion had subsided. The chimera suddenly came to a halt, and its eyes and the glowing runes that adorned its body slowly began to fade away until there was nothing left. Bursts of steam were discharged from the chimera's skeletal chest, more specifically, the orb, as its ribcage opened up, allowing a clear view of it. The crimson core slowed to a complete stop, and the boss remained motionless, as if it were powered down or something similar.

It was big, it was red, and it was glowing. Thus, video game logic dictated that it was its central and final weakness.

"Target the core!" Shirou exclaimed.

Peroroncino and Touch Me didn't need to be told twice before the two unleashed as much of their powerful skills as they could. Shirou fired his traced weapons, Touch Me rained down slashes, and Peroroncino loosened bolts of solar energy.

And for each hit, they lowered the boss's HP gradually.

Finally, they were making some headway in the second phase!

The attackers managed to lower the boss's HP down to roughly 60% before the ribcage closed up. The orb began to rotate once more and breathed life back into the boss. Touch Me retreated as the reanimated skeletal chimera stood back up, showing no sign of worse for wear. The three let up their attacks, as there was no point now. The group watched as its secondary health bar was refilled, bringing it back to full strength.

As Shirou watched this all unfold, the final piece of the puzzle clicked in their heads.

"Shit! Senpai! I think we're dealing with a Timed Boss." Peroroncino shouted for all to hear.

"Of all the bosses…" Shirou heard Touch Me lament under his breath, and with good reason.

Shirou couldn't help but click his tongue as well.

Timed Bosses were a category of bosses that were considered the most annoying types in the game by the player base. These bosses were not difficult to beat because of their inherent strengths or unique challenges, but rather because of the rules and mechanics that Players had to obey to defeat them.

Players have dubbed them 'Stall Bosses', as they had a tendency to stall the game, or alternatively, as 'Timed Bosses', due to their timed invincibility mechanics. The concept of 'Timed Bosses' has been prevalent in the gaming industry since the early twenty-first century, and game developers often use it to prolong the gameplay and create the illusion of difficulty.

It essentially boils down to the boss having only one specific weakness for which Players could attack and damage the boss. However, were it only that, there would be no challenge, and thus developers often implemented another mechanic: invincibility. For the majority of the fight, the boss was invincible or close to invincible in one form or another. After a set amount of time, the boss would reveal its weakness, allowing the Players to progress with the fight. This opening would only last for a brief moment-enough time for Players to progress the fight but not enough to finish it immediately.

Rinse and repeat until the boss fight concludes.

It was more of an obstacle than a challenge or an engaging battle.

The time wasted waiting for an opening to attack and to progress the boss battle forward merely simulated the pretense that the battle was indeed long and arduous when, in reality, the fight was being extended by design. Battles and fights such as these were purposely designed to be time-wasters.

It can be quite challenging to stay alive in a prolonged battle. The longer the fight drags on, the greater the chance of making a critical error that could result in defeat or even death. This was why Players often find themselves attempting the same task over and over again, which can be quite tedious and monotonous.

It would come to explain many of the mysteries associated with the second phase of the chimera boss battle. Its sudden and nearly impenetrable defense was a mechanic of the boss fight and acted as a passive skill in the form of a barrier, reducing any attacks and damage taken to an absurd degree. The boss's timed mechanics forced the members of Ainz Ooal Gown to adopt one of two viable options. Either wait out the time or relentlessly attack the boss in an attempt to break through the secondary health bar to reach its core and main health bar.

Both have significant cons that could lead to a party wipe if chosen carelessly.

For one, they would need to use their most powerful spells, attacks, and skills to even make a dent in the boss's secondary health bar to reach its primary health bar. Meaning, they would be draining themselves far faster, and this could lead to a situation where they would have nothing at the crucial moment later on in the fight should the boss battle persist.

While waiting seemed like the safer option, the five-minute wait time felt like a small eternity. Shirou saved Amanomahitotsu in the nick of time the first time, but there was no guarantee as the boss fight continued. The future battle could take anywhere from fifteen to twenty more minutes added on to them, and no doubt they were feeling weary themselves from the already arduous and tiring boss fight before with the chimera's first phase.

The projection user pondered their next move, scouring the depths of Unlimited Blade Works, searching for a Noble Phantasm that might provide their party with the solution they so desperately needed.

A faint idea struck him, watching as the defensive skill lit up once again to protect the boss.

If so, then-

[Message]!

Shirou almost tripped over himself thanks to a sudden [Message] notification popping up directly in his line of sight.

It was from Momonga.

Recovering mid-step, he answered the [Message] to ask if his friend needed something, only to be cut off by him instead.

"[Emiya-san! Are you there, Emiya-san!?]" Momonga's erratic voice screamed through the [Message]. What gave Shirou pause was the sheer urgency and panic in his voice. Something he had only heard his undead friend speak in the direst of situations.

"[I'm here! What's the situation?]" Shirou responded while sidestepping a lung from the fanged skeletal reptilian head.

"[Bad!]" Momonga simply said.

Shirou couldn't help but feel a cold pit forming in his stomach. Out of everyone within the guild, Momonga was perhaps the most cautious and heedful Player he had ever met. If someone like him was saying things were bad, then things were not looking good.

Swallowing, he asked the question. "[How bad?]"

"[Very, very bad… ]" The Overlord gravely replied. "[It's… ]"

The distant sound of an explosion from Momonga's side of the [Message] cut him off for a few seconds. He could even hear a few of his guildmates screaming in the background. This only made Shirou grow further concerned.

"[Momonga-san! What's the situation?!]" He asked again, dodging another lunge attack.

"[We've beaten our boss, and then we were transported to this floor with the others. That's when everything went wrong. We're… Damn it! [Boost Magic: Wild Storm]!]" Momonga paused in the middle to utter the name of a spell. Another series of explosions were heard through the [Message].

"[We're being overrun!]" He answered back, forgoing any tact.

"[W-what?!]" Shirou reasonably exclaimed.

The shock that they were still in combat after they had beaten their respective bosses almost allowed Shirou to be nailed by an attack from the chimera.

"[I've been trying to coordinate the others, but there's just too many. They just keep on spawning! We're surrounded by an endless horde of constantly respawning mobs. There's no end to them!]"

Another pause, the faint sounds of distant orders being shouted, and explosions echoed in the background of the [Message].

"[We think it'll stop once all bosses are defeated! We need you guys to hurry it up!]" He pleaded, his voice completely frantic. This was the first time he had ever heard Momonga sound so on edge and helpless.

'I'll just be adding another nail in the coffin.' Was Shirou's grim thought. Especially for what he has to tell Momonga next.

"[We're trying, but the boss got a second phase. It's a Timed Boss with some kind of super defensive skill and it's capable of resisting our most powerful attacks. It also has a five-minute window!]"

"[Fuck!]"

Shirou paused for a second, again. Only this time, it was for an entirely different reason.

The voice that so eloquently summed up their situation was not Momonga.

No, it was Ulbert.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

'Shit!' Momonga cursed in his head, following Ulbert's explosive expletive.

After the other parties defeated their respective bosses, they were transported to an entirely different floor. The scenery was quite breathtaking - a vast and grand verdant glassy field that seemed to stretch on endlessly, with small hills and plateaus adorning the land. It was a bit plain and empty, but still had character. The peaceful and tranquil atmosphere was quickly shattered by the sudden appearance of an endless horde of Undead Walkers that began plaguing the fields upon the guild members' arrival.

The openness of the grass field granted a clear view for the seemingly insurmountable mass of Lvl 60 mobs to shamble towards the guild. It was as if they were appearing without end from the edge of the horizon.

Momonga wouldn't be surprised if the entire floor was covered in them, save for where Ainz Ooal Gown was making their last stand. The guild entrenched themselves in a circle formation, fighting and holding the mobs at bay while covering one another's backs. However, they were losing more and more ground by the second.

He knew that the shitty devs were harsh, but even he didn't think they would go this far and be this unforgiving. Momonga wondered if whoever designed this dungeon was some perverse sadist. Because only a true deviant could think of something so cruel and wretched as to design a dungeon like this for first-time clears.

Momonga knew that their chances of survival were slim against such a large number of enemies. The parties had used up most, if not all, of their main skills and MPs to defeat their respective bosses. This made it even more difficult for them to manage their remaining skills and MP, as they were already running on empty. They were quite literally running on fumes at this point.

They still had plenty of health potions, MP regen potions, and the like, but that wasn't the issue. The issue was the fact that they were perhaps several minutes away from being flooded from head to toe by the low-level mobs. It'll eventually reach a point where they'll be out of MP, skills, and everything completely. By then, they'll be completely and utterly overwhelmed by the mobs. No matter how weak or easy they were to kill, notwithstanding.

It wasn't a matter if they could survive, but rather for how long they could hold back the hordes.

Oh, how he wanted to scream and curse out those shitty devs. But there were more important matters at the moment than his burning hatred for the developers.

Namely, the fact that due to his slight negligence from the numerous multitasking, and stress of the situation and the heat of the battle, he had accidentally enabled "party-wide" on [Message]. This mistake led to everyone in the party hearing Shirou's extremely alarming news, creating a state of chaos and confusion.

The same very members who were now screaming, yelling, reporting, and panicking.

And thus, he sowed the seeds of pandemonium.

"[A Timed Boss?!]"

"[Fucking shitty devs!]"

"[They're breaking through the left flank!]"

"[There's no way they can beat the boss in time!]"

"[Shit, my MP is down to 8%!]"

"[Damn it! Fall back, everyone. Fall back!]"

"[Momonga-san, Emiya-san, we can't hold them back for much longer!]"

"[Get back! Keep pushing them back!]"

"[I need another health potion!]"

"[I need some help over here, damn it! Die, you bastards!]"

"[Everyone, focus! Panicking won't do us any favors!]" Shirou tried to calm them down, only for his words to be drowned out by the others.

"[There's no way we can win this, we've lost!]"

"We're losing too much ground!]"

"[I need some help over here, or else they'll break through the right side!]"

"[Damn it, Warrior Takemikazuchi-san, don't push up too far!]"

"[I'm hit!]"

"[Push them back! We've lost too much ground already!]"

"[Do not falter just yet, my friends!]" Touch Me tried to rally.

"[Touch Me-san, watch out!]" Blue Planet called out, his words heard by everyone due to the party-wide [Message] and the following explosion from the other side.

"[What do we do, Momonga-san?!]"

"[Don't lose focus! Stand your ground!]"

"[Everyone, get back!]" Bukubukuchagama called out.

"[You damn son of a bitch!]" Peroroncino followed up.

"[Excuse me?!]" Said the sister, misinterpreting his words towards her.

"[Not you, sis! I meant the boss!]" Peroroncino was quick to clarify and apologize.

The [Message] connection was flooded with a multitude of reports, statements, exclamations, and almost random callouts, all coming from different directions. Every single one of the twenty-nine members of Ainz Ooal Gown was speaking, or rather, screaming all at once. The chaos of their voices was so intense that it was hard to make sense of anything.

[Message] works very similar to how telepathy would, in theory, have their voice carried directly into the Player's mind, allowing for precise and clear communication between two sources.

Momonga could hear everything with perfect clarity. The exclamations and cries of his friends echoed within his very head, like a tempestuous storm, as the voiceless pleas within the shouts of his friends swirled within his mind. A wild cacophony of sound, yet he was able to distinguish and identify each member of Ainz Ooal Gown.

The raw and unfettered emotion of every one of his friends was on full display. Fear. Regret. Anger. Paranoia. Frustration. Guilt. Sorrow. Shame. Helplessness.

A swirling maelstrom of negative emotion.

It was suffocating!

All around him, he saw his guildmates and friends fighting and struggling against the overwhelming force of undead mobs. Their bodies clashed against the never-ending horde, only to be forced to push back. They were fighting a losing battle. The sheer number of enemies they faced seemed to be too much for them to handle. Despite their efforts to push back, they were slowly but surely losing ground. Every move they made was met with fierce resistance, and the odds of victory seemed to be slipping away with each passing moment.

It was all overwhelming!

"[We still have a chance!]" Shirou's voice cut through the sea of chatter, silencing the storm of screams for only a second. "[The boss may be a Timed Boss, but it isn't invincible! It can still be damaged! There's still a chance.]"

"[But it's practically invincible!]" Punitive Moe cried out.

"[That's right, it's almost invincible, but it isn't completely invulnerable! We can still hurt it, and with enough damage, we can reach its true health bar. We still have one last chance at taking it down once and for all!]" Shirou countered.

Momonga could feel his unwavering friend's gaze upon him, even though he couldn't see his face. It felt as though the intense stare was encompassing them all, just like it had done in the past. Shirou's unyielding spirit and unwavering willpower were evident, as he refused to give up even a single inch. No matter how dire the situation seemed, he remained steadfast in his determination to see it through.

Momonga couldn't help but admire and envy his friend's unshakeable spirit and tenacity.

"[I've got an idea; one last shot at it. And if it works, we can win this!]" Shirou called out to everyone.

His declaration was met with an equal amount of support as skepticism. The guild was split between believing in Shirou and calling it out as complete nonsense.

"[It's impossible!]"

"[Better than nothing.]"

"[They're pushing through the middle!]"

"[Damn it! We don't have time for this, they're surrounding us.]"

"[Another one of your bullshit abilities, Emiya? Well, unless it somehow rewrites the boss's coding and mechanics, we're shit out of luck!]" Ulbert was among the vehement doubters.

"[So what? You want to just quit now? Never took you for a loser that quits when the going got tough goat face.]" Peroroncino mocked.

"[It's called being realistic, bird for brains. I'm starting to think your avatar as a glorified Birdman is starting to make a lot more sense now. Maybe if you stop sucking Emiya off and stop riding his dick, you can use those two minuscule brain cells you have and recognize the situation!]" Ulbert sneered.

"[Fuck you, you goat head chunni! And don't you dare talk shit about Emiya-senpai! At least he's still trying to save all of our asses. The same can't be said for you, you man-child!]" Peroroncino angrily fired back.

Ulbert and Peroronicno quickly devolved into a heated argument, filled with bickering and name-calling. Their voices were raised, and their argument sparked a few to rise amongst them and stoke the flames. The rest continued to fight back against the odds.

Everything was falling apart, Momonga grimly realized. Their morale and unity were scattered into the wind, mere shambles of their once invincible foundation. What was once supposed to unite the guild was now slowly tearing them apart as friends argued and bickered with one another. They wouldn't last, he realized, not with the state of near-complete pandemonium the entire party was in.

His heart ached to see them like that. What drove the knife deeper into him was that Momonga had no idea what to do. He tried speaking up, to restore some semblance of order bring back their unity, but his words were lost in the chaos.

They were too preoccupied with fighting or arguing to listen.

As the world unraveled into disorder around him, his pillars of support and foundation were slowly crumbling all around him, leaving Momonga feeling powerless and adrift. He stood at the center of the turmoil, watching helplessly as what he feared slowly unfolded around him. It was as though he was suspended in time, unable to intervene or make a meaningful difference. Momonga felt a deep sense of despair and hopelessness wash over him. It was the second time in his life that he had experienced such a profound sense of helplessness, and it left him feeling utterly alone in a world that seemed to be falling apart around him.

He couldn't fail now, not when they were so close.

He couldn't afford to fail them, not when victory was in their grasp.

He was their leader, wasn't he? They chose him because they believed he was the best of them. They placed their trust in him because they believed he could lead them.

So then, where was it?

He needed something! Something to rally them once more. But his mind was drawing blanks, as none of the three inspirations had the answer Momonga was desperately seeking.

For his Momonga persona, the cold and analytical persona would call it a lost cause. There was no realistic or foreseeable way that they could escape such an impossible situation, plain and simple. So why bother struggling with the inevitable?

That wasn't acceptable in his mind.

Touch Me may have come across as quite the loud and confident leader, but it was clear that his abilities and intelligence matched his attitude. Being the clan leader of Nine's Own Goal for such a long time was no easy feat, and it was apparent that he had earned the respect of his peers. Even in the face of what seemed to be a hopeless situation, it was likely that he would refuse to give up without a fight. He would probably try to rally his comrades with an inspiring speech, urging them to stand together and face their fate with bravery, to not go quietly into the night.

Admirable in many ways, but not the ending Momonga was seeking.

For Shirou, the question was never "if," but always "how." He had an optimistic spirit, but he was also a realist and knew that any victory would come at a high cost. In this situation, he would have said that the fight was achievable, but only if they could last long enough and if some of their comrades were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. It was a pyrrhic victory, but sometimes that was the only way to survive and keep moving forward.

It was the best and arguably the most realistic option left to Momonga. And yet, it wasn't what he was seeking.

He knew it was a selfish and almost impossible wish. Yet, some part of him still wished for the impossible. For a miracle to happen. But somewhere in his heart, he knew that was impossible.

As the situation deteriorated further and further, he defaulted back to his habit. One of doubt and insecurity.

All that he was left with, was a singular question.

What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?!What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?!What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?!What do I do?! WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WhatdoIdo?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!WHATDOIDO?!

As he raged within his mind, desperately seeking the answer he desperately sought, the world around Momonga slowly stilled. Time grounded to a complete halt, casting a still image of his friends, the army of undead, and the world around him. Slowly, everything started to fade away, giving way to an endless blank landscape. A barren and white world that stretched endlessly in all directions.

It was only him. Only him, and his failures.

Alone within the white void.

"What do I have to do?! I can't fail them-not now, not when they need me the most! Think, you worthless idiot!"

He screamed and chastised, his cries echoing into the white void, his desperate plea for an answer reverberating within the empty world.

Shirou's words came back to him at that moment.

"Have faith…" The voice of Shirou echoed in his head.

Have faith, he said…

A dark memory resurfaced from the recesses of his mind. A terrible memory he struggled to put behind him.

A dark whisper echoed through the empty world.

"And when has faith done any good for us?"

He needed something. An answer, an idea, something-anything that was tangible. Like a man drowning in the ocean, he needed a lifeline. Something to hold onto, even if it was only an illusion.

"But is faith even enough? And if it's not, then how will we know!?"

It was impossible to rely solely on faith. For how many have found themselves in a situation not too similar to his own? What of the millions of salarymen, office workers, and those oppressed by the Japanese corporate-control conglomerate that made their lives a living hell? Were their faith and prayers for a better life ever answered?

If the answer was no, then how would it be any different for him?

"We don't." Another voice answered. This time, it wasn't Shirou's.

No, it was his voice.

"We don't know, and perhaps we never could know. But isn't that why faith exists? For better or for worse. All we can do is believe." He heard a voice behind him.

Turning, Momonga came face-to-face with himself. Not that of his online persona, but the man behind the avatar, Satoru Suzuki.

His inner consciousness held a saddened but understanding expression.

"In a way, we still haven't grown up since then. We're still that small, frightened little boy that was afraid of letting go." Satoru Suzuki said.

The blank background shifted, forming a still scene in front of him.

The crimson orbs within Momonga's eye sockets brightened, comparable to the surprise and widening of one's eyes.

He recognized the scene in front of him. How could he not? For it was the nightmare that haunted him ever since he was a boy.

… No…

In the middle of the living room, a small boy no older than six years old was sitting on the floor, his head resting against a worn-out couch. The room was small and cramped, but it was still home. The boy was completely lost in the book he was reading, his eyes fixed on the pages. Through a small doorway in front of him, it leads to an adjacent kitchen. There, a woman had her back turned to him, seemingly busy with something. Had the boy paid closer attention, he would have noticed the slight swaying of her body, but the young child seemed to be completely oblivious to it.

… Don't…

So immersed in the book was he that he did not notice her body swaying and eventually tipping, leading her to fall over. The plate in her hand fell to the ground with a loud crack, shattering into pieces. The sound finally snapped the boy out of his immersion, his head looking up towards the source. There was clear confusion in his eyes, and his mind was trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Then came the realization, the gravity of the situation dawning on him. Finally, the terror settled in. He jumped into action, the book was thrown away and forgotten as he rushed forward. A scream left his lips, and although no sound was made, Momonga completely understood the boy's cry.

Okaa-san… Mother…

… Please don't…

The boy rushed to his mother's side, his face etched with panic and fear. He gently shook her, trying to ask what was wrong. He turned her body to face him and saw that her face had an almost unhealthy pale tone. Her features were marred by wrinkled and stressed lines, and her once tame brunette hair was now lined with graying strands. Ragged breaths escaped her lips, and her eyes struggled to focus. The weariness and fatigue on her face were evident, and tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes as he desperately continued to call out her name.

… Make it stop…

The light in her eyes was faint, but it was still there. With trembling hands, she reached out and gently cupped her son's cheek. A small smile managed to break through his scared visage, and he saw her finally respond. She was going to be fine, he told himself. This wasn't the first time she had collapsed. She experienced a few over the past few years, but she always managed to get back up. He believed it wouldn't be any different from before. But the look in his mother's eyes told a different story-a knowing glint. Her own eyes were wet with tears as they trailed down her cheeks. She knew what was coming, and that terrified her.

She was afraid, but not for her.

She was afraid for him, her precious baby boy.

… No more…

The boy was confused. Why was his mother crying? She was going to be alright. She was going to get right back up, just like before. The boy had faith in his mother. His smile strained as he called out her name once more. Her lips parted, and she forced out two words.

I'm sorry…

The boy was confused. Why was his mother saying I'm sorry? What was she apologizing for? If anything, he should be the one apologizing. He spoke, assuring her that everything would be fine and dandy. This only caused her to pain visibly. Her tears flowed forth like a broken dam. This terrified the boy, and a part of him realized what was happening. Soon, his tears fell from his cheeks, joining hers.

… I've seen enough…

Unable to contain it anymore, the boy wept, all the while calling out for his mother. For her, she gently caresses his cheek in an attempt to soothe his plight. Pulling the last ounce of her strength, she smiled, a beautiful and loving smile. Love and affection shone in her eyes, ones that only a mother could possess for their own precious and beloved child. With the last of her strength, she uttered three words. Her final three words.

I love you.

… I don't want to see it anymore…

With those parting words, she knew no more. Her hand dropped to the floor, its strength was no more. The light in her eyes dimmed and darkened until all that remained was a dead, empty stare. There was nothing but complete and utter silence. The boy's mind was unable to properly recognize the reality in front of him. He gently shook her, believing maybe she was too tired and passed out, but she remained unresponsive. Seconds passed before he finally accepted the truth. And when he did, he cried and cried, and cried. He realized the truth.

She was no longer of this world.

… I beg you, stop…

He cried, screamed, and raged. Screaming and calling out to her. Mother, mother, he chokingly repeated. His voice was garbled and heavy with raw emotions. He sobbed, begging her to wake up. Tears would not stop running down his face, snot flowing freely from his nose. The combined secretion dirtied his face, but the boy didn't care. He screamed for her until his throat was raw and burning, and even then he didn't give up. All that mattered to him right now was trying to wake her up.

… I can't take it anymore, please…

Eventually, his screaming caught the attention of the other tenants and neighbors. Upon hearing the racket, they demanded silence, only to come upon the sight of a small boy holding onto the deceased body of his mother. A call was made, and the next thing the boy knew, strangers entered their homes, trying to separate the two.

… No more… NO MORE…

The boy struggled against his captors, screaming, yelling, and biting with all the strength and ferocity that his small body would allow. All the while completely ignoring and disregarding the adults trying to calm him down. His eyes left his mother's body as a pair of workers brought in a body bag.

… Go away! Make it go away… !

They managed to pin him, all the while another worker was working hastily to select the right sedative for the boy. Seeing the strangers picking up his mother's corpse and carefully putting it into the body bag, the boy felt as if the world around him was choking him. He felt so weak, and insignificant. So… afraid. He couldn't do anything as they slowly zipped up the bag.

Please!

The boy felt something pricked his arm, a needle with some odd green liquid inside it. Immediately, he felt lightheaded. The strength in his limbs faded, and his eyes suddenly became tired and heavy.

Make it stop!

All he could do was hazily watch as the strangers continued their work. He also couldn't understand a single word around him, their voices were completely muffled and indistinguishable. They finally finished zipping up the body bag, and with the help of two of them, they picked it up and dragged it out of the room.

MAKE IT STOP!

The boy watched it all. He understood what was happening despite the sedatives pumping through his veins. Yet his body would not respond. He wanted to scream, to attack, to cry, to do something-anything, but his body would not obey him. His mind was active, but his body was not. A prisoner within his own body.

MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!

The last thing the boy saw before darkness took him was them leaving with the body of his mother. And then, no more. Nothing but the lost gaze of his mother, failure, staring him right in the face.

"Make it stop!" His cry of utter anguish echoed across the empty horizon.

Gone was the dignified and powerful form of Momonga, replaced by a small, crying boy. The very same boy who watched his mother leave this world.

That child was none other than Satoru Suzuki himself.

As he revisited that painful memory, Momonga's emotional fortitude finally crumbled. It was the most dismal moment of his existence, and for the first time in his life, he felt completely powerless and abandoned. Overcome with despair, he fell to his knees, his arms shaking as he tried to shield himself from the world. His tears flowed endlessly, punctuating the emptiness around him with the sounds of his sobs and sniffles.

"I-I'm… afraid…" Momonga whimpered. His voice reverted to that of a child as well. It sounded so frail, so frightened.

So… afraid.

When it boils down to it, Momonga was simply afraid. He has always been afraid, afraid of being left alone once more. The world moved on from his mother's death, but he didn't. He couldn't… To many, it was a regular occurrence, for she was not the first causality suffered due to overworking, nor would she be the last. But for Satoru Suzuki, it was no different from the end of the world.

The loss of his mother at such an age scarred him and was a defining moment that would shape his future. The world wasn't kind to him and granted him no reprieve to grieve for her. He was forced to move on, or else. Momonga tried to move forward, but he never truly grew out of it. For he was never given the time to. The trauma bore deep psychological scars within him. A wound that could never close.

From that day on, Momonga-Satoru Suzuki considered himself truly alone in the world. And he would continue to be alone well into his adult years, be it in the real world or the digital one.

By some stroke of luck or an act of destiny, he met Shirou on that fateful day. The day when he was at his lowest point, a day that marked the anniversary of his mother's passing. Just like every year prior, he tried to push through the inauspicious day by burying the pain and diverting his attention away from it. In an attempt to distract himself, he turned to YGGDRASIL, only to find himself relentlessly pursued and killed time and time again. Not even in his moment of his reprieve was he allowed any peace. He had almost lost all hope, but as luck would have it, fate intervened and bestowed upon him a boon.

On that fateful day, Momonga befriended his first and true companion in life - Shirou. Were it not for his intervention, Momonga would have likely abandoned his virtual existence in YGGDRASIL, seeking other entertainment to distract himself. And through him, he was fortunate enough to encounter so many wonderful people whom he was honored to call friends. Touch Me, Peroroncino, Bukubukuchagma, Tabula, and many others. Momonga discovered that there were others like him, those who were ostracized and isolated in their own way. Over time, he came to consider them not just friends, but family - a sense of belonging that he had yearned for since time immemorial.

It was this form in which his deepest fears manifested. Momonga was terrified of losing his newfound family, just as Satoru Suzuki had lost his mother. He feared that they would depart from him for various reasons, leaving him bereft, much like how his mother's untimely demise had left him alone. He bore the weight of responsibility for their potential departure, a thought that haunted him constantly.

Even after all this time, a small, dark part of him blames himself for the death of his mother. Yes, she died due to strenuous and downright atrocious working conditions, but, it was for him that she literally worked herself to death for. His hardworking mother worked tirelessly, days in and days out, to provide for him. Because she loved him, her child. His only true family in the entire world.

And he killed her.

He was afraid that he would be the reason once more for the destruction of his new 'family.' That they would leave him just like she did.

Not again.

The thought alone was a nauseating one. He couldn't afford to be alone again. Not after finally basking in the light after years of living within the darkness.

Momonga continued to sob and snivel, the sound of his whimper echoing softly within the white abyss of his mind. His small form tried to curl in on itself, as if to try and make itself as small as possible; an attempt to avoid it all.

His inner consciousness looked down on the crying child, not out of scorn nor pity but merely a silent understanding.

"You are… afraid." The image of Satoru Suzuki finally spoke. "You say that as if it's something to be ashamed of. As if being afraid somehow makes you less than what or even who you truly are. But that's not true, it only proves that you are you." His consciousness softly spoke.

Momonga showed no sign of hearing his words.

"Let me ask you this, can you honestly say that every one of them could and would leave us? Peroroncino-san? Bukubukuchagama-san, Warrior Takemikazuchi-san? What about Ulbert-san? Maybe Tabula-san? Hell, even Touch Me-san?" He listed off.

The soft cries petered off, and the young form of Momonga tentatively looked at his inner consciousness.

Momonga didn't answer immediately, his indecision clouding his thoughts, for he truly did not know if they were capable of such acts. And he hated himself for that, doubting them, but he couldn't help it. Depending on the situation and circumstances, he could see them leaving for one reason or another.

"What about Shirou? Do you truly, truly believe someone like him would leave out of nowhere or suddenly?" His inner consciousness patiently questioned. It didn't go unnoticed by Momonga that he-they?-referred to Shirou by his first name. A name he would only use amongst the most private of conversations.

No.

The answer was immediate. Even before he properly processed the question and formulated a response, Momonga knew what the answer would be.

"There it is." The salaryman pointed towards the boy. "That unwavering loyalty and belief in him. That no matter the good or the bad, he will always be there for you. That is true faith."

"So tell me then…" Satoru Suzuki continued. "Why is it that you trust Shirou explicitly yet hesitate when it comes to the others? Despite the numerous instances and shreds of evidence that prove otherwise? We, as a clan and now a guild, have always been there for each other through thick and thin. But why do you lack confidence in them, despite their years of loyalty towards you and you to them?

His conscious didn't even wait for a response before continuing.

"It is because, in truth, you do not have as much faith in them as you would believe." He revealed.

"I do trust them." Momonga hotly answered back, somewhat offended that his mind was saying otherwise.

"That's right. You trust them, but you don't have trust in them."

"Huh?" Momonga blinked at the rather paradoxical statement.

"Answer me this: why is it that you trust Shirou above all else? Why him and him alone?" His inner consciousness asked.

As the question was posed, he found himself mentally repeating it over and over again. He had the answer, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to say it. It wasn't that he didn't care or that he hadn't put any thought into it; he just felt that the question itself was unnecessary. For he knew the answer instinctively, even if he didn't voice it.

A better question to ask was, why wouldn't he trust Shirou?

He was everything one could ever hope for in a friend. Kindhearted. Gentle. Virtuous. Supportive. Wise. Intuitive. Powerful. Understanding. Selfless. Etcetera…

Shirou was truly a kind-hearted and selfless individual. Their first meeting was unexpectedly fortunate for Momonga, as Shirou saved him without any expectation of reward. Despite being a low-level nobody, Shirou saw the value in Momonga as a person and continued to be his friend for years to come. He was always willing to lend a helping hand, whether it be protecting him from harassment or assisting him on missions. Shirou's unwavering loyalty and dedication to their friendship was truly admirable, and Momonga was always grateful for his presence in his life.

Even during the early years of their friendship, Momonga never doubted that Shirou's acts of kindness were anything less than genuine. Never once did he suspect or fear that he would betray him or even randomly PK him out of nowhere. Looking back on it, he wondered where such a feeling of security came from, as any other Heteromorphic Player would be skeptical of a friendly Humanoid Player.

Over many years, their bond steadily strengthened and deepened. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, he found himself confiding in his friend about his personal life. While he was cautious about revealing too much or making it too personal, he still shared what he could, and this marked a turning point in their relationship. From that moment on, they became even closer, and he was able to trust his friend with his innermost thoughts and feelings. Whenever he had a problem or a hard day at work, he knew he could always turn to Shirou for support and guidance. To unwind and relax. Shirou was a reliable and compassionate listener, always willing to lend a sympathetic ear and offer his own perspective on things. Momonga felt truly blessed to have such a caring and understanding friend in his life.

Shirou epitomized what it meant to be a true friend.

"And there lies the problem." Said his inner consciousness.

"W-what do you mean?" Momonga looked back up towards the image of Satoru Suzuki.

"We are idealizing him." The inner consciousness answered. "Then again, it's not that hard to see why. Shirou is partially at fault for that as well. Because he just makes it so effortless! He's just so… him! So, kind, caring, honest, and unrelentingly patient. Out of everyone in this entire world we could've befriended, Shirou was easily the best thing to have ever happened to us. He's basically like one of Peroroncino's visual novel protagonists to come to life, an arguably perfect individual with little glaring flaws in his character." The salaryman's shadow chuckled at the comparison.

Satoru Suzuki looked back toward Momonga.

"You still don't get it, do you?" He asked and subsequently sighed.

"Alright, how about this? A hypothetical situation, where our worst fear comes to pass and everyone leaves Ainz Ooal Gown. Touch Me-san, Ulbert-san, Tabula-san, Peroroncino-san, Bukubukuchagama-san, Warrior Takemikazuchi-san, Amanomahitotsu-san, Herohero-san… Everyone just up and leaves. They all leave for one reason or another. Tell me, excluding Shirou's condition, do you think if given the chance he would leave us as well?"

No.

Once again, the answer was immediate.

"Now, why is that?" Satoru Suzuki asked patiently. "Think very carefully about this…"

Momonga pondered the question. He wasn't sure how long it was, be it a few seconds or even hours, as he remained there, thinking until it finally hit him.

The answer came to him because they weren't like Shirou.

"Of course, they're not like Shirou." Satoru Suzuki rolled his eyes. "They're their own people. Just like how Shirou isn't a perv like Peroroncino or how he and Touch Me are similar but still different people. They have their different quirks, their biases, and so forth." He continued as Momonga remained there, reeling from the silent shock.

"In the end, it's as I said, we trust our friends, yet we don't have complete trust in them. Or, at the very least, not as much as we wish it were. We can trust that Peroroncino-san has a penchant for making lewd comments or engaging in inappropriate behaviors, and we can trust that Bukubukuchagama-san will be the one to either admonish him or physically reprimand trust. We can trust Warrior Takemikazuchi-san to be the first one to suggest a dangerous quest simply for the fun of it. Or how we can trust Yamaiko-san to be the mediator whenever a situation arises. We can trust Tabula-san to be the one who follows caution whenever an argument arises within the guild. We trust all of them to act in manners that are befitting their characters and individuality-what we know of them-but when push comes to shove, we do not have trust in them if it ever comes to a point where they'll leave. Because, as you said, they aren't like Shirou. Because for one reason or another, we can see them leaving."

Momonga said nothing, content to stay there, reeling from the revelation.

It-he was right.

Either consciously or subconsciously, he didn't truly believe in his friends as much as they thought he did. And it was that thought that caused his heart to swell with guilt and shame.

Satoru Suzuki, he was nothing more than a simple Japanese salaryman who lived a life of insecurity, weakness, and diffidence. He clung desperately to his friends, seeking any sense of normalcy-anything to distract him from the loneliness that plagued him. To escape this harsh reality, he chose to live behind the mask that was Momonga, finding solace and comfort in this alternate persona.

Growing up in a world that demanded so much from him, Satoru was forced to grow up quickly. However, he never truly experienced the growth he needed. He never had a chance to mature, and years later, he was now an adult. In many ways, he remained the scared little boy who cried out for his mother. He was plagued by his past mistakes and failures, unable to learn from them. Despite his adult body and mind, he remained a child at heart, tired and alone, desperate for friends and a sense of belonging. Ultimately, all he truly longed for was a family to call his own.

He truly was like a child. A child who wishes for everything to be perfect. A perfect world, free of flaws, where his wishes would be true.

And then there was Shirou. He was the first person to ever show Shirou affection and care, and he held onto him tightly. Shirou wasn't just a person to him; he was the ideal individual that he had been searching for all his life. What Momonga wanted more than anything was a friend-someone that he could connect with and who would be there for him. Shirou was that friend, and he had become a part of Momonga's family.

In his eyes, Shirou was on a pedestal that no one else in the guild could compare to.

If one were to use an anecdote:

It would be as if Momonga had been wandering blindly in a dark and dense forest for all his life and had by some chance stumbled across a beautiful and majestic cherry blossom tree. Its splendor enraptured him so much that he failed to see its flaws, blinded by its majesty. So too does he not notice the others within the forest, slowly wilting and wondering why they couldn't all be the same as the one he was admiring.

Unlike the others, it wasn't as if Shirou could simply leave or quit playing the game. He was effectively trapped within YGGDRASIL, which meant Momonga didn't have to worry or fret about him ever moving on or leaving. He would always have his friend by his side, a constant reassurance.

He represented unwavering stability in these tumultuous time and he sought comfort in it. Too much in fact. He had become a crutch to him.

It wasn't right or fair, to not only his other guildmates and friends but to Shirou as well. To relegate them as nets to comfort his selfishness.

As the revelation struck him, he collapsed to his knees, unable to truly respond or act. Suddenly, Momonga's form shifted, and he was no longer a boy. Instead, he appeared as an adult in a suit and tie, wearing his salaryman uniform. His face was twisted in distress.

"W-what do I do?" He asked aloud, his voice so distant and lost. Momonga truly did not know what to do.

Rather, what could he do?

No answer came to him this time, neither from his mind nor his inner consciousness. Nothing but a damning silence filled the void.

Neither Momonga nor his inner consciousness dared to utter anything. The silence stretched on, unknown for how long it truly lasted.

Slowly, the world of white around them began to shift. Lines and shapes were slowly coming back into view. Satoru Suzuki glanced around with a troubled look on his face.

"We're running out of time…" He murmured to himself.

Finally, it was his inner consciousness that broke the haunting silence.

The image of Satoru Suzuki took in a heavy breath before heaving a weary sigh.

"We've all made mistakes, after all, that's all a part of being human. But, it is what we do after it that truly matters. Life is far too fleeting to constantly worry about the 'what ifs.' Nothing lasts forever, as they say… and maybe our fears are true." He admitted.

His voice was soft and small.

"One day… that one day our friends… our family will leave us." The fear and resignation was palpable in his voice. His words were no softer than a whisper, but to Momonga, they were numbingly loud and clear.

"… But that day is not here." The mirage of Satoru Suzuki firmly and resolutely countered.

"Not yet, at least. So, stop focusing on the future and focus on the now! If they truly will leave, then treasure every single second of it! Now is not the time for regrets. So, laugh, cry, scream, rage, endure, but do not regret! Never regret the time spent with them. Treasure every moment with them as if they were to be our last, and hold onto them for dear life! There are some things in this cruel world that we cannot ever hope to change, both the good and the bad. Sometimes, all one can do is have faith. But you are right about one thing, we cannot rely on faith alone. If we wish for a miracle, then reach out and seize it with our own two hands! Forge our own path!"

"But how?!" Momonga cried back, his insecurities and self-doubt taking over. "I've done all that I can and think I can, but it's still not enough! Please. I need to do something! What if I fail?!"

"Then fail!" His inner consciousness answered back. Momonga was taken aback by the answer.

Slowly, more and more of the surroundings took form, returning to the landscape and battlefield of the dungeon. Everything was muted, colored white and gray, lifeless. The forms of the rest of Ainz Ooal Gown remained motionless like statues around the two.

Satoru Suzuki reached out and aggressively grabbed Momonga by the scruff of his suit and pulled him in. There, the doppelganger stared him down as Momonga felt his glare bearing down on the helpless salaryman.

"Shirou believes in us. Everyone within Ainz Ooal Gown believes that you have the makings of a great leader! Or have you forgotten what they said when they chose us to be the Guildmaster?! And don't you dare start!" Satoru Suzuki shouted and subsequently silenced Momonga just as he opened his mouth, no doubt to spout more self-deprecating words.

"Before you think of giving up, remember the reason you started fighting in the first place!" Satoru Suzuki challenged him, looking him dead in the eyes. His eyes burned with righteous indignation.

Momonga felt his mind and heart still as the question washed over him. The question repeated itself in his head over and over again.

"Look at them!" He gestured to the frozen guild members of Ainz Ooal Gown, all without breaking eye contact with Momonga. "Each and every one of them knows, and despite your imperfections and shortcomings, they still choose you. They chose to follow you, no matter how crazy of an idea this was. Why? Because they had faith in you! If this is to be a failure, then bear it all! Whether it be now or another hundred others. They will always be there to pick you up. But the question you must ask is this. To whom will you fall as? Momonga the Overlord-the pretender and fraud of a craven or Satoru Suzuki-the coward and cynic behind the façade?! Just who are you?"

With his piece said, the form of Satoru Suzuki let go of Momonga as he collapsed, his legs numb and without strength.

Momonga did not reply. The silence lingered between them, with Satoru Suzuki gazing down at Momonga who seemed lost in thought. They stayed there for an indistinguishable length of time, with Suzuki's eyes fixated on Momonga's face, which was concealed by his hair. His eyes, black as coal, scanned the still pictures of his companions and guild members, giving no hint of his true feelings.

What was he fighting for in the first place? For them, of course. It was always for them.

His friend.

His second family.

If so, then…

Where was the guild leader he promised them, the one they needed and deserved?

Worthless

His friends were still fighting, still struggling against near-impossible odds. They were putting in so much effort, but for what? Because of his selfish wish.

Pathetic

All the while, he wallowed in self-loathing and pity, like a petulant child. And potentially going insane if the fact that he was talking to himself was any indication.

Useless

"I'm… afraid. I'm afraid that I am not good enough. I am afraid that I will fail them, fail them when they need me the most." Momonga spoke with a tremble in his voice.

His shaking fingers dug into the soft, lifeless earth beneath him.

Wretched

"I am afraid that I will be the cause of their departure. That I will lose their respect. Above all, I fear losing them, just like I lost her."

His hand slowly balled into a shaking fist, his emotions running high.

Miserable

"I don't want to be alone." Momonga confessed with all his heart.

He looked down at his shaking fist.

Failure

And yet, despite all his fears, they remained by his side

Even when he presented an absurd and far-fetched idea for a quest, they followed him every step of the way.

The question remains - why?

FAILURE

"Because we trust you…"

A soft voice answered. It wasn't his, no.

It was Shirou.

The shaking and rattling of his fist grew.

… FAILURE… FAILURE…

"Anyone of us could have said no or rejected the idea, but in the end, we all agreed."

That's right…

He still believed in him, they all did.

They all believed in him.

The shaking wouldn't stop.

… FAILURE… FAILURE… FAILURE…

"To follow you, our Guildmaster. No matter how absurd or impossible it seemed. And that hasn't changed."

They hadn't given up on him, not yet.

And yet, here he was practically admitting defeat already.

What kind of leader was that?

Better yet, what kind of friend was he?!

If he couldn't believe in himself to believe in them-

His entire hand and, soon, his arm began to tremble as the shaking persisted.

FAILURE-

"… if you cannot believe in yourself, then believe in us who believe in you…"

Momonga's fist lashed out, striking his cheek with all the force his skinny arm could muster. Pain erupted from his cheek as Momonga winced in surprise at just how powerful his punch was.

-Then perhaps he should start believing in them, who believe in him.

FAIL-

"… To me, there's no difference between Satoru Suzuki and Momonga…"

Again, he swung his fist at the same cheek, putting more force behind it than the first. It was enough to draw blood as it dripped down from inside his mouth, plopping onto the ground and his fist.

Momonga paid it no mind.

FAI-

"… You're my friend, and I am yours, and so are they…"

Momonga stuck himself once more, hitting his cheek with an even greater amount of force than the last two punches, managing a trickle of blood once more as the crimson nectar slowly flowed freely from the self-inflicted injury. If anything, the pain helped to finally clear his head.

Momonga let out wheezes and short gasps for air.

His bloodied hand trembled, but he kept it fisted.

F-

"Rarrghh!" With a roar, he threw one last punch, with all the force and strength he could muster behind this final attack. It connected with little difficulty, and Momonga's head recoiled from the punch.

His cheeks swelled up, leaving his fist and knuckles bloodied. Blood flowed freely from his mouth.

He kneeled on the ground with his body held up by his arms as the blood pooled around him.

Every second, a raspy pant left his throat as Momonga fought to control his breathing once more.

It hurts, but he paid it no mind.

The damned voices finally stopped.

"I'm just afraid of it all." Momonga repeated. He remained knelt, staring down at the small pool of blood, his reflection staring right back at him.

Being weak isn't a sin-

The face that stared back at him was not one that women would swoon upon seeing, nor was it one that others would ridicule behind their backs as ugly or repulsive. The best word to describe it was that he looked average-completely plain. The look of a person not out of place as a background character, one of many faces in a crowd. Momonga stared into his reflection as it did the same to him. A frustrated but firm look stared back at one another.

-Refusing to be better is.

"However-" Punching the pool of blood, Momonga shakingly stood back up. His head was downcast as his entire body trembled and looked ready to tip over any second.

He was a nobody.

Yet…

People believed in him.

All of Ainz Ooal Gown, his previous friends, placed their faith in him. How could he afford to just call it quit? To fail and give up now was to betray that trust. Momonga would sooner chop off his own hand than let that happen on his watch!

"I could, no… I would never live with myself knowing I failed them now when they need me the most. How could I ever face them knowing I was the first to give up?! Not after everything they've done for me. Not after everything we've been through!"

He looked up, finally meeting Satoru Suzuki at long last. Momonga's pupils was dilated, but one could not deny the fire in them. His inner consciousness was soon joined by two others. His child self stood to his inner conscious left, and his Momonga persona stood to his right.

There, his entire life stood right in front of him.

"Who am I…?"

Satoru Suzuki, the frightened boy, forever chained to his past and unable to let go.

Momonga, the masquerade, holding the prospect of a willful future, yet seemingly out of reach.

Who exactly was he?

Satoru Suzuki and Momonga of Ainz Ooal Gown, two sides of the same coin, and neither could exist without the other. He was neither one nor the other, but both, for they embody both the good and the bad. He couldn't deny their faults and flaws, but he also couldn't overlook their aspirations and dreams. The two aspects defined him and made him who he was.

Touch Me and Shirou were larger than life, and they inspired others to do great things. He aspires to become just like them, to follow in their footsteps.

But that did not mean he was chained to them.

He had to the choice, to be something else.

Someone more.

Someone greater.

It was as Shirou said to him.

"… Be your own man, Mononga…"

"I am me!" He proclaimed with unwavering conviction. His voice echoed with a fierce determination that seemed to shake the very air around him. As he thrust his fist forward, a sudden gust of wind spiraled around him, growing in intensity with every passing second. The force of the wind tore through the space, an unstoppable force that left no doubt as to the power of its source.

In that moment, all traces of Momonga the Overlord and Satoru Suzuki the boy vanished, leaving only the raw essence of his inner self. It was as if he had shed his skin and emerged anew, reborn as a force to be reckoned with. The power he felt coursing through his veins was both exhilarating and humbling, a reminder of the limitless potential that lay within him.

As the winds subsided, a calmness settled over him, a sense of peace that came from knowing he was exactly where he was meant to be.

He, and he alone, will decide who he was.

Standing tall and proud, Momonga emerged anew, his dark robes fluttering in the wind. The intensity of his red orbs pierced through the uncertainty, matching his inner consciousness's gaze.

"I may not know what exactly to do, but I do know what I can do. And that's to be there for them-all of them! As they were for me."

Keep on moving forward, one step at a time. Become their beacon, as they had become his.

"Have faith in them as they do for me." Momonga finished.

The two exchanged no words, for there was nothing left to say. Momonga's gaze settled upon Satoru Suzuki, who maintained a stoic and silent demeanor for a fleeting moment. Suddenly, a small, approving, and satisfied smile emerged on Satoru Suzuki's countenance, directed towards Momonga.

The world around me shifted once more, and reality finally settled back into place, as color gradually returned to the world. The replica of Satoru Suzuki flickered and eventually dissolved into nothingness, but the apparition paid it no mind, content to glance once more at the still images of his friends. A soft and content smile graced his face as he redirected his focus towards Momonga.

"Sometimes, all that is needed is just a glimmer of hope." With those parting words, he vanished from the world as time resumed its course.

Momonga's senses was instantly engulfed with a flood of lights and sounds, as the action continued to unfold all around him. The voices of his guildmates reverberated in his ears. Whereas before he would have become paralyzed with anxiety, this time he found himself possessing a calm and collected focus, born from a singular and unwavering desire.

"[Emiya-san! How long would it take you to put the boss down?]" He shouted into the connection, causing a few of the guild members to be momentarily taken aback by their leader's sudden exclamation.

"[I need you guys to hold on. Three-no, two minutes. Just hold out for two more minutes, and we'll see this through!]" Shirou promised.

"Then we shall do our best on our side and hold back the invading mobs. Tanks and frontliners, assemble at the front and form a perimeter! Those who can use spells and buffs, use them to protect the frontliners, while the others provide secondary support. This fight isn't over yet. We need to give Emiya-san's party all the time they need to defeat the boss!" Momonga ordered as he launched a spell into a cluster of enemies.

"But Momonga-san, that's crazy! How the hell are we even sure it's going to work?!" Punitto Moe all but demanded.

"We don't!" Momonga answered back. This shocked the entire guild for not only how immediate his answer was but also how certain he sounded in his uncertainty.

With another spell cast, Momonga decimated a large group of the Undead Walkers, yet one of them managed to survive and charged straight for the Elder Lich. As the monster lunged to attack, Mononga surprised everyone when he gripped his staff with both hands and delivered a crushing blow to its head. The enemy was flung into the air, shattering into polygons upon landing.

Despite it being impossible when it comes to YGGDRASIL's facial limitations, for the briefest of moments, his red orbs seemingly glowed an intense, otherworldly crimson. For no more than a split second, the horde of low-level mobs paused as if cowed by the Overlord's sheer presence before continuing with their march as dictated by their programs.

"You all said I was worthy of being the Guildmaster. You all saw something in me, something that made me worthy of your trust. And when I made the declaration that we would conquer this tomb as first-timers, you all stood by me. I now ask you all, my friends, to show that trust once more. Trust in Emiya-san just as I trust him! Trust in him, as you all trust me, and I in all of you!" He pleaded with them all.

For the third time, they were subjected to another inspiring speech by Momonga. Where the first one was spirited and boisterous, a bold proclamation. The second was more down-to-earth and reassuring than it was confident. But this one was different from the others.

It was pure and simple; Momonga spoke to them directly, his treasured friends.

"Go Emiya-san! We shall hold them off, no matter the cost! So, fight and win!" Momonga rallied. "For Ainz Ooal Gown!" With a passionate battle cry, Momonga did the unthinkable and charged forward with no fear against the sea of undead walkers. Momonga swung his staff and batted away the undead, all the while unleashing spell after spell.

After all, if the leader doesn't take the first step, then how can allies follow after him?

"Ooorrrahhh!" Warrior Takemikazuchi let out a battle cry, cutting through a group of walkers.

"Quit your gawking!" He shouted towards his fellow guildmates, knocking them out of their stupor. "You heard the boss! We've come too far to lose now! Follow our Guildmaster! So fight! Fight until your dying breath. For Ainz Ooal Gown!" He laughed jovially despite the hazardous situation they were all in. He chased after their Guildmaster, cutting down the horde of mobs with renewed determination.

"That's right!" Another member chimed in, following Warrior Takemikazuchi's statement. It was Bukubukuchagama, forcefully slamming her shields into the undead.

"Emiya-san hasn't let us down before, and I know he won't let us down now!" She defended her not-so-secret crush. With two great shields in hand, she rushed forward to join her friends. "For Momonga-san! For Ainz Ooal Gown!"

She charged forward undauntedly after the two. Her rally, along with the others, ignited a new spark within the members, inspiring them all.

"Like hell, I'm going to give those shitty devs the satisfaction!"

"If we're gonna go down, we're going down fighting!"

"For Momonga-San!"

"For Ainz Ooal Gown!"

Like a domino effect, one by one, the remaining members of Ainz Ooal Gown rallied together and chorused the same battle cry as they followed Momonga's lead. It was as if a spark had been ignited within them, fueling their determination to fight on. Their Guildmaster's passionate leadership had inspired them to come together as one and charge forward with renewed vigor. Like an arrow released from a bow, they pushed ahead with unwavering resolve.

With this newfound strength, they were emboldened to face even the most daunting of challenges. They found the strength to continue their fight to overcome the impossible, because if they didn't fight for it, how would they even know if it wasn't possible?

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

On the other side of the [Message], Shirou and the rest of the party heard their friend's declaration as they made their final stand.

A great fire was born, and they would need to hurry before it was extinguished. The rest of Ainz Ooal Gown were doing their part, now it was time for Shirou and them to do theirs.

"You all heard Momonga-san! We've got to beat the boss before it's too late. Peroroncino-san, Touch Me-san, both of you retreat as far back as you can and prepare your strongest attack! Blue Planet-san, Amanomahitotsu-san, go with them and apply as many enchantments and buffs as you physically can to them. I'll draw out the boss, and when I give the signal, attack it with everything you've got!" Shirou ordered in a tone that brokered no arguments.

The tone in his voice was one that the other Players were all too familiar with. They knew each other's strengths and weaknesses, and they trusted each other completely. But there was one among them who knew what to do, and had the experience and skills needed to lead them through this new challenge. They needed to give him their complete trust and cooperation if they were going to succeed. So they listened carefully as he began to lay out the plan.

They did not exactly know what their friend was planning, but they would trust him with their lives.

"What's the signal, senpai?" Peroroncino asked for clarification.

"You'll know it when you see it." The two simply nodded and retreated away from the boss, leaving Shirou alone with it.

While they were retreating, Touch Me glanced back at him.

"It'll work, Emiya-san." Touch Me reassured.

"I know it will… because I don't know what I'll do if it doesn't." Shirou simply said.

Shirou took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he prepared for what was to come. Momonga placed his faith in him. Shirou would make sure it would not be wasted, not now or ever.

"[Trace Bullet: Maximum Fire]!"

With a relentless assault, he unleashed a barrage of projected weapons upon the formidable chimera. The bombardment rained down upon the boss like a torrential downpour. Though the assault inflicted no damage, the attack had succeeded in stalling the beast, allowing the others to move into position and draw the full brunt of its fury onto Shirou. Yggseria emerged with nary a scrath, but he had completed his objective.

The boss glared at him. The others had seemingly been forgotten for the moment.

"That's right… eyes on me." With the boss's complete attention on him, it was time for phase two.

"Trace on!"

As Shirou closed his eyes, the vivid imagery of Unlimited Blade Works flooded his mind. He could see the rolling hills of weapons stretching out before him, each one glinting in the bright sunlight. With a deep breath, he zoomed past the endless rows of swords, spears, and axes, searching for the perfect weapon for his next battle. Finally, he spotted it-a magnificent spear resting at the top of a hill, surrounded by legendary weapons like Gáe Bolg and Gungnir.

Shirou wrestled control as the luminous arcs of prana coalesced, narrowing and extending to form the barest resemblance of staff. With a flourish, he slammed the end onto the ground as the Noble Phantasm materialized.

The Noble Phantasm was an impressive sight, towering as tall as Shirou with its simple yet elegant design. Its long black metal shaft extended up to the blade, which was composed of two small shafts that held a beautiful golden blade. This weapon was classified as a Pilum, a throwing spear or javelin that was commonly used during Roman warfare. Its historical significance was not lost on Shirou, who idly marveled at the weapon's craftsmanship and the skill of those who wielded it.

[Durindana Pilum: Ultimate Unbroken Spear - Divine Tier Spear]

This Noble Phantasm was wielded by perhaps one of the greatest and most powerful heroes ever known, The Hero of Troy, The Great Rival to Achilles himself. The Trojan Hero: Hector.

The spear was wielded by the Trojan general, a master tactician and warrior who matched him with those of numerous other Greek heroes in the Trojan War.

The legend surrounding Durindana sprung up because Hector was often fond of throwing it at his opponent. The spear was praised worldwide for its ability to pierce through anything in the world and for having brought Hector many victories. However, the spear faced defeat once at the hands of the powerful shield of Ajax, or Aias, as he was also known. The mighty shield that covers the burning heavens: Rho Aias. It took six of its seven layers to deflect the Noble Phantasm, which demonstrates the strength and durability of Rho Aias. It was said that only something as mighty as Rho Aias could ever hope to defend against the Ultimate Unbroken Spear.

Shirou had come across the Noble Phantasm by complete accident one day on a mission in Greece. He stumbled upon a dig site and uncovered a small, broken portion of the weapon. But it was enough, as Unlimited Blade Works cataloged the spear. Thus, Durindana Pilum found its place within the hills of swords.

The weapon shared great similarities with its namesake, Durandal. Both were remembered and renowned as weapons with almost no equal. Durindana Pilum was capable of breaking through any defenses that stood in its way, making it a true Noble Phantasm.

Unlike its counterparts, such as Gáe Bolg and the like, Durindana possessed no special ability or targeting enchantments that he could activate before using it, so it was completely possible for Shirou to miss the initial throw. Something he could not leave up to chance.

Among all of his Noble Phantasms, Durindana stood out as the sole weapon with the potential to break through the boss's impenetrable defenses and pave the way for victory. According to legend, this spear possessed the ability to pierce through practically any obstacle. However, there remained the question of whether or not Durindana could successfully breach the near-invincible defenses that were an integral part of the boss's programmed mechanics.

Unfortunately, they were out of options and time, and the Noble Phantasm was their best and only chance left.

Either it would work, or it wouldn't.

"Let's put it to the test then… [Reinforcement]!"

Shirou lowered his stance, his knees bent and taunt, while he leaned his body forward. His posture was very reminiscent of that of an Olympic runner.

Prana coursed through his body, concentrating specifically on his legs.

The soles of his boots pressed against the concrete ground. In response, the ground was slowly forming cracks under his weight.

His muscles tensed like a loaded spring being compressed to its limits. More and more prana flooded his legs, almost to the point of overloading his circuits with how much prana he was pumping into them.

The spring tightened further and further, ready to be released.

Finally, it snapped, and Shirou made his move.

With a powerful step forward, his body surged ahead, his body a blur as he moved. The sheer force of his movement created a miniature shockwave, sending a burst of air outward from his running start.

The boss didn't seem pleased with the situation as the chimera growled and stomped towards the magus, who was speeding towards him. However, Shirou knew his goal could not be met in a frontal assault. Instead of a straight rush towards the chimera, as they drew closer, he circled around the boss.

The centipede and reptilian head lashed out, but they were far too slow as Shirou maneuvered around the boss's colossal form, ending with him completely behind the boss.

Yggseria's spiked tail swiped at him, but Shirou dodged it easily enough, and as the tail receded, Shirou then jumped onto it!

From the very beginning, he realized that a straightforward approach wouldn't work. To achieve his goal, he couldn't afford to take the risk of launching a direct attack. Rather, he had to find a way to target its weak spot-the backside.

With the boss's sheer size and body structure, it was close to impossible for it to mount a proper counterattack when he was so close to it. Especially if Shirou was practically running along the boss's body. It would be unable to launch any of its howls, and the various heads would find it difficult to attack at the right angles needed.

Running along the boss's lengthy hind skeletal spinal body, his goal was in sight, the spinning core rotating in the center of its chest.

Just a bit further…

However, it seems Shirou underestimated just how persistent the boss truly was. Contorting and bending at impossible angles, the skeletal skulls of the reptilian and centipede lunged. The reptilian was the fastest, and he responded by sliding under its head, allowing the attack to sail over his body. Yggseria's entire body rocked from the attack on itself, but he managed to stay on it. The elongated skull of the centipede was quick to follow and bolted toward the magus. Its sickle scythes gleamed with the intent to skewer him.

With quick reflexes, Shirou skillfully maneuvered his spear to pole vault over the swipe, landing on top of the insectoid's skull. From this elevated vantage point, it provided him the ideal position to throw Durindana.

Shirou reared his arm back, readying the throw, only to feel the skull beneath him lurch upward abruptly. His eyes widened as the head tossed him into the air. As his body flew, it didn't take long before he reached the apex of his launch and gravity took hold.

And so, Shirou was sent into a free fall.

High above, he heard the yells of surprise from his friends.

As Shirou plummeted through the air, his thoughts raced. His Mind's Eye took over, meticulously calculating the trajectory and arc of his fall. With a sudden burst of confidence, he realized that he still had another shot to make things right. He would only have a split second where his freefall would reach the right altitude and angle where he would have a clear and open shot at the chimera's chest.

His first attempt had failed, but it seems his Luck stat was feeling awfully generous and provided him with a second and final chance.

Righting himself mid-freefall, Shirou had to time it correctly. As the massive chimera boss loomed before him, Shirou met its gaze with a fierce determination of his own, ready to take it down no matter the cost.

"All or nothing!" Tightening his grip on the Noble Phantasm, he reared his arm back.

The opportunity finally presented itself.

"Let none stand in your path! Penetrate, Durindana!"

Kinetic force condensed at the end of the spear as Shirou reinforced his arm to the absolute limit. With unyielding determination, he hurled it forward, pouring every ounce of strength into the throw. Durindana propelled forward, breaking through the sound barrier with a deafening boom. The force of his throw was so intense that it sent him hurtling backwards. The spear continued its journey, leaving behind a trail of pressurized circular shockwaves in its wake, as it gained even more momentum.

The spear cut through the air with a thunderous roar. A brilliant and luminous golden shine coated the spear, embracing it as if it were the arms of a gentle lover.

Like a majestic golden comet streaking across the sky, it was an enrapturing sight for all to see.

Yggseria hardly had time to even react, let alone defend itself against the Noble Phantasm, as it slammed into the chimera's ribcage. Just before Durindana could make contact, it was stopped by the crimson barrier. The impact of the clash sent shockwaves through the land, but both remained steadfast.

And thus, the two opposing forces clashed, their very existence and nature coming into conflict.

Much like Caladbolg II, Durindana was halted by the boss's timed mechanics. But unlike Caladbolg, its momentum would not be halting any time soon.

The sight of Durindana struggling against the boss's invincibility took center stage. It did not penetrate through immediately, and yet the spear showed no sign of stopping or slowing down. Durindana would not stop until either it was destroyed or the obstacle in front of it was.

As Durindana and the crimson barrier clashed in a fierce struggle, a dazzling display of sparks and light erupted, illuminating the entire cavern battlefield. Streaks of golden rays flowed forth from Durindana, mingling with the flares of crimson light emanating from the boss's defensive buff, and casting a surreal glow that saturated every corner of the cave.

They danced and flowed in all directions and popped in the air like fireworks.

The ear-piercing sound of grinding steel reverberated throughout the battlefield.

The raging wind whirled at the epicenter as if a miniature windstorm were taking place right where the Noble Phantasm was attempting to break through the barrier.

As Shirou drifted into free fall, he felt time dilate around him. Every detail of what was happening around him became magnified and crystal clear, as if the universe had decided to put it all into slow motion just for him. The sight of Durindana clashing against Yggseria brought forth a question from within Shirou's mind. An all-consuming question that echoed through his head, drowning out everything else around him.

"Could it even work?"

The boss's timed and near-invincibility mechanics were not simply superficial characteristics or mere add-ons, but rather, they were deeply ingrained into its coding and programming, forming an essential part of its very existence. These mechanics were so integral to the boss that they were inseparable from its overall makeup, defining its very essence. Within the realm of YGGDRASIL, just as Players were bound by strict rules and regulations that prevented them from exceeding their level cap or using spells or skills that weren't appropriate to their build and job classes, there were fundamental laws that governed and maintained the virtual world's balance. Even Shirou, who was deemed alive and real within the game, was not exempt from these laws, leaving him open to their effects and vulnerabilities.

Given this reality, it was highly unlikely that Durindana could even conceive of breaking through the boss's defense, especially when the timed mechanics were a fundamental aspect of the boss.

The developers, and by extension, the world of YGGDRASIL, gave this chimera boss its invincibility. Its ruling made true.

And thusly, Yggseria was, by definition, deemed nearly invulnerable for a specific duration. The boss was impervious to harm unless one could bypass its coded mechanism - the defensive barrier/buff that reduces any incoming damages by a substantial amount and took the form of its secondary health bar, as that was the "truth" YGGDRASIL dictated.

This principle was one of the fundamental laws enforced by the virtual world, no different from how gravity dictates that what goes up must come down.

Thus, the question arose as to which was superior: the rules governing the programs of the boss fight or the legend surrounding Durindana? Ultimately, which would YGGDRASIL accept as the truth?

But to answer that question, another must be answered.

Who, or rather, what, was Shirou Emiya now?

In the beginning years of his transfer to YGGDRASIL, he pondered his newfound existence.

He knew he wasn't human, not anymore, or at least not in the traditional sense of the definition.

He was still him, with all his thoughts, facets, but not in the normal sense.

In a way, it was very similar to how the Throne of Heroes operated. It held within it the collective consciousness, skill, wisdom, personality, and abilities of the heroes of old. The Throne of Heroes operated as an archive, storing the engramatic history of all Heroic Spirit within it for all of time.

The virtual world of YGGDRASIL merely provides a medium for Shirou to exist. His body was gone, but his mind, his id, and his ego, his very essence of self, were still very much alive. It was this fact that differentiated him from everyone else.

He wasn't like everyone else. Where the other people merely inhabit the virtual world, Shirou lives in it. To them, YGGDRASIL was nothing more than a false reality, but for him, the world of YGGDRASIL was his reality.

For one reason or another, he is alive in this world.

It was why he could feel pain where other Players could not. It was why certain nuisances and discrepancies existed between him and other regular Players. It would explain how he was capable of feeling fatigued or even getting burns from overusing his magic circuits. Or even the fact that Shirou was capable of dismembering himself, such as during the Berserker boss fight, despite YGGDRASIL possessing no dismemberment feature whatsoever.

He was alive in YGGDRASIL, bound to its world and rules. It was this fact that separated him from everyone else.

Perhaps it was more accurate to compare him to a sentient NPC with all the nuisances given to a regular Player.

He was a Player, but at the same time, he was not one.

A Fake Player.

If he was a false existence, then what did that make his Noble Phantasm now?

When he finally accepted his new life within the digital confines of YGGDRASIL all those years ago, he questioned and pondered such an inquiry. He wondered what became of the true state of the Noble Phantasm stored within him. Were they now fake versions of his copied weapons?

A fake-fake Noble Phantasm?

Gilgamesh had once called him a faker. Were he here right now, no doubt the King of Heroes would find some twisted amusement in his situation. And in a way, he wasn't wrong. By virtue of the fact that the weapons he fought with were not his own. His projections were more than an imitation of their true counterparts.

At the end of the day, what he was tracing was nothing more than a copy of the original, forged within the depths of his Reality Marble with Unlimited Blade Works providing the blueprints.

They were imitations.

Replicas.

Duplicates.

Fakes…

They could never quite measure up to the real deal. Not then or now.

So, what did that make them now, now that he was a part of YGGDRASIL? Were they just lines of code and binary numbers given special abilities and powers to create the appearance of unique items? Was their entire history reduced to mere flavor texts and backstory for the world? Or were they nothing more than powerful weapons with unique abilities like all the rest within YGGDRASIL?

No.

To think of them that way was an insult to their very core.

Perhaps, in a way, it may be true that YGGDRASIL could indeed replicate the physical attributes, abilities, and designs of these formidable weapons.

It may be true that his projections were nothing but mere imitations and copies but they carried something that distinguished them from every other weapon in YGGDRASIL. They held a significance that transcended their physical form. They were more than just powerful weapons, nor were they mere flavor text or lines of code. They held a deeper meaning that surpassed any sword, spear, shield, bow, or any other object one could think of.

YGGDRASIL may be able to replicate the physical aspects of these projections, but there was one crucial element it could not replicate: their legends. These Noble Phantasm held within them a history, purpose, story, myth, and legend that was unique to their origin.

They were stories made real.

Myths given life.

Legends granted physical manifestation.

His Noble Phantasms encapsulated and transcended normal comprehension.

And that was something that couldn't be simply copied over.

Unlimited Blade Works was a marvel beyond compare, not merely a repository for incredible weaponry but a manifestation of his very being. The essence of every legendary weapon he had ever encountered was etched within his Reality Marble, not just as mere blueprints but as a complete collection of every detail imaginable. Every weapon, from its history and origins to its intricate design and the materials used to create it, was meticulously recorded and organized within Shirou's psyche. It was a vast library of unparalleled proportions, a true masterpiece that defied all expectations of what was possible.

As he once said to the King of Heroes, "There are no rules that an imitation cannot surpass its original."

Real or fake.

Genuine or a copy.

It didn't matter if what he projected was a real Noble Phantasm, a fake Noble Phantasm, or even a fake-fake Noble Phantasm.

A Noble Phantasm was a Noble Phantasm.

Just as Momonga believed in him, Shirou too believed in his Noble Phantasm. These beautiful crystallizations of myths and legends. At their very core, their legends were made manifest.

And that will never, ever change.

Where normally the lore and flavor text of weapons and items held no significance besides a backdrop to the game, this was not the case for Shirou. Even within the digital confines of YGGDRASIL, their legends still thrive. Shirou knew this fact well, and it was reflected in how certain Noble Phantasms of his were either given new abilities or altered in a way that allowed them to interact with the virtual world as a whole. His ability to interact with the more esoteric mechanics within the game was unmatched, transcending common sense and normality.

The massive damage reduction buff granted to the chimera boss functioned as a defensive mechanic in the game.

A shield of sorts.

Durindana was said to be able to pierce through anything. No shield or defense of any kind could hope to withstand its might.

And so Durindana will pierce through everything.

Because, as the saying goes:

LEGENDS

A loud crack echoed throughout the air. The stalemate had been broken at last.

Cracks began to spread from where Durindana had pierced the transparent crimson barrier. At first, they were slow and few, but soon they stretched throughout the chimera's ribcage and body. If the creature had any flesh and skin left, its four faces would display an expression of utter disbelief at the sight before them. The impossible was happening right before its eyes. Its supposed "invincibility" was being pierced as Durindana continued to puncture through its preconceived armor of invincibility.

The beast of a boss roared in pain.

Its "Truth" was being overwhelmed by Durindana.

NEVER

The battle was intense. The streaks of golden light shone brighter than ever from Durindana. It was a sight to behold as the spear pierced deeper into the boss, overtaking the flashes of crimson flares from its defensive buff. The buff and boss tried to force the Noble Phantasm back, but it was failing miserably. The waves of dazzling golden light flooded the battlefield as Durindana slowly but surely broke through. The Noble Phantasm's momentum did not stop, no matter how hard the boss fought against it. The membrane-like barrier flared with splashes of crimson, all trying to repel Durindana and close up the wound.

But it was of no use.

Durindana was too powerful, and it was clear that the boss could do nothing to stop it.

The chimera screeched, feeling itself being punctured by the Noble Phantasm. Its entire ribcage was riddled with cracks, and Durindana's golden tip penetrated deep. The beast roared in abject agony, its whole body swaying in a last-minute attempt to dislodge it, yet Durindana stayed its course.

DIE!

Durindana finally broke through with an earth-shattering boom. The entire frontal half of Yggseria's chest instantly caved in and was reduced to a fine powder and dust not a moment later by the Noble Phantasm. The golden pilum easily blasted through and drilled itself through the core, leaving a gaping hole in its center. The Noble Phantasm traveled unabated, exiting through the back of its spinal ribcage, severing the boss's lower body and legs, and destroying its vertebrae and spinal cord after passing through its backside. A good amount of its HP was lost in that attack alone.

Durindana had broken through the mechanic as if it were a physical aspect, shattering its illusion.

The chimera let loose one last shriek of pure anguish as the boss crumbled before them. The ground shook from the impact. All that was left of the boss was a mangled mound of bones with its destroyed torso opened, leaving its final weakness unprotected.

'Now!' Peroroncino and Touch Me thought in unison. That was the signal they were waiting for.

Shirou had done his part, now it was time to do theirs.

Enhanced by the numerous buffs and enchantments, thanks to Blue Planet and Amanomahitotsu, they unleashed their attacks simultaneously.

"[Shooting Stardust]!" Peroroncino released his most powerful skill. Houyi's Bow, Peroroncino's Divine tier bow, would normally fire arrows in the form of concentrated sunlight or some variation of it. This rendered standardized arrows pointless.

Unlike the many attacks before it, this skill did not burn the intensity of the sun but rather sparkled and shined something much greater.

A beam of pure light and energy, radiating something grand and cosmic.

Peroroncino released, and he fired the arrow of pure light with the strength and intensity of a dazzling star.

"[World Break]!" Holding Heroic Triumph at its apex, Touch Me swung his sword forth.

And with the descent of his mighty blade, it heralded the end for all in his path.

A skill bestowed upon only the truly worthy, the World Champions. A skill that was capable of shattering all barriers, be they space, time, or reality.

A slash that cut through all.

An attack that rendered everything in its way pointless and mute, and with it, its fate was sealed.

The two attacks reached their target instantly.

Shirou didn't even see the attacks connect before his entire world was blinded by white light. An explosion of indeterminate proportion, one greater than any he had witnessed before, formed and bathed everything in white light. Shirou was still in free fall as he became enveloped by the overwhelming brightness of the light.

And for but a second, light gave away to darkness, and Shirou knew no more.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Momonga's heart was pounding in his chest as he looked around at the empty field. It took him a moment before he realized that they were safe. The adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, but a wave of relief washed over him, allowing him a moment to breathe. Only moments before, he had been surrounded by countless low-level mobs, his health bar dwindling down to a single health point. But in the blink of an eye, they had vanished, leaving no trace behind. Tentatively, he looked around, and indeed, there were no more auto-spawning mobs. The empty field held no one but the guild members of Ainz Ooal Gown. They had survived, all of them.

"Roll call!" He called out.

As each name was called out, Momonga felt his anxiety slowly dissipate. He was relieved to hear that everyone was present and accounted for.

"Did they do it?" Tabula had asked the question they were all wondering.

As if called by his question, in a flash of light, the remaining five members of Ainz Ooal Gown appeared. Peroroncino, Touch Me, Amanomahitotsu, and Blue Planet tensed up but relaxed upon seeing familiar faces. Shirou, on the other hand, was lying down.

Momonga rushed to his side and shook him, but he remained unresponsive.

"Emiya-san! Are you alright?! Come on, say something!" Momonga continued, trying to wake him.

"Strange… Did he somehow run low on nanomachines?" Punitto Moe wondered, echoing the same thought the others were thinking.

For some members of Ainz Ooal Gown, the sudden occurrence was not too concerning. This was something that happened frequently, and there was no need to worry or panic. They'd figured that he got disconnected and would be back soon enough. However, for those who knew the truth about Shirou's condition, there was a sense of concern that began to bubble up. It was clear that this was the first time something of this magnitude had happened to their friend, so it was understandable that they were worried.

Peroroncino quickly joined Momonga's side to try and wake up their friend while the rest waited on the sidelines, bracing themselves.

After what seemed like an eternity, Shiruo stirred.

"Momonga-san?" He said softly, as if he had just woken up. "Did… we do it?"

Momonga felt his heart nearly skip a beat upon hearing and seeing that Shirou was alright. With Peroroncino's help, the two Heteromorphs helped their friend back up to his feet.

"Yes. You guys… did it." Momonga spoke softly, but his voice carried through and was heard by everyone.

It took a few seconds before the news finally settled into their heads, and when it did, they celebrated. Jubilation bubbled within them, and they all let it out. Their cries of elation and joy carried with the wind, echoing through the field. They had done it. They had taken down one of the most challenging dungeons within all of YGGDRASIL in one attempt.

Some laughed maniacally, but the clear joy in their voices could be felt.

Others were whooping and hollering at the top of their lungs, screaming profanities at the shitty devs.

A couple shook hands and patted one another on the back-a job well done.

A few were high-fiving and hugging one another.

Many did their own thing, such as Peroroncino raising both of his middle fingers in the air, waving them around, and yelling all manner of nonsense.

Amidst the guild's celebration, Momonga silently watched them all. Seeing them all happy warmed his heart.

"You did it." He whispered to Shirou.

"I think you mean, we did it." Shirou softly shook his head.

Momonga smiled contently.

He was right, they had all contributed. Every single last one of them.

Today was their victory. Today was Ainz Ooal Gown's victory, their first of many for the coming future.

It took a few minutes before the adrenaline and excitement died down, but the buzz persisted.

"We've beaten the dungeon, so where do we go from here?" Bukubukuchagama asked.

"I think that might be a good indication." Punitto Moe pointed in a direction. He was pointing to the sky, where a clear circular beam of light shone down.

It was a waypoint.

"At least we know where to head now." Commented Nishikienrai.

"We should at least heal ourselves. Just in case." Ulbert suddenly suggested.

"What? You think there might be another boss at the very end?" Luci*Fer sarcastically quipped.

"With how the dungeon went and the shitty dev's track record, I wouldn't put it past them to try some other crazy bullshit at the end when we think we've finally won." Ulbert snorted.

A few mumbled in agreement with the goat Heteromorph's words. If the last hour or so had taught them anything, it was that the shitty devs could be real sadists if given the chance.

"I suppose there is only one way to find out." Touch Me prompted.

As one, the guild marched forward toward the glowing symbol. Ulbert's words did unsettle a few of them, as the Players could definitely see the developers doing something like that to pull the rug from under them. And so, Ainz Ooal Gown continued forward eagerly but cautiously.

As they approached the end of their journey, they stumbled upon a small grassy ruin with old archways and tiled floors. It was a sight to behold, with its ancient ruined walls and crumbling structures. But what caught their attention the most was the marvelous throne at the center of it all. The throne was carved from a single gigantic obsidian crystal, and it sparkled in the sun. And there, sitting on the throne, was a small but exquisitely crafted gilded and silver crown. It was a truly remarkable find, and they couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and wonder at the beauty of it all.

As the entire guild approached it, a massive victory screen appeared before them and read:

[Congratulation Players!]

[You have cleared The Great Tomb of Nazarick! For conquering and defeating the nigh-impossible simultaneous attack dungeon on your first try with your entire party remaining, a 95% increase in loot drop will be given as a reward.

You have also earned ownership rights to the Guild Homebase: Great Tomb of Nazarick and its immediate surroundings. With a total of 2950 levels granted for NPC creation. (2400 base + 550 bonus)

For completing this dungeon with a recommended level of 90+ in one attempt, you have received the World Items: The Throne of Kings and The Crown of Worlds.]

As one, the entire guild was rendered utterly speechless. YGGDRASIL's facial limitations did nothing to hide the sheer shock and awe that everyone felt. A few even choked on their own breath, Momonga especially, after reading the numerous and ludicrous amounts of rewards they would be receiving. But none could topple the fact that they received not just one, but two World Items! For a solid minute, the members of Ainz Ooal Gown were rooted in place as their minds processed their winnings.

Celebration broke out again, this time surpassing their previous one.

"Are you serious?!"

"Two World Items?!"

"Hahaha! Take that, you shitty devs!

"First try, eat your heart out, ya bastards!"

"Yahoo!"

The atmosphere was electric as everyone shouted and cheered, renewed by the victory message. Laughter filled the air as the Players laughed at it all, unable to contain their sheer happiness and the absurdity of the situation. Momonga couldn't help but feel overwhelmed - he wasn't sure whether to cry or laugh at it all. Quietly, he made his way over to the World Items, delicately running his fingers along the crystal throne and crown. It was a moment he would never forget.

The World Items that they, Ainz Ooal Gown, had won together.

"Oi, what's our fearless leader doing here all by his lonesome?" Making their way over were Warrior Takemikazuchi, Touch Me, and Punitto Moe.

"Nothing. I'm still trying to wrap my head around this. It just feels… surreal. I'm almost afraid that this is a dream and that I might wake up any second now." Momonga reflected.

"Well, unless we're having the same dream all together at once, I would say this is quite real." Touch Me wittily remarked.

The Players all chuckled at the World Champion's jest.

"I would also like to take this time to apologize to you, Momonga-san." Punitto Moe suddenly said, drawing the surprise of the others.

"Apologize? Moe-san, there's nothing to-"

"Please let me finish, if not for yourself, then for me." The Death Vine politely interrupted, his voice insistent. With reluctance, Momonga took a step back and allowed him to continue.

"If I'm being completely honest, I never had much faith in us clearing this dungeon. Not after learning it was a guild-base simultaneous attack dungeon. I half expected us to fail completely. And when we were fending off the sea of respawning mobs, I truly thought it was the end." He said, his gaze resting downwards as if he were ashamed.

A quiet moment settled before he continued, using it to gather his thoughts.

"I want to apologize, Momonga-san, for my rather cynical thoughts. While I was stewing in my defeatist attitude, you remained hopeful throughout the raid. Thanks to you, we are here because you never gave up. Today is your day, Momonga-san." Punitto Moe bowed to Momonga.

"Punitto Moe-san." Momonga began solemnly, touched by his friend's words. He reached out and patted his shoulder in reassurance. "There is nothing for you to be sorry about. I understand your feelings, and I will admit that this entire raid was a gamble on my part as well. So please, don't feel ashamed for thinking that way. However, you were wrong about one thing. Just like you, I was plagued with doubt and uncertainty." Momonga confided.

Momonga's gaze landed on Shirou, who was being hugged to death by Peroroncino and Bukubukchagama. While the latter was trying to free herself, Shirou appeared content and just shook his head in amusement.

"But as a great friend once said to me… to believe in you all. And I-no, we were rewarded because of that. So raise your head high, Punitto Moe-san. I couldn't have done it without all of you and it is thanks to everyone that we are here celebrating. This victory today is as much my victory as it is yours, my friend. We won this day." Momonga rested his hands on his friend's shoulder.

"I… Thank you, Momonga-san." Punitto Moe bowed again, unable to truly express his words of gratitude.

"Emiya-san was right, you have the makings of a great leader, Momonga-san." Touch Me remarked on the side.

"Never doubted you for a second, Momonga-san!" The samurai bumped the Overlord's shoulder affectionately.

Momonga chuckled bashfully, accepting the heartfelt praise.

"After everything we've been through, we need to end this with one last hurrah." Warrior Takemikazuchi vocally mused.

An idea struck him, and he yelled out, catching everyone's attention.

"Everyone! Gather around, let's take a picture to commemorate this!"

The others postponed their celebration as they gathered around the World Item. As they stood around it, a question arose; who would sit on the covetous throne?

"Come on, Momonga-san, take a seat." Touch Me urged, patting the crystal throne.

"M-me?" The undead Player squeaked.

"Of course, who else? The shitty devs were kind enough to provide a throne for you and a crown to boot. It's your right ole' glorious Guildmaster, Momonga-sama." The Nephilim teased.

"That's right, Momonga-sama, take your rightful seat." Peroroncino joined in.

"Yeah, Momonga-sama, what are you waiting for?" Nishikienrai added.

The atmosphere was jovial as the other members quickly joined in on the teasing, deferring to the undead Player with the change of honorific. Although he felt humbled by their teasing, he was also a bit embarrassed.

"Guys, stop." He flushed.

"Then stop being so difficult on yourself. Hurry up and sit your ass on the fancy chair already, Momonga-sama." Ulbert grumbled, but there was no heat to his words. Momonga also had the distinct impression that he was smiling at the undead Player's expense.

"Fine, fine." He relented, and the rest cheered on as he sat on the Throne of Kings. As he lifted the crown from the seat, an idea came to him.

"Emiya-san, I would like you to do the honors." He said over the crowd. It seemed only fair and right in his mind that his first friend would be the one to bestow this honor upon him.

"I… It would be my honor, Momonga-sama." Momonga could feel his surprise turn into appreciation in his words, even with the teasing undertone.

Momonga gently handed the crown over to Shirou and humbly kneeled before his friend. All around them, the rest of Ainz Ooal Gown watched in silence and anticipation, bearing witness to the historic moment.

"Momonga-san." Shirou's voice resonated with a rich, deep baritone as he began to speak. "Through unity, we have conquered this perilous dungeon, but it was thanks to your valor that we drew our strength. Even when all hope seemed lost, you did not waver in the face of a near-certain defeat. You imparted your trust in us as we did in you. And from it, we emerge together and victorious. Thus, it is my honor to formally anoint you as the one and true leader of Ainz Ooal Gown. To those who wish to say otherwise, speak now or forever silenced!"

None dared so much as to make a sound. Their silence was all the answer that was needed.

A moment of silence passed before Shirou continued.

"We have all spoken. Then rise, Momonga, the one true leader and Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown!" Shirou proclaimed as he laid the exquisite crown on top of Momonga's skeletal head. The crown resized to fit him perfectly and equipped itself automatically. A small window popped up, displaying its stats and abilities, but Momonga paid no attention to it and closed it without even glancing at the window.

He would have time for it later. For now, he wanted to spend time with his friends.

"Momonga-sama! Momonga-sama! Momonga-sama! Momonga-sama! Momonga-sama! Momonga-sama! Momonga-sama! Momonga-sama!"

Momonga rose from his kneeling position, and the cheers and applause of his comrades echoed in his ears. The sound of their admiration and celebration filled him with joy, elevating his spirits with each passing moment.

Momonga was fortunate that his skeletal face lacked the necessary means for proper facial animation. Had he possessed them, his entire face and neck would have turned a bright shade of red, akin to a ripe tomato, in both embarrassment and appreciation of their praise. Nevertheless, it did nothing to hamper the wide grin that stretched from ear to ear, radiating his delight as he basked in the warmth of his companions.

If they were going to defer to him like that, then he might as well play along.

"My friends! Today is a glorious day! Today we, Ainz Ooal Gown, have made our mark in history!" He began. "But I could not have done it without each and every one of your help. Yes, it was through unity that we conquered this perilous dungeon with naught but one attempt, and here we all stand. Twenty-nine of us began this journey, and all twenty-nine stand victorious in the end! A feat none other can so proudly boost! You have all placed your trust in me, and I have not and shall not disappoint you all." His voice pitched, growing in strength.

Momonga's voice grew more passionate as his speech continued, emboldening and empowering the once timid undead.

"Be assured, my comrades, this is just a single step in our journey. From this dungeon, we shall plant the seed of our accession! There will no doubt be many hardships and challenges in the future, but we will meet them all without fail. None shall hinder us, and none shall stop us. We shall continue and etch our name in the annals of history! Until all shall know the name AINZ OOAL GOWN!" Momonga declared right then and there.

Their response was just as fervent. His words ignited a fire within them, a determination and resilience fueled by the passion and conviction in his voice. They declared for him as he declared for them.

"And all I have to say to you all is this." The rest quieted down as Momonga began again, waiting for what other grand speech their friend would deliver.

"Thank you… my friends, thank you," Momonga said in a humble and genuine tone. The grandiose voice he had used for his previous speech was gone, replaced with something simpler and more human. In that moment, Momonga spoke with his true voice, expressing nothing more than his deepest gratitude to his friends and family.

The others were slightly caught off guard by the sheer sincerity and warmth in his voice. Each Player felt touched by his words and offered their heartfelt congratulations all around.

Looking back at the Throne of Kings, Momonga walked up to the stone steps and took his rightful seat on the World Item. Once again, he dismissed the pop-up window as an idea struck him.

He might have a little fun as well.

"As for my first decree, I hereby appoint Emiya-san as my second in command. Every good king needs a capable right-hand man. Are there any that disagree?"

Momonga quickly got his answer.

"Waahhooo! Alright, Emiya-senpai!" Peroroncino cheered, and the others quickly joined in.

"Yeah, Emiya-san, you heard Momonga-sama."

"That's right, we wouldn't want to make his majesty angry now, do we?"

Amidst the uproarious cheers and playful goads of his companions, Shirou relented and went along with the ride. The infectious energy emanating from his friends was too difficult to resist, and he found himself chuckling heartily at their jokes, swept away by the thrill of the moment. A sense of gratitude washed over Shirou, relishing the camaraderie and feeling of connectedness he shared with the guild.

"As you command, Momonga-sama." Shirou gave a playful and exaggerated bow before joining him and taking his place to the right of Momonga.

"For my second decree, let us immortalize this moment, my friends!"

The members of the guild scrambled to find the perfect spot along the Throne of Kings for their group photo. Momonga sat directly in the center, waiting patiently as each member tried to find the perfect spot to stand and pose. As they were busying themselves, Momonga took a moment to send a quick [Message] to Shirou.

"[Thank you, Shirou.]" Said Momonga out of nowhere. His sudden [Message] caught the Fake Player by surprise.

"[For what?]" He replied, hints of curiosity coloring his question. Momonga using his name without any honorific caught him in the moment.

"[Just… thank you.]" Momonga simply repeated, complete gratitude in his simple words.

"[… Any time.]" Shirou returned.

No further words were spoken, for none were needed. The two friends remained in comfortable silence, basking in the comradery of it all.

Finally, everyone found a spot they were most comfortable with. Momonga took up the center, with Touch Me to his left and Shirou to his right. Everyone else crowded around the Throne of Kings and the steps of the raised platform. Each member struck a unique pose, an alternate way of expressing themselves due to the facial limitations of the game.

Peroroncino stood tall with his arms and wings outstretched as if he were the king of the world.

Tabula extended one of his slick, webbed hands as if to declare an ominous vow.

Ulbert's posture mimicked that of a Shakespearean actor, with one hand swept over his heart and the other raised to the sky in a grand performance.

Touch Me adopted a valiant stance, with his sword pointing forward and his shield at the ready.

Bukubukuchagama held up two gelatinous limbs, two fingers on each limb stretched to form a 'V', and gave the camera two peace signs.

Yamaiko chose to pose with both her gauntlets raised, flexing her arms.

Warrior Takemikazuchi took a knee with both of his hands resting on a katana that was planted right in front of him, as if to pay respect to his liege.

Amanomahitotsu held both of his pincers high and clacked them, mimicking a crab.

Shirou was content to stand there, by his friend's side, ever vigilant and watchful. His right hand rested on Momonga's shoulder.

Momonga sat on the Throne of Kings with a dignified posture. He held his head high, his gaze unwavering, with his chest puffed out and his back straightened, exuding an air of regal confidence befitting the crown perched atop his skull. With his staff firmly grasped in one hand and the other lightly resting on the armrest of his throne, he projected an image of strength and power that commanded respect from all who beheld him.

A floating orb-like camera appeared and displayed a small timer. As the timer counted down, Momonga quickly emoted with a simple smiling face emoticon.

A second later, the camera flashed with a shutter-clicking noise. A soft notification rang in his ears. Typing on his console, he pulled up the picture.

The picture taken of them was immaculate, capturing all twenty-nine members of Ainz Ooal Gown. The memory of this day and moment was encapsulated in the irreplaceable photograph in his hand.

And for the first time in years, Momonga felt truly content.

As he gazed longingly down at the photo, it was not only contentment and happiness that filled him but also a feeling of apprehension and foreboding that weighed heavily on his mind. The words of his inner voice echoed relentlessly, '… Nothing lasts forever…', he said, and it was the truth. Perhaps, there will come a time when, for one reason or another, Ainz Ooal Gown might go their separate paths.

He has acknowledged them, yes, his fears and insecurity, and vowed that he would never let them rule him ever again, as they did before. But, never would he or could he be absolved of them. They still lingered within him, an inescapable part of his being.

Deep down, in his heart of hearts, a part of him wished that this moment would last forever.

But as the saying goes, all stories must have an ending.

Interlude - The Daily Lives of Ainz Ooal Gown I

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 07/22/2019

Interlude - The Daily Lives of Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama: The Brother and Sister

September 16th, 2133.

With the coming of the twenty-second century, everything, to put it bluntly, went to shit. Greed sunk its claws deep into mankind, and as a result, they destroyed the once beautiful earth. The planet became a polluted and infested hellscape, a mere shadow of its former self. This had a severe impact on the environment and ecosystem, as well as the creatures that have lived on Earth for countless centuries.

Perhaps it was karma in a way, though rarely was it just and fair. Millions upon millions of innocents were made to suffer and live in a dying world, while those truly responsible remained unaffected. The common people lived arduous lives under an oppressive regime, under the remorseless care of various corporate conglomerates that perpetuated this cruel system.

In contrast to 99% of the population, there was the 1% that lived in luxury without care, contrasting with the dystopian, ruined outside world. There was a clear divide in class, if there ever was one.

Once those of influential status saw where the world was headed, they poured their resources and funds together to stop it. More accurately, to make sure they weren't caught up in it.

Thus came the construction and creation of biodomes. A project that sought to make sure the rich and powerful wouldn't be affected by the rapid pollution of the world. These biodomes acted as closed-off cities and towns, a safe bubble that filtered out the toxic atmosphere that covered the planet. This allowed the inhabitants to go about their daily lives without the need for a breathing mask or safety coat. Of course, such luxuries were only bestowed on those who could afford them. A privilege reserved for those who could offer it or those of high status.

In Japan, it was common to find biodomes in most of the major prefectures across the country. These massive structures were essentially cities in their own right, containing everything any citizen could possibly need or want. Within a single biodome, one would find schools and universities, supermalls, and entertainment centers galore. Some of these biodomes even house the headquarters of major Japanese corporations, where the corporate overlords live their entire lives in safety and security.

Within the prefecture of Hiroshima, this was no different. In particular, the biodome was home to a university known for its diverse programs and initiatives. The University of Hiroshima was a massive complex that housed many students and facilities and was known as one of the most affluent universities in all of Japan, with state-of-the-art equipment and a history of illustrious graduates and children of CEOs attending its grounds.

One of the defining features of the school was its impressive library, stocked with cutting-edge equipment and tools that students could use to further their studies. One of the standout elements of this library was the many private study rooms available for students to reserve. These rooms were completely soundproof, ensuring that students could focus on their work without any distractions. What's more, the rooms were designed to foster a peaceful and conducive environment for learning while still allowing students to collaborate and engage in lively discussions without disrupting others around them.

Which was the case for one room in particular. The halls were silent, but that didn't stop the curious glances from the occasional passerby from glancing through the small window, allowing them a small glimpse into what would be.

A pair of students were engaged in what seemed to be an argument. A heated argument at that, if the resolute expressions on their faces were anything to go by as they championed their perspective. The two individuals were going back and forth, and while the true nature of their conversation remained behind closed doors, one could only wonder what philosophical or controversial topic would invoke such an aggressive exchange between the two.

"Traps are not gay!"

…

But then again, this was Peroroncino that we're talking about here.

Were any of his friends from Ainz Ooal Gown present, they would certainly perform a double-take upon learning of his true appearance. One would think that with Peroroncino's known habit of indulging in anything lewd and perverted, he would naturally have the appearance to fit it. The negative connotation was certainly there. Instead, his true appearance beguiles any true hints of his shameless, perverted true self.

He stood at above-average height with crispy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was dressed casually, with a simple white t-shirt, an open-up button shirt over it, and black pants. Some accessories included a silver necklace with what looked to be fashioned into a wing hung from his neck. A few rings adorned his finger, and he had piercings along his ear.

All of this combines to give him a roguish charm to his looks that would cast doubt on anyone who would decry him as a shameless pervert.

This was the man behind the mask of Peroroncino: Kazuto Haruto.

Opposite him was Kazuto's girlfriend. She was stunning, with long, flowing, shimmering chocolate hair that cascaded down her back. Her hazel-colored eyes sparkled in the light, and her sculpted cheekbones and clear skin were perfectly complemented by her ample lips. She was dressed casually, fitting for a simple outing, and stood almost as tall as Kazuto himself.

Which only made the topic of discussion between the two all the more jarring. One could hardly imagine people like them devolving into a rather perverted and nonsensical argument. Well, it would be more accurate to say she was going along with his antics. Even calling it an argument was a bit of a stretch and was more like half-coherent, nonsensical banter between the couple.

Which rather accurately describes most of the conversations that Kazuto involves himself in.

"Not this again…" Kazuto's girlfriend, Reina, bemoaned in exasperation. "I still don't see what's wrong!"

Out of all the kinks and fetishes Kazuto flagrantly indulged in, Traps were by far the more moderate of his extensive collection. Yet, they were also the most contentious of his proclivity that she knew about.

However, Reina also knew it had to do more with his pride than anything else. In the time they've gone steady, if there was one thing Reina knew of her boyfriend, it was that he could be surprisingly stubborn and petulant over the most nonsensical of topics. That goes double when dealing with his lewd hobbies and interests. He was willing to argue to the very death to defend them. It was equally absurd as it was mind-numbing and infuriating.

"Tell me, are first impressions important, yes or no?" He pointed to his girlfriend.

"Err… yes." She hesitantly admitted.

"Exactly!" He exclaimed with a glint in his eyes. "The first impression is everything! No matter how much anyone wishes to deny it. All humans are subjected to bias, and it is our eyes that are the cause of it. When one looks at a Trap for the first time, their first thoughts aren't that they are a man or that it's a crossdresser. It's how cute they look! Their meek posture, their reserved appearance. One's initial opinion and potential attraction are based solely on what they see at that moment!" Kazuto reasoned.

Hearing his argument, Reina begrudgingly conceded that point to him.

That argument applied to Reina herself when the two first met. When the two decided to go steady, never in her life would she ever imagine someone as decently looking as Kazuto to be a massive pervert. As the saying goes, never judge a book by its cover. That probably says a lot more about her then him, as she continued their relationship despite learning of this early on.

"Ok, fine, I'll give you that." Said Reina "But…" She interjected as soon as she saw Kazuto's smug smile. Reina wasn't going to let him win that easily. "That still doesn't exactly change anything." She argued.

Responding, Kazuto simply sighed as he slouched in his chair. Placing both of his elbows on the table, he interlocked his fingers and stared at her. His lower face was obscured by his hands to present a contemplative and serious expression. All he was missing with a pair of glasses with light obscuring his eyes to complete the pose.

Reina, on the other hand, crossed her arms and gave him an unimpressed look. He was taking this far more seriously than it realistically should be taken.

"As if it were ever that simple. Tell me, dear, have you ever heard of the story of Pygmalion?" He questioned.

"No." She answered the non-sequitur question, confused at where he was going with this.

"To make a long story short, it involved a Greek ivory sculpture. He was renowned for his talent and skill in his craft. He was also known to be adverse to women, yet he could appreciate their beauty. One day, he crafts what would be his most beautiful statue, taking the form of a gorgeous woman. So alluring was she that Pygmalion instantly fell in love with the statue. A question then: did Pygmalion fall in love with his creation because it was made of stone, or was it its female form that drew him attraction?"

"Because it looked like a woman." She answered. Reina straightened up in her chair, as she couldn't help but feel curious by where he was taking the conversation.

"Exactly." Kazuto answered back with a hint of triumph in his voice.

"Ok…" Reina deadpanned. "But that still doesn't exactly answer the question once again."

"You still do not see it, do you?" Kazuto repeated. Shaking his head, he stood up and prowled around the table.

"The definition and connotation behind Traps are numerous, but for me, there is only one that truly matters. Allow me to say that liking a Trap does not necessarily have to do with what they hide. But rather, what do they represent! There is more to a Trap than simply what looks to be a cute girl on the surface, which is in actuality a guy. It tracks back to its very concept! It is in their very name. To entrap and ensnare!" He presented like a politician reading a speech.

"From the very outset, they were created for a reason. They are meant to be androgynous and ambiguous. Designed from the outset to be cute or beautiful to lure men with their guile. It matters not the reason why they are dressed in such effeminate manners, whether it is justified or not. The reason behind our attraction for Traps doesn't solely rely on the knowledge that they are secretly male, but rather on the fact that their mannerisms, appearance, and personality are femininity personified! Just as many ordinary men may fall for the characteristics of a regular woman, so too can they for a Trap!

It is this dichotomy that makes Traps endearing! The illusion of what they are and the reality of who they truly are conflict with one another. But most importantly of all, it is the knowledge and inkling that make them so enticing. The mystery acts like a thin veil-out of sight but not out of mind. They are like a forbidden fruit, ripe and plumb, begging to be picked. Their very existence pushes boundaries, and that is what makes them appealing. A carnal taboo one cannot help but indulge in! We know we shouldn't, and yet we cannot help ourselves but indulge in it! And that is what makes it all the sweeter. For only the bravest and most willing of men dare to tread such a path.

Our mind, our mind is telling us no! But our body… but our body is telling us YES!

To put it simply, we men fell in love with Traps because of their wholesome and feminine builds and appearance, rather than the fact that they are women or not!

It isn't a matter if liking a Trap makes one gay or if that one who dresses like a Trap is gay. No, it is much more than that, but at the same time, much simpler. Traps are no different from other niche kinks and fetishes. No different from the likes of maids, flat chests, or milfs. For, in the end, they are but one of many splendors that we men have discovered. A libidinous stimulation of the mind and body.

It's an acquired taste that only true intellectuals and enlightened men can appreciate. They are the symbol of glory and graciousness that only true men of culture can acknowledge. To me, a true lover of Traps does not bother with such arbitrary and superficial terms as the gender that ignorant normies so often wish to shackle upon us. They try to shame us, but I say there is no shame in admiring such magnificence that many would cast aside based on their insular views. That is why I can proudly proclaim that I love Traps! To us, it doesn't matter their gender for they are much more. To boil the issue down to a simple base gender is an insult in its simplicity! You are merely scratching the surface, but never do you take the time to look deeper!" Kazuto finished, growing breathless from his impromptu exposition.

Reina sat there in silence, her mouth slightly agape at the rather ludicrous but equally passionate speech Kazuto delivered.

By the end, all she could do was blink in pure stupefaction.

His words replayed themselves in her mind as her brain picked apart each point and argument that he made and contemplated them.

Despite his rather hedonistic views on life's pleasure as well as a perverted streak that was over a mile long, he was far from an idiot. The simple proof of that could be found in the rather concrete and philosophical argument he laid out on the subject as bizarre as Traps of all things. The scariest part was just how logical and coherent some of his points were.

People often forget, his friends included, that he has a lot more going on upstairs than he lets on. Sure, he has his moments of impulsiveness, but that doesn't mean he was a total idiot. Deep down, beneath all the goofiness and fits of perversion, Peroroncino, aka Kazuto, was an intelligent young man. It was just often overlooked and overshadowed by his usual bombasticness and antics.

In a way, it was rather free-thinking of him to look at the matter as a whole rather than the sum of its parts. Even if the topic boiled down to liking Traps of all things.

And as much as she would like to deny it, he raised some very good points that she found agreeable.

"Well… You've certainly outlined the hows and whys people are so enamored with Traps." Reina began. "But there's still kind of the matter of the junk…" She mumbled quietly.

"But the dick is what makes them cuter!" Kazuto declared with no amount of shame.

'And… he ruined it…' Reina deadpanned hard at hearing his proclamation. All the respect he had gained from their previous argument had vanished in an instant. It was honestly incredible how quickly he could ruin the small amount of dignity he managed to foster with only a few words. Thankfully, no one else was around to witness their conversation. The situation was bad enough as it was.

"Last time I checked, a dick can hardly be classified as feminine or cute…" Reina's face scrunched up in slight disgust and exasperation just thinking about it. The imagery conjured alone was bad enough.

Not to mention, she was completely confused by the sudden shift. Just a moment ago, he presented a valid argument for why someone would like a Trap for less than superficial reasons. That there was more to the appeal than simply a boy in cute apparel. Only for him to then specifically highlight an aspect of the male anatomy as a prominent appeal of Traps. It was a heel turn that completely went against the very argument he set up.

"A Trap cannot be classified as a true Trap, not unless the dick is proper! It is one of the core fundamentals!" He argued back.

Reina's face twisted even further as he blurted out his thoughts without fear. She nursed her head in her hands and lamented why she had to open her mouth. Kazuto continued before she could get another word out.

"There is one crucial aspect that separates a good Trap from every other, and that is the element of surprise! When a Trap slowly hikes up their skirts, it's a window to the other side. For there lies Pandora's box, waiting to be opened. And like Pandora's box, once the truth is unleashed, there is no taking it back! Traps are the penultimate pleasure! The throbbing ache within one's loins threatens their self-control. The swallowing shame and guilt from such perversion. The delectable dissonance of seeing a super effeminate character despite knowing the truth that they are a guy!" He championed, with each sentence ending with Kazuto taking on a dramatic pose and gesture.

"It's even better when they are incredibly cute!" He exclaimed.

A perverted but blissful expression took over Kazuto's face. It was an expression he often makes when he's indulging in his fantasies. His fingers grasped and wiggled, as if trying to reach something that wasn't there, as hints of drool accumulated in his cheeks.

Reina looked at him and sighed heavily. She calmly stood up and walked over, quickly slapping him in the back of the head. She learned to do this from Kazuto's sister and knew it was a surefire way to stop him before he devolved into his usual debauched diatribe. Well, any more than it already had.

Kazuto's head slammed into the table in front of them with a thud, knocking him out of his lurid daydream.

"Oww!" Kazuto winced, rubbing his nose, which took the brunt of it all.

"My god, you're a shameless pervert." She sighed.

"Oi, I take offense to that! I'm no mere pervert!" He remarked as if the title was an offense to him. "I'm a true connoisseur of hentai and pornography! I don't get off to just any ordinary kinks; I get off to every one of them!" He proclaimed with pride.

Reina cringed and groaned as if she were struck by a physical blow. She settled for hitting him upside the head one more time to ease her pain.

Reina pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed again for what felt like the hundredth time today from their conversation alone.

"I don't even know why we're having this conversation in the first place! We both know you're quite literally a walking encyclopedia of fetishes. There's nothing wrong with admitting it! Even if it's just a little bit gay." Reina argued.

"No!" He answered back, sounding more like a petulant child who did not want to admit that he was wrong than a reasonable adult.

Despite the incongruity and lapse of his logic, and judging by the look in his eyes, he wasn't going to give in any time soon.

"Ok, let's argue for argument's sake that the mystery and eventual reveal of the Trap do not make one gay. But then that brings up the question of what happens after it's revealed that they are indeed a Trap. Since their whole appeal lies in the intrigue of their true identity. What happens then when the truth is staring you in the face? Would it not be technically gay if your feeling of attraction, be it sexual or platonic, remained the same after the truth was known? Going by your argument from before, falling for a Trap isn't gay but what about after the trap is sprung and you choose to remain in it?" Reina asked, using a similar analogy.

To this, Kazuto blinks. Once. Then twice. And then several more times. He opened his mouth, yet no words came forth to answer his girlfriend's inquiry. Reina felt a small sense of smug satisfaction in seeing the shift in emotion displayed by him. Going from confusion to contemplation, frustration, and finally realization.

"I… well… technically…" Kazuto stammered, trying to find an argument to counter with. Unfortunately, none came to him, leaving him in silent defeat. His arguments were redirected straight back at him, and he was left grasping.

"Traps are not gay!" Without any more concrete evidence or arguments to prove otherwise, he was left repeating himself.

"Whatever helps you sleep a night." She snarked back with a smug grin.

A tick mark appeared on his head as his eyes narrowed. Like hell, he was going to give her the final laugh!

"Well, if I'm gay, then you're a pedophile!" He dramatically fired back.

"The proper terminology is shotacon, not a pedophile." She coolly answered back, as if she had expected him to make such a comment.

"Which, let's see here…" Kazuto brought out his phone and pretended to look it up. "Oh, here it is-has or holds affection for young boys. Ergo, pedophile." He emphasized.

"I prefer the term adolescent." Reina countered without missing a beat.

"Call it what you want, but that still doesn't change the fact that more often than not, the boys depicted are minors."

"The age of consent in Japan is 13." Reina added.

"Yea, and jail is just a room." Kazuto snarked in the middle of her speaking. However, she continued along as if she had never heard him.

"… And while the whole affair is quite morally ambiguous, on a technical level, it's not strictly illegal by any means. So long as it remains consensual between both parties."

Peroroncino opened his mouth, yet he couldn't exactly come up with an immediate rebuttal. In the end, he decided to fall back on what he knew best.

"Pervert." He fired back.

"Oh, hi Pot, the name's Kettle. Have we met?" She returned sarcastically.

The two settled on glaring at one another. There they remained, neither one wishing to give in, for it meant submitting defeat to the other. Thirty seconds passed before something changed. At first, it was small-a small twitch of their lips, the heat in their gaze cooling and replaced with amusement, and the tingling tickles in their throat. Finally, it exploded.

Unable to hold it back anymore, the couple doubled over in laughter. Hearing their partner laugh heartily only increased their own volume and intensity. They laughed so hard that their eyes were leaking tears. This continued for another minute before they got it all out of their system.

Their bodies slowly unwound as the last of their laughter died down. Slouching back in their chairs, both of them rested their bodies on the table. Their hands reached out, and they held hands across the table.

"I miss these chats." Kazuto remarked, finally able to catch his breath.

"Crazy as it is, so do I." Reina agreed.

Their fingers interlocked, and there the two remained in comfortable and respectable silence. Just them, tenderly holding onto their significant others.

"Although, it would be nice if next time we don't start another argument over, especially about your extensive lists of debauchery." Reina remarked.

"Need I remind you that it was you that first started it, not me?" Kazuto quickly replied.

"It only reminds me just how much of a perv you are." She retorted, sticking out her tongue.

"You know you love me." Kazuto gave a cheeky grin.

"Now isn't that one of life's greatest mysteries?" She huffed amiably, smiling along with him.

Kazuto playfully rolled his eyes.

"Though, it is a bit of your fault." She started up. "You've been busy lately. I still don't get what's so great about that DMMO-RPG game you've been raving about."

"And I keep on asking you to join me! I'm sure you'll enjoy YGGDRASIL if you just give it a shot." The blond argued, sitting right back up.

"And I keep on telling you, it's not that simple. For one, unlike you, who's majoring in design and art, I don't have the free time to put into playing a video game. And number two, my parents are total sticks in the mud. Like hell, they'll let me do it." Reina objected.

"Well, you could always try convincing them. Like it's educational or something." Kazuto weakly gave.

"The day that'll happen, is the day pigs fly." Reina let out an unladylike snort.

Reina couldn't help but notice Kazuto's furrowed brows and puckered lips as he tapped his chin in thought. She knew all too well that it was a habit of his whenever he faced a problem that needed solving. It was just one of the many quirks she had come to learn about him throughout their relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend.

While her argument was framed jokingly, she was being serious about the matter.

Reina felt truly content when she was with him, never needing or being forced to hide something when together. She can freely chat, bicker, complain, yell, or even geek out with him. All without feeling judged for it, due in part to Kazuto being very much like her as well. And dare she say it, she even enjoyed the moments and times when the two just argued nonsensically over something as superfluous as guilty pleasures.

Though hers were more selective in her preferences when compared to the broad strokes that Kazuto tended to indulge in. Even then, they would embarrassingly bond over the wildest of topics. Which often leads to her putting up with his antics.

Ok, that was a bit of a lie, as she always reprimanded him when he got into his pervy moods, but he never took offense. Nor does he ever try to do the same when Reina opens up about some of her darker moments. When she needed him, he always listened with a supportive ear. In fact, it was he who encouraged her to be true to herself, quirks and all. It was one of the things that made him so special to her-the fact that he accepts her for who she was, without judgment or reservation.

Reina didn't have to be the perfect and upstanding model student or young women she was constantly forced to be. When they are together, she could just be herself; she could be silly, she was allowed to indulge, and that was a rare and precious gift.

It was unfair, she reasoned, that he would give more attention to those he would never truly meet in person than his girlfriend. Reina knew it was also jealousy talking, but that fact mattered little to her.

"What's wrong with spending some more time with me? Are your friends so important, that you would neglect your own girlfriend?" She teased with mock anger in her voice.

His eyes widened at the perceived hurt and anger in her voice and face.

"What?! No!" Kazuto immediately shouted, jumping to his feet with his hands on the table. The sheer alarm in his voice, along with the immediate response, caught her off guard. "They are very important to me, but so are you. I'm not trying to pick them over you, but it's just…" His face took on a conflicted look.

Seeing the abrupt shift, Reina quickly let up. Kazuto held a concerned expression as he struggled to vocalize his thoughts.

"I… you already know what's going on on my side. My friends… the ones from YGGDRASIL. They're the best friends I can ever ask for. Not a day goes by when I do not think to myself that I am lucky enough to be blessed with such grateful friends. At the same time, I don't just see them as friends, but as something more as well. I think of them like family… My family…" Kazuto said softly.

Hearing this, Reina silently kicked her tongue. She was mentally kicking herself as she remembered an important fact about her boyfriend. The bile of jealousy festering in her was replaced with shame. Reaching out, she gently took one of his hands into hers and gave a gentle but supportive squeeze, hoping to convey her love and support for him. It was important to her that he knew she was always there for him, no matter what. She knew that trust and understanding were the foundation of any successful relationship, and she was determined to work through any obstacles that came their way.

"Hey, hey! I was just kidding. No need to go all kicked puppy looks on me there." She joked. Her mind quickly raced to rectify the situation. "I'm not trying to make you choose-"

"It's fine, dear." He shook his head, interrupting her. "You are right. While they are extremely important to me, you are just as important. You are my girlfriend, and while I know I can't rightfully choose between you and them… I should still make time for you, so you won't feel left out." He looked at her and smiled-a small but determined smile.

Reina felt her cheeks redden. While she may have started dating him back when he first asked her out because her friends dared her to, and while he wasn't too bad-looking, she was glad she stuck around. She will admit that hearing him blurt out and reveal his perverted hobbies did come as a shock to her, but that didn't detract from his good qualities. He may be a pervert, but that wasn't his defining characteristic, as he'd shown himself to be a kind and endearing person, no matter his antics. For it was at times such as this that reminded her why she fell in love with Kazuto in the first place.

"Well…" She began, a confident glint in her eye as she moistened her lips. "If you consider them family, then it's only fair that I have the opportunity to meet them as well. I've already acquainted myself with your sister, so I see no reason why I shouldn't get to know the entire 'family.' In fact, I'm confident that I might be able to persuade my parents to invest in a Neural headset for YGGDRASIL."

His eyes light up, like a child on Christmas morning. Reina couldn't help but feel her heart skip a beat at such bright and happy eyes. She quickly clamped down on it and instead raised a finger and pressed it against his lips, stopping him from saying anything else just yet.

"I said might." She repeated, keeping her finger firmly on his lips. "Depends on if I can convince mommy and daddy dearest to let me."

Despite her cautionary words, Kazuto still smiled confidently.

"Well, that won't be trouble now, will it? After all, you are my girlfriend, and there's nothing you can't do when you put your mind to it!" He praised.

"Oh? Flattery, is it?" Reina's lips twitched into a small but pleased smile as she leaned forward.

"Well, I'm only speaking the truth." Kazuto's lips took on a smile as he leaned in as well.

"Oh? Do tell."

The couple leaned in close, their noses were practically touching, and their eyes locked in a deep gaze. They could feel the warmth of each other's breath on their skin, sending tingles down their spines. Without any words, they leaned in closer, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. Their bodies relaxed in each other's embrace, feeling safe and loved.

For a brief moment, all was right in the world. The brief respite wouldn't last too long, however.

A distinct ringing cut short their kiss. With a slight scowl, Reina picked up her phone to see who was interrupting their precious moment together.

"Ah, shit." She cursed, seeing the caller.

"Your dad?" He guessed.

"Got it in one!" She fired back. Reina looked back and tsked in annoyance. "Sorry, baby, something just came up, so I gotcha cut this short."

"It's fine. We'll have plenty of time to talk and hang out later on. Promise." He assured her with a smile, which made her smile as well.

As she finished packing up, she stopped, remembering something important. After a few seconds of digging through her backpack, she found what it was that she was looking for. Opening the envelope, she took a thin piece of paper and held it out for Kazuto.

"What's this?" He inspected it to find that it was a ticket of some kind.

"Dad rubs shoulders with some influential people. With the new theme park opening up, the owner and managers decided to hand out free first-day tickets. He got me and my sister a pair." She answered.

As he looked at the ticket, he looked back up at her with a confused look. "Are you asking me to ask you on a date?"

"D-don't misunderstand! W-well, I've got an extra, and I didn't want the last ticket going to waste. That's why I'm giving it to you. Plus, none of my other friends are free, so you'll have to come with me! Think of it as a payback date for all the ones we've missed. G-got it?!" She stammered, only to then sharply turn her head and look away.

Kazuto looked at the ticket and then back to her. Suddenly, a realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He could sense the passive aggression in her words and the blush on her cheeks. Her body language was screaming for attention. It was all too familiar to him; he had seen this scenario play out countless times before. A wave of emotions rushed through him, making it hard to contain himself.

He held up his hand to his lips, trying and failing to conceal his giggles. Clear amusement shone in his eyes as he tried to control himself.

"H-hey! What are you laughing about?!" She snapped at him.

"You! That was totally a tsundere moment, you just did!" Unable to hold it back, he laughed wholeheartedly at it all.

"W-what?!" Her eyes widened. "N-no I'm n-not! S-shut up! This is all your fault!"

"Y-you even said the thing as well!" He managed to get out in between wheezes, once again finding her response to be a textbook tsundere response.

Her blush only grew, turning her whole face red with embarrassment. She thrust the ticket into his hand with a half-hearted, forceful shove.

"Just take the ticket! I better see you next week or you're going to get it!" She screamed and vowed in slight embarrassment, hurrying towards the door.

"You forgot to say baka~" Kazuto called out to her, enunciating the word in a smug sing-song voice.

Reina's reaction to his teasing was quite amusing, as she simply responded by giving him the middle finger. Kazuto couldn't help but laugh even more at her response, which only made her more angry. As she stormed out of the room and closed the door behind her, Kazuto was left all by himself with his thoughts. Alone, his laughter died down and his lips slowly creased into a small, pensive frown. The blond-haired man breathed a wry sigh as he slouched back in his chair, staring upwards at the ceiling in self-reflection.

His girlfriend's words, while a bit selfless, were not unfounded. To a certain extent, she had a point. Was it not proper etiquette to pay more attention to one's significant other than to, quote on quote, strangers over the web? Yet, those strangers were not just nobodies but those who showed genuine care for him. For there lies the crux of the matter. To whom does his loyalty lie first and foremost?

While his lifestyle allowed for certain liberties and time to indulge in his pervy hobbies, he was far from a degenerate or a Neet that his activities might allude to. Kazuto wishes that he could have all the time in the world.

But the reality was seldom any closer to the truth.

After all, the world wasn't so kind as to allow someone to have their cake and eat it too.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

I'm home." He said as he entered the apartment.

As Kazuto closed the door behind him, a distinct but recognizable voice echoed through the halls.

"Ahhh~ O-onii-chan… W-we shouldn't!" A delicate and compromising voice cried out.

Anyone else in this situation would immediately think the worst and rush to help. Kazuto, on the other hand, showed no real urgency. Though he did shudder slightly, it was not for the reasons one would expect. It was common knowledge within their circle of friends that Bukubukuchagama was a voice actress. There was only a small addendum that only their closest friends were aware of. That being the fact that she was also a popular and well-received voice actress in the eroge business. Namely the roles of of young girls in H-games and Visual Novels.

It wasn't uncommon for Kazuto to stumble upon or accidentally hear some compromising lines from scripts that writers and game developers send for her to voice.

Unfortunately for the self-proclaimed connoisseur of all things lewd, this meant that she had indirectly ruined H-games almost entirely for him when he had accidentally heard her voice as one of the main heroines in an upcoming H-game he wanted to buy. Since then, he has kept a safe distance from any works that features his sister in them. It was a herculean challenge to endure, as she was extremely popular and was often hired or commissioned for other works within the eroge genre. He couldn't even pretend to ignore hearing her voice, as Kazuto would always imagine his sister in the place of the heroine character.

He may be a pervert, but even he has limits and boundaries. Surprising as that was.

The door opened slightly, allowing his sister to call out to him through the gap.

"Otouto? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you still be with Reina-chan?"

"Something came up, so we decided to cut it short." He answered, shrugging.

"Ok. Just don't make any loud noises. I'm in the middle of recording some important lines for the latest game, and I need my concentration!"

Kazuto didn't say anything in response, his hand lazily waving back as he made his way to the living room. He walked through the doorway and into the room that was connected to the kitchen. As he began unpacking his personal belongings, his curious gaze was drawn to an object resting on the dining table. It was a large rectangular package that looked like it could be a poster or a framed picture. He couldn't help but wonder what it was.

"Hey, nee-san, is the thing on the table yours?" He called out.

There was a loud fumble from her room as the door opened once more.

"That's mine! Don't you dare think of touching it, otouto!" She screamed from her room. Her tone promised great pain should he disobey her. With her piece said, she slammed the door shut.

Kazuto looked back down at the package, his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and confusion at her reaction. He couldn't help but wonder what could be so important about it that it would elicit such a strong reaction from her. Sure, it was understandable that she didn't want him to meddle with her stuff, but even then, it was almost as if she was afraid for whatever reason.

Curious and suspicious, Kazuto slowly and deliberately opened it. Sure, he should've been respectful of her wishes, but at the same time, he was also her brother. It was an unspoken rule between siblings that one would always find a way to meddle in the other's business. Then again, he could always use the pretense that he was checking to make sure it was safe. As a popular erotica voice actress, she did have her fair share of fans. Unfortunately, that included the creepy and overly obsessive types as well.

Carefully, he opened it without making too much noise, unwrapping it with the delicacy of how one would disarm a bomb. Finally, Kazuto undid it and pulled the content of the package out. His eyes widened at seeing what it was.

"Woah…" He whispered in awe.

It was a framed picture of Shirou adorned in his YGGDRASIL garb, but with a fresh twist. The artwork captured him on a battlefield, standing atop a precipice with a resolute expression that appeared to pierce through the onlookers. In the background, a flag sporting his emblem was visible-a trademark that many Ainz Ooal Gown members possess. The circular yin-yang symbol, created by the outline of his signature weapons, Kanshou and Bakuya, was prominently featured in the painting as his personal sigil. The rest of the piece was adorned with rich, saturated hues, which conveyed a sense of impending doom. Despite the overwhelming adversity, Shirou remained unfazed, standing tall and unyielding.

If Kazuto were to pick one word to describe the style, it would have to be painterly, similar to pieces and works found in galleries. The attention to detail and artistry that went into its creation were truly outstanding. Every inch of the painting was perfectly detailed, capturing the appearance and feel of their friend in a way that was truly remarkable. What made the image pop was the brushstroke quality that gave it a sense of depth and texture. And the coloring was absolutely breathtaking. The bright and saturated tones of primary colors used for Shirou contrasted beautifully with the surrounding darker tones and shading, making the painting truly unique and eye-catching. Honestly, the sheer quality emanating from the painting was just spectacular. It was clear that the artist who created it was a true professional.

Kazuto was so engrossed in it that he didn't even notice his sister darting towards him and snatching it away from his grasp, all the way from the other end of the table.

"W-what are you doing?!" She screamed, clutching onto it.

Kazuto suddenly snapped out of his trance, only to find his sister glaring at him with anger. She had beautiful pale blonde hair in a pageboy style and soft brown eyes that gave her a cute appearance. With her petite, heart-shaped face, delicate cheekbones, healthy skin, and a cluster of freckles on her cheeks, she was simply adorable. She always had a soft and grounded look to her that made her even more appealing, but right now, her expression was twisted in anger, and it was all directed at Kazuto.

"Well?!" She angrily demanded.

"Easy nee-san!" He quickly raised his hands, trying to pacify her, but to no avail.

"No! I told you not to look at my things, and what do you do? You do the exact opposite of what I said!" She was angry, and rightfully so.

"Ok, ok. I am sorry for going through your stuff." He admitted and apologized. "But I don't see what's wrong. That's an amazing work of art you've got right there. I've got to know who you've commissioned for it. I wouldn't mind a few of those in my room as well!" Kazuto praised, hoping it will downplay her anger.

As she prepared to unleash her wrath upon him, an unexpected silence befell the room. Her mouth was agape, yet no words found their way out. Gradually, her countenance shifted from fury to exhaustion, and she let out a weary sigh. Avoiding eye contact, she fixed her gaze upon the painting, her expression one of forlornness.

Seeing the shift in his older sister, Kazuto grew mildly concerned.

"You're going to tell him, aren't you?" She asked out loud in a quiet voice.

Kazuto blinked, the thought of that didn't occur to him until she had said it.

"Well, I mean… I'm sure Emiya-sempai would love that. And heck, who knows? Maybe this will finally get him to take notice of you, huh, sis?" Kazuto lightly teased, trying to cheer her up. Only it seemed to have the opposite effect.

"Yeah, right. As if anyone can ever love a cripple." She scoffed in a rueful voice. Slowly, she moved around the table. With the dining table no longer obscuring her lower body, the truth was finally revealed.

Bukubukuchagama née Chihiro Haruto was in a wheelchair, for she was paralyzed from the waist down.

"Sis…" He called to her, but she showed no sign of hearing him.

As she gazed upon the exquisite painting, her countenance drooped, and her emotions were thrown into a tumultuous array. A mixture of frustration, anger, and shame played across her face, yet it was the unmistakable feeling of yearning that was most prominent. It was as if she were in pursuit of something that was just beyond her grasp, something that she knew might forever elude her. The painting had completely captivated her, speaking to her in a language only she could comprehend. Time slipped away unnoticed as she remained there, lost in contemplation, lost in the painting, lost in the moment.

Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama were born as Kazuto and Chihiro Haruto, respectively. The Haruto family was an influential name within Japan, as they were among the few that had a part in running one of several massive corporate conglomerates that ruled over Japan. To put it simply, they were born into prosperity and wealth among the 1%. From the outset, it would seem that the two had their lives ahead of them.

How naïve that thinking was.

Their troubles started at the very beginning of it all, beginning with Chihiro herself. Her troubles started the minute she was brought into this world. Due to some complications from their mother's pregnancy, Chihiro was born paraplegic. From the very first moment she drew breath, her future was taken from her. Born and labeled a cripple not only by society but also by her parents, her own flesh and blood, they had all but given up on her. They opted instead to try again and have another child. A year and a half later, Chihiro became an older sister to the newly-born Kazuto.

From the very beginning, their lives were much different than many others.

Many people consider having a child to be a privilege, a precious life to cherish and nurture. However, for Kazuto and Chihiro's parents, it was just a formality. It was like a checkbox in their marriage contract. Their only goal was to have a child and groom them into the next heir. Sadly, Chihiro failed to meet their expectations, which led to her being ignored and passed over in favor of their "true" heir. All for no reason because Kazuto did not possess any complications, as she did despite her possessing a keen mind even at such a young age.

All their needs and wants were met, as were their privileges due to their high standing. However, that meant little to the siblings. All of it was naught but hollow. They yearned for something more meaningful, something that couldn't be bought or earned through status.

A life of luxury and wealth would be meaningless if there was no true connection.

It was a difficult childhood for Chihiro. Her parents didn't discard her outright, but they all but neglected her. They treated her as if she wasn't even there most of the time, rarely calling her by her true name and barely bothering to address her. The number of times they did so could be counted on two hands alone. They focused more on her brother Kazuto than anyone else, leaving Chihiro to be tended to by the family's many servants and helpers. But even they didn't care for her or show her any affection, except for one. It was a lonely, unwanted, and unloved existence for Chihiro, but even at a young age, she didn't blame Kazuto for stealing their parents' attention. After all, he had it just as bad as she did.

Where Chihiro was abandoned and forgotten, Kazuto was also subjected to a different kind of imprisonment. From the moment he was born, he was already trapped, predetermined to follow a path that was not of his own choosing. All because he was born without any defects. Their parents meticulously planned out every aspect of his life to mold him into the perfect heir they envisioned. They dictated every aspect of his life, from what he ate to who he was to surround himself with, leaving him with no freedom to pave his own way in life.

It was a difficult predicament that Kazuto was saddled with. One that was made all the more challenging by the fact that their parents were hardly ever present in their lives. More often than not, they were away for one reason or another, typically due to business commitments. They adopted a hands-off approach, entrusting the care of their children to tutors and helpers. The dynamic within the family was far from what one would expect from a loving household; instead, it resembled that of a mentor and protégé relationship, characterized by constant requests for updates and reports. There was no room for anything else, no expression of affection or warmth in their dealings with Kazuto, who, like Chihiro, was merely a means to an end.

The siblings' bond grew stronger due to their shared experience of emotional disconnection from their parents. They both suffered silently for years, enduring the pain caused by their parents' lack of empathy. However, they found comfort in each other's company, as they were the only ones they could truly rely on. As time passed, the hole in their hearts grew deeper, and they yearned for genuine connections and experiences that would bring meaning and happiness to their lives. Eventually, they realized that they needed to break free from their privileged background and discover what truly mattered to them.

The siblings were aware that their escape plan would not be an easy feat. However, they were fortunate enough to have an old butler who had noticed their predicament and pitied the children. This kind-hearted old man acted as a bridge between the siblings, helping to rebuild their love and trust for one another. He even went as far as taking on a parental role in their lives, surpassing the love and care shown by their own mother and father. It was through his guidance that they were able to devise a plan to escape from their oppressive and controlling parents.

To break free from the clutches of their parents, the siblings knew they needed a significant amount of funds. Therefore, they spent years siphoning off small amounts of money from their parents' accounts so as not to tip them off in any way, cautiously transferring the funds to their own accounts. This was a slow and meticulous process, but it was necessary to ensure they had a substantial amount of money to fall back on when they eventually cut ties with their family name. It would take nearly three years before they were ready. The planning process was an arduous one, with countless revisions and schemes made over the years before they were finally ready to execute their plan.

When Chihiro was nineteen and Kazuto was seventeen, they sprung their plan into action. In the dead of night, and with the help of the elderly butler, the two siblings escaped their illustrious prison and traveled from Tokyo to the Hiroshima prefecture specifically.

They took every precaution in their escape, leaving no detail unattended. They went to great lengths to create new identities for themselves, going so far as to falsify their history, birth, and even dental records to avoid detection. The siblings changed their physical appearance, altering their hair color and wearing contacts to further distance themselves from their past. To throw off any potential pursuers, they set up decoys and multiple false trails throughout Japan. Eventually, the trio settled in a new prefecture, where they secured a comfortable apartment within a biodome that would provide for all their needs. Their careful planning paid off, as the wealth they had accumulated would sustain them for several decades if budgeted prudently.

And then, they waited in silence and dreadful anticipation. For nearly a month, they remained alert, keeping their heads down and their ears open for any signs of trouble, rumors, or anything that could potentially spell disaster for their plan. Kazuto remembered those first few weeks as the most stressful of his entire life. The siblings rarely left their apartment, always taking great care to conceal their identities. Insomnia and paranoia took hold, causing them to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and hyperventilating. The constant threat of their parents' disapproval loomed over them like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over their peace of mind.

By the turn of the second month, the group started to relax. No longer were they as paranoid as before. Once the third month hit, they felt confident about walking the streets in daylight.

However, that begged the question of why their parents didn't try even harder to find them. If only for Kazuto, as they had invested a significant amount of time, effort, and energy into grooming him for as long as they did. It made no business or rational sense not to do so. They've certainly had the influence and money to do so.

So why have they not been found yet?

That answer came one day when Kazuto happened upon a news headline where their parents announced another pregnancy. There was little mention of either of them, as if they were forgotten about entirely. It made no sense, and yet by the end of the fourth month, it was clear that they had given up on Kazuto and Chihiro.

Although they attempted to convince themselves that they were indifferent, the pain felt by Kazuto and Chihiro was undeniable. Witnessing firsthand how easily they could be replaced, they couldn't help but feel hurt. To add insult to injury, their own parents denied them any form of affection or recognition, proving that they were only viewed as commodities rather than individuals with emotions. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but the siblings accepted the harsh reality of their situation and bid farewell to their old lives.

The old butler succumbed to heart failure later in the year, but his duty was done. The siblings were granted a new lease on life, and they intended to live it out fully.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

"God… I'm so pathetic…" She whispered chastisingly. Her eyes watered with tears as she tried to rub them away. Chihiro wanted to look away, away from the proof and the fact that she was so desperate that she willingly had a painting of the target of her affection commissioned. Yet, she couldn't.

Kazuto grimaced. He hated when his sister said such things, especially about herself. It wasn't her.

Kazuto recognized the root of the problem. It was because his sister had no confidence in herself. The wounds and scars of her past were still raw and unhealed. They could be mended, but they would never properly heal. Chihiro had been deprived of any genuine expressions of love or affection throughout her life, with the exception of Kazuto's love and care. However, the love between siblings was a vastly different emotion compared to true romantic feelings, and understandably, she was apprehensive.

Kazuto vividly recalled the moment when he first realized that his sister had developed feelings for his senpai. He distinctly remembered teasing his sister endlessly and her giving him his fair share of bumps and bruises to go along with it. Despite his playfulness, he was genuinely pleased and supportive of her feelings. As time went by, Kazuto watched from the sidelines as his sister's initial crush blossomed into something more profound and true for their friend and role model. Shirou's natural charisma and personality undoubtedly contributed significantly to this development.

It wasn't hard to see why. Shirou possessed all the qualities that one could hope to find in a friend or a lover. He was kind, sincere, loyal, respectful, and much more. In some ways, he embodied all the positive and noble traits that make a person truly great. Shirou was indeed the epitome of an outstanding friend and an even better human being. Anyone would be lucky to have him as a significant other.

Kazuto had a feeling that should Shirou ever learn of Chihiro's paraplegic status, it would change nothing in his opinion of her. Such was the man he was, and he was the kind Kazuto looked up to above all else.

If Momonga were the Shepherd of Ainz Ooal Gown, the one who walks in front, to guide his flock and serves as their beacon. Then it was Shirou who took on the role of the Shepherd's dog, his ever-faithful companion. Vigilant and diligent, he would always be there, ready to give them all the support and push they'd need.

Chihiro had been yearning for something that had eluded her for most of her life-someone who genuinely cared for her. Shirou, with his unwavering concern and devotion, embodied this elusive quality. One not unlike the concern and care of a sibling or the idealization and adoration of her fans.

Someone who truly cares for her, quirks, imperfections, and all.

Plus, if Shirou's words were anything to go by, and Kazuto had no reason to doubt his senpai's sincerity, Shirou was definitely quite the looker if what he said about how he looked in YGGDRASIL was his true appearance. His chiseled features, robust physique with well-defined muscles, and exotic traits such as his eyes and hair made him pleasing to the eye. Coupled with his suave and gentle demeanor and genuine personality, it was no wonder that Shirou commanded such adoration and popularity. He exuded an aura of a real-life bishounen, making him an ideal boyfriend for any lucky girl.

But the situation was not without its complexities. Shirou lacked a physical body due to his circumstances, which puts a massive hamper on normal dating conventions, and was seemingly a decade older than them, who were in their mid-twenties. Chihiro had faced adversity throughout her life, and this situation was no different. It felt like a tantalizing fruit just out of reach, teasing her and adding to the already formidable challenges she had to face.

He let out a deep sigh and gave his cheeks a firm slap, trying to shake off the negative thoughts swirling in his head. As her brother, he knew he had a responsibility to be there for her, no matter what. It was time to step up and show her he cared.

"You know what I think?" Kazuto said as he walked over to her. Despite Chihiro being the older of the two, Kazuto easily eclipsed her in the height department by a fair margin. Kneeling, he looks at her right in the eyes.

"I think you're too hard on yourself. We've known Emiya-senpai for a long time. Do you think he would think any less of you because of that?" Resting a supportive hand on her shoulder, he delicately corrected the lingering strands of her hair out of the way, tucking them behind her ears.

Chihiro let out a few cute sniffles, but she didn't answer.

Kazuto gave a gentle smile.

"Exactly!" He continued. "Like hell, Emiya-senpai is that shallow. Besides, even if we ignore all of that and focus on appearance. I can confidently say you're not that bad-looking, sis. Especially now since you no longer look like a walrus."

"Hey!" She screamed in indignation, even punching him hard in the arms for that comment. Her cheeks reddened from Kazuto recalling when she was fat. Her neglectful teenage years were characterized by binge eating to help cope with stress and loneliness. Thankfully, she lost a ton of weight during her YGGDRASIL days. However, that still didn't stop her bothersome brother from dragging it up from time to time to mortify her.

"Kidding, kidding!" He tried to appease her as the soft punches continued. "Point is, Emiya-senpai is not the kind of guy who cares about appearance. We both know that."

Hearing this, Chihiro let up on her punches, a small contemplative frown crossing her face as she listened to her brother. Seeing this, Kazuto continued.

"Not to mention, there are only three female members within Ainz Ooal Gown, counting yourself, of course. Yamaiko-sensei and Ankoro Mocchi Mochi-san are the other two. And out of three, you've known him the longest and spent the most time with Emiya-senpai. Arguably, you're the one who knows him the best. So, if anyone got a shot at hooking it with him, it'll be you, sis!" He reasoned.

"Plus, it's a package deal! If you two hook up, then he's getting me as well. And I'm awesome!"

She rolled her eyes, but there was no denying the small smile on Chihiro's face. His plan to cheer her up was working!

"The point is, if anyone got a chance at being with Emiya-senpai. It's you, nee-san!" He told her, and he believed in it wholeheartedly.

Chihiro said nothing, but Kazuto could easily see the gears in her head turning from their conversation.

"Y-you think so?" She asked as she glanced back down at the painting. A healthy rosy hue colored her cheeks.

"Totally!" He reinforced. "And if Emiya-senpai still needs a bit more convincing, maybe you should think of showing him some pictures to further incentive him and show what he's missing out on?" Kazuto wiggled his eyebrows impishly, accompanied by a suggestive grin.

Chihiro felt her cheeks grow warm as a flush of bashfulness spread across her face. She gave him a shove, and let out an exclamation of "Idiot!" Despite her embarrassment, Kazuto couldn't help but laugh at her adorable reaction.

"Like hell, I'll do that!" She exclaimed, her cheeks burning up. "That's not mentioning the possibility of him rejecting me as well!"

"Come on, sis. Again, you're being too hard on yourself. Emiya-senpai may not have a real body or anything, but he's still a hot-blooded man, just like me and everyone else in Ainz Ooal Gown. There's no way he'll reject you." Kazuto argued.

"Not unless he's gay." Chihiro retorted half-jokingly, snorting.

"That's a good one, nee-san!" Kazuto barked out a laugh, only for it to peter out a moment later. His eyes snapped open with an urgent look.

"Otouto?" Chihiro called out, seeing the odd shift.

He said nothing, his expression taking on a pensive look as if he were giving something some serious thought. A hand rose, rubbing his chin as he was in deep thought.

"Could Emiya-senpai be gay?" He asked seriously.

To which Chihiro leveled a deadpan look at him as if to say, "Really?" Not that he even noticed it.

"I-I mean… He's never really shown much of an interest one way or another, no matter how much I've shown him or tried to talk him into trying a series out. I remembered that even a few female Players once tried catcalling him, and Emiya-sempai all but ignored them! Maybe that's why he never gets excited when I show him the latest trends and hentai! It doesn't matter if it's the latest Bondage Monthly magazine or the newest and lewdest hentai coming out. He's always so neutral about them, even when the others, like Tabula-san or even Ulbert-san, show some interest! Is it because he doesn't have an interest in them, meaning he might be gay?!"

'Just because he doesn't indulge in your blatantly perverted and self-indulgent hobbies doesn't make him gay.' Chihiro mused to herself. She could feel a headache coming along from her brother's incessant and borderline inane rambling.

It was safe to say Kazuto was jumping the gun by a very large margin.

Everyone within Ainz Ooal Gown knew that Kazuto was a pervert. But, only the closest of his inner circle of friends knew just how much of a raging pervert he was. He wasn't above making pervy jokes and everything around others, but it was only in the comfort of his friends that he truly felt comfortable letting loose. His closest confidants were Momonga, unwillingly, and Shirou. Unlike Momonga, who got embarrassed and exasperated by Kazuto's self-indulgent interests rather easily, Shirou had no problem keeping up with him.

How and where he finds the strength and patience to put up with it, she couldn't quite say.

Shirou always kept an open mind and was a companion for him whenever he wanted to fanboy and indulge in his perverted fantasies and hobbies without any fear of scorn or judgment from others. It was also he who cautioned Kazuto to never blur the line between reality and fiction. A lesson born out of care and concern for the young man, even if it meant giving him a little wake-up call or a knock on the head whenever Kazuto went too far.

It also seemed that Kazuto had completely forgotten about the time when Shirou mentioned having a girlfriend. Even though she tried calling out to him, he was so caught up in his crazy theories that he didn't even hear her.

"I've also noticed that he tends to hang out with the others a lot more frequently as well. Could it be… that he actually likes one of them?! But who? Tabula-san? No, it wouldn't make sense-not unless they're trying to throw everyone off! What about Warrior Takemikazuchi-san? They've been hanging around a lot recently. What if, it's Momonga-san?! They've been friends for the longest time. No, wait! What if it's Touch Me-san?! He's married, however, but what if Emiya-senpai doesn't care!? A forbidden romance!"

"Oh, great. Here we go again…" She groaned, recognizing that her brother was going to start on one of his insane babbles.

Chihiro couldn't help but cringe and shiver at his wild imagination and the harebrained nonsense he was spewing out. And now she'll have to deal with such rancid imagery in her head, thanks to him.

"Not that's there anything wrong with that!" He suddenly shouted, as if somehow Kazuto offended Shirou by implying that he wasn't into liking women.

"Emiya-senpai can like whoever he wishes! Even if he swings for the other team, I'll still be right behind him all the way!" He declared passionately, determination burning in his eyes at some ill-convinced imaginary insult. A clenched fist rose to the skies as if Kazuto were making a sacred vow.

'And now the conversation shifted wildly once again.' Chihiro thought, sitting there. Once again, she called out to him to no avail.

"Considering his looks, cool attitude, and everything else, I bet he got a ton of attention in the past. He's awesome and a total badass, but also super kind and sincere too! Chicks like those kinds of qualities, right? So I can totally see a bunch of girls going after him. I mean, no offense, sis, but senpai is the kind of man I can see who is a total chick magnet! You think he ever had girls fighting over him?"

As Kazuto continued his rambling on another wild topic, something hit her-a realization of sorts. As she reflected on his effusive praise of Shirou, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. She felt a subtle twitching of her lips and struggled to suppress a rising sense of amusement. But as Kazuto persisted in his monologue, she could no longer contain herself from cackling underneath her breath. This managed to catch her little brother's attention.

"Oi, nee-san. What are you laughing at?" He asked.

"N-nothing…" She answered in a strangely happy and strained voice, her lips twitching into a smile. It looked as if the paraplegic sister was trying very hard to control herself from breaking out into laughter right then and there.

"There's no way it's nothing. Not with that face." He rebuked. "Come on, sis!"

"I've just noticed something. T-that's all." She answered vaguely. She was trying to hold it in, her shoulders hunching from the concealed giggles. But like a dam about to burst open, it wouldn't be long before she let loose.

"Come on, nee-san, just spill the beans already!" He pleaded.

'You ask for it.' Chihiro thought.

"You're gar for Emiya-san, aren't you?!" With nothing to hold her back, Chihiro laughed with unrestrained glee and amusement.

Hearing this, Kazuto's brain short-circuited for a few seconds. He was stunned by her words. That quickly changed once his sister's words hit him.

"W-what?! No, I'm not!" He blushingly denied it.

"Yes, you are. You're completely gar for him!" She laughed even harder.

Tears dripped down her cheeks from how hard she was laughing while Kazuto mimicked a fish, his mouth opening and closing to try and get a word in.

"F-for starters Y-you completely l-look up to him." She managed to get out in between breaths.

"O-of course I looked to Emiya-sanpai. You do as well, and so do the others!" He argued.

"Then there's the fact that you've constantly referred to him as 'senpai' ever since we met him all those years ago." She pointed out.

"W-well. He is our friend, and he did help with finally deciding what playstyle suited me best. Emiya-senpai taught me everything to be an archer and made me who I am today. I'm just paying him the proper respect!" Kazuto reasoned. His cheeks grew redder by the second.

"Ok, what about your blatant fanboying and support for Emiya-san, no matter the situation?" Chihiro brought up.

"That's just me giving him my support! Won't you do the same for a friend?" He fired back. His ears burned red as he felt his whole face light up in embarrassment.

"There's also counting the fact that you've always searched for or asked for him to either party up and play with. You're always looking for Emiya-san to hang out with him in one form or another." Chihiro contended, counting with her fingers for each point.

"I-I… well…" Kazuto stammered for a bit, before clearing his throat and answering back. "Well, since Emiya-senpai is stuck within YGGDRASIL, we should always try and hang out as much as we can, for that's all the time we can game out. There are times when the others can't be online, so I want to make sure he doesn't get lonely or anything." He answered, though it sounded like a flimsy answer, and they both knew it.

"Oh, and I'm sure you praising him for almost everything he does or says is also necessary. Be it fighting a boss solo, finding a dungeon or secret location, giving away Data Crystals, etc…" She listed.

"I…" Kazuto faltered slightly, and she took advantage of that opening.

"Not to mention the countless times in the past you've tried to get his attention or praise, by either showing off or doing something equally stupid or crazy." Chihiro continued without letting up.

By this point, Kazuto was completely and utterly trounced, and he knew it. He was unable to mount a proper comeback without having the argument used against him.

Kazuto was overwhelmed by a sensation of déjà vu as he found himself once again in another embarrassing situation. It appeared as though destiny had a twisted sense of humor, presenting the same coincidental topic that had earlier caused him to blush. Despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, Kazuto was unable to shake off the lingering feeling of embarrassment that permeated the air around him. It was as if he was trapped in some kind of time loop, condemned to relive the same awkward moment repeatedly. The first instance was with his girlfriend, and now his sister was trumping him at every turn and argument. To add insult to injury, the fact that the topic for both of them was the same didn't do him any favors.

"I'm not gay!" He shouted in frustration and embarrassment.

"There, there. It's ok, you know. It's the 22nd century, no one's going to judge you if you are." She playfully patronized him, clapping him on the shoulder as if to show him support.

Kazuto couldn't take it anymore. He let out a loud, frustrated groan and covered his face with both hands. He felt embarrassed and just wanted to disappear. As she watched on, an idea struck her. Her laughter died down as her smile took on an almost sadistic grin.

"I do have to ask one question." She asked, schooling her face to not give anything away.

Kazuto removed his hands and gave her a skeptical look. With a small and innocent smile, she said this.

"Am I going to have some competition?" She playfully teased, holding up a perfectly manicured hand to cover her mouth. Her haughty expression was almost unbearable, as if she were looking down on him despite his height advantage. The smug and self-satisfied smirk on her face exuded an air of complete superiority.

That was the final nail in the coffin.

"I do not like Emiya-senpai in thatway!" He yelled.

Kazuto's face quickly resembled a ripe tomato. Chihiro's laughter returned in full force. She banged her hand on her wheelchair as she struggled to breathe from how much she was laughing.

Kazuto, on the other hand, said nothing, for he didn't trust himself to say anything else that might be turned against him. Instead, he crossed his arms and looked away, pouting all the way with a scarlet face as the peels of laughter from his sister rang in their apartment. It would take another minute before they started to die down.

"I needed that…" She said, wiping the tears of joy and laughter from her eyes.

"Oh, sure. Glad that I could help cheer you up at my own expense." Kazuto sarcastically replied and rolled his eyes.

Chihiro let out some residual chuckles and took deep breaths to calm herself. Getting it under control, she had only this to say.

"Still… thanks. I meant it, otouto." She said, complete gratitude evident in her voice.

Kazuto simply huffed, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Feeling better now?" He asked.

"Yeah…" She answered softly, her gaze turning back to the forgotten painting.

"Now that's taken care of, why don't we find a place to put him." He prompted.

Walking around, he pushed the wheelchair towards her room.

"I'm still serious about what I said, I need to get me one of those amazing paintings as well!" Kazuto said conversely.

"I'll see what I can do. Though you'll need to clear that pigsty of a room if you want to have a place to put a painting of this caliber in your room. Namely, those tasteless hentai posters you have plastered over your walls."

"I don't see what's exactly the problem. Besides, you don't hear me complain about your room. Not to mention, with the painting of Emiya-senpai surrounded by my other posters, it'll be as if he has his own harem!"

"Of course, you would think something as stupid as that."

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?!"

"Exactly what I said!"

The two bickered back and forth in a verbal joust against one another's character, but the smile on their faces made it clear they were both having fun with it.

Inside Chihiro's room, she instructed Kazuto to the exact spot where she wanted the painting to be hung. He took his time adjusting the painting until it was perfectly positioned on the wall. The two siblings stood back and took a moment to admire it. There was a sense of satisfaction and pride in their work, and they both felt a small sense of comradery as they remained there, taking in the beauty of the painting and what it meant to them.

"It's not going to get any easier, you know." He said suddenly, filling in the comfortable silence. "Waiting, that is. Take it from me, waiting isn't going to make the problem or situation any better. If anything, it's only going to get worse as time goes on."

"Are you really giving me relationship advice?" She asked with a raised brow.

"Sis." Kazuto earnestly said. His face and tone were solemn, making her take it seriously as well.

Chihiro clamped up, but she said nothing.

He continued. "Sometimes you've just got to bite the bullet and do it. Even if the answer might scare you. That's what Emiya-senpai taught me when I was thinking of asking Reina-san out. And look at how that turned out."

"I know…" She said. Chihiro brought her hands together, wringing her hands as they trembled slightly as she admitted this.

"I'm not asking you to suddenly confess to Emiya-senpai right now, tomorrow, or even within a week. But what I am asking you is to make up your mind and choose. Or else you might regret not making it when you had the chance to. You can't pine over him forever, sis." He imparted, a surprising amount of wisdom in his words.

"It's ok to be scared, but you shouldn't let it make every decision for you."

"Of course, I'm scared." Chihiro let out. "I'm afraid that he might say no, and it somehow makes everything awkward for everyone within Ainz Ooal Gown. I'm even more afraid if he somehow says yes! I don't even know what to do if that somehow happens. I-I just… don't know…"

If Kazuto caught the trembling in her voice, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he kept quiet to allow her to collect her thoughts and bearings.

Chihiro remained silent, but turned her head slowly to glance across the room. Her desk stood there, with all her equipment and monitors neatly arranged. Her gaze drifted, falling upon a small, framed picture resting on the desk. Upon closer inspection, she recognized the same picture taken back when Ainz Ooal Gown conquered the Tomb of Nazarick. The photograph captured every member together, like one massive, happy family. Chihiro couldn't help but notice herself positioned close to her target of affection within the picture.

"I… like him. I do, more than I ever thought possible." Chihiro openly confessed. While her voice was soft and bashful, there was a layer of resoluteness in her words. "I know this is unrealistic and unfair, but I want to make it special. If-When I confess to him, I want to put everything into it. All my thoughts, feelings, and emotions. More than anything, I want to let Shirou know just how much he means to me! For everything that he's done for us." She announced.

Kazuto felt his chest puff out in pride. Now there was the sister he loved and admired. The one that would face the world head-on, no matter the challenge.

"And when that time comes, I'll be right behind you. All the way." He rested a hand on her shoulder with a gentle and supportive squeeze.

"Thank you, Kaz." Chihiro thanked him with a grateful smile.

"Always, Chi." Kazuto returned with one of his own.

The siblings fell into a peaceful and determined silence, the memories of their shared experiences etched deeply into their hearts. Through their struggles, they emerged stronger and more resolute than ever before, driven to make their dreams and aspirations a reality.

They say that life imitates art, and that couldn't be any truer for the sibling duo, represented by their YGGDRASIL player characters.

If there was one creature that embodies Chihiro perfectly, it would be the slime. Weak and unassuming, it mirrors her struggles.

A monster commonly depicted as the bottom feeders of any fantasy RPG, they were but stepping stones for those born with innate talent. Forever viewed as a weak race, no matter the game. Forever looked down upon by no real fault of their own.

Such was the life of the useless. Those left behind by the world. Those cursed by the cruel hands of fate. The destiny of Chihiro was one ripe for disappointment.

Yet, despite this stigma and harsh truth, she never folded to the crushing reality imposed upon her.

Nothing was set in stone, for the mightiest of mountains once started as no more than a stone.

She was determined to make the most of her situation, despite the challenges that lay ahead. Unable to walk or run, Chihiro chose to crawl, clawing at every obstacle that dared to cross her path. Refusing to remain complacent in a world that can be cruel, she found ways to adapt.

She was born paraplegic? That was why wheelchairs were invented. Unable to attend school? Online courses it was. Jobless? Voice acting. Every step of the way, Chihiro fought tooth and nail, never retreating. Chihiro faced it all with unwavering determination and undaunted spirit, until she imposed her own view on the world.

In an era where one's birth dictated one's future, whether that be a corporate slave or a CEO, she rejected that reality and substituted her own. When life pushed her down, she pushed back and rose to the challenge.

They called her [The Unsinkable Slime] when she donned her slime persona, but that alias was one born from her perseverance. People called her that because she never gave up, no matter what obstacles were thrown her way. She was like a wall of protection for her friends and allies, always standing strong against whatever life threw at her. And now, because of all her hard work and determination, she's become the person she was now.

Chihiro made a name for herself both within the virtual world of YGGDRASIL and the real world, showing everyone the strength of those they would proclaim useless.

Going from the weakest among the weak, to an unmovable force befitting of her job as a tank. Going from no one to someone, a voice actress and idol.

Kazuto was no exception either.

Birdmen, one of the Heteromorphic races with the innate ability to fly. Graced with the fortune of taking to the skies, they were free creatures. But a bird with clipped wings was forever to be grounded, prey to those who tore their plumage.

Kazuto was born privileged. His birth was one of pedigree and fortune. With above-average smarts and looks, he was destined for greatness. Or so it was expected of him. However, in this cruel world, he learned one of life's most crucial lessons: nothing in life was truly free.

A life of luxury and comfort, but at what cost? His freedom.

For, no matter how grand or splendid the illusion was, it was still a prison to him. Nothing more than a gilded cage.

He was to be a trophy son. Something that his parents can point at and brag about with their various business partners. Something to wash away the stain that his sister brought upon the family name.

He was a parrot for his master's belief.

Forever pulled upon strings that imitated the flight he was stripped of.

The taunt of unreachable freedom, however, could only fool another for so long.

Try as he could, he would always land and be grounded by those who held authority over him. Given a taste of freedom that would never last, he grew hungry for it. Hungry for the ability to unshackle himself from those who would crush him beneath their heels. Like any true creature of the sky, it was in their very nature to fly. Kazuto knew he could not and would not allow it to chain him. Soon, a chance appeared, and he took a leap of faith and spread his wings to soar higher than he had thought before.

Where Kazuto's sister learned to persevere, he learned to strike back.

They called him [The Winged King of Explosive Strikes] within YGGDRASIL. A sniper known for his unparalleled marksmanship, able to take down Players from two kilometers away with ease while flying through the air. With nothing but his own hands and ingenuity, he made a choice and carved out his own destiny.

To live as a docile pet or fight as a bird of prey.

He sharpened his once dull talons in weapons. With the ability to soar through the virtual sky and to lay waste to those who remained beneath him, Kazuto became an untouchable avian who claimed the earth and sky as his own. Never would he allow himself to be grounded by anyone else but himself.

It was this freedom of choice that mainly contributed to their growth and allowed the siblings to truly grow into their own.

The story of how Chihiro became a voice actress was one of complete accident. One day, she stumbled upon a recruitment advertisement for voice acting, which inspired her to try her hand. Her whimsical decision would lead her down the path of voice acting and help her discover a talent that would have remained buried had she remained complacent. For the first time in her life after escaping free from her parents, she found something where she truly felt comfortable, no matter her status, and gave it all. Despite the nature of her job, she grew to love and enjoy every moment of it-the good, the bad, and the embarrassing-and her efforts were rewarded, not only by allowing her to make a living doing what she loved and enjoyed but also by showing and proving to the world that her life wasn't inconsequential. Shown in part by her many adoring fans. Even if most of them were perverts who bought the H-games. But, hey! It was the thought that counted.

Kazuto, due to being so sheltered for nearly all of his early life, was rather naïve in many ways when it came to the world. It was thanks to this naivety that he one day happened upon something that would change his life forever. Through a series of mishaps, he had unknowingly stumbled upon something that would forever change his life: doujinshis and hentai. And from then on, his eyes were opened to a whole new world. One of erotic splendor and opulent pleasure. So different was it, so raw in its nature and essence to everything he once knew, Kazuto could not help but sink deeper within it. Something awakened in him, his inner pervert manifesting, leading him to become the massive but endearing pervert that he was. It was here that he saw it for what it truly was: Art. Just as Chihiro found her calling, so too did Kazuto. This awakening pushed him towards a path as a designer and artist.

The siblings carved an identity for them, discovering who they truly were in life.

For they were Kazuto and Chihiro Haruto.

The perverted artist and the crippled voice actress.

He, who soared and reached new heights, and she, who persevered and made her stand.

Brother and sister.

Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama of Ainz Ooal Gown.

It didn't matter what or who they were called.

They were content with who they were. And they wouldn't give it up for anything in the whole world.

A fitting conclusion to end the matter.

But again, this was Kazuto née Peroroncino that's being discussed here. So, of course, he was bound to say or do something to ruin the moment.

"You know, Emiya-senpai has a clear view of your bed and can totally see you if you masturbate." He rather innocently pointed out.

In a sudden and abrupt manner, Kazuto shattered the peaceful ambiance with a forcefulness that could be likened to the way a hammer smashes a walnut. Needless to say, it was an absurd and ridiculous display.

Chihiro couldn't help but let out an audible groan of pain. If it were physically possible, she would have executed a perfect face fault in that moment. However, instead, she resorted to facepalming herself in frustration and disbelief.

"You just had to ruin it, didn't you? Couldn't have kept your mouth closed, could you?!"

"Nope~" He returned, popping the 'p' at the end with a cheeky grin plastered all over his face.

The kicker was that it was the truth. The painting hung from a wall that had a direct line of sight to her bed. So, there was some truth in his words. Combined with the painting's intense stare in that direction, it only further proved his point.

"I hate you." She stated.

Kazuto, on the other hand, let out a victory laugh, finally getting the metaphorical and literal last laugh from Chihiro and the situation. This earned him an elbow to the rib from his sister, but that did little to diminish his win.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Sometime later, the two of them hopped onto YGGDRASIL, finding themselves situated within the confines of their guild's headquarters, The Great Tomb of Nazarick. Positioned in front of them were their respective NPCs, Shalltear, belonging to Peroroncino, and Aura and Mare, owned by Bukubukuchagama. Their tireless efforts, lasting for almost an entire month, consisted of an arduous combination of intricate designs, coding, programming, and settings, with only the final details remaining to be added before their completion.

YGGDRASIL was an amazing platform that gave the Players plenty of freedom to design their NPCs to their hearts content. Everything was customizable, from their appearance, abilities, and equipment to even giving them a backstory in the form of flavor text. The best part was that there was plenty of space for one to write down all their ideas, so they could let their creativity shine. Anyone could design their NPCs with a unique personality, quirks, and history that will bring them to life. It was a great way to indulge in one's imagination and make the game even more immersive.

The siblings had been at it for nearly two hours now, doing nothing but finalizing their NPC's backstory, personality, and flavor text to their specifications.

"How's your progress coming along, otouto?" Bukubukuchagama asked absentmindedly, not taking her attention away from the console.

"All done, actually!" He exclaimed. A smiling emoticon appeared over him.

Peroroncino sounded exorbitantly pleased with himself.

"I dare say, she's a masterpiece!" The golden archer praised, looking over the slender and petite form of Shalltear.

Bukubukuchagama paused and looked over to her brother's NPCs. She couldn't help but notice the vampire's ethereal beauty. Her porcelain-like skin, striking crimson eyes, delicate facial features, and slender body were truly stunning. Her exotic appearance and attire only added to her already mesmerizing nature. It was clear to Bukubukuchagama that the vampire was a sight to behold. However, that only proved what she was already thinking.

"She's a walking sex doll full of kinks and fetishes, isn't she?" The slime Heteromorph said, less of a question and more of a statement.

"Hey! What makes you say that?" Peroroncino hotly returned.

"Because it's you." She answered back succinctly, as if that was all the answer needed to explain everything, which, to be fair, wasn't entirely inaccurate.

"I… well. Ok, I'll have to give you that." The avian Heteromorph admitted it without much of a fight. "I don't see what's wrong, it's my creation after all. You don't see me criticizing your NPCs."

"Because I'm not doing something completely stupid with them." Was Bukubukuchagama's sardonic response.

"Which you're not telling us, myself included, either! Heck, for all we know, you could be writing in their lore and backstory that Emiya-senpai is their father and you as their mother. Or something equally as bizarre." Came the brother's response.

Peroroncino readied himself for his sister's comeback, but it never came. Confused and curious, he looked over at her to see that she had stopped typing. In any other situation, her sudden quietness would have been dismissed, were it not for the blushing emoticon unintendedly hovering over her head.

"No way…" He whispered in half surprise and half-ironic amusement. A semi-smug smiling face emoticon appeared above him, matching his own triumphant smile.

"You totally are!"

"S-shut up!"

He raced over to her side, and all the while Bukubukuchagama clutched and moved her console interface so as to not allow Peroroncino to read its content.

"Otouto! If you don't give up now, I will beat you over the head! Got that?!" She screamed in her serious voice.

"Ok, ok. Sheesh, no need to blow a gasket, sis. Although the cat is out of the bag, as they say." He joked, to which Bukubukuchagama growled at him.

As he glanced over at the NPCs, Kazuto to observe them closely, analyzing their every feature. The two dark elves before him took the appearance of young children, or at least, in human years, although he knew that elves often had much longer lifespans. Their clothing was impeccably tailored, fitting their forms perfectly. Where both of the elves wore a refined full-body suit with an embroidered vest, one of them wore sleek white pants while the other wore a demure skirt and stockings. The golden archer could only guess at their true gender as the pair of NPC were quite androgynous with their appearance and clothing.

Peroroncino peered into their eyes, catching onto the connection.

"Ohh, it's the eyes, isn't it?" He called out, gesturing to their eyes.

Indeed, both Aura and Mare had heterochromatic eyes. One of oceanic blue, and the other of emerald green. It was interesting to note how similar their eyes were to Shirou's own heterochromatic eyes of brilliant silver and molten gold. Additionally, his deep and smooth tan skin matched up well with the dark elves' own darkened skin. It was as if they were all meant to be together, united by their unique physical traits. The similarities continued when one considered that they, along with Shirou, were Humanoid compared to a majority of the other NPCs, who were mostly Heteromorphs.

"I'm no biology genius, but even I know that a human plus a slime doesn't exactly equal a dark elf." He illustrated this by raising both of his hands, one as if to represent a human and the other to represent a slime, and slammed them together. Peroroncino then opened them and gestured to the pair of NPCs.

Peroroncino took a jab in good fun. He had expected an equally fierce response from his sister, only for Bukubukuchagama to sigh disheartedly.

"I knew it was a stupid idea…" She lamented, her hands hovering over the console keyboard.

Peroroncino immediately recognized what she was about to do and rushed to stop her.

"Whoa, whoa! Easy, nee-san, no need to get rid of it! I was just teasing you, that's all." He insisted.

"What does it matter? It's my NPCs after all, so I can do whatever I want with them!" Bukubukuchagama returned, using the same counter-argument Peroroncino had made, now against him.

"Ok, ok. I get it. You're embarrassed." He raised his hand in mock surrender, placatingly. "How about this?"

Peroroncino raced back to Shalltear and the interface console before moving the both of them next to Aura and Mare. Bukubukuchagama internally arched a brow, curious as to what he was doing. He rapidly typed in something before making it visible for her to see. At the bottom of the veritable wall of text was a simple line.

"She is in mega love with Emiya."

Bukubukuchagama lifted her head and Peroroncino could feel the deadpanned glare of his sister baring into him.

"First of all, how does that relate to my issue? Secondly, you seriously used the word mega? Really?" She questioned him incredulously, especially his choice of words.

"Well, I figured since you wrote something relating to Emiya-senpai, I figured I should try and do the same as well." He gave his answer, although he was willing to admit on second viewing that Bukubukuchagama did have a point with the first question.

She said nothing and merely stared at him. Seeing that his endeavor wasn't working out, Peroroncino tackled the issue alternatively.

"Alright, I will admit I was a bit meanspirited, but I actually like what you did, sis. Just as I admittedly made Shalltear to my specifications, you shouldn't erase something you truly feel strongly about. Even if it's a bit of wish fulfillment. If anything, you should go for it, all the way! After all, isn't that why the devs allow us to create NPCs however we want to in the first place?" Peroroncino reasoned.

Bukubukuchagama said nothing, her hand still hovering above the keyboard.

"In a way, I kind of see them as you do as well, sis. These are our creations. We have the right and freedom to make them however we wish. If you want to roleplay with them and wish for you and Emiya-senpai to be the parents, then go for it! No matter what anyone says, it's your right. No one's going to judge you, especially me. I promise." He vowed.

After a moment of silence, she gave her answer.

"Alright, but if you ever tell anyone, especially Emiya-san, I will burn your hentai collection. All of them!" She promised, and she was serious as well.

"I promise! It'll be no one else's secret but our own." He quickly agreed, gulping at the sheer thought of his precious treasures being destroyed.

Bukubukuchagama nodded and got back to work. Peroroncino let out a sigh of relief and followed along. As they were working, a new conversation picked up.

"You still haven't completely explained why you said your NPC is in love with Emiya-san." She questioned.

"What? Afraid of some competition?" He teased.

She snorted derivatively. "Please. As if I would feel threatened by pieces of code. Also, don't avoid the question."

Peroroncino responded with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

"Honestly, it was a combination of everything I said and because I kind of felt like it. In a way, I want to show my appreciation for him. Since he's stuck in YGGDRASIL, I figured an NPC would be the next best thing. You know, like a companion."

"Which, again, I reiterate, is the walking embodiment of your kinks and fetishes. And you thought it would be a neat idea to 'gift Emiya-senpai' her?" She responded with a hint of derision.

"Well, when you put it like that…" He scratched the back of his head in slight uncertainty. "I figured even Emiya-sempai gets lonely sometimes. Maybe she'll keep him company when we're not around." He phrased it suggestively.

"Please. Unlike you, Emiya-san has some class and decency." Bukubukuchagama immediately dismissed his words with a huff without a second thought.

"Ehh, you'd never know."

As Peroroncino stepped back to allow his sister to do her own thing in peace, he looked back at the dark elf siblings.

'Emiya-senpai as the dad and sis as the mom, huh?' He mused, giving the idea some thought.

Behind the NPC siblings, his mind conjured up the image of Shirou and Bukubukuchagama in their YGGDRASIL avatars, standing behind them. Peroroncino chuckled under his breath at the thought of an endearing but dysfunctional-looking family. That only made it more charming in his eyes.

'I guess that also makes me their uncle.' He thought amusingly, inserting himself into the imaginary group right beside the two.

He comprehended his sister's intention thematically. Aura and Mare were created from her thoughts and desires and were crafted according to her whims and specifications. They were like their children, the NPCs. In that light, Bukubukuchagama's decision could be interpreted as her giving Shirou the respect he deserved.

The Humanoid Player had a helping hand in bringing the various NPCs of Ainz Ooal Gown to life. Whether it was a small contribution like helping to choose a creature or offering ideas to more involved approach where he provided insights into the NPC's abilities, powers, and inner workings. Shirou's dedication and expertise were invaluable to the other members, helping them build their NPCs from the ground up.

One of Shirou's more notable collaborations was with Peroroncino and his NPC, Shalltear Bloodfallen. The golden archer found himself undecisive in what to make for his NPC and sought his senpai's guidance in narrowing down the concept, and as always, Shirou agreed without hesitation. The two worked seamlessly together, and their collective efforts produced a fantastic creation that they were both proud of.

Curiously enough to Peroroncino, when he and Shirou were brainstorming on what NPC he should create, his senpai was extremely knowledgeable on a particular subject of monsters - vampires, or Dead Apostles as he called them. Peroroncino was intrigued by this term as he had never heard of it before. He even searched the Player-created monster index, which contains information about all monsters discovered in YGGDRASIL, but found no results for the designation. He ultimately decided to keep the name, as, in his opinion, it was a rather badass sounding name compared to just 'vampire'. Shirou offered some minor assistance in allocating stats and equipment, but everything else was left to Peroroncino's design for the NPC.

And thus, Shalltear Bloodfallen: The 29th Dead Apostle Ancestor, was born.

While on the topic of NPC building, Peroroncino was reminded of the time when Momonga was creating his NPC. Shirou had kindly offered to assist him, as he did with everyone else, but surprisingly, their skeletal Guildmaster had strongly objected. He seemed secretive and almost fearful about something, and he would deny any help offered. In the end, the matter was forgotten, and everyone moved on.

The two worked in silence, and within a few minutes, they were finished. On time too, as the wristwatch Bukubukuchagama had on beeped, her cutesy voice repeated that time was up.

"It's been two hours already? Man, time sure flies." Peroroncino commented while stretching.

Bukubukuchagama turned it off and returned the item to her inventory. With a swipe of her hand, she opened her menu and moved to log out. Before she logged out, the voice actress took one last look at her innocent-looking NPCs. A tingle of doubt returned to her at the last second.

"Maybe I should get rid of it…" She mused aloud.

"Hey, hey! Stop that thought right now." Peroroncino intervened, snapping his finger. "It's fine as it is, so there's no need to let it mess you up when it really shouldn't. After all, it's not hurting anyone. No one knows about it besides us, and potentially Momonga-san with his Guildmaster access, and even if he does discover it, he's not the type to blab." He reasoned.

"Besides…" His hand hovered over the logout button. "What's the worst that can happen?"

With those final words, Peroroncino logged out, leaving Bukubukuchagama contemplative for a few more seconds before logging out.

In an instant, she vanished into thin air, following her brother's trail, leaving the motionless NPCs behind. The air was still, and Shalltear, Aura, and Mare remained as they were, seemingly frozen in time. Although their eyes were vibrant and colorful, they appeared lifeless and dull, a simple illusion of their virtual lives. They remained that way until, for a fleeting moment, a spark of life flickered within their gaze. A glimmer of intelligence shone in their eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared, leaving them with their previous empty stare.

They say that even the smallest of ripples can make massive waves.

And no one, especially the siblings, were none the wiser as to what truly happened that day and what it meant for the future.

Interlude - The Daily Lives of Ainz Ooal Gown II

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 11/02/2019

Interlude - The Daily Life of Momonga - The Man that took a Risk

September 25th, 2133.

It was early morning, although that was impossible to tell due to the outside world being obscured by a thick veil of smog, shrouding the early morning sky in a murky haze that was concealed by the drawn curtains. The room was cloaked in darkness, with only faint ambient noises and the gentle sound of slumber permeating the air.

In contrast to the tranquil room was its exact state. All manners of clothing were strewn all over the room as if a tornado had its way with the room. Clothing and undergarments of both sexes were scattered throughout. The most provocative was a pair of panties dangling from the ceiling fan above.

It wasn't difficult to gleam at what transpired from the state of the room.

Within the center of the shambled room was a single, unkempt bed. A blanket was draped over the occupants, covering everything from their chests downward. There, the two lay in bed together; the couples were resting on their sides with their sleeping faces facing one another. The woman's head was nestled on her partner's forearm, using it as a convenient pillow. Her hands pressed against his chest, snuggling him affectionately. Her partner's other hand completed the imagery, resting on her supple back, bringing her closer to him.

On the surface, it was the picture of serenity. A man and a woman, seeming lovers, intertwined in a tender and vulnerable embrace. The two slept peacefully away, without a care in the world.

However, that couldn't have been any further from the truth.

Upon closer inspection, the individual revealed himself to be none other than Momonga, or rather, Satoru Suzuki. And he wasn't asleep either. Far from it, in fact. Satoru was completely conscious and awake at that very moment. As a matter of fact, he'd been awake for a whole thirty minutes. When he had first woken up and found himself in the company of a woman, a naked one at that, within his very own bed, he reacted accordingly as anyone would.

In Satoru's case, reacting like a late twenty-year-old awkward virgin with extremely poor social skills when it came to interacting with members of the opposite gender, which was not through a digital medium, aka YGGDRASIL.

No, he did not exclaim at the top of his voice or wildly flail around, thus waking her up and ensuring a very awkward situation. Although he came very close to doing that. Instead, the salaryman managed to wrestle his panic under control and prevent himself from making a scene.

Satoru squeezed his eyes completely shut and remained as still as possible. He clamped his mouth closed to prevent himself from screaming in surprise when he first laid eyes on her. Satoru chose to remain motionless, feigning sleep. He was even too afraid of moving his arm off of her body for fear that any sudden movement might rouse his mysterious visitor from her slumber.

If one were to gaze down upon his seemingly sleeping visage, it would appear that all was right with the world. A peek into his mind at this very moment would have shown otherwise. At that moment, Satoru's thought would go something along the lines of this:

'Shit! Shit! Fuck! Shit! Oh my God! What the hell?! Who?! How?! What?! Damn it! Shit! Fuck!' A string of curses and profanity swirled within his head, both at the situation he'd woken up to and at himself.

This line of thinking continued as he lay there, unable to truly do anything. All the while, Satoru tried desperately to calm himself down.

'Ok, ok. Calm down!' After nearly ten whole minutes of silent panicking in his mind, Satoru had finally gathered his wit. Once he was no longer mindlessly panicking, the salaryman sought to deal with the matter at hand. The first order of business was, of course, figuring out who exactly it was that was in his bed.

'Alright, you can do this! Just stay calm and quiet, and I won't wake her up.'

Slowly and carefully, his eyelids opened up, enough to allow Satoru to peek through. As he peered upon the sleeping beauty beside him, recognition hit him with the force of a freight train. Satoru knew exactly who she was.

It was none other than his fellow co-worker from work.

"Kasumi-san?!" He hissed in surprise and shock.

While his voice was no louder than a whisper, it managed to stir the recently confirmed Kasumi. A small and groggy moan escaped her lips.

'Shit!' Satoru panicked.

He squeezed his eyelids shut tightly, his body tensing up like a frightened child hoping that if he made himself small and still enough, the danger would disappear. Surprisingly, his tactic seemed to work as Kasumi grumbled for a moment before settling down and nuzzling closer to him, seeking the warmth of his body.

The salaryman let out a massive mental sigh of relief.

Now that the 'who' was answered, it brought up another more pressing question.

How and why was she here?

'Alright, come on! Think. Think! What exactly happened yesterday?' Satoru asked himself trying to recall what happened that led to him sleeping with his coworker.

Momentarily pushing aside the matter with Kasumi, Satoru focused his mind on remembering what series of events could have led to this. As the morning grogginess dissipated, he slowly felt the memories of yesterday bubbling back up. Steadily, he recalled the series of events that led to this exact moment.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Within his office, the sounds of rapid typing could be heard. Satoru's complete attention was on his computer as his hand worked without rest. After ten minutes of intense typing, he stopped and leaned back. The light from the screen revealed a grimace on his face as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Satoru was exhausted, but that was hardly anything new at this point. Tearing his eyes from his computer, he looked at the ticking clock on the wall. It read 10:35 p.m. Looking back at his computer screen, he couldn't help but sigh.

Pushing himself off of the chair, he stretched to get the kinks out and, without a word, walked to the door. Taking a calming breath, he prepared himself. His face straightened into his signature poker face, the visage of a calm and collected superior. Once he was ready, he opened the door. Outside his office was where the rest of them worked. Cubicles lined the middle of the room, with the loud clatter of typing echoing rhythmically through the office space. Hearing his office door open, several workers popped up from the top of their cubicle walls to see him.

Everyone who popped their heads up held the same look in their eyes. A sense of fatigue rolled off of them, from their posture to their looks. Even with their indifferent expressions, each held a silent plea in their weary gaze.

The reason for this was due to it being "Death March" week for them, and for a whole week straight, they endured long hours of constant work that pushed their bodies and minds to the limit. Everyone was dead tired, both physically and mentally, and even a few looked ready to pass out on the spot. Satoru wasn't exempt from this, but he hid it better.

Fortunately for them, they were at the literal home stretch. Well, almost everyone.

"Satoru-san…" A feminine voice drawled out.

Satoru turned his attention toward the owner of the voice.

She stood at roughly the same height as Satoru himself, dressed in form-fitting office apparel just like everyone else. She had short-cut, jet-black hair that parted to the side, covering her left eye. Her eyes were equally as dark, reflecting a spryness to her despite her weariness. Satoru would describe her as a cool beauty with her lovely cheekbones, defined features, and fair skin. Overall, she looked like the typical prim and proper office lady.

Her name was Kasumi, and she was one of the workers under his management.

"Please tell me we're done." Kasumi all but begged.

He spared her a nod before addressing everyone as a whole.

"It's getting late, everyone finish up what you were doing, and you may leave." Satoru announced.

The oppressive mood of the office lifted, allowing for a moment of reprieve. Their eyes lit up, albeit briefly. They could finally go home. And while they didn't outwardly express it, Satoru could feel each one of them was happy to finally be done with it all. None more so than Kasumi, who let out a happy cry, even fist-pumping the air in her excitement.

Satoru spared her only a glance as Kasumi hurriedly rushed to her desk to finish up and pack her bags. Inwardly, he couldn't help but sigh at her behavior when compared to her co-workers, who were silently and methodically doing the same. It couldn't be any clearer what the difference was between them and her.

With one last look at the leaving workers, Satoru turned around towards his office. Everyone else was done and ready to leave, but not him, not yet, unfortunately.

"Satoru-san? Whatcha doing?" Kasumi called out to him.

Turning, he found her ready to leave with her purse hanging from her shoulder. A weary but curious smile rested on her lips as she looked at Satoru.

"You're not leaving with us?" She questioned.

"I have some more documents and reports I still need to finish up before I can leave." Satoru answered.

"But I thought you said we were finally all done?" Kasumi replied, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"It's merely some leftover work on my end. Pay it no mind. Take care, Kasumi-san, and have a nice night." Satoru politely informed and dismissed her, bidding farewell without sparing her a second glance.

Kasumi's countenance became pensive as she brought her lips together and starred at the departing figures of her colleagues. Her gaze shifted back to him before she slowly turned away and joined the others, who appeared to be indifferent to his predicament. His words from a moment ago had fallen on deaf ears, and he couldn't really blame them for their lack of concern.

Satoru watched as the last of his colleagues emptied out of the office, their footsteps echoing down the hallway. Alone, he finally allowed himself to drop the mask. His stoic demeanor gave way to a tired expression as he took a deep breath and let out an exasperated sigh. His shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and he couldn't help but feel drained after the events of the day. With a sigh, he turned towards his office, feeling the weight of unfinished work on his shoulders.

"Come on. The faster I can get this done, the faster I can finally go home to rest." Satoru said to himself, trying to look at the positive.

His eyes scanned the empty room, taking in everything. Two years had passed since he and Ainz Ooal Gown conquered The Tomb of Nazarick, and so much has changed since then. Both within the game and in Satoru's work life. He accepted the managing position, and for the last two years, he has done a decent job running his little department.

He was given an office that was a branch of his original department, with only around fifteen workers under him. A small but noteworthy workforce. And so, the last two years have seen Satoru run his little department the best he could. So far, things have managed to work out, much to his continued surprise.

As Satoru turned off all the lights and made his way back to his office, the only source of light came from his computer screen. He glared at it, hoping that somehow it would make all the work disappear, but unfortunately, he wasn't that lucky.

After loosening his tie and unbuttoning a few buttons on his shirt, Satoru settled in for a long night ahead. It didn't take long before he lost himself in the work. His eyes were glued solely to the screen as he was hyper-focused on finishing all his reports. Time became a blur as he typed and typed away.

Despite his promotion and his wild imagination, not much changed in his day-to-day work routine. It was relatively the same when he was still a lowly salaryman, but with a bit more responsibility and tasks added on. Unlike before, where he answered to one or two superiors, Satoru now had to manage the data and work of those working under him as well as his bosses.

Satoru idly wondered if his old bosses were the way they were because of all the work they had to do similar to himself. If so, he could somewhat understand why many of them were the way they were. It was hard work, and often, it would lead to overwork on their part. Overwork was among the leading causes of stress for a reason.

Satoru couldn't help but let out a derisive snort at the thought. The bosses he once loathed for being too uncompromising and unfair during his long tenure as a lowly salaryman, he now found a shred of sympathy for.

The irony wasn't lost on him. Assuming, of course, that he was even right in his assumption. It could also be easily explained that they were just assholes and were strict for the hell of it.

Satoru went with that explanation instead.

He continued working, his mind and body focused on the task at hand. Satoru was so focused on his work that he paid no mind to everything around him. Not even the sound of the door opening in his office alerted him.

He paused to rub his eyes, letting out another hefty sigh. His eyes looked at the digital clock displayed on his computer as he grumbled to himself. His thoughts were wild and sporadic, both focused on the task but also trying to seek a reprieve.

'At the rate I'm going, it'll be another hour and a half before I'll be done.'

'I could use a drink.'

'I wasted a good ten-minute backtracking to double-check the data for the first report.'

'Uggh, why me?'

'I still have several more documents to go through.'

Satoru's mulling was interrupted by a sudden and sharp cold sensation from the back of his neck. He reacted instantly, his hand slapping the back of his neck to find it cold and wet.

"What the hell?!" Satoru couldn't help but exclaim in complete surprise, whirling his chair around with wide eyes to find the perpetrator. Only for him to swallow his tongue when he realized just who else was in the office with him.

"Hehehe, got' ya!"

It was none other than Kasumi, standing there with a cackling smile. Satoru immediately noticed that she had a cold bottle in one hand and, in her other hand, a plastic bag filled with miscellaneous items.

Thankfully, Satoru recovered from his shock and controlled himself. With practiced ease, he slipped back on his professional poker face and addressed her. His eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed into a fine line.

"That was not funny, Kasumi-san." He chided her with a disproving glare.

"To you maybe, but not to me! Gotta say, it's funny hearing you say that when you're so prim and proper all the time." The raven-haired salarywoman crackled with a grin.

Outwardly, Satoru simply glared at her childish behavior, but inwardly, he felt embarrassed at his actions. He chastised himself for the moment of weakness. But moving past that, there was one other question on his mind.

"What are you doing here, Kasumi-san?" He asked.

"Well, I figured with you staying, I thought you might get thirsty, so I went to grab some drinks." Kasumi answered, lifting the bottle and bag for emphasis. She then handed him the bottle.

"No, what I mean is why. Why exactly are you here? You were on your way home, weren't you?" He questioned her again, specifying the question.

"Oh, well, I thought you might need a hand, so yeah, here I am!" Kasumi leisurely answered back.

Satoru's eyes widened at her reasoning. Rather than retreat to the comfort of her home, she decided to spend her time and money on buying drinks and traveling back to their office to do even more work for him. Naturally, such a line of reasoning made little sense to Satoru, yet, at the same time, it made sense to what he knew of her.

Satoru could still remember the first time he met her. It was when he was recently promoted, and she transferred over under his employ. The moment he laid eyes on her, Satoru knew immediately that she was different from the rest.

The life of a salaryman was an arduous one; it was very common for entire floors and departments to hold a sense of "emptiness" to them. Workers were overwhelmed with tasks and seldom had the opportunity to break away from their routines. They were expected to do their job and nothing else, without any chances to socialize or take a break. Only the managers had the luxury to do so, and they were indifferent to the struggles of their subordinates, as long as productivity was maintained.

That was simply how things were.

Many broke under the harsh reality and conditions, becoming little more than a simple cog in the machine. A slave to the corporation that they work for. Satoru's story was no different from anyone else's. That was simply the fact of life.

But from the outset, he recognized Kasumi as different.

He could still remember the first time that he met his employees, those who would work under him. Like him, they held faded eyes that were dead to the world around them, with no true motivation but to simply complete their work and move on with their day. Merely living their lives day by agonizing day, trying to survive. Just like himself once upon a time.

All but Kasumi.

As soon as she entered his office, Satoru was struck by her contrasting nature. Her eyes sparkled with vivacity, and her face was animated with an undeniable zest for life. She embodied the idiom of "wearing one's heart on one's sleeve," exuding an infectious, bubbly personality that matched her effervescent demeanor. Amidst a sea of monotony embodied by her colleagues, she stood out as a unique individual, unafraid to shine brightly.

Where many would keep to themselves, she would often try and start up conversations with her coworkers, always ready to give others a helping hand with their work or if they were stuck. Despite the hardship, she showed a competent work ethic and always managed to end the day with a small smile.

It was an impossibility, no one like her could exist in such a ruthless and grueling work environment and profession as theirs, and yet, day after day, she remained. Never once has she lost her zeal.

As Satoru was reminiscing, Kasumi took the opportunity to look over his computer screen.

"Hmm, huh?" Kasumi let out, taking Satoru out of his musing. "You know, looking at them now, some of these reports can easily be done by one of us if you send them our way."

Hearing her statement, Satoru understood exactly what she wanted to say. Essentially, why didn't he make one of the salarymen under his employ do the work for him?

His expression tightened, and while his poker face didn't outwardly show it, it was clear that her suggestion irked him.

It was a rather common sight to see senior workers, managers, and superiors often time pawning off their work onto their subordinates and low-rung workers. Which only added more work to their ever-growing pile of responsibilities.

Many managers in the past were either given their position, for one reason or another, or they've worked up to it as Satoru did. But what separated him from all the others was their work ethics.

Those given their position, who never truly worked or experienced the hardship the likes of Satoru and so many others had to endure, abused their power and position. They saw their workers as no more than underlings, one of many to do their bidding. Then there were those lucky enough to work their way up, similar to himself. They allowed it to get to their heads, turning into the very tormentor they once served under.

At the very least, he never once allowed the power and positioning to get to his head. Satoru remembered his roots and his hard beginnings, and that kept him grounded. The thought of himself contributing to the cycle and becoming the very thing that broke him was a nauseating one.

Despite being in a higher and more authoritative position, he didn't look at it any differently. He still considered himself a salaryman, one of them. He knew the trials and tribulations that came from being a lowly worker. He suffered as they've all suffered, trying to survive in such an unrelenting work environment. If he gave in, then he would be no better than those that he loathed, and that single fact was what grounded him in what truly mattered.

Satoru endeavored to work with them every step of the way rather than making them work just for him. It was a co-dependent relationship. His employees worked under him; thus, he was just as responsible for them as they were for him.

"I could." Satoru agreed as he uncapped the drink given to him. "However, that wouldn't be fair for anyone if I dully out my work onto others when I can do it myself. What kind of example would I be giving then? That's not the kind of person I am." He firmly stated this, not only to her but also to himself.

Satoru took a moment to take a drink, secretly grateful that she brought them along to quench his thirst. During this, Kasumi looked at him, her playful expression replaced with something more somber and appreciative.

"That you are…" Kasumi whispered to herself, quiet enough that Satoru missed it.

"While I do certainly appreciate the concern and kind gesture, there was no need for you to come, Kasumi-san."

"Oh, are you saying you don't want my help?" She pouted. "Even when I took precious time out of my night to get you drinks and even missed my ride home just to help you. You're just going to kick me out? Out into the cold and dangerous night while I wait for my train ride home? To think you would be so cruel, Satoru-san! Even though I came to help out of the kindness of my heart." Kasumi sniffed dramatically, closing her eyes and turning away.

Satoru's mask remained neutral, but the slight twitch of his eyebrows said otherwise.

'Is she guilt-tripping me?' He thought incredulously.

She continued this for a few more seconds before opening one of her eyes to gauge Satoru's reaction. As he remained unresponsive, she closed her eye and kept up the act. He suppressed a sigh, but on the inside, he felt touched by Kasumi's action. It was admirable to see Kasumi offer her assistance, despite it not being her responsibility. Satoru couldn't help but feel moved by her selflessness, even though he tried to hide it. He felt grateful for the kindness Kasumi showed but was also a bit reluctant to outright say yes, if only because of what he said earlier about splitting the workload. Then again, she was offering her aid rather than him dumping it onto her…

"Very well, let us finish this up so we can both leave."

"You forgot to say please." Kasumi quickly added, the corner of her lips twitching upwards into a concealed smile.

'This woman!' Satoru thought, trying to keep himself composed. He didn't bother holding back a sigh this time.

"Won't you please help me finish this so we can both leave?" He reiterated.

"Since you asked so nicely, sure thing!" She quickly dropped the act and gave him a teasing smile. "Send some of them my way, and we'll get this done in no time!" Setting down a few more drinks for him, she walked out the door towards her desk.

As soon as he was certain that she couldn't see him, he slumped in his chair and let out a deep sigh of frustration that had been building up since the beginning. Despite her teasing, Satoru did not feel any anger towards her. He only felt grateful. In fact, he found himself enjoying these moments, as they were refreshingly different from the usual dullness and monotony of his job. It also helped that they reminded him of the kind of jokes and teasing his friends from Ainz Ooal Gown would make. In particular, the teasing from Bukubukuchagama and Peroroncino felt familiar and comforting.

In a typical work environment, such behavior would not be accepted and would be corrected immediately to comply with the standard. However, Satoru was different. He never explicitly confronted her about it or reprimanded her to fix her attitude. Consequently, she continued her behavior without fear of punishment. As long as her actions did not impact work productivity, Satoru saw no issue with it.

If he was being truthful, however, it was also because he didn't wish to do it, let alone have the guts to even try.

Life as a lowly salaryman was already grim enough for millions upon millions of others, but not for her. A mystery that he was no closer to solving than when he first met her. She was one of the few that kept her smile, and the thought of 'breaking' her to be just like the rest was sickening to him.

After shaking off his negative thoughts, he immediately resumed working. Over the next thirty minutes, they worked tirelessly, typing on their keyboards at a rapid pace and occasionally asking each other for information related to the documents. Their collaboration helped them complete the task quickly and efficiently.

"And done." With one last click, the last report was sent. With that, Satoru was officially done with everything.

Powering everything down and collecting his stuff, he met with Kasumi in the main room.

"Thank you for your help." Satoru bowed and thanked her, truly grateful for her helping hand.

"No problem! Considering what you do for us, I say it's only fair." Kasumi waved with an easy-going smile.

"Let's be on our way then-"

"Say, Satoru-san, you got any plans?" Kasumi interrupted, asking a question out of nowhere.

Hearing this, Satoru couldn't help but blink at the sudden question.

The answer to her question was both yes and no.

Although he had free time after work, he seldom socialized with his colleagues and peers. Despite being a general manager, his social skills remained almost nonexistent. Instead of spending time with others, he preferred to go straight home after work and let his employees do the same. His free time was either spent sleeping to rest or playing YGGDRASIL with his friends, finding solace in their company.

Rather than answering with a simple yes or no, Satoru instead asked. "Why?"

"Well, we finished up our "Death March", so this calls for a celebration! What'd say we head out to celebrate? How about we head out to a lovely Yokocho spot that's open all night long? Just you and me." Kasumi proposed.

Yokocho, in essence, refers to the narrow alleyways running parallel to the main streets. However, Satoru wasn't concerned with the literal meaning. Yokocho was frequently used to describe a place where one could find a variety of small eateries, bars, and pubs lined up side by side. It was a popular spot for people from all professions to unwind, socialize, and have a drink after a long day of work.

Typically, it was the managers who had the luxury of time and resources to frequent such places, often bringing their subordinates or employees along - whether they wanted to or not. In this instance, however, it was the subordinate who was asking her superior out.

Perhaps Satoru was overthinking the situation, but upon hearing Kasumi's offer and the last part of her sentence, his mind was flooded with a plethora of thoughts and questions. In the end, his mind settled on one wild conclusion.

"Are you… asking me out?" Satoru slowly asked for confirmation after a few more seconds of silence.

His poker face was firmly in place, revealing nothing of his true thoughts and intentions. The only sign of true emotion on his face was the slight arching of his brow to hint at some form of curiosity about her proposition.

"Huh? Yeah, sure, we can make it a date." Kasumi casually accepted, shrugging.

"I see…" Satoru simply replied, again showing no real reaction or emotion to it.

Internally, however:

"OH MY GOD!" A chibi version of Momonga, complete with robe and all, clutched the sides of his skeletal face with his hands and screamed at the top of his nonexistent lungs. His exclamation reverberated within his head.

"Are you… serious?" Satoru dumbly asked again, despite her clear intention.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Kasumi returned, a raised brow showing her confusion.

"I was just making sure…" He coughed, clearing his throat while looking to the side. Again, his true thoughts were hidden behind his mask.

Internally:

"HOLY SHIT!" Chibi Momonga once again screamed, this time with him kneeling on the ground. His skeletal hands balled into fists and slammed against the imaginary floor, his visage displaying complete and utter shock.

As a salaryman, it wasn't uncommon for their managers or bosses to invite, or more correctly, coerce their employees on a night on the town, so to speak. Anything from drinking the night away to chatting and building a sense of comradery with one another to a botched attempt to pick up girls for the night. Whatever the case, it was a common practice in Japanese work culture that was founded to further the connection between workers and their employers. And even in a dystopian future like theirs, the practice was still going strong to this day.

In Satoru's opinion, it was nothing more than ego-stroking.

Satoru himself experienced being a victim of this practice when it came to his higher branch manager in the department. He was often forced to play along with their demands, spending long nights kowtowing to superiors or drinking the night away and expecting to be at work the next day. This experience made him empathize with his own workers, and he never employed such practices with them.

Going back to the matter at hand, it would always be the bosses and managers who were the first to conduct it. Now, however, it was Kasumi who was inviting him. Despite never once showing hints towards it.

As usual, Momonga/Satoru panicked when confronted with an unfamiliar situation, even though the situation was not as severe as he had initially imagined. Already, he was imagining the worst possible outcome.

'A date?! Ahhh! Why did I have to open my big mouth and say it was a date?! Stupid! Idiot! Dummy! Wait, wait, wait… What if it's just her playing around? Yeah, knowing her, her saying this is a date could be just one big prank! Kasumi-san is probably just messing with me! I'll just say no, and we'll be both on our way! But… what if she wasn't kidding, then?! I can't just say no! She'll probably want a good reason why, and no doubt she'll begin grilling me for answers. What happens if she doesn't find them satisfactory?! Ahhh… What do I do?!'

During all of this, Satoru couldn't help but also feel completely embarrassed about being embarrassed over something as minor as a 'date.'

He was behaving like an inexperienced teenager who had just reached puberty and had been asked out by a girl he knew, contrary to the reality that he was an adult in his mid-twenties. The fact that he was worried about something as simple as this was a blow to his pride. But as a loner, social interactions were already challenging for him, like trying to climb a wall with just his hands. And now, he was faced with a situation where he had to interact with a woman he didn't know much about despite working with one another for two years, making it feel like an almost impossible task. His nervousness was akin to that of a shy teenager, and naturally, he couldn't help but panic.

He quickly fell back to his usual cynical mindset and started envisioning worst-case scenarios. He worried that his explanation might not satisfy Kasumi or that she might take offense, and it'd create a rift in their stable work relationship, causing further problems that could potentially lead to a crisis. He feared that her disapproval could affect not only work productivity but also that of his other employees and even himself.

Down and down the spiral of negative thoughts went. Reason was promptly thrown out the window as irrationality barged right on in and took over his headspace.

He was so absorbed by his thoughts that he had lost track of time. Left alone for nearly two whole minutes, Kasumi waited for his response, but none came. Her face slackened during this time, and there was no hiding the disappointment on her face.

She blew out a small, despondent sigh.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." She said, knocking him out of his self-imposed musing. "A simple no would work, instead of whatever you were thinking in your noggin." Kasumi joked and jabbed a finger at his head.

Kasumi smirked, but it was clear even to Satoru that her words didn't meet her eyes, and her smile was a mere fraud compared to those she would grace with in the past.

"Considering we just went through hell, then yeah, I can see why a night on the town would be the last thing on your mind. Heck, everyone is probably back at home in their comfy little beds, asleep right now. You're probably feeling tired as well, ay boss? Welp, don't let me keep you from it. Forget about what I said and sorry for the bother, Satoru-san." Kasumi apologized in a soft tone and flashed an apologetic smile his way, bowing all the while.

Despite Kasumi's words and smile, Satoru sensed a deep sadness within her. It was not just the rejection that caused it, but something deeper. It seemed as though she was disappointed in herself rather than him. Kasumi turned away, her true emotions hidden from sight.

By all means, Satoru should've been happy. Kasumi had called it off entirely, meaning he didn't have to worry about being the one to diffuse the situation. With that obstruction out of the way, the salaryman had no more obligation and should be on his merry way.

He should be happy with the situation, and yet, he wasn't.

For someone as expressive as her, it was all too easy for someone like Satoru to see past the mask of indifference.

At that moment, she looked so…

A fleeting memory flashed in his mind, reminding him of a moment when he was seated in complete solitude. The surrounding figures were shrouded in darkness, and they walked around him, his presence invisible to everyone. Satoru was all alone, and from that isolation came one singular feeling: loneliness.

… lonely.

As if his body had a mind of its own, Satoru reached out and grabbed her shoulder, stopping Kasumi from going any further. She turned to look at him, clearly surprised by this, and it wasn't just her but Satoru as well. It took him a split second to realize what he had done, and he immediately let go of her shoulder.

"I never said no…" He found himself saying, surprised once more at his autonomous action.

Hearing this, her eyes widened, and Satoru spied the faint glimmer of hope in her eyes. He swallowed a lump in his throat. It was too late to take back his words. He began sweating bullets, trying to settle the internal debate within his mind.

If Satoru was being brutally honest, he wanted to say no to it all, yet, he found himself unable to.

Satoru gave her words some more thought and wondered if Kasumi had an ulterior motive for asking him out. However, he dismissed the notion. She was always a straightforward individual. The only conclusion that could be drawn was that she asked him out because she wanted his company.

On one hand, he was flattered beyond belief. Extremely so. He held no illusions about his looks. Satoru knew his appearances were extremely average, everything from soft brown hair and eyes to his remarkably bland features. There wasn't anything noteworthy that could be attractive to the opposite sex, but at the same time, he was far from unappealable. Perhaps it was his low self-esteem talking, but he truly didn't think or believe anyone ever asked him on anything, let alone an outing or a date. His position notwithstanding.

On the other hand, this was quite literally uncharted territory for him, and he was reasonably afraid as he had no idea what to truly do, let alone say. He held zero experience whatsoever in the field, so he would be flying by the seat of his pants if he accepted.

The potential embarrassment he could or would face on their date-was it still a date?-alone was enough to frighten him. Any of those reasons alone should have convinced him to deny her request.

But the memory of her disheartened face stopped him and stirred within him a sense of guilt.

At the same time, despite his clear apprehension, he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't the least bit curious about saying yes to her. A small, nudging part of him urged him just to say yes. To go on a "date" with her, his very first-ever date. If only once, just so he could say and know he did do it. To experience something new, to try and have a little fun with their night out, the possibility of it ending in disaster be damned.

Another contributing factor was Kasumi coming back to help him, which Satoru was grateful for. He owed her and felt he should at the very least be obligated to repay her kindness.

His rational side took over, arguing that they were both adults. If the night ended awkwardly or in failure, then it wasn't the end of the world or anything too dramatic. They would resolve the matter as adults and move on from there.

'It's not as if I'm agreeing to be her boyfriend or anything.' A voice answered out of nowhere in his head. 'It's just a simple outing. Worse comes to worst, at the end of it, I'll just say it didn't work out and go at it from there.' Satoru's mind rationalized.

What finally tipped the scales of the argument was that Satoru remembered something at that moment. A conversation with his dear friend, Shirou.

"There's nothing wrong with waiting on the sidelines, but don't you think it'll be a lot more interesting being in it than watching it?"

The exact nature of the conversation before and after was hazy, but his words stayed with Satoru. The message was rather simple: act where one would not have done before. The old Satoru would have emphatically said no, but Satoru had changed through the years.

"I-I was just surprised. That is all…" Satoru coughed, hiding his anxiety.

It was clear to both of them that the response was extremely flimsy. Nevertheless, Satoru braved the awkwardness. The salaryman made his decision.

"A drink or two wouldn't be bad." Satoru accepted.

A brief silence ensued after Satoru's words were spoken, and there was a momentary pause in the conversation. Satoru cast a quick glance toward his companion, attempting to discern her reaction. However, he was caught off-guard by her immediate response. Suddenly, her eyes lit up with excitement, and her face was overtaken by a broad, beaming smile. It was clear that her happiness was genuine and authentic, radiating from her expression.

Satoru felt his heart skip a beat at the sheer happiness in her eyes and her delightful smile.

'Cute…' His mind couldn't help but take note.

"That's the spirit!" Kasumi happily exclaimed, reaching over and reigning Satoru in. Her entire arm was resting on his shoulder as the two were practically hugging.

"Let's hit the road!" With a beaming smile, she practically dragged him with her as the two left the office.

They traveled in silence, neither one particularly engaging in any form of small talk, for around twenty minutes before reaching the yokocho that was mentioned earlier. The two salary workers navigated through a narrow passageway and arrived at the pub. Luckily, the building had a ventilation system, allowing them to remove their stuffy breathing masks and clothes upon entering.

Satoru observed the restaurant in silence, scanning his surroundings. The moderate-sized pub had most of its tables and chairs lining the walls, with a bar counter that occupied over half of the room. The counter was at the back of the pub, with a doorway leading to the kitchen behind it. The pub had a refreshing atmosphere, inviting anyone in for a quick and relaxing time. It wasn't very crowded, with only a few customers scattered around and the owner standing behind the counter. The elderly man briefly looked up at Satoru and Kasumi, while Kasumi greeted him with a smile and a wave.

"Say, you want anything specific? Drinks, some appetizers, or anything?" She quickly asked him.

"I'll just get what you're getting." Satoru answered. He had no idea what they even served at the restaurant, so he decided to play it safe and defer to her judgment.

"Alright then, two regular cold beers and an order of chicken poppers!" Kasumi ordered, with the owner inclining his head slightly to show that he heard.

As he left to grab their order, Kasumi dragged Satoru off again to one of the more remote booths with a clear view of the bar. The two undressed any baggage clothing and relaxed against the soft cushion of the couch-like seat.

"What do you think?" She began, clearly referring to the restaurant.

"It seems… nice." He replied on first impression alone.

"I know, right! I found this place by accident one day, and it was the best accident ever! The food's good, and the beer's even better. It's a bit far away from where I live and work, but it's totally worth it! Especially when you can get a group or party together! Then you can have a real good time."

As Kasumi spoke, Satoru became aware of something that piqued his interest. It seemed like she visited the place often, but there was also an underlying suggestion. Satoru wasn't sure if he was overthinking it, but it sounded like Kasumi came to the place alone often enough. She sounded almost wistful for company.

It didn't make much sense to him for someone as proactive as her to simply go out to eat or drink alone. Surely someone as spirited and extraverted as her would have a few friends or companions to hang out with.

Satoru's train of thought halted as their order arrived. Two large ice-cold glass mugs slammed on the table with Kasumi's order of fried chicken.

"Fast as always, that's why I love ya!" Kasumi thanked the owner. The owner gave a wordless groan of acknowledgment before walking away.

"Cheers!" Grabbing her mug, she raised it into the air.

Satoru grabbed his mug and met hers. The two let out an audible clink before Kasumi began drinking her cold beverage. Satoru tentatively brought the cool alcohol to his lips and drank. He was pleasantly surprised by the taste and flavor of his drink. It was both delicious and refreshing, and he could feel the cool liquid spreading through his body, relieving him of all the fatigue and stress from work.

"That hit the spot!" She exclaimed with a pleasing moan, her glass a third of what it once was. "Soooo, what do you think?" Kasumi asked him.

"It's really good."

"If you think that's good, try it with the fried chicken. You'll be blown away!" The salarywoman excitedly urged, grabbing one of the bit-size fried chickens and dipping it in the sauce. She tossed it in her mouth and excitedly chewed it down, accompanied by another swig of her cold beer.

Satoru followed along, grabbing a piece of fried chicken and eating it with a sip of his drink. Kasumi was proven right again as the flavor and taste of the combination exploded in his mouth. Enough to where it was visible on his poker face.

"Told ya." Kasumi chuckled.

From there the conversation quickly reached a point of stillness, leaving the two individuals sitting in their booth in complete silence. The atmosphere was calm yet uncomfortable, as neither party spoke or engaged in any form of activity. Time stretched on agonizingly slow, with one minute blending into two, then three and so on. Five minutes quickly passed before either individual made any move, and they merely sipped their drinks occasionally while waiting for the other to initiate a conversation or any form of interaction.

Satoru had feared this moment the most, as he knew he had no idea what to say or do to get the ball rolling, so to speak. The two of them only interacted during work hours, leaving no room for them to get to know each other better. Internally, Satoru began to fret, trying to think of something to fill the awkward silence.

"You're bad at this, aren't you?" Kasumi said suddenly, snapping him back to reality. She was looking at him with a slouched posture and one hand propping up her head while the other held onto her half-empty glass mug. Unlike Satoru, she appeared to be relaxed, while he maintained his poker face and a rigid posture.

Satoru looked at her, noticing a faint tinge of red across her cheek. It would seem the alcohol was slowly taking effect, though she still looks sober enough. She held an almost resigned look, as if she were expecting this to happen.

"Then again, who am I to talk?"

She continued before Satoru could have responded.

"Say, Satoru-san. How long have we been working with one another?" She questioned him.

"Almost a little over two years." He answered after a quick calculation in his head.

"Two whole years, huh? Time sure flies, doesn't it, eh, Satoru-san? Ahahaha…" She let out a small, drunken chuckle.

It would seem that the alcohol was starting to loosen her lips.

"We've known and worked with one another for that long, and isn't it funny how in that time nothing has happened? Hell, we're practically strangers, if you kind of think about it. Don't you think that's a bit screwy?" Kasumi pointed out, chuckling again in a subdued manner.

Satoru quietly took another sip of his alcohol, waiting.

"We really need to start changing up things in the office or something! It's so serious and boring all the time." Kasumi lamented.

"Especially you! Always looking so dour every single second. All that seriousness is going to get wrinkles on your forehead before you know it. Try and learn how to smile some more. Come on, try it."

The conversation soon turned to be about him. Kasumi took her fingers and pressed them against the edges of her mouth, pressing them up to try and form a smile.

At this point, Satoru was unsure of the flow of the conversation. It seemed as if she was speaking for the sake of it. In an attempt to continue, he answered one of her points.

"The workplace is a place of business."

"Then how come I'm still working with ya?" Kasumi immediately countered, taking another drink of her beer.

At that, Satoru held his tongue for a second.

"Because you do good work." He said, the words came to him easily.

Kasumi tilted her head in acknowledgment with a lopsided smile and raised her mug. She took another drink.

"Ya' know, when I first saw you, I thought you were just going to be another annoying prick with a stick up your ass. I expected to get chewed out on my first day, so imagine my surprise when that didn't happen! As I continued working under you, I saw that you weren't like the rest. If one of us messes up, don't scream at us or anything. Heck, you'll even take the time to correct our mistake! You never give out your share of the work and make us do your work for you. You don't set unreasonable work and deadlines for us. You're always treating us fairly and whatnot. What I'm trying to say is… you're a good boss, the best boss I've ever had is what I'm trying to say." Kasumi praised him, her words slurring slightly.

Just as Satoru thought he had nailed down the flow of the conversation, she threw a curveball at him.

"But I gotta ask this… Do you have to be so cold about it?" She questioned him, looking Satoru straight in the eye.

… Cold?

Satoru focused on that word. She described working under him as cold. Of all the words to say, she used that word despite just praising him a moment ago.

"W-what do you mean?" He immediately questioned.

"Well…" Kasumi scratched her head, her hair becoming a bit disheveled as she lingered, trying to find the right words to answer him.

"It just feels cold, ya know? At least with my previous boss, when they chew me out for all kinds of crap like my attitude, messing up, or whatever. Not that I want to scream at us or whatever, but you know…" Kasumi rambled for a bit, her loosened lips spilling words out faster than she could articulate.

"At least with that, I can understand them a bit better, but for you, it's like you're always wearing this mask. I can barely even tell what you're thinking or feeling sometimes. Hell, I barely ever see you even blink."

Satoru's body went stiff at the assumption and how unknowingly close it was to the truth. If Kasumi noticed this, she didn't show it, continuing with her thoughts.

"Yeah, you look like a stone-cold boss, but you showed with your action and help that you cared, but it always feels like you care more about the work being done than about us. It's always so formal and cut-and-dry with you about everything. Sure, you're always making sure everything runs smoothly and looking out for us, but that's about it. So long as it didn't mess up the workflow. I still think you're a good boss, but it feels… cold how you do things, ya' know? It's like you don't even care or bother with us outside of work." Kasumi reiterated both points, both the good and the bad.

Kasumi went to take a drink of her beer while Satoru contemplated her words.

When Satoru accepted his promotion, he had no idea how to go about it. At the time, his leading experience was very minuscule, and while in YGGDRASIL, he showed aptitude as a decent Guildmaster that didn't necessarily translate into real-life leadership. In the end, Satoru went with what he knew best. He adopted this persona of professionalism and donned his mask and his signature inscrutable poker face. He reasoned that, just as he had roleplayed as Momonga in YGGDRASIL, he could play a role as a supervisor.

His goal was to work together with them like a well-oiled machine. For that, he intended a mutual and professional relationship between employees and superior. He would be fair and reasonable, as much as he could, so long as it didn't interrupt work productivity and everyone did their part.

After some reflection, Satoru realized that his treatment of his coworkers was not as considerate as he thought he was. He had been focused on their productivity rather than their well-being. Although he did worry about them, he recognized that it did not necessarily equate to caring for them. For instance, he tolerated Kasumi's attitude in the office because she was skilled at her job. However, he admitted that he would have reacted differently if the situation were reversed or if she was a dullard or not as proficient in her work. Ultimately, when the workday ended, Satoru found that he was indifferent to their personal lives and challenges. So long as work was maintained, he couldn't care less.

All of her points stemmed from one fact.

The shit reality Satoru called the real world, he didn't consider that his life. YGGDRASIL was.

Working was simply a means to an end for him - earning enough money to support himself while devoting all his free time to YGGDRASIL. His guildmates were the most important people in his life, and he cared deeply for them above all others. They were the reason he continued to try. After work, he would rush to immerse himself in YGGDRASIL, where he found a sense of community and belonging with his friends, who were like family to him.

Kasumi was right. There was a cold formality to their relationship. Despite his goodwill, the relationship between the two was clear-cut. Kasumi and the rest were workers, and Satoru was their superior. Nothing more and nothing less. And there was never really a reason to challenge or change the status quo of it all. Those under his management couldn't care less about Satoru and his life, and in turn, he was much the same.

Everyone knew exactly why they were working there - to make a living. Such notions as social connections and camaraderie among coworkers were deemed irrelevant in this environment. Satoru, though he wasn't aware of it, held a subconscious belief in this fundamental notion.

This was the harsh reality of their world - a twisted and cold truth that dictated indifference towards their fellow man.

Satoru was conflicted about his feelings on the matter. While he understood Kasumi's perspective, a part of him couldn't help but think, 'So what?' That was how things were, and it wasn't like he was in a position to try and change it all. However, the words rang hollow in his ears, and he couldn't shake the sense of shame that surfaced.

Kasumi's frank assessment of the situation made him realize just how impersonal and methodical he had become over the course of the year. It was no different from the way he was treated before his promotion.

"I'm… sorry…" His words rang hollow, for what else could he possibly even say?

"It's fine." Kasumi waved her hand idly in dismissal. "It's not like I blame you or anything, Satoru-san. You're just doing your job is all, and as I said earlier you're still the best boss I've ever had. But it's nice to hear and see you aware of all of this."

She gave him a wink and a smile.

"Now if only the others could take a lesson from you and be a bit more receptive, that'll be nice." She commented offhandedly, which gave Satoru pause.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean?"

"No, it's just what you said. I thought…"

"That me and everyone else in the office were buddy-buddy or something like that?" Kasumi guessed.

Satoru confirmed this with a small nod.

She let out a snort, her face crinkling with drunken amusement. A bubbly hiccup left her lips.

"Please, everyone else in the damn office is a wet blanket, kind of like what I thought you would be. You probably don't know this, but the others kind of hate me because I'm always trying to talk to them or get to know them better. They get annoyed, thinking that I'm interfering with their lives or distracting them. Hell, you and me talking right here and now-this's the most interaction I've had with someone from work since I've started working. You're the first one that's ever taken me up on my offer, Satoru-san." Her voice was tinged with melancholy at the end when she admitted this.

"So, thank you. I really appreciate you at the very least doing this for me. And…" A red blush bloomed across her face for what she would try to say next. "… I was wondering… if… we could, you know… maybe be friends or something like that… It would be nice to have someone to talk to from time to time…"

At that moment, Kasumi revealed another side to her. Behind her usual upbeat personality, she was still human. A woman with whims and desires of her own. Kasumi's words, to Satoru, almost sounded like a plea.

A plea for comradery.

They were just two ordinary people, trying to make their way in the world. Perhaps, this was a way of Kasumi reaching out. For no one has ever bothered reaching back, and now, her search has finally led her to Satoru.

A sensation tugged at Satoru, a sense of déjà vu taking over as he reminisced on that faithful day oh so long ago. The day when he first met Shirou, his first friend, and the man who helped change his life from then on. Despite their unusual first encounter, Shirou saved Satoru, and he decided to take a chance and ask him to be friends, mainly because he was unsure of how to make friends.

Over time, their relationship progressed from being distant acquaintances to becoming steadfast friends.

Just as his friend helped him, fate has allowed Satoru the opportunity to help someone else.

The question was, would Satoru take it?

Time ticked by as Kasumi waited and waited, and with each passing second, her confidence in herself diminished. The small, and fatalistic part of her fed the pessimistic thoughts that she was coming off too strongly and suddenly. Just as she opened her mouth to retract her words, Satoru began.

"I cannot promise for certain that I can or will be there for you, but that doesn't mean I won't try to be there when I can. Will that be fine?" Satoru answered, and despite the hesitation, he still gave his word.

Satoru wasn't too sure how she would have reacted, however, he never expected her to start tearing up. Tears began to form in her eyes as the salaryman panicked, wondering if he had done something wrong. Kasumi began rubbing away the budding tears with a small, grateful smile on her face.

Without saying another word, Kasumi turned to Satoru and smiled. Her eyes closed as she beamed with pure, innocent joy - the biggest smile he had ever seen her make. In that moment, he knew she was truly happy.

Satoru felt his heart skip a beat again. Perhaps it was the lighting of the bar, or maybe even the alcohol starting to take hold of him. But at that moment, she looked absolutely radiant to him. His hand reached up to cover his lower face, glancing away. He could even feel a bit of heat coming off of his cheeks, no doubt reddened similar to Kasumi's.

"So, friends?" She asked.

"Friends." He confirmed.

"Oh, pops! Another round for us!" She called out to the bar owner. She quickly finished her remaining beer before flashing Satoru a happy grin. It didn't take long before she was back to her usual bubbly self.

Satoru wanted to object, as his glass was only half empty, but he let it go for the moment, for her.

"I guess the first order of business is to get to know one another better, and there's no better time than the present! I've certainly talked your ears off. Now, the floor is all yours, so go ahead. Ask me anything!"

"Anything?"

"Yup, anything. Don't worry, I won't kiss and tell~" Kasumi gave him what could be passed as a seductive grin, puckering her lips as she wiggled her eyebrows. She hiccupped again while sipping from her mug.

Satoru resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her suggestive phrasing. That sounded like something Peroroncino would say and tease him about. However, this also presented him with the perfect opportunity to ask her what he had been wondering for a long time now. At the same time, the owner dropped by with two fresh mugs of cold beer, which Kasumi happily drank from.

"Kasumi-san, I… Well, there's this thing I've been wondering… how… umm, hmmm…" Satoru fumbled a bit, trying to find the right way to word it. The issue was trying to word it correctly without it coming off as awkward and disjointed.

"Out with it. Don't worry, I can take it!" She urged.

Taking a calming breath, Satoru finally asked his question.

"How are you always so cheerful all the time? Every day, you seem to always have a smile on your face, no matter what, even after a grueling workday. How do you do it?"

"Jumping straight into it, huh? Then again, I figured that would have been your first choice." Kasumi fixed him with a knowing look.

Taking a swig from her mug, she collected herself before answering.

"Let me ask you something first, Satoru-san. Tell me, does frowning do anything? Like, does being all sad and mopey somehow magically make our workload smaller, or makes the world any less shit?" She answered his questions with questions of her own.

Satoru blinked, confused about what exactly she was getting at. Still, he answered her non-sequitur question nonetheless.

"Well, no."

"Exactly!" She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. She stopped to take a sip of her beer, after which she was met with Satoru's confused gaze.

"What I'm trying to say is this. The world's already a shithole; being all negative and gloomy isn't going to make anything different."

"And you think smiling and being more positive is better?" He returned.

"Anyone can get depressed and be sad, smiling on the hand at the very least takes some effort." Came her immediate response.

At that, even Satoru agreed with her perspective. Their society was suffocating, slowly draining the life out of everyone until they became mere shells of themselves. No one tried to change it, considering it pointless. But for her, it would seem that wasn't a good enough excuse.

However, that begged the question. What exactly was driving her to continue on her path? To always move forward with her life with a smile?

"Seriously, seeing those kinds of faces in people everywhere I go, I feel like I'm in a goddamn zombie apocalypse or something." Her face scrunched up with an exaggerated, apathetic look to illustrate her point.

"Doesn't it ever get tiring?" Said Satoru.

"I would be lying to say if it didn't, but still, just because things get rough, that doesn't mean it's time to call it quits. I guess a part of why I'm so positive is because I owe it to my parents. It's thanks to them that I'm such a bundle of sunshine." Kasumi shared with a nostalgic smile. One that Satoru mistook for a moment of grieving.

"I see. My condolences to you and your parents."

"Huh, what the heck are you talking about, Satoru-san? My parents aren't dead." She looked at him as if he were crazy.

For a moment, his mask slipped as he realized the mistake he had made.

"I'm so sorry! I just assumed… My deepest apologies, Kasumi-san!" Satoru immediately bowed as much as he could while sitting, embarrassed at himself for the faux pas he made.

Underneath the embarrassment, there was no denying the undercurrent of curiosity pouring from Satoru. Due to the taxing nature of their society, it was rather common for the weak and elderly to meet their ends relatively early. Hence was the case with Satoru and his mother, who was only in her mid-thirties when she died.

"It's fine." Kasumi dismissed. "I can kind of see why you would think that considering everyone else…" She muttered the last part, an unmistakable glint of pity in her gaze.

"You see, apparently before the world took a nosedive, my great-great-great-great-great grandfather or another apparently decided to repossess everything he owned and sell it. I heard supposedly that he got a premonition or something crazy about the world going down under or ending, so he prepared. He must have made a lot of money, as our family has slowly been using that money over the years in between their jobs to support us. We're by no means rich, but we're certainly more well off compared to others, where my mother and father never had to break their backs like many others. That gave them some free time to raise me over the years. They were always there for me, and in a way, they were my heroes. My mother, especially. Father always said I was just like her when she was younger." Kasumi disclosed, shedding light on her history.

As Satoru listened to her story, he found similarities between her and Touch Me, his guildmate and friend. Unlike him, she had a family and had a relatively happy childhood. This difference in upbringing had a significant impact on their outlook on life and attitude. Satoru couldn't help but notice how much of a difference family can make.

He couldn't help but feel a bit jealous of her and her situation. It was unfair and unreasonable, but it was present nonetheless.

"How… fortunate of you." Satoru replied, formal and tense, hoping that none of his true thoughts leaked through his poker face.

"Yeah, I really am.

After that, the previously ambient atmosphere turned quiet, and both individuals fell into their own separate silence. Nevertheless, Kasumi wouldn't be deterred so easily.

"Satoru-san." She called out.

Hearing his name, he hesitantly looked back at her. There, she pressed her fingers against her cheeks and against the edge of her lips to make it seem like she was smiling.

"Try smiling." She suggested, letting go of her fingers, to throw an encouraging smile his way.

Satoru weighed the pros and cons of agreeing or denying her request. A part of him wanted to say no, as he felt he would just embarrass himself. However, in the face of such overwhelming encouragement, his defense whittled down, and he silently agreed. Besides, it was just one, he reasoned.

"Ok…" Taking a deep breath, Satoru prepared himself and smiled.

For the first time since this night, Satoru emoted. His lips lifted up into a smile, a rare sight since that night. However, it was evident that the smile was somewhat forced and lacked authenticity. Satoru himself was aware of how poor and amateurish it looked, given that he had never really had a genuine reason to smile before. Kasumi agreed as she chuckled openly, more at the smile and situation than directly at Satoru.

"We'll work on it." She commented in between laughs.

Satoru dropped it immediately, his cheeks growing redder from Kasumi's reaction. As her laughter died down, she beamed an earnest smile his way.

"Satoru-san, everyone has their reasons to smile. One day, once you finally find that reason, never let it go, no matter what." She imparted.

"Then what is your reason, Kasumi-san? Why do you continue to smile despite everything?" He muttered uncertainly.

"Why?" Kasumi simply shrugged. "I guess because I can? Yeah, sure, I haven't been able to make anyone else smile, but that isn't reason enough to stop. Mother always said the world could use one or two more smiles to help brighten things up. Kind of like what I'm doing with you, Satoru-san. So, do I really need any reason to try and make people smile?" She answered back with a melancholic but wholesome smile.

Satoru's mask momentarily faltered as Kasumi's words resonated with him. He saw a similarity between her perspective and that of Shirou and Touch Me, who also believed in aiding those in need without needing a reason. It wasn't just their upbringing, but a part of their intrinsic nature to help others out of a desire to make the world a better place. Their motivation was simply to do something, anything, to brighten someone's day.

It was admirable-beyond admirable, Satoru would say. Even in the face of an overwhelming challenge, Kasumi still managed to find a way to smile and spread that happiness. She did it all without any expectation of recognition or reward, but simply because she could.

And then, there was Satoru himself.

After hearing her words, Satoru became silent and deep in thought about their entire conversation up until now. Meanwhile, Kasumi checked the time and saw that over thirty minutes had passed. She noticed that her boss was still on his first mug and had not yet touched the second, while she was nearly finished with her second. Satoru's expression showed that he was lost in contemplation.

Considering it was their first outing, it was only natural that they weren't used to one another's company where they were comfortable with each other. Not yet, anyway. Nevertheless, she was beyond appreciative of him and his willingness to go along with her.

'I've probably kept him here long enough.' Kasumi thought.

"Satoru-san, you can leave now if you wish. I plan on staying a while longer to unwind and have some fun. Thank you for spending time with me-" Kasumi said before being interrupted by Satoru's unexpected decision.

He downed his mug, finishing his drink in one go, to the surprise of Kasumi.

"Excuse me, another order of chicken poppers, please!" He ordered.

Kasumi looked back at him, confusion clear in her eyes. Nothing changed per se, as Satoru still maintained his poker face, but she couldn't help but sense something was different about him. There was a sense of determination to him.

She was doing all of this for him, the least Satoru could do was try and meet her halfway, as he reasoned in his head.

Catching the confused look on her face, Satoru had this to say.

"I did agree to come along with you, and it would be a waste of money and beer if I left now and had you foot the entire bit. I guess I can enjoy myself a little bit longer. Not unless you want to leave as well." Satoru gave her a small, lopsided grin.

Kasumi didn't expect to see such a change in Satoru, and so quickly either. However, no one was going to hear her complain as a great, big grin broke out on her face.

"That's the spirit! Make that another round, pops! We're getting this party started right! Let's drink till we drop!" Kasumi ordered with newfound zeal and raised her mug in the air.

"Oi, we're not going to go that far! I said a drink or two was fine." Satoru immediately rebuked.

"Lighten up! It's not like we've got work tomorrow or anything. So, let's drink the night away!" Kasumi cheered, playfully ignoring Satoru's concern.

As she clinked her glass with his, she began quickly drinking her beverage. Satoru couldn't help but shake his head and let out a small sigh at Kasumi's playful behavior. However, he couldn't deny the small smile on his face. He knew he had made his own choices, so he was prepared to deal with the consequences. And so, the two budding colleagues enjoyed the rest of the night together.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

The rest of his memories remained hazy, with only occasional flashes of what happened that night. Satoru couldn't remember the exact nature of what they did or talked about from then on, and in some way, he was grateful for that. The alcohol promptly took hold, and the two were positively drunk. He did not doubt that it was an awkward experience, and he was in no rush to remember it all.

From there, it was anyone's guess what happened, but seeing as the two of them somehow ended up in his home, on his bed, and naked as the day they were born. Well, it wasn't too difficult to guess that they had a run in the hay.

'I'm never drinking, ever again!' Satoru vowed once he remembered enough of what happened last night. He was completely embarrassed, both at the fact that he got completely hammer and lost himself when before he could somewhat hold his alcohol. Along with being completely mortified at the fact that their night of leisurely drinking somehow spiraled into him sleeping with Kasumi.

It was an unintended accident from a one-night stand. It wasn't as uncommon as he was fretting about, and most likely it was just him blowing everything out of proportion. However, that did nothing to alleviate the pressing anxiety he was experiencing.

It was the beginning of a promising relationship between the two, only for that relationship to crash and burn before it even got off the ground, so horribly that it wasn't even funny. He had potentially ruined it all with his carelessness.

And in times of crisis, he defaulted back to his usual habits. He thought on the words of his friends, searching for words of wisdom that might be imparted to him and how they would handle the situation. He was desperate for some measure of light in the situation.

"If there's someone in trouble, then it's only right to help them!"

The voice of Touch Me rang out in his head. Sound and sensible advice, although that was more in general than useful at this very moment for Satoru. Plus, he could make an argument that it was that thinking that sort of led him into this exact situation in the first place.

"You're on the road to true adulthood! So, kick back, relax, and enjoy it for as long as you can!"

Peroroncino advised, but unlike Touch Me's, it was hardly helpful, and more seem to be to try and enjoy the moment. A situation that Satoru was most definitely not enjoying.

"You started it, that means you have to finish it. So, man up and take responsibility for your actions. Never make a woman cry! No matter what it is! And if you do, then fix it immediately. Or else!"

The distinct pitched voice of Bukubukuchagama cried out, although it sounded more like a threat than anything else to the fearful salaryman.

"Licking doorknobs is illegal on other planets." Ok, that, he wasn't even going to make an argument or even bother.

Satoru came to the sad conclusion that he was completely on his own. He had to face the music. They slept with one another, be it on purpose or by accident. That was an irrevocable fact.

The question then became, what to do next? For that was his main concern. He had no earthly idea what to do in such a situation.

Satoru has always been a loner, an introvert. His IRL social skills were shit, doubly so when it came to women.

It was why he chose to indulge in video games over everything else.

For as long as he could remember, Satoru believed he was doomed to become a real-life wizard!

In other words, a thirty-year-old virgin!

And yet, through some mysterious twist of fate, here he lay on his bed with a beautiful woman in his arms. He couldn't tell if that was good or bad luck at hand.

Satoru paused at that, running the thought through his head again.

'Beautiful…' He repeated the word, surprised at himself that he was willing to admit that of her.

His eyes slowed open once more, and this time his gaze lingered on her. Satoru's eye traced over Kasumi, taking everything in. Her unblemished skin was smooth and gentle to the touch, her delicate body and modest frame cuddled beside him and her soft neck and succulent full lips. She was completely tranquil in his arms as she slept without a care in the world.

At that moment, Satoru agreed that she was indeed beautiful.

Suddenly, Satoru felt a sensation. One emanating from between his legs. It took a nanosecond for the salaryman to realize that his body had reacted accordingly.

'Down! I said down!' He embarrassingly reprimanded himself, his face heating up in mortification.

As a consequence of that train of thought, flashes of their nocturnal activities rushed back to him in bits and pieces. Still, there were enough details that Satoru could recall from their fun under the sheets. Which only further mortified him as he remembered exactly how 'active' the two of them were last night.

It was almost enough for Satoru to wish he was dead right about now. At least then he wouldn't have to worry about the fallout.

'Ok, calm down! None of that matters right now. What matters is that Kasumi-san is on my bed and naked.' That thought brought another fierce blush to his face, but Satoru fought it down. 'I need to do something before she wakes up!'

That was the second issue. Satoru was downright terrified, thinking of how Kasumi would react once she woke up and found herself naked and in another's bed. A situation that fueled his desire to make sure it didn't come to pass. Quickly, he came up with a plan. He would carefully and quietly remove himself from the bed and his room. That way, it would be far less incriminating and awkward for both of them.

Unfortunately for him, Lady Luck wasn't on his side this time. For in the time that Satoru was spent lamenting his situation and trying to recollect what happened, Kasumi slowly stirred from her slumber. Slowly and steadily, she regained full consciousness and became cognizant of the dire scenario they were facing, just as Satoru had. To determine her subsequent steps, she feigned slumber, keeping her eyes tightly shut.

'Ok. Just think, I'm in my boss's bed, naked… Aghhh! It's too early in the morning to deal with this shit! Alright, alright, calm down. First things first, I need to get out of Satoru's bed quickly. The last thing I need is for him to wake up and find me in my birthday suit first thing in the morning.' Kasumi's thoughts were far more subdued compared to Satoru's fanatic musing and came to the same idea as his.

Unknowingly, the two sprang their plans simultaneously.

"Alright, if I'm fast enough, then I might be able to get out of bed without waking her…'

'I'll grab some clothes once I'm off the bed, the last thing I want is for him to see me streaking around his house naked….'

'From there, I'll wait for her to wake up…'

'And to think of an explanation from there…'

'On a count of three!'

'One…' Kasumi began.

'Two…' Satoru counted.

'Three!' The two reached in unison.

Satoru and Kasumi opened their eyes simultaneously, ready to spring into action. However, they were surprised to find themselves face-to-face with each other, fully awake. They remained frozen and quiet for a few moments, staring at each other without saying a word, like deer caught in headlights.

"Uhhhh… hi?" Kasumi broke the dead silence the only way she knew how.

This time, Satoru reacted appropriately. With a less-than-manly cry, he instantly stood up, trying to back away from Kasumi.

Regrettably, Satoru had unknowingly slept near the edge of his bed, causing him to lose balance and tumble down in his panic. In his fall, the blanket had become entangled with him, leaving Kasumi with no cover to shield herself from the chill while she sat on his bed.

Satoru scrambled to get rid of the blanket suffocating him, leading to the two of them making eye contact again. This time, the pair were unabashedly taking in the other's naked body. Kasumi looked down at Satrou's sprawled form, while Satoru couldn't help but focus on her lovely figure.

Satoru's face quickly grew beet red as he began choking on air, yet, he didn't try to avert his gaze from her naked form. Whether because he was so shocked that he didn't turn away or because he was fixated on her body, he couldn't say. Kasumi was also included, but she concealed it more effectively. She resorted to her usual antics to mask her embarrassment, which involved making jokes at someone else's expense.

"Well, I see someone's awake and raring to go. Make that two of you…" She said, trying to pass off a joke to lighten the mood.

It took a moment before Satoru realized what she meant. Following her eyes, Satoru found his mini-Satoru standing firmly at attention for all to see.

Satoru took back what he said earlier. Forget about dying, he wished a black hole would open right then and there and suck in him. He didn't want to exist anymore, not with the mortification that came with it.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

The atmosphere in Satoru's cozy kitchenette was silent but peaceful, after what had been a rather tumultuous morning. The only discernible sound was the soft, rhythmic hum of the coffee maker as it diligently brewed its aromatic and bold blend. Satoru and Kasumi waited patiently in the quiet of the kitchen, both lost in their own thoughts.

Satoru was dressed in a plain shirt and shorts, the best he could have at the moment. He was currently anxiously looking through his pantry, doing his best to keep himself occupied. A faint red blush permeated his face as a result of what happened earlier.

Kasumi found herself sitting alone at the kitchen table, a rather unusual and uncomfortable situation for her. She was having her clothes cleaned, which meant that she had to resort to wearing the spare clothes provided by her host. The oversized shirt that she had on was significantly larger than her own, causing it to hang loosely from her slender frame. Accompanying the shirt was a pair of shorts, which provided her with a sense of comfort and ease, given the unfamiliarity of the situation. Her attention focused on the wall as she leisurely twirled her hair with her finger. Unlike earlier, Kasumi managed to collect herself, but it was clear from her pensive mood that her mind was elsewhere for the moment.

This silence persisted, as neither one of them wished, let alone knew, what exactly to say going forward. Thus, the awkwardness between them persisted within the silence. And so they choose to keep to themselves and not meet the other gaze. That didn't stop them from occasionally sneaking skittish glances at one another, only to immediately turn away once they felt the other's eyes on them.

This game of back and forth continued until the sudden and sharp whistle of the coffee maker finishing startled them both. More so for Satoru, who has been completely taut since the morning. He jumped at the sound, accidentally slamming his elbow against the counter.

"Oww!" Satoru whimpered, clutching his stinging elbow as the feeling of numbness spread through his arm.

"Are you alright?" Kasumi called out.

"I-I'm fine…" He answered back. The two made eye contact, only for Satoru to avert his gaze entirely.

He diverted his attention solely to the coffee just so he didn't have to look at Kasumi.

Kasumi watched him, her eyes focused as she was trying to solve the puzzle that was Satoru. That was the reason for her silence, her confusion regarding this whole issue.

Upon awakening, Kasumi was filled with trepidation when she realized that she had slept with the other person. Though her fear was not directed towards herself but rather towards what the future held for them moving forward.

Just yesterday, she engaged in a heartfelt conversation with her superior, summoning the courage to open up and confide in him. To her pleasant surprise, he reciprocated and shared his thoughts with her. The elation she experienced was indescribable, as she began to see a glimmer of hope for the first time in a while. However, that hope was short-lived as she was suddenly confronted with the harsh reality that they had both consumed alcohol and engaged in a physical act. The aftermath of this incident, whether intentional or accidental, has the potential to jeopardize the relationship they share and the budding friendship she'd been eager to nurture.

Kasumi was gripped with a palpable sense of fear, her mind racing with uncertainty as to how Satoru would react to the situation at hand. Though she had always regarded him as an unflappable professional, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, not knowing exactly what his response would be. It was this unknown factor that made her so apprehensive. Despite her trepidation, Kasumi resolved to remain optimistic and prepare herself for whatever outcome may arise, determined to navigate the situation with the utmost care and attention to detail.

But nothing could have prepared her for what happened this morning.

She expected a stern reprimand, perhaps even a scolding or an outburst of anger. All manner of possible reactions. Yet, to her surprise, Satoru's reaction was quite the opposite. Instead of reproaching her, he appeared utterly ashamed. Kasumi recognized his face, the one she knew from work, but his demeanor and attitude were entirely different from what she was accustomed to. The contrast was so striking that Kasumi found it jarring.

Satoru's emotions were as clear as day on his skittish face. This was a stark contrast to his professional demeanor at work. Here, he kept avoiding her gaze, and he was so fidgety that he was practically shaking the entire time. It was strange, to say the least, to see someone she always thought of as stoic be so bashful. Where before she could barely get a read on him, now it was all too easy. It was an odd contrast, but not necessarily an unwelcome one. It only made Satoru more 'human' than what she thought of him.

Of course, that brought up the question. Just who exactly was the real Satoru? The one she knew as her boss, or the man in front of her?

"K-kasumi-san…" Satoru stuttered out, drawing her out of her thoughts. "Would you like any cream or sugar?"

"Two scoops of sugar, and no cream, please." Kasumi answered back and watched as he poured the cups of coffee for them.

"H-here you go…" He set her coffee in front of her, his eyes failing to look straight at her. With that done, he walked over and sat on the opposite side of the table, right in front of his guest.

Once again, a heavy silence descended between the two of them. Satoru shifted his gaze downward, fixating on his coffee cup, to avoid eye contact with Kasumi. Meanwhile, Kasumi remained steadfast in her scrutiny of him, her mind preoccupied with deciphering his thoughts and intentions.

Based on her observation and what she knew, she hazarded a guess that the version she always sees at work was nothing more than a façade and that the skittish version in front of her was his true self, so to speak. The only way for Kasumi to truly know was for her to ask him, which she immediately did.

Subtly was never really her forte.

"So, you've got a split personality or something, or is this how you are outside of work?" Kasumi bluntly questioned.

Looking back, it may not have been the best timing for her to ask her question while Satoru was drinking his coffee. He began choking on it, and his eyes widened in distress. Kasumi stood up to assist him, but Satoru waved his arm to signal that he was okay. He managed to regain control and clear his throat by beating on his chest.

Briefly glancing in her direction, his eyes quickly averted as his face contorted with a range of emotions. From initial surprise, to fear and doubt, his countenance was a whirlwind of conflicting feelings. Satoru nervously licked his lips as he appeared to be deep in thought, muttering to himself in indecision. It was evident that a great debate was taking place within his mind. After two agonizing minutes, he finally came to a resolution with himself.

"Kasumi-san…" His voice was wary, but he continued. "Can I trust you…?"

He finally mustered the courage to meet her gaze after avoiding it all morning. His eyes were filled with fear and uncertainty, making it difficult to look at him. Despite feeling sorry for Satoru, Kasumi could sense a hint of determination in his expression. She knew he had something to say and was willing to share it despite his apprehension.

Much like yesterday, when Kasumi reached out to him in hopes that he might understand her, Satoru was doing the same to her.

"Of course. You have my word, Satoru-san." Kasumi earnestly reciprocated, showing just how serious she was.

He had done the same for her, so she would share the same courtesy. After all, what were friends for?

His eyes widened at her quick and serious answer. He took a moment to collect himself, and after a few deep breaths, he faced her one more time. And so, Satoru began a brief summarization.

He began when he first received his promotion. From there, he confided in her the truth of the situation, as well as an explanation regarding his work persona. She kept quiet, patiently listening as he explained his story. Looking at everything as a whole, she came to understand why Satoru chose to act and live the way he did.

Throughout her time working with him, she had come to know him as a man of few words and a stoic demeanor. His expressions were often limited to mild indifference, but despite this, his actions spoke volumes. He treated his co-workers with the utmost respect and care, always willing to lend a hand or offer guidance. Despite being all about business, he was far from heartless or unfair, a rare trait among those in his position.

She had gotten so used to how he portrayed himself at work that to see him in another light was strange, to say the least. It was almost as if they were two different people.

Simultaneously, a portion of Kasumi's being was content with the opportunity to witness this alternative aspect of Satoru. This occurrence only served to authenticate the fact that his facade of stoicism was merely a façade. In this moment, he was emotive and nearly defenseless, but this was by no means a negative trait in Kasumi's perception. It merely demonstrated that he, like everyone else, was a human being with emotions and vulnerabilities. Kasumi was able to discern the benevolence and thoughtfulness within him, just as she had previously experienced when they hung out.

By the end of it all, Kasumi came to understand him a bit better.

"I have to admit, it's quite surprising." She said with a calm and understanding tone. "But I can see where you're coming from."

"That's all you have to say?" Satoru replied.

"Well, yes. I mean, what else is there to say?" Kasumi responded with a touch of confusion.

"I was… I kind of thought there would have been more of a reaction from you…" Satoru admitted hesitantly.

"What kind of reaction did you expect?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"I don't know, I just thought you might judge me or think less of me." He confessed as he nervously scratched the back of his head and avoided eye contact.

"Please, do you think I'm really that shallow?" She arched a skeptical brow at his preconceived fear.

"Right, sorry." He apologized, sheepishly scratching his cheek sheepishly.

Seeing him all bashful, an urge bloomed within her. One that she couldn't help but indulge in.

"So, our big bad boss has a sensitive side after all? Wonder what the others would think if they heard that?"

"Y-you said you wouldn't tell anyone!" He cried with a slightly pitched voice.

"Relax! I was just kidding." She cackled. He was so expressive in how he reacted that she couldn't help herself, just so she could see how he would react next.

Satoru gave her what she thought was a glare, though it was greatly diminished by his reddened cheeks and pouting face. Kasumi couldn't help but find it adorable. She wanted to walk over and pinch his cute little cheeks.

"Sorry, sorry, I just couldn't help myself." Her laughter died down. She then looked at him with what he could only describe as a smug but curious look.

"What is it?" He said, looking at her cautiously.

"So, by any chance, do you remember what happened last night?" Kasumi asked suddenly, obviously referring to their nightly activities.

Satoru's reaction was immediate.

"Why would you ask that?!" He exclaimed with a red face.

"Meh, just curious." She shrugged as if it were no big deal, but there was a clear, impish smile on her face.

"Who the heck would be curious about that?!" He retorted.

"Well, I am." Kasumi simply returned.

Satoru stumbled over his words, and she couldn't help but relish in his embarrassment. Recognizing that she was making jokes at his expense, he struggled to regain his composure.

"No, we were way too drunk for me to remember anything…" He gave. That seemed to be the end, only for a whisper to escape his lips, just loud enough for Kasumi to hear it. "Though I kind of wish I did…"

Satoru's eyes immediately widened, and he slowly turned his head back towards Kasumi.

"… I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Kasumi simply smiled, but there was no denying the coloring on her cheeks. It seemed that she was far from as composed as she thought.

Satoru groaned in his hands as a fresh wave of embarrassment washed over him.

"Geez, you're such a virgin." Kasumi joked.

"Not anymore, considering you've already helped me with that front." Satoru fired back.

Kasumi blinked, not expecting such a snappish reply from him after everything she saw of him. A smirk broke out on her face. It seemed that he wasn't as toothless as she originally thought.

In the midst of everything that was happening, the two unexpectedly burst into laughter. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, they found themselves sharing a budding and contagious laugh. The series of events leading up to that moment had been so absurd that they couldn't help but find humor in it all. As time passed, they gradually began to let their guard down and become more at ease with each other's company.

While their conversation died down for the moment, there was still one matter left lingering between them. Arguably the most important subject they needed to address if they wanted to move forward. However, neither one knew how to approach the other about it.

What happens next? How do they move forward from what has already happened?

"Kasumi-san… What… where do we go from here?" Surprisingly, it was Satoru who took the first step toward addressing the matter.

"Honestly, I don't know myself." She freely admitted it with a shrug, nursing her cooled coffee. "I think the better question is, do you want something more to come out of this?"

At Kasumi's poignant question, all Satoru could do was keep quiet. As time dragged on, Kasumi began to worry, worried that she might have jumped into it too quickly. Before either one could speak up, an alarm went off.

Earlier, after their eventful wake-up, Satoru dropped her clothes into the washer to clean them for her. The alarm meant it was finished and also provided him with a distraction.

"It must be done, I'll go get it." Said Satoru.

Kasumi said nothing and nodded as he left the room. While Satoru was doing that, she was left momentarily all alone in the kitchen. She took the moment to stand up and stretch her body, working out all the kinks. It was only now that she realized just how long they had been sitting.

She quietly took in the quaint but modest apartment in his absence. The kitchen and living room were interconnected, with doors leading to his bedroom and other rooms. It was fairly spartan all things considered, which only made what was available all the more prominent.

Situated within the almost barren living room was a sophisticated and intricate-looking chair. Curiosity got the better of her as she walked over to inspect it. An assortment of wires, cables, and plugs were attached to and coming from the electronic chair. She recognized the setup, it was a rig commonly used for VR neural interfacing. Everyone had one, including herself.

As she scrutinized the chair, something caught her attention from the periphery of her vision. Positioned on the wall and adjacent to his VR setup were two seemingly harmless framed pictures. These constituted the sole form of ornamentation for the living area. The first featured a woman and a young boy, while the second was considerably more fascinating, portraying monstrous creatures congregating around a throne. However, the crucial aspect was that Kasumi was able to recognize the second picture.

It wasn't long before Satoru returned. He was about to inform her that her clothes would take a while to dry, only to see that she wasn't at the table anymore. Satoru found her in his living room, with her back turned to him.

Before he could get a word out, she said this.

"Satoru-san, are you a member of Ainz Ooal Gown?" She asked, pointing at the framed picture of the Heteromorphic guild.

Satoru felt his heart clutched in a vice grip. Kasumi's question was telling enough, which meant she not only played YGGDRASIL but also knew about the guild itself or its members.

Throughout the course of their existence, Ainz Ooal Gown has garnered a reputation of great renown. Their ascent to the upper echelons of the Demi-human and Heteromorphic communities was swift, and their achievements were met with widespread admiration. However, their success was not without its detractors. The Humanoid Player community, in particular, viewed them with disdain. As their guild's notoriety grew, so too did the number of those who sought to bring them down.

His mind raced with hundreds of questions. Since she plays YGGDRASIL, that meant she belonged to a side. The question was, which one? Heteromorph, Demi-human, or worse, a Humanoid Player? The possibility that she could potentially be a Player who hates or was against Ainz Ooal Gown was a disconcerting one and would make things awkward real quick.

A part of him said to deny it, but that excuse was rather null considering the image she was currently looking at.

Thankfully, rationality prevailed through his usual pessimism. In the end, he decided to trust his instinct and Kasumi.

"Yes, I am." Satoru revealed, bracing himself for her response.

"That's awesome!" Kasumi exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Do you also play YGGDRASIL, Kasumi-san?" Satoru felt that was a stupid question to ask, but he needed to make sure just in case.

"Yup, I play as an Angel!" Kasumi answered freely, holding up a peace sign.

Hearing this, Satoru let out a mental sigh of relief. Angels, or Aerosphere as they were sometimes called, were part of the Heteromorph race category. Despite their virtuous nature and connotation, some were still discriminated against by the larger Humanoid Player community for simply being classified as Heteromorphs.

"I take it you're a fan?" Satoru inquired, feeling at ease as he walked towards her.

"Yup! I've always despised the discrimination that the Heteromorphic Player community had to face. Ever since you guys showed up on the scenes, Humanoid Players are thinking twice before going on PK hunts for us. It's high time us "monsters" stood up for ourselves. Still, to think my boss also plays YGGDRASIL, small world, isn't it?" Kasumi noted.

Satoru couldn't help but concur, silently nodding in agreement.

"Come on! Which one are you, Satoru-san?" Kasumi asked excitedly, pointing towards the picture.

"Oh, I bet you're this one! No wait, I think this! Hmmm, maybe it's this one instead?" Kasumi first pointed at Nishikienrai, then at Punitto Moe, and then at Ulbert, trying to guess which character was his.

"Actually, I'm the one sitting on the throne." Satoru pointed out.

There was a small pause as she looked back at the picture where Momonga sat.

"Hold on!" She whipped around, her eyes wide and a finger pointed straight at Satoru. "Are you saying my boss is 'The Caster of a Thousand Spells Momonga'?!"

Satoru couldn't help but cringe at hearing his online handle being exclaimed with such shock and awe, and by his co-worker no less. He fought back a new wave of embarrassment that washed over him.

The moniker "The Caster of a Thousand Spells" was a title bestowed upon him for his reputation as one of the premier magic casters within all of YGGDRASIL. His immense knowledge and power in the virtual world made him widely recognized and respected.

Of course, his title was purely an exaggeration. Normally, the maximum number of spells a Player at level 100 could learn and have caps out at three-hundred. With his special ability, Dark Wisdom, he was capable of exceeding the limit of how many spells he could use. The true number of spells under his belt was close to around six-hundred at the time, almost double the standard amount. But it was still a far cry from a thousand spells, as his epithet would have everyone believe. Even disregarding that notion, the fact that he was skilled enough to manage and remember about six-hundred spells within his repertoire spoke clearly of his skills as a Player.

It was Satoru's personal belief that the boastful proclamation of 'a thousand spells' was due to his extensive collection of diverse spells, which surpassed those of other Players. This gave him the impression of having an almost infinite number of spells, or a more manageable and quantifiable number of a thousand. Combined with his prowess when it came to PvP or PvE combat, it seemed that he always had a spell or two up his sleeve for any situation.

He had no idea how or even when the name got started and spread, but he had a sneaking suspicion his guildmates had a hand in it. Although he had no objections, Satoru admitted that it was a pretty cool and catchy title. Additionally, it felt good to have his own title associated with him, just like some of the others had.

"No way. Alright, come fess up. Which one are you really?" Kasumi insisted.

"Why is that hard to believe?" He challenged her, feeling a bit irked that she didn't believe him.

"Well, this is Momonga that we're talking about, the leader of the biggest and baddest Heteromorphic guild in all of YGGDRASIL. A Player that I've heard being described as a powerful and confident man. Someone you don't want to mess with. And then there's you, Satoru-san. You… well… you're you. Enough said."

"Hey, I take offense to that!" Satoru protested, which earned a snicker from Kasumi.

During their conversation, the discourse slowly lost its effectiveness as they struggled to maintain a productive exchange. Yet, when the subject of YGGDRASIL was introduced, they discovered a seamless rhythm and freely conversed without any inhibitions. The original point they were discussing became secondary as they transitioned smoothly from one topic to the next. Momentarily ignoring their differences, they savored each other's companionship and basked in the joy of the present moment.

Time flew by, and before they knew it, their conversation had wrapped up, and they were about to go their separate ways. Kasumi was properly dressed in her clean, dried clothes.

There, the two stood awkwardly near the hallway leading to Satoru's front door.

"Well… I guess I'll be going then. Thanks again for letting me use your washer and dryer." Kasumi bowed to Satoru.

"Of course, please think nothing of it. It was the least I could do." Satoru reciprocated, bowing as well.

Another pause of silence filled the air as the two simply stood around. Despite ending on a pleasant note, the two never forgot about the main issue. It was just that neither one truly wanted to bring up or ruin the mood.

'Then again, I did spring it up on him suddenly. I should give him a few days to think about it. I just hope this doesn't affect our relationship at work.' Kasumi thought as she turned around.

Just as she was turning the doorknob, she heard Satoru call out her name.

"Kasumi-san!"

Turning around, she caught a look at Satoru. His mouth opened and closed splutteringly as he was trying to get a word out. Kasumi could see that he was still nervous about the issue, but he steeled his nerve and faced her properly.

"I must confess, I've always struggled with relationships of any kind. Moreover, never in my wildest dreams did I expect to find myself in a situation like this. Honestly, I'm still thinking this is one big lucid dream and that I'll wake up any second now." Satoru revealed to her, punctuating his statement with a slight, self-deprecating chuckle.

"You asked me if I wanted something more from all of this. Honestly, I don't know myself. I'm a bit terrified if I'm being honest."

Her boss rubbed the back of his neck in a practiced manner. For the most part, it seemed as if he was dancing around the answer, trying to muster up the courage to finally move forward.

"I know that we didn't have the greatest of starts, but I… I still enjoyed the little time we had with each other. Just talking away, it was fun; I had fun. And I wouldn't mind doing it again…" Satoru trailed off the near end, his cheeks reddening, but Kasumi heard it as clear as day.

"Only if you want to, that is." He quickly added.

Kasumi said nothing as Satoru watched and waited. His heart beat like crazy as he waited in anticipation for her response. After what seemed like a perpetual silence, she smiled.

"Yeah, I would like that." Kasumi returned with a grateful smile.

"So… friends?" Satoru held out his hand.

"Friends." Kasumi chuckled to herself, finding the roles were now reversed.

Taking his hand, the two shook hands.

Letting go, Kasumi was struck with an idea.

"Sorry, I need to borrow your table real quick!"

Before Satoru had any chance to answer, she ran past him toward his kitchen table. He watched as she took out a slip of paper and pen from her bag before furiously writing something. She was back before he knew it, with an enigmatic smile on her face.

"Here you go." She handed him the slip of paper that was now folded.

"What's this?" Satoru asked curiously.

"Just one of the two thank-you gifts, for everything you've done." Kasumi answered back.

"One?" Satoru was struck with surprise when Kasumi mentioned there was a second point. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in bewilderment. What could it be, he wondered?

"Yup! And here's present number two!"

Satoru was completely unprepared as Kasumi leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. It was firmly at this point that his mind broke down. She leaned back with a cheeky but sweet smile as she took in his flabbergasted face.

Satoru began sputtering, his words becoming an incomprehensible mess as he was trying to say everything yet was unable to say anything. His face was the reddest it's ever been since he woke up this morning with Kasumi. Kasumi was almost worried that all the blood was rushing to his face.

Taking advantage of his stunned state, she used this opportunity to leave, getting the last laugh at the situation.

"See ya' around Satoru-san!" She bid farewell and left through the front door before Satoru could get any word out, waving goodbye.

Satoru was left standing there with his mouth agape for a few minutes as his mind was trying to process what had just happened.

It was only then that he realized that he was still holding onto the slip of paper. Opening it, it read:

"You should try smiling some more. You have a wonderful smile, and it would be a shame not to show the world that.

PS: Hit me up when you have time in YGGDRASIL - Destana.

XOXO"

Beside the message was a username, and it didn't take a genius to deduce that it was her online handle for YGGDRASIL.

Satoru slumped to the ground, his back pressing against the sturdy doorframe. He sat there, lost in thought, as he tried to process the events that had just unfolded. The night before, the morning wake-up call, and the conversation that followed-it all suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. It was as if reality had finally caught up with him, and he couldn't deny it any longer. He found himself pinching his cheeks, almost as if he were trying to wake himself up from a dream. But the stinging sensation that followed was all too real. With a deep, frustrated sigh, Satoru finally let himself sink into a state of resignation.

"What am I going to do with her?" Satoru asked aloud, and despite his words, they were far from rueful. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips as he sat there, soaking up the silence.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Kasumi made her way quickly to the elevator and stepped inside. Finally alone, she let down her guard and leaned against the railing. Her face was still flushed with embarrassment, just like Satoru's.

Even Kasumi was a bit surprised and embarrassed by her brazen action, but she far from regretted it. The memory of his face as she kissed him played back in her head, causing her to squeal with delight. Kasumi couldn't help it, as she found this side of Satoru and his reaction cute and endearing and wished to see more of it.

'He's almost like a Kuudere.' Kasumi compared. Cool, confident, and collected on the outside, but beneath it lies a soft, warm, and expressive core.

Which oddly, and perfectly described Satoru as a complete whole.

As the two went their separate ways, for now, they did not doubt that they would be seeing one another more in the future. If their brief, but memorable night out and morning debacle were anything to go by, things were going to get interesting in the future. That much the two felt was certain.

Interlude - The Daily Lives of Ainz Ooal Gown III

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 11/14/2019

Interlude - The Daily Lives of Touch Me and Ulbert Alain Odle: The Dreamer and the Cynic

December 17th, 2133.

"And this concludes the tour of our precinct." Standing in the main hallway of the precinct, a lone officer addressed a crowd of cadets.

If any members of Ainz Ooal Gown were present, they would have likely mistaken the man before them for a younger version of Sebas Tian, one of their beloved NPCs. The similarities were striking, from the man's suave white hair to his chiseled features and impressive physique. It was no coincidence that the officer bore such a resemblance to Sebas Tian; the iron butler had been intentionally designed based on Touch Me's true appearance by choice.

In YGGDRASIL, all knew of him as Touch Me, the Paladin of Justice and World Champion of Álfheim. In the real world, he was simply known as Ichirou Yukanna, a humble officer of the law.

An hour and a half ago, Ichirou took the academy cadets on an exhilarating tour of their precinct, revealing the ins and outs of the building and sharing its rich history. With meticulous detail, he emphasized the importance of each position and location, instilling a sense of due diligence in their minds. However, it was clear to Ichirou that his words went in one ear and came out the other. Some hide it better than others, but he could see that they were all tired and bored out of their minds.

They simply didn't care for his words or his message.

"I don't see why we have to bother with this boring bullshit." One of the cadets whispered to his friend.

"The reason for this 'bullshit," as you so aptly called it…" Ichirou suddenly addressed the one who commented, showing that despite the cadet's effort, Ichirou heard his comment and wasn't amused.

The officer fixed him and the rest of the cadets with a firm glare. They all straightened up at this and kept their mouths shut.

"… Is because it does matter. Perhaps not to you, but it still matters to this." The officer jabbed his thumb at the badge pinned to his uniform. "If you all intend to be officers of the law, then you must uphold the values that make it right. No matter what, is that understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!" They all saluted.

"You're all dismissed." He said.

Ichirou watched as the cadets dispersed and walked away. He watched on as they began chatting with one another, no longer afraid under his scrutinizing gaze. They would be the future, he thought, those who would too take up the badge just like him. Ichirou couldn't help but grimace at that fact.

He knew from past experience that they wouldn't take heed of his words. They would ignore it entirely, believing his words as nothing more than archaic and pointless from someone they would consider an 'old timer.' But then again, such a sight was hardly ever surprising anymore. Not after all that had changed in his lifetime. That, however, did not mean they were worthless. He would just have to set the standard and show them what it truly means to be a police officer. Lead by example and inspire them.

The white-haired officer let out a sigh before straightening back up. He walked aimlessly for a bit since he was tasked with taking the cadets on a tour, and his workload cleared up. Ichirou could have left for home right then and there, but it didn't sit right with him. Turning a corner, the aged officer bumped into someone, the two of them recoiling back in surprise.

"I'm sorry." He immediately apologized.

"Fine… Ichirou-san… just fine…" His co-worker said, in between what appeared to be fits of giggles.

"Are you alright?" He questioned seeing the odd behavior. It looked like he was recovering from a laughing fit.

"Sorry about that, Ichirou-san." Another voice chimed in. Behind the man he bumped into were three of his friends.

They were officers just like Ichirou, but a simple look at them showed that they were far younger and more juvenile compared to him. They all wore amused looks with a smile tugging at their lips.

"Is there something going on that I missed?" Ichirou furrowed his brow in confusion.

"No, we were just laughing because of this perp we brought in." One of them informed him.

"A perp, and how is this funny?" The senior officer wondered.

"Because you should have heard the things he said!" This brought on a new fit of laughter from the four young officers.

"Do you remember him muttering like some weird shit like he was going to threaten us?"

"Yeah, like how he would destroy us with the power of a World Disaster or some shit? What the hell is a World Disaster anyway?"

"I also remember him saying something about being late for an, ahhh, what's the word again? Aung Ooa Guun or something like that?"

"I think it was Ainz something or whatever. I have no idea, it's funny though."

As they were rambling on, Ichirou felt his body stiffen. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of what he had just heard and learned. Hearing all these familiar terms straight from their mouths, he could only come to one conclusion.

'Could it be…?' If what he was thinking was indeed true, then that means he had one of his comrades from Ainz Ooal Gown within the station.

Ichirou made his decision then and there.

"Excuse me." He said, grabbing the young officer's attention.

"Yeah? You need something, Ichirou-san?"

"Is he still within the station? The perp you brought in."

"Er, yea. He's still locked up in the holding rooms. Why-"

"If you would like, I can take over for you." Ichirou offered.

Every time an officer made an arrest, they were required to interview the perpetrator as well as write up a report on the arrest. It was simple, if arbitrary, work, and one that his younger co-officers hated as it was seen as boring work. Which was exactly what he was banking on.

This was seen in him accepting Ichirou's offer without even asking for a reason. The young man was all too happy to shrug off his work and hand it over to his senior.

However, that fact mattered little to him at the moment. Ichirou walked silently and quickly, navigating through the precinct toward his destination. Within a minute, he arrived at an adjourning room within the precinct that was used to hold anyone they brought in. Several doors lined the walls, each leading to a holding room of their own.

The door had a small one-way window, allowing officers on the outside to have a preview of the individual inside. He found the room he was looking for and peeked through the window. Ichirou could tell the man inside was a salaryman by the wrinkles on his suit alone.

At first glance, he appeared to be an unremarkable and typical office worker, indistinguishable from any other passerby on the street. His neat, black hair was meticulously combed, and his facial features were ordinary and unassuming. A constant scowl etched across his face, as if he were silently seething at the walls around him.

However, it was the eyes that truly captured the officer's attention. They looked so dead, so hollow, and so lifeless. His coal-like eyes were like a mired mirror that, instead of reflecting a clear picture, reflected something more vacuous. It was almost as if the man was dead to the world and everything around him. In his gaze, Ichirou found a familiarity with them.

Taking in the stranger's appearance, combined with the hints that came from his fellow co-officer and the sense of familiarity he was feeling, Ichirou had a fairly clear idea of just who exactly the perp was. In the end, there was only one way to confirm his suspicions.

Next to the door were a clipboard and several documents that needed to be filled out with the arrest. Ichirou wasn't interested in that, but rather the name on it that belonged to the man in question.

"Youta Kurayami…" Ichirou read his name and committed it to memory.

Taking a deep breath, the officer braced himself for their encounter. Once ready, he opened the door and silently walked in, drawing the immediate attention of the salaryman. The two made eye contact with one another, but no word was spoken. Neither spoke, choosing instead to continue their impromptu stare-off and allowing the silence to hang between them. A silence that grew tenser by the second, for eventually, one of them will have to give.

Ichirou prided himself on his ability to discern subtle nuances in his friendships, especially with someone like Ulbert. He had known Ulbert for several years, ever since their time in Nine's Own Goal and Ainz Ooal Gown, respectively. If the man in front of him was indeed Ulbert Alain Odle, as he suspects, then the officer knew it was only a matter of time before he could make the first move. The demonic Player had always been impulsive, particularly in uncomfortable situations like the one they find themselves in now.

It paid off, as within the next second, he opened his mouth.

"Are you just going to stare at me all day or what? Seriously, did they pass on a senile old man to me?" The man, Youta, spoke with the same derisive tone Ichirou has always known Ulbert to have. It was the only proof he needed to know that it was indeed his guildmate.

Anyone else in the situation might have been offended, but to Touch Me/Ichirou, such verbal remarks barely even phased him considering their long history. If anything, it was rather par for the course.

Ichirou allowed a small smirk to break out, surprising his Heteromorphic comrade. "I see your manners still need some work, Ulbert-san." Ichirou playfully chided.

If Youta was surprised before, he was downright speechless to hear his online name being spoken by an all-too-familiar voice. For a few seconds, his eyes were completely wide, and his mouth was agape in complete shock.

"Touch Me…?" He tentatively asked once he recovered.

"Indeed. Hello to you as well, Ulbert-san." Ichirou nodded.

Staring at him for a few more seconds, Ulbert slumped back in his chair with a hand over his face. A groan escaped him as he glanced back at the standing officer.

"What the hell… This must be some joke; you and me meeting here."

"Indeed, I must admit I never once thought of this ever happening as well. It's a welcome surprise, to say the least.

"Speak for yourself, Touch Me." Ulbert huffed, clicking his tongue. "As if this day couldn't get any worse. Now I have to deal with you."

"May I call you Youta-san for the remainder of this?" Ichirou politely inquired, taking a seat in front of his guildmate.

"Call me whatever you want, Touch Me. It doesn't matter to me." Ulbert, or rather, Youta dismissed.

"Ichirou." The policeman said suddenly, catching Youta's attention.

"What?" He asked back.

"Ichirou Yukanna is my name. It seems only fair that I share mine, as I now know yours." Ichirou explained.

To which Youta couldn't help but snort in response. "Leave it to you to think of something as asinine as fairness and whatnot. I don't give a damn what you call me."

Ichirou decided to ignore his barbed words and continued forward with the proceeding.

"Youta-san, before I can let you go, I will need a recount of what exactly happened that led up to your arrest. I require your full cooperation and the truth in order to write up my report."

With his clipboard and pen at the ready, Ichirou jotted down everything he needed for his report. From Youta's account, he was minding his own business while waiting at the tram station when a pair of officers passed by. He said how they had singled him out, unfairly arrested him for no real reason, and brought him to the precinct. While telling his side of the story, he continued to hurl insults toward the officers and even threw a few snide remarks Ichirou's way.

During this, Ichirou felt his story was far too skewed.

He knew a few of them could be a bit crooked, but they wouldn't waste their time arresting someone out of the blue. Not unless said culprit did something to offend them in some way or caught their attention. Furthermore, given the knowledge that his comrade was quite antagonistic at times, it was clear Youta was leaving certain details out.

Upon further grilling, Ichirou got him to speak the truth. Apparently, upon seeing the pair of officers, Youta muttered a few insults and slurs directed at them under his breath. It seemed that he wasn't as quiet as he thought, as they managed to catch the tail of end of it and decided to teach him a lesson. The salaryman made it abundantly clear that they weren't too gentle with him when taking him into the station. Ichirou could feel the anger in his voice as his guildmate described the rough handling.

"Then let this be a lesson to you, Youta-san. You can't just speak or think ill will of someone out of nowhere and expect there to be no repercussion." Ichirou cautioned.

"Oh, am I no longer allowed to exercise my freedom of speech?" Youta fired back, twisting the police officer's words in his favor.

"No! What I'm saying is, there is a time and place for everything. Sometimes, it's better to keep quiet about certain things." Ichirou countered, slightly exasperated.

"You government lapdog would like that, wouldn't you? For us peons to just zip it and submit to your rules. Like mindless puppets." The salaryman taunted.

"That's not it either! I'm saying this for your sake, as next time you might not just be so fortunate to have me around to bail you out." Ichirou's lips pursed at his friend's stubborn and dismissive attitude.

"Whatever." Youta huffed and rolled his eyes. "Are we done here or what? Your jackass of friends already arrested me and made me late for something important."

Ichirou suppressed a weary sigh, choosing instead to look over his papers. If they continued, it would go on for hours.

"I would say so. I have all the information I need to file a report. You'll be released in short order, Youta-san." Ichirou promised.

"Finally!" He stood up and stretched as the officer walked towards the door.

As he reached for the doorknob, Ichirou stopped abruptly. A realization dawned on him that it was just the two of them. This was the perfect opportunity, a part of him whispered. An opportunity to finally ask and perhaps even answer a question that he had been wondering for years now. Unlike within YGGDRASIL, Youta could not simply avoid him by teleporting away or even logging out. Here they were, face-to-face at last, and this time, he didn't have a way out. Releasing the doorknob, he turned back to Youta.

"Actually, I must ask for another moment of your time, Youta-san."

Youta quickly turned his head in Ichirou's direction, revealing his annoyance that was barely hidden. His face contorted into a scowl.

"Oi, what the hell?! I thought you said I was free to go!"

"And you will. You'll be properly released in short order after I ask you what I would like to ask of you." Ichirou smoothly countered.

"Like hell you are! You said you've got everything you need, so what the hell do you need me here even longer for?!"

"Just a simple question I would like to ask you."

"Well, you can take it and shove it! If it ain't got anything to do with the case, then that means you can't keep me here like a prisoner!"

"You'll find that I can hold you here until I deem it right to release you from my custody. I doubt any of my fellow co-officers would be any more inclined to let you off the hook than I am. Cooperate, and this'll be over shortly. Continue lashing out, and we'll be here for a while."

Youta was gobsmacked, his mouth left agape after hearing what amounted to an ultimatum from Ichirou, the wannabe Mr. Hero of Justice himself. The officer had expected several reactions from his comrade. Angry shouting and screaming were the primary responses, but what the elderly gentleman didn't expect was for him to begin laughing. It was a burst of maniacal laughter, and the clear maliciousness in it was palpable.

The salaryman dropped back onto his chair and laughed uncontrollably, even banging his hand against the table.

"Hahaha! Oh, this is glorious! Hahaha! Absolutely fucking rich! Meeting the wannabe hero, surrounded by his equals! Hahaha!" Ichirou was able to make out Youta's words in between each fit of laughter.

Startled, but no less resolute, Ichirou attempted to continue the conversation. More so because Ichirou was curious about what Youta said to him.

"Wannabe hero? What on earth are you talking about, Youta-san."

Having made out Ichirou's voice through his mirth, Youta's chuckles die down. The self-proclaimed Hero of Justice met Youta's gaze but almost flinched from the hostility in his eyes. Youta's glare was burning with sheer intensity and accompanied by an amused sneer.

"You really are such a hypocrite." Youta said much to Ichirou's continual confusion.

"W-what? How am I-"

"A hypocrite?" Youta cut him off and finished his sentence for him.

"How about the fact that you just basically made a threat against me? All because of one selfish question, one that you must be dying to have me answer if you're willing to circumvent your oh-so-sacred regulations and rules. You're keeping me hostage, twisting the rules and laws in your favor, and forcing me to comply, knowing that I can't do anything to stop you!" Youta elaborated with a vicious smirk.

One that only grew as he watched his rival's face contort with conflicting emotions.

Loathed as he was to admit it, Youta had a point. Ichirou was keeping him rather unlawfully against his will, even after he had everything he needed from the man. He went against his promise and all but threatened him to a certain degree, forcing him to comply with his whims and questions eventually. Ichirou couldn't justify it as he knew that, in the end, the question has no relation to the case, and it was a selfish request on the police officers' part.

"Sooo…" Youta leaned back in his chair and kicked up his feet onto the table. "Is this now an interrogation, hero?" He sneered.

This managed to knock Ichirou out of his thoughts.

"I-I… Youta-san…" He began, but it fell on deaf ears.

"Should I be expecting some friends of yours to pop on in? The two who arrested me would probably like another crack at me."

"That's not going to happen! If you just-"

"Oh, I see! You'll much rather get your hands dirty than let anyone else do it for you."

"Stop and listen, I'm-"

"Man, I wonder what the others in Ainz Ooal Gown would think if they heard about this."

Every time Ichirou tried to get his words out, he was immediately rebuked at every turn by Youta. And if his smirk was anything to go by, the salaryman was well aware of his actions. He took a twisted sense of amusement, needling Ichirou on like that as the officer slowly lost his patience.

Every man had a breaking point, and Ichirou had quickly reached his.

"Enough!" Ichirou slammed his hands on the table, interrupting Youta mid-talk and staring him down. He was done playing games.

"I am sorry if I gave off the wrong impression, but I will not allow you to sit there and blindly dismiss me! So you listen here-"

"No, you listen!" Youta shouted, jumping to his feet and glaring right back at Ichirou.

"I've listened to you already, now it's my turn. So, you listen, hero." Youta growled, getting in front of Ichirou with his finger jabbing the police officer's chest.

Ichirou nevertheless complied, matching his guildmate's stare and keeping quiet as his comrade began his tangent.

"I'm sick and tired of dealing with your high and mightier-than-thou bullshit! In the game, you act like you're the moral compass of the group, with the ethical high ground on every godforsaken occasion. Every time, it's always the goddamn same thing with you! Justice this, or heroic that, and always a fucking speech to make my ear bleed! I am not dealing with any of your speeches! You fat-headed, bigoted, penguin motherfucker!"

Ichirou couldn't help but blink at the rather incredulous insult that had just been hurled his way. Out of everything Youta could pick, he decided to call the police officer a penguin. While it was true that his police uniform did bear some resemblance to the color scheme and pattern of the aquatic bird, Ichirou couldn't help but feel that the comparison was a bit of a stretch.

Beyond that, Ichirou knew better than to respond with anger, or say anything for that matter. This was far from the first time their arguments had reached a boiling point. He had lost count of just how many fights they'd been in, whether they were vocal or physical. In most cases, it was always the former. They've done this song and dance dozens of times in the past, back in YGGDRASIL. If anything, Youta proceeding with his explosive rant was actually a good thing.

From experience, Ichirou knew that Youta would eventually be winded and exhausted by the end, once he let out his entire frustration. He would be far more amiable after he got everything off his chest.

All Ichirou had to do was weather the caustic storm of insults that Youta was throwing his way. His screaming insults became almost like a white noise as the officer did his best to ignore the more hurtful words. It would be another minute or so before the angry rant would begin to die down. The policeman tuned back in to catch the tail end of it all.

"So fuck everything! Fuck your jackass friends, fuck this shithole of a police precinct, fuck this room, and more importantly, fuck you!" With one final shout, Youta finished his verbal assault, giving the officer the middle finger.

The impromptu speech left him breathless. Panting, Youta kept his glare centered on the stoic officer, who met his glare with a look as if to ask him, "Are you done?" After a few more seconds, Youta slumped in his chair, his heavy breathing lessening. No more words followed his outburst, allowing an awkward silence to penetrate the room.

Youta scoffed.

"You know, I always had the feeling you were giving me a look whenever we had our arguments. Now, seeing your ugly mug in person, the urge to punch your face is even stronger."

Ichirou ignored his threat again, patiently and stoically keeping quiet.

Youta's glare intensified at the silent treatment the police officer was giving him. The seconds ticked by at a slow and agonizing pace, with nothing but the sound of their breathing filling the room. As the silence stretched on, Youta's discomfort grew, and Ichirou could feel his frustration rising. By the time a full minute had passed, the oppressive stillness had become too much to bear, and he finally gave in to the tension in the air.

The dead-eyed salaryman let out a heavy sigh.

"Alright, what the fuck do you want?" He asked in an 'I'm-done-with-this-shit' tone that the white-haired officer had heard him use before.

Satisfied in the knowledge that his comrade would be amiable to his words now, Ichirou began.

"Firstly, allow me to say I am sorry." Ichirou apologized. "I did not mean for what I said to be a threat of any kind. I-I had only the most honest of intentions when I wished to ask you my question."

"Whatever." Youta dismissed his apology without a thought. "Just ask your damn question already, so we can get this over with."

"Very well." Ichirou cleared his throat in preparation for what he was about to say. "I know we may not always see eye to eye, but I still hold respect for you, Youta-san. Despite the numerous fights and arguments we've had, I have always regarded you as a friend. All I ask of you is to reciprocate the same courtesy that I have shown you throughout the many years we've played together."

"Just get on with it…" Youta commented annoyingly in the middle of his sentence.

"Youta-san, do you hate me?" Ichirou finally asked, getting to the heart of the matter.

Upon hearing the question, Youta's body tensed up in his seat, caught off guard by the abrupt and poignant question. His gaze locked onto the self-proclaimed Hero of Justice, trying to discern if he had heard correctly. A single glance at Ichirou's expression confirmed that he had indeed. The man behind the helm of Touch Me was deadly serious, his face etched with a solemn visage. Youta swiftly composed his features, returning an impassive look of his own as the two engaged in a tense stare-down, the atmosphere in the room becoming palpably still.

'Do you hate me?' The question repeated in his head again, testing the words and intention as the stare-off between the two persisted, neither yielding to the other.

It was no secret that Touch Me/Ichirou and Ulbert/Youta had an immensely tumultuous relationship. Their dynamics were like oil and water, if the oil was also on fire, and that was putting it mildly. Their personalities were diametrically opposed in every possible way, from their inclinations and methods of play to their fundamental beliefs. Such stark differences could not coexist without friction, and the two had been embroiled in countless disagreements and disputes throughout their time in the same guild. The tension between them was palpable and inevitable, given their numerous differences.

It was a curious conundrum. The arguments commonly that took place between them were a clear indication that they did not hold each other in high regard or value the other seriously, particularly in the case of Youta. However, despite this, they continued hanging around and play with one another, choosing to remain in the same guild. It has nearly been over six years since they first became allies and eventually became not just clanmates but also members of the same guild.

But one would hesitate to call them true friends based on these facts. Ichirou would, but never did it seem Youta shared the same sentiment.

It was inferred that the two mutually disliked each other, and merely tolerated one another within the guild, but the matter was never brought up properly. Let alone resolved.

Until now.

The tension in the room mounted, becoming so thick that one could cut it with a knife. It only continued to escalate as the seconds ticked by.

It would be Youta who dispelled the silence with his voice, finally breaking the monotony.

"Tell me, Ichirou. Do you believe in monsters?"

Ichirou couldn't help but blink at his reply. He didn't expect Youta to answer his question with a question of his own, and certainly not with an unexpected topic. He had wanted to ask him to get back on track but the seriousness on Youta's face made him pause. Instead, he decided to wait and see where this new line of discussion might lead.

"I cannot say I do. At least, not since I was still a boy." Ichirou answered after some deliberation.

"And yet you believed in heroes. Saying the day, rescuing the princess, and ending the threat of the demon king." Said Youta, a small mocking smile worming its way to his face.

"Those are in the realm of fantasy, Youta-san. There's more to a hero than just that, for a hero can come in all shapes and sizes." The police officer countered.

"Oh yes, I know. But the same can be said for monsters as well. Not all monsters are monstrous beings." Youta retorted with a cryptic smirk on his face, as if he had secretly been waiting for Ichirou to bring that matter up for discussion.

Ichirou opened his mouth to answer back, only for Youta to cut him off and continue without any concern for the police officer.

"My mom used to tell me to beware of monsters. I was a kid back then, so I just took her words at that. She was always rather ambiguous with it, like monsters under my bed, or in the dark, and others I can't remember. I always found it odd that she never explained or went in-depth about what she meant, always keeping it vague." Youta revealed.

Ichirou shut his mouth with an audible click at how fast he did it. It was an unspoken rule, but one that held considerable weight within the confines of Ainz Ooal Gown that a member never had to reveal or talk about their personal life. After all, YGGDRASIL was a source of respite for the Players, a place where they could unwind and forget their worries. However, that wasn't to say one couldn't, but personal affairs were typically kept between the closest of friends, and some aspects of their lives were known to the entire guild, albeit in a vague and general sense.

One such example was Ichirou's unwavering belief in the concept of heroism, which was reflected in his real-life profession as a police officer. It was also common knowledge among the guild members that he was married and led a comfortable life, indicating that his interests extended beyond the virtual realm.

Opposite him was Youta, who let little to nothing about his true life be known. Out of everyone within the guild, he was confident enough to say that only Momonga probably knew the full extent of his backstory. Even then, it was only what Youta was willing to share.

"I lost my parents when I was young. Hell, I don't even remember how old I was when they died. All I knew was that I was old enough to know what had happened." Youta told him, the story taking a dark turn.

Ichirou felt his body straighten rigidly in both surprise and shock. He was telling his backstory, and already Ichirou could tell it was not a happy one.

"Youta-san. You don't-"

"Let me finish…" The salaryman interrupted, his voice unmistakably soft. The light in his eyes was gone, back to those dark, dead eyes Youta wore when Ichirou first saw him.

"They worked on the production line for some company. It was a shit job with shit pay, and dangerous as hell. But it was the only thing available to them to put money on the table and food in our stomachs. Every day, they would come home late and would barely get even four hours of sleep and rest before having to get back to work. Yet, each day, they would make time for me. They'd tuck me in for bed and just talk about anything and everything. They were there for me, until that day." Youta recounted. His voice was monotonously hollow, as if reading from a script.

Ichirou kept quiet while also offering a silent prayer to Youta's parents.

"They died horribly. At least, that is what I imagined anyway… Working in such a dangerous place, it all just collapsed one day. They couldn't even find their damn bones. Probably buried underneath a pile of rubble, crushed into dust, or even burned into ashes. And don't get me started on the joke of a compensation that was given for their deaths. Let me tell you, the insurance payment was complete shit. It barely had enough to last me through the week. I barely finished elementary school before I dropped out and started working just so I wouldn't be kicked off into the streets." Youta let out a mirthless laugh, one that Ichirou couldn't help but shiver from. The bleakness in his voice was nauseating.

"I learned two important lessons all those years ago. The world doesn't care for people like me, and more importantly, the people don't give a shit either! It's funny, my mom always said to watch out for monsters. On that day, I realized something. She wasn't just talking about the imaginary kind. I found out exactly what kind of monster people are and can be."

Youta looked straight at Ichirou, who met his eyes unflinchingly.

"I realized something a long, long time ago. I realized that this world, this shithole of a planet we call home, is cruel. And every day, it reinforced it. I realized that it was not Monsters or even God that made this world a hellhole. It was we humans that made it how it is today. It has always been humanity's fault, from the beginning till now." He spoke, his voice raw and vitriolic.

It was no secret that Ulbert/Youta harbored a severe case of misanthropy. His disdain for humanity was evident in his frequent use of insults and biting remarks aimed at Humanoid Players. He often delivered chunni speeches about the impending doom and destruction he planned to unleash upon mankind.

Many observers would assume that it was just him playing around and dismiss his behaviors as mere roleplay or harmless banter, believing that he was simply cultivating an edgy persona to match his demonic avatar. However, the truth was far more sinister. Youta's hatred for his own kind burned deep and fierce, and he made no effort to conceal this fact. Only those closest to him knew just how far his hatred ran. How far his wroth stretched.

Touch Me/Ichirou was among the handful. But it was here, with the two sitting face-to-face with one another, that he truly realized just how deep and all-consuming Youta's misanthropy truly was. As his past came to light, it revealed the source of his festering anger and resentment.

He had been a child forced to grow up too quickly, burdened with a weight of bitterness that only grew heavier with each passing year.

"People so often believe that monsters are humanity's greatest threat. That it was the devil that tempted us to fall or its monsters that'll kill us remorselessly. I think otherwise. A monster is just that-a monster. It's evil because that is how it is; it was simply born that way. Humanity, on the other hand, is far more horrible. After all, we have the choice to be good or evil. To be a monster, if we please. People willingly make fucked-up choices. We are capable of such atrocities that even monsters fear us. We're capable of horrors that make the devil afraid of us. Look no further than the shit we call reality. A polluted and overpopulated earth, where every waking moment is suffering. Everywhere you go, it's a constant reminder of our sins. The nauseous, poison-filled sky that can kill if we're not careful. The lifeless drones that are the masses, people uncaring of anyone's plight but their own. The rampant number of deaths from exhaustion and overwork. The pampered fucks that make up the corrupt and high society that doesn't give a shit about any of us and controls us like puppets."

Youta jabbed his finger at Ichirou, but it wasn't him he was targeting. Rather, the police badge he wore.

"I realized something, that we are truly the worst. People are selfish, cruel beings, and monsters in their own rights. We're all monsters, some more so than others, but we are all the same underneath. No one is an exception to that rule, especially you." He turned his dead gaze back to Ichirou.

"But to be completely honest with your question, hero, I would have to say I do not hate you as a person."

"What?" Ichirou let out in confusion at Youta's answer.

Youta gave a nonchalant shrug in the face of the elderly officer's confusion and chose to say nothing more. He averted his eyes from Ichirou for a moment, remaining quiet as if he were collecting his thoughts for what was to come next. After a bout of silence, he turned back to Ichirou to answer his question in earnest.

"Despite my behaviors, I do not simply hate you on principle alone. If that were the case, then I would have left a long, long time ago, along with PKing your ass all the way till Sunday. When I said I don't hate you, I meant it. I dislike you and how you do things, sure, but hate? I can't say I do. At the root of it all, my animosity towards you stems from my own petty envy and rivalry."

Youta reclined on his chair, gazing up at the plain ceiling, lost in thought.

"I'm man enough to admit that I envy you because you are everything I'm not! I was born in this world as a natural-born loser, and I'll spend the rest of my life working to the bone and, most likely, share the same fate as my parents. While I was born to fail, you were lucky enough to be born into a well-off lifestyle that only us bottom-dwellers could only dream of reaching… But, despite my jealousy and frustration towards you, I cannot bring myself to fully hate you as an individual, Ichirou."

Ichirou sat in stunned silence, absorbing Youta's heartfelt confession.

To hear his guildmate, whom he has always known to be prickly and prideful, sounding humble in his admission shocked him more than Ichirou cared to admit.

It was also during this that Youta finally addressed him by his name, which he had always avoided in favor of other informal nicknames or titles. This fact, combined with his admission and tone, showed that he was being genuine in his words.

However, Youta wasn't done. Far from it, in fact, he was just getting started.

Youta closed his eyes. "You asked me if I hated you." He repeated.

"Aye, I don't hate you as a person. No, what I absolutely despised about you is your ideal and everything you stand for!"

Youta's eyes snapped open with a fierce declaration, his once dull gaze ablaze with an intense fire that glared daggers at Ichirou. He spoke with raw, unfettered emotion, his words searing with the heat of his anger.

"I hated how every time it was the same damn thing with you! Hero of justice this, bringing justice to all that, it was maddening! Hearing you parrot those moral ideals day in and day out in YGGDRASIL. They were nothing but empty words! You were nothing but a pretender, a farce hiding behind a naïve and idiotic ideal. What made it worse was that you were a blind slave to it! Ignorant of the beliefs you championed. Nothing more than cheap humanism. I hate you because the ideals you defended were nothing more than a façade! In every situation, every time we would do something together as a clan or guild, it would always be the same bullshit! I hated you because you were a blind fool!"

As Youta screamed his anger towards the target of his frustration, he felt a heavy burden slowly lift off his shoulders. It was as if he had finally freed himself from the shackles of his own pent-up emotions.

How long, Ichirou wondered, had Ulbert kept such thoughts close to his chest, and now finally a chance to let it all out? To express himself and let his voice be heard.

"You preached on and on about justice and peace. About protecting people and bringing justice to the world. About doing what's right to better the world. But where were your precious ideals when my parents died, and no one gave a rat's ass about me or them?! Where was your notion of justice when I was forced to work, a child no older than ten, just so I wouldn't be kicked out to die on the fucking streets like gutter trash? Where is the good and justice in a fucked up situation like that, huh?!"

Youta slammed his fist down on the table, rattling it from the force.

"Where the fuck was my justice, my peace?! How is it fair to let only you people preach about peace and justice?! The very same people who profit from our labor and misfortune! You've never had to work as hard as we did! Tolling away just so that we shouldn't fucking starve or worse! You've never struggled with anything in your life, knowing that you would still be well off. A luxury that we can only dream of, as every day we spend toiling away just to get by. You have never suffered, suffered like I have, once in your cushy life, and you think you know for me?

Don't give me that fucking bullshit!

What gives you the right to dictate what is fair and what is justice?! Do you think you're better than me? Better than everyone else because of those naïve and lofty ideals?

I hated you because of your naïve ideals. A Hero of Justice? Bringing peace and order to all? Please, as if someone like you could ever hope to become such a thing as lofty as that! And people call me delusional and a chunni! I accepted my place in this cruel world and made my peace with it. Yet, you choose to cling to a child's fairytale. Whether it be in YGGDRASIL or on the streets. Your naïve ideals are nothing more than that, ideals. And like all ideals, they are forever out of reach.

I hated you because you blindly and stupidly followed your selfish ideals like a chained dog. You were nothing but a selfish hypocrite, hiding behind a veneer of justice and righteousness. Yet, have you ever once thought about your ideals and what they truly mean in the grand scheme of things? Are you so blind that you cannot see that such a thing is impossible? And you still chase after it indefinitely! News flash! You can't help or save everyone, nor can you expect everything to play by your rules. After all, humans are cruel beings.

I hate you, Touch Me, because you are no true Hero of Justice or whatever bullshit you believe yourself to be! You're just a man-a human. Just like me, just like everyone else on this forsaken planet.

Nothing more than a man pretending to be a Hero…" Youta finished, glaring with all his strength.

The room was filled with the sound of labored breathing as the exhausted salaryman dropped heavily into his chair. He had just finished a marathon of talking and screaming, leaving his throat raw and burning. His entire body was gripped by a brief stint of exhaustion, as evidenced by the sweat dripping from his forehead as he struggled to catch his breath.

There was a fine line that Youta distinguished between Ichirou as a person and the persona that was Touch Me.

In simple terms, he despised the persona that was Touch Me - the side of Ichirou that championed his ideals. However, he did not completely hate the man behind the mask, Ichirou Yukanna. The World Disaster held a sliver of respect for the World Champion, though it was minuscule and overshadowed by his contempt for the naïve ideals that the police officer championed.

Youta hated not the man, but what he represented, riding a delicate line between one and the other.

Taking a quick sideways glance at Ichirou, Youta braced himself for a range of potential reactions. He anticipated anything from utter shock to extreme horror, or perhaps even a burst of furious anger. However, to his surprise, Ichirou remained completely composed, deep in thought, his face betraying no visible emotions. Youta was unable to decipher what was going through the police officer's mind at that exact moment, as his expression gave away nothing.

"I see." Ichirou closed his eyes, silent in contemplation.

Without saying another word, Ichirou stood up and walked out the door. Youta's gaze never left his retreating backside. A soft clicking noise followed suit, the door locking him in.

On the other side of the door, Ichirou remained there. It was clear from his silent and stern visage that Youta's words had left quite an impression on him.

Silently, the policeman walked away from the room. His body ran on autopilot as he made his way through the police precinct. The surroundings blurred around him as his thoughts were taken up by Youta's words.

'He's not wrong.' His mind supplied.

Ichirou was far from the naïve idiot that his guildmate made him out to be, nor was he as simple as his actions and demeanor might suggest. He had known the harsh truth for a very long time, and in some ways, he had known it from the very beginning. The changing times and the new bitter reality that have become so commonplace now. One that so many were thrust upon.

His mind drifted elsewhere. Youta's words, they stirred up old memories, old feelings within Ichirou. He lost himself in the memories, reminiscing about how things have changed, and how much he has changed as well.

Among everyone within Ainz Ooal Gown, Touch Me/Ichirou was considered one of the eldest among all forty-two members, with Shizyuutensuzaku being the oldest.

Unlike many, such as Ulbert/Youta or Momonga/Satoru, who were born during the height of the dystopian world and era, Ichirou was among those to stand witness to the changing times. He was present at the end of an era and the rise of a new, corrupt one in its place.

The world before the rise of the various corporate conglomerates was by no means stable, as certain political and geopolitical events shook the foundation. The times were changing, and they were changing quickly. A change was looming in the future; people knew it was coming, but what many, Ichirou included, didn't account for was just how quickly it happened.

What Ichirou remembered most about it all was just how quiet it was.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, much of the old world order crumbled before the new government. No longer were politicians running the show, but rather the influential businessman and CEO of corporate conglomerates. This new government sunk its teeth deep within Japan and, like a plague, corrupted all within its touch. Their spread was so quick and seamless that no one could do anything to stop them. And before anything could be done, it was already too late.

Everything they once knew corroded away, as the world as a whole took another step towards a living hellscape.

Any action taken against the new government would be met with immediate and harsh punishment, deterring any detractors. From there, their corporate overlords systematically rewrote everything, crushing all forms of opposition. None were more affected than the police force that once protected the streets. They were gutted, stripped of all they once were.

His dream job became nothing more than pencil pushing and busywork than actual enforcement of the law, like what he had done in the past. Rarely did they even do any actual policing, merely patrols and the like to keep up appearance. Before, they would go out of their way to seek out criminals or any suspicious individuals. Now, they hardly did any of that. In fact, by the ruling of the department, they were even ordered to ignore certain suspicious activities, allowing ruffians to roam free as they pleased.

It wasn't just the law, it was the people too. A pervasive coldness and lack of concern for one's fellow human beings had taken hold. The world was being suffocated by a complacent attitude, with apathy choking the life out of everything and everyone. Self-preservation had become the norm, and with the knowledge that the police force, as it stood, had done nothing to improve public safety or opinion, matters only continued to deteriorate.

The ruling corporation kept the police force around to deal with the more mundane criminal elements and activities, but nothing more. They were neutered and had no power to go against the new, corrupt government. In the end, they were forced to conform or else.

The once noble profession had become a farce, stripped of its proud roots. The creed of all police officers, "to protect and serve," had been sanitized. They no longer protected the citizenry, and the laws they had once fought to serve and uphold were now in opposition to the new world order.

How funny that the laws that he fought to uphold and keep the peace became the very chains that forced him and many others to heel.

They became police officers in name only.

Nowadays, there were very few officers that share Ichirou's sentiments left, and even fewer in the workforce. Most left, unable to accept the change, and went elsewhere. Those who would replace them weren't fit to be called police officers. Officers nowadays were merely young individuals who knew nothing before their times about the honor and tradition that came with being one to uphold the law. Or those taking the job because it was easy.

And Ichirou loathed it. But the cruel fact was, there was nothing no one could do but silently watch as the world changed around them.

Their reality became that of a textbook dystopian society from the pages of stories centuries ago.

Ichirou had been a police officer for a significant amount of time and witnessed the downfall of the profession firsthand. He was present both at the beginning and the end, observing the changing times that turned everything he once believed in to ashes. It wasn't just him who felt this way - many other passionate police officers were also unhappy with what had occurred.

Ichirou was far from pleased, but the aged officer knew he couldn't change anything, even if he wanted to try. He, like many others, tried to fight against it for as long as they could. Eventually, however, they were forced to either accept the reality of the situation or look for justice elsewhere.

It was clear which route he took. If not for himself, then to protect his family-his wife and child.

Ichirou had seen what happened to those who openly oppose and do not change their stance. Those too stubborn to change will all disappear eventually.

He acknowledged the reality of the situation-that his dreams and ideals as a Hero of Justice had no place in the new, cold world. However, deep within his heart, he never fully accepted that fact. Ichirou still held onto the sliver of hope of what he once fought for and upheld.

It was why he was still an officer even after all the tribulations that faced him, clinging to the old ways.

However, it was also in part because he was selfish. He didn't want to admit that the noble ideals that the policeman stood for were dead and gone. That his dream and beliefs were still alive, somewhere. Despite mounting obstacles, he clung to them with delicate fervor, desperate to uphold his once lofty beliefs. Ichirou wanted to believe there was some good out there, somehow, somewhere.

His stubbornness and faith in his ideals balanced precariously against reality and the cold truth of the world. And for years, they have maintained that precarious balance. A balance that would be tipped over in an event that nearly sent him over the edge.

It came about sometime after Ainz Ooal Gown won the Tomb of Nazarick. There was a homeless man that hung about a block or so from their precinct. He would stand there, dirtied and begotten, asking for any donations or spare change. Most don't even give him a passing glance, uncaring of his plight and plea. All but Ichirou.

Every time he would go to work, he would always see and encounter the man, and without fail, he would offer him a little bit of money. For someone like Ichirou, he had money to spare. Even if the act of kindness was trivial, he took some measure of pride in helping another.

After a while, it didn't take long before the two got to know each other more. The man wished to acquaint himself with the only generous person he knew, someone who didn't look at him as if he were filth. Over the short months, they learned more about one another, and Ichirou would almost call them friends.

Ichirou learned that before the man was homeless, he had a family of his own with a wife and child. The three of them lived in a relatively poor neighborhood. While their lives were hard, they were content as long as they had one another. The story then took a dark turn when the man revealed that an incident occurred at the apartment building they lived in. It turns out that a small-time gang made a base in the same apartment complex.

A shootout between the gang and the police occurred one day, and by the end of it, about thirty people died in the ensuing firefight. His wife and children were among the causalities. And the police, they just left as if the rest didn't concern them. From there, his life spiraled down, and eventually he was reduced to being homeless.

He blamed the officers for the tragedy. He blamed them for the deaths of his family, saying that if they were better or more competent, their deaths could have been avoided. He recounted how heartless they were, not only to him but to his plight. All because it wasn't part of their job. Ichirou could feel the hatred and vitriol as he described it all. One that reminded him of a certain demon of disaster.

One day, the man asked Ichirou out of the blue if there was ever a day he wouldn't come to work. At the time, the officer never gave the question much thought and answered him freely. Days passed, and on one of his days off, he received a call early in the morning asking for him to come in to help cover a shift. Agreeing, he headed to the station, and as he was nearing the precinct, the sounds of screaming echoed through the air. He raced as fast as he could, gun in hand, for what was to come.

However, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

There, standing in front of the station, was a group of his fellow officers. All their guns were trained against the homeless man Ichirou knew. The very same man who was holding one of the officers hostage and pressing his gun to the officer's head.

The reason why the man asked when Ichirou wouldn't be at work was to spare him from what he was about to do that day. Ichirou would later learn that the man assaulted the precinct, attacking one of the officers as he was walking in with a shiv. He killed the man, stole the officer's issued gun, and proceeded to attack and shoot everyone within the station. Four were killed, while another six were left wounded. It eventually led to him grabbing one of the officers, using him as leverage, and preventing the others from filling him with lead.

A standoff ensued, with the police and the gunman waiting for the other to make the first move. Throughout, the man screamed insults and vitriol at the police. Ichirou witnessed it all - the frightened young man he held captive, terrified for his life, the tense and nervous atmosphere among his fellow officers, and the crazed glint in the man's eyes. Ichirou could still recall the raw, burning bitterness in the gunman's voice as he screamed, unleashing all his anger at them.

Ichirou came to a frightening realization: the man had no plan on actually making it out alive.

Tension only grew, and it seemed enviable that the man would pull the trigger and kill his hostage, thus forcing the police to fire upon him. If Ichirou hadn't intervened that was.

Ichirou was hidden at an angle that was completely invisible to the assailant. From where he was, he had a clean shot at the man. Had the situation been any different, he wouldn't have hesitated, but he did.

Ichirou was beyond conflicted. Two sides of himself raged within him, desperately trying to figure out what to do in the situation. The man was a victim. He knew and understood the man's plight and his anger, but that anger was misdirected. Those responsible for his tragedy weren't the officers he killed or the hostage he held. However, he'd already taken lives, and that meant his life was already forfeit. Ichirou would be the first to admit that those he worked alongside were not officers by his standards, but they were still innocent and were not at fault.

The man was lashing out in grief, and he needed to be stopped. Ichirou knew that, but that didn't make the decision any easier. Pressure mounted as seconds ticked by, the situation deteriorating ever faster. The internal debate stormed within his mind and threatened to make him insane as he struggled to find an answer but couldn't.

There was no right answer, no decision that would result in a satisfying conclusion. If Ichirou didn't taken the shot, then he would've allowed the young officer to die on his watch. And without a hostage, the man would die regardless, courtesy of the rest of the police officers. If he did take the shot, then he would save the young officer's life, but at the cost of the man he would consider a friend. And despite what he did, Ichirou couldn't find himself to wholly hate him.

It was too late for a peaceful solution, he'd already stained his hands with blood. There was no option where everyone walked away alive.

The weight of the decisions weighed heavily on him. His moral obligation versus his duty. Either way, he was damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

Either two more people would die this day or just one.

That choice fell on him, and Ichirou made his decision.

The memory of his action was burned into his memory and would be with him until the end of days.

In the end, only a single shot was fired.

Ichirou had done it. He pulled the trigger, ripping a hole through his throat from the back, catching the man completely off guard.

He staggered, reeling from the fatal wound, enough for his hostage to break free, knocking him to the ground and the gun away.

His hands desperately clung to his neck, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. The sound of wet chokes and gasps filled the dark air as he writhed in pain on the cold ground.

Ichirou strode forward, his gun leveled at him. He intended to put him out of his misery and grant him a painless death, sending him on his way.

Before he could pull the trigger a second time, the man turned, facing the elderly officer. For what seemed like an eternity, the two locked eyes, the homeless man's fading eyes recognizing who it was that shot him.

So many emotions flickered through them, surprise, recognition, and sadness before anger settled in. His last ounce of strength was channeled into a damning stare.

A bloody gargled noise escaped his compromised throat, mouth parted with bloody teeth on full display.

He was trying to say something, but no words could form, and yet, Ichirou heard his intent clearly enough. The officer watched as the light left the man's eyes, his body stilling as death finally caught up to him.

Ichirou remembered just standing there, his eyes locked onto the unmoving body of the man he grew to know over the months. He was unable to look away from that condemning gaze.

Everyone else was happy and celebrating, especially the young officer who was the hostage. The mood was upbeat, or as upbeat as it could be. Everyone praised him as a hero, praising his name and giving him happy shoulder claps.

Ichirou didn't feel like a Hero at that moment.

He'd fought criminals before, even killed a few in the line of duty, and never seemed to mind their deaths. It was always circumstantial, rather cut-and-dry, and devoid of any genuine moral ambiguity. They were the bad guys, while he was the good guy.

Simple, easy.

But this time, things were different.

Guilt rocked him and filled him with shame. For the first time in his long career as a law enforcement officer, he killed an "innocent" man. A victim of circumstance and one out of both of their control.

The rational side of him told him that what was done was done. The man was responsible for the deaths of those officers, that he was too far gone. Yet, Ichirou couldn't find himself to just coldly dismiss it, to put it behind him. In the days to come, he pondered it all, trying desperately to find an answer that could somehow make things all right. But the thing was, there wasn't an answer, and Ichirou agonized over it until he reached out to someone. The only one who could understand his plight.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

The Great Tomb of Nazarick. Formerly an endgame dungeon, it currently serves as the headquarters of Ainz Ooal Gown. Where it once held six inhospitable levels, they have been expanded upon since the guild's conquest. Now, the guild base holds within it ten floors reserved for its new masters.

The Ninth Floor was designed to house the various members of Ainz Ooal Gown. Tastefully decorated and stylized, it contained the personalized dorms for the members of the guild.

Marching urgently, Shirou paid no attention to the décor, his mind occupied by his circumstances. The source of his haste? A message from none other than his friend and the resident World Champion: Touch Me. The message was short and simple, unlike his usual boisterous self. It simply read: "Could you meet me in my quarters? I… need help."

Three words he never expected he would hear from Touch Me caused his pace to quicken the smallest bit. Whatever it was that rattled the normally stalwart Player, it had to be big.

With a final turn, Shirou's stride slowed till he arrived at a simple wooden door. On it was a golden nameplate that identified the room as Touch Me's. Standing at the door, Shirou braced himself for what was to come. With his mind set, he entered the room. It was well furnished and spacious, but a bit empty, with only a few decorations and accessories for the room. Accommodating was the best way to describe Touch Me's personal abode. There, the silver paladin sat and waited in complete silence.

On the surface, it appeared everything was alright, but Shirou knew that was far from the truth.

Despite lacking finer facial details, Touch Me's avatar told a story. The hunched shoulders of one who had failed. The tilted head of one who was lost in thoughts. The lack of response to his entrance. Everything was screaming something was seriously wrong.

How many times had he seen these signs on the faces of his comrades and victims, Shirou wondered. How many times had he worn the same expression, that of a failure, of a man who had lost despite his best efforts?

It was disconcerting to see it once again and on someone like Touch Me. A man who, no matter the situation, always managed to project a smile and unrestrained exuberance in his words. That begged the question. Why would that man, who held a family and was in great standing, economically and otherwise, dare wear such a defeatist attitude?

Finally taking note of his presence, Touch Me turned to him, his movements sluggish.

"Ah… Emiya-san, you came."

A sliver of worry wormed itself within his core, but he squashed it. The magus's mind was already racing, meditating on how to approach his friend. No more than a second passed before he came to a decision. If he was correct in his assumption, his friend would need a strong hand, instead of pointless pity.

"You failed, haven't you?" Shirou asked immediately, forgoing any real form of tact and instead tackling the problem directly.

"Am I so easy to read? Or is this another show of your incredible observations?" A speck of surprise colored his next words, however, he remained largely melancholic.

For all the apathy the World Champion probably felt at the moment, he couldn't hope to hide the trace amount of frustration, guilt, and self-hate that remained prevalent in his tone. Touch Me was still responsive to outside stimuli.

That was good, Shirou thought.

Now, he had to work on opening him up to conversation. If he wanted his future actions to help, he would need him to be flustered. And that meant riling the normally calm Player up a bit.

"Neither, I could sense your angst from the other side of the guild. I almost thought you were Ulbert-san for a moment. So, out with it. What happened?"

As juvenile as the insult was, it still seemed to make Touch Me more responsive, annoyance becoming more apparent.

"Have you come to mock me? Well, I suppose I deserve it. I must look pathetic… Life happened, Emiya-san. It came knocking at my door, and I wasn't ready for her message. She's a cruel mistress, no?" Touch Me asked Shirou, who remained silent at his rhetorical question.

His response was largely a diversion, trying to stall it out. Shirou knew this, and that wouldn't do. Touch Me had asked Shirou for help, and whether he liked it or not, he was going to get his help. Fixing his friend with a firm look, he leaned into the wall and let a tense silence fill the room, waiting for the details of his problem.

Touch Me did not answer immediately, content to remain there. Yet, as it became clear that Shirou was waiting for an explanation, he finally relented and spoke somberly.

"I killed someone…" Touch Me said after a moment. His voice was hollow in his confession.

"… I can only assume whoever it was wasn't a criminal, was it?" Shirou carefully inquired.

A string of scenarios played in his head for what could have possibly led his friend into such a slump. The tension in the room skyrocketed as silence returned to fill the air. Touch Me recounted what had happened to him here, explaining every detail in a monotone voice. There was no inflection in his voice, giving the impression that he was simply reciting lines from a report. At the end, Shirou was left to muse on what his friend experienced.

Shirou fought a sigh at his friend's words. It seemed that he was indeed correct. Well, at least Touch Me seemed to have become more open. Now that he had a clear picture of what happened, he knew what to do next. He just hoped Touch Me could forgive him for what he was about to say and do next. His actions might be cruel, but he only wished to help.

And wasn't that the story of his life?

Suppressing a spike of self-loathing for what was to come, Shirou projected every shred of annoyance he could muster. He projected a bit of Archer into himself, for who better to confront such a situation than the cynical hero himself? No matter how distasteful this would be, he needed to snap Touch Me out of his self-loathing thoughts. He would make sure to apologize later.

"Indeed, life is cruel. However, how is this news? Have you not seen the state of the world? Life is unfair, but I fail to see why that should be a reason to cry about it. People die every day, such is life. And life continues onward, and so should you."

For a moment, Touch Me seemed to freeze in shock. He had likely expected a comforting shoulder and an open ear from his friend. Not this… undue harshness.

Such words were more fitting for the likes of Ulbert and his usual cynicism than his normally considerate friend.

Growing incensed, Touch Me responded in kind.

"Move on? What kind of answer is that?!" He shouted back.

"The only answer available to you." Shirou calmly answered back, which only served to ruffle the silver swordsman up even further. "You can't change the past, not now, not ever. You must move on from this, Touch Me-san."

"Move on… as if that's easy! All my life, I've strived to be a hero! An ideal of justice-one to take down the villain and save the innocent! Yet… yet… I killed that man, Emiya-san! A man down on his luck, who I spoke to every day! A man who I could consider a good person and a friend! He didn't deserve it! And yet… and yet, I shot him. I didn't have a choice. He had a hostage, and I couldn't let him die. So, I killed the man. Are you telling me that I should just move on? Forget that man and my actions that led to him disappearing from the world?! Don't fuck with me!"

Touch Me rose from his seat, his fist slamming against the table he had previously rested his arms on. While a part of him wanted to cringe at his sheer tactfulness, his need to help his friend won out.

No matter how harsh it was, this method had been employed by others to snap him out of his pity parties, and he had used it in kind. Its effectiveness, however, could never overshadow his dislike for it.

Swallowing the apology that he wished to utter, he responded to the outrage in an uncharacteristic manner.

"Don't put words in my mouth! I never told you to forget about it, and I never would! What I said was that you have to move on. You took an innocent life. But, what else could you have done? You did your duty as an officer of the law, Touch Me-san. Was there a way you could have solved the issue peacefully? And don't disillusion yourself by thinking that you could have! Think about it, and tell me, was there truly any other way?" Shirou challenged.

The two stared angrily at one another, neither one backing down from their stance. For a moment, it looked like Touch Me wouldn't listen. But, a trace of consideration broke through his rage, letting him think about the presented question. Not that it was difficult to see the answer. After all, had he not thought about it for hours on end already? So he spoke as if his words were poison. Bitter and disgusting, admitting his failure hurt.

"No, I couldn't have." He admitted.

As if saying the words cemented them in reality, he fell back into his seat. The fire of his rage dimmed by the downpour of grief that swept throughout him.

In the calm that came from Touch Me's acceptance, Shirou took the initiative.

"Touch Me-san…" Shirou began, his voice softening. He slowly walked up to him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. Despite it all, he understood exactly what his friend was thinking and going through. Shirou had once done the same as well.

"You did your best, and no one can blame you for that. You did kill him, but in doing so, you prevented him from taking another life. You saved your coworker from needlessly dying. You saved a life, isn't that what matters most? Sometimes… sometimes the correct decision doesn't always mean it's the right one. All you can do is accept it and move on."

Touch Me remained silent, his armored avatar revealing nothing of the inner turmoil and tempestuous thoughts raging in his head. After what seemed to be an eternity, Touch Me responded. With a huge, deep breath, the silver knight breathed a solemn sigh. He stood up suddenly, knocking Shirou's hand off his shoulder.

"If only it were truly that simple, my friend…" Touch Me intoned cryptically.

Without another word, he walked away from the table and Shirou. The magus kept quiet and watched as the Heteromorphic Player approached a hanging tapestry. It wasn't any ordinary piece of decoration, as it depicted the initial insignia of Nine's Own Goal. One, which served as the prototype and would be later modified as the symbol of Ainz Ooal Gown as a whole.

Touch Me gently ran his hand across the virtual fabric. Shirou kept his distance and waited for him.

"Touch Me-san…" Shirou softly called out to him, hoping that he would reciprocate. Which he did, but not in the manner the virtual magus expected.

"Ever since I could remember, I've always wanted to be a Hero of Justice. I grew up on hundreds of stories, both real and fictional. Everyone enjoys a good story of heroes and villains, of good and evil. But in a lot of ways, it was my family that inspired me the most." Touch Me began, surprising Shirou at the suddenness of the topic.

The faker kept back and quiet, waiting to see where this would go as the paladin began revealing his past.

"Everyone on my father's side of the family had served in one form or fashion. We have our roots dating back to the Second World War. Be it in the military, the JSDF, or even officers of the law. Everyone from my father, my grandfather, my great-grandfather, and his father before him. You could say it's a time-honored tradition. Mother always joked by saying it's in our blood to serve and protect."

A faint chuckle came to Touch Me's lips.

"As a child, I was enamored with tales of all sorts, ranging from fantastical fables of brave warriors and wicked villains coming to the rescue of a helpless maiden and saving the day, to the inspiring accounts of my forefathers heroic exploits. However, it was the stories involving my father that truly captivated me. He was a police officer himself, and a damn good one at that.

My mother would tell me every night about the good my father was doing in his absence. He was my hero. Far from those of legend, he was a man who looked at the world and decided to change it. Make it better. Make it greater. I was starstruck, inspired even. My father was such a great man, and his blood flowed through me. It seemed only fitting that I follow in his footsteps.

So I did. I would wake up every day to help. Spending hours on end being the busybody in the neighborhood. Cats? Rescued. Bikes? Fixed. Lost items? Recovered. It was tiring, and yet I could never complain. The gratitude I received was a good enough reward, and the smiles on those I helped were all the fuel I needed to continue. It was only a matter of time before I decided to follow in my father's professions. I worked tirelessly until I was enrolled in the most prestigious police academy.

For as long as I've breathed and dreamed, I've always wanted to be a hero. Just like my father, eventually I finally reached my dream. I could still remember the day of my graduation. How happy they looked. I had finally become an officer of my own. A hero that would make the streets a better and safer place from the likes of rogues and scoundrels that would harm others and disturb the peace. And for a time, all was right in the world." Touch Me delivered, his voice filled with forlornness, with a melancholic smile and an unfocused gaze.

Shirou even detected a small hint of joy as he reminisced. A hint of Touch Me's usual self-shining through.

Touch Me still cherishes the memory of his parents' warm smiles as he received his certificate. Their tears of joy and congratulatory hugs made the occasion even more special. To mark the momentous event, Touch Me's father passed down to him his old officer cap, the very same one he wore during his years of service.

Gratitude couldn't even begin to describe the feeling of it all. Touch Me swore he would make them proud. And for a time, Touch Me/Ichirou felt truly content.

He took the next step to become someone who would help others, just like his father. He was closer to becoming a Hero.

"While I am touched that you shared this with me, that doesn't make it any clear what's wrong." Shirou politely cut in, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"Right, right. Sorry about that, Emiya-san." Touch Me chuckled, his voice wistful.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't last as the mood turned grim for what came next.

"However, those happy times wouldn't last. The world was changing, I knew it, but I couldn't change with it. I tried to fight it, but I failed! For all my talk about being a paragon of virtue and a good person, I never learned to take my own damn advice! What are words without actions?! Lies, that's what they are, and a liar is what they make me! I tried, and God knows I tried.

When everything was going to hell and what I believed in was falling apart, I fought. I fought against the reforms and corruption. If not publicly, then privately, doing whatever good I can. But… it never ended. For every law I managed to uphold, a dozen were broken. Over and over, I tried. Yet, it never stopped. At the end of that road, all I found was a cubicle and a paycheck. I wasn't upholding justice for a dream, I did it just because I had to and for the money. There was no passion in my action, merely going through the motions. And I hated it." Touch Me finished.

There was a hint of an emotion in his voice, one emotion that Shirou, or anyone else for that fact, has never heard him speak in before or ever. One foreign to their normally spirited friend.

Self-loathing. One derived from anger and it was building up as Touch Me continued.

"I clung to my ideals, refusing to believe they were truly gone. I told myself that I would keep on fighting because it was the right thing to do. To keep them alive. That they weren't false, but in reality, it was because I was selfish. I didn't want to accept that my dreams, my ideals, had become nothing more than a fool's errand. I couldn't accept such a cruel reality. Try as I might to circumvent the truth, it eventually caught up to me.

When I finally accepted the truth, I was lost. I-I didn't know what to do. In the end, I ran away. Like a coward, I ran away from both the truth and reality.

It was my cowardice that led me to discover YGGDRASIL in the first place. It became my escape from it all. I saw that there was unchecked injustice in the virtual world, just like in the real world. I wanted to do something about it all-fight back and help others. And the thing was, I could, and I did! For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was actually making a difference.

Unlike in the real world, I was truly free to make my own decisions! YGGDRASIL gave me hope again-hope that I could help others! Saving Players from those that would attack others for personal gain or enjoyment! Defend those who couldn't defend themselves. I could finally do some actual good in the world, even if it was a virtual one. I could finally continue being a true Hero of Justice!

I spent a lot of time playing the game and focused on improving myself to become stronger, faster, and better. My goal was to help and protect those who were unable to protect themselves. I worked hard and eventually achieved the rank and strength of a World Champion. It was all so I could continue on my path as a Hero of Justice in this world. It was all so that I could tell myself that my ideals still mattered!"

Touch Me raved with righteous indignation. Shirou could feel the vehemence in his voice.

The anger that consumed him was not akin to a wild inferno that burns everything in its path, but rather a cold fury. It had a singular focus, narrowed and directed at the cruel reality, the corrupt government, the circumstances that allowed it to happen, but above all else - himself.

However, his anger and self-loathing would soon dissipate, giving way to what was to follow.

"Touch Me was the ideal image of me, but it was just that. An image. But… what good has that done me? No matter how beautiful the illusion may be, it could never be real. All this time, I was just playing pretend. No matter how much I try to distract myself or run away from it, not a day goes by where I'm not reminded of the reality I live in. In all my time spent dreaming, lives were lost. And I couldn't stop it. I'm a hypocrite who gave up and ran away when the going got tough. I'm no Hero. I'm a Fake."

Touch Me ended it there. There was a level of quiet acceptance in his words as Touch Me revealed his innermost thoughts to Shirou.

Several moments of silence passed between the two. Touch Me was slowly regaining his breath and bearing after his long and impromptu confession. A part of him debated whether it was right for him to share with Shirou. While they were friends, it was his burden to bear, not anyone else's. He had always been a bit stubborn in that regard. But he wouldn't deny the small sense of relief that came with it. At the very least, it lifted some of the weight off his shoulders, leaving him in a cathartic state afterward.

"A hypocrite…" Shirou repeated it quietly to himself.

It seemed that it wasn't just Touch Me that was lost in thought, and finally, it was Shirou's turn.

"Well, that's certainly one way to look at things. And to a certain extent, you are right. If we look at things objectively, then yes, your actions and beliefs can be seen as hypocritical. But I have a better word in mind than a hypocrite."

Touch Me said nothing, but simply turned his head towards him, showing that he was still listening and curious.

"You are human, Touch Me-san." Shirou stated simply and resolutely.

"Human…?" Touch Me repeated, a mixture of curiosity and confusion in his voice.

"Let me ask you this. What do you think a Hero really is? A paragon of virtue? No, if that were the case, then the Greeks wouldn't have so many. A powerful individual? No, if that were the case, then no mortal would qualify. A wise man, perhaps? No, if that were the case, then Nordic tales wouldn't exist." Shirou listed off, drawing Touch Me further in.

"If none of these things make a hero, then what does? The answer is nothing. Nothing makes a hero. A man could lift a mountain, trick a god, and donate his wealth to the less fortunate. Yet, does that make him a hero? No, it does not. It makes him an oddity. A human with traits that few carry, but ultimately still a mortal. Then, what elevates children, men, and women? Themselves, that is the answer."

Shirou's hand closed into a fist as he lightly pressed it over his chest, right where his heart was. Touch Me mimicked him idly, a hand pressing against his silver armor over his heart.

The hardest lesson Shirou learned on his journey to becoming a Hero of Justice was learning how to choose. After the Fifth Holy Grail War, he knew he could not save everyone, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to save as many people as possible. It was this that began his journey into Hell.

The lives of the many or the lives of the few. Such a simple prospect, but one with near-infinite ramifications. If one had to choose between saving either a few lives or saving many lives, logic dictates that the lives of the many outweigh the lives of the few. But then, what happens upon further scrutiny?

Do the lives of a dozen or so children, no older than ten, outweigh the lives of a hundred adults? Or vice versa.

What about the lives of a few talented doctors, who have the capability of helping hundreds, versus the lives of prisoners of war?

Which was more important, choosing to defend hundreds of refugees made up of countless torn families or protecting several VIPs?

Countless 'what ifs' mire the once simplistic question into a morally ambivalent one. In the end, there was no definitive right or wrong answer. There was no true way to justify picking one over the other. Ultimately, it falls to the decision-maker to bear the responsibility of making the difficult decision. Only they alone can truly determine if their choices were the correct ones or not.

For the world only made sense if they made it so.

The hardest lesson of all for Shirou was learning not to choose but to accept the choices he made. To accept the finality of it. His ideal was to save as many people as he could, but he also had to accept that sometimes, he wouldn't be able to save everyone. For that was all he could do-make the decision to the best of his ability and believe it was the right decision to make. Or else he would go mad with guilt and break, just like Archer did.

In that moment, Shirou's mind couldn't help but wander back to Archer, his alternate future self. His words, especially. Choosing to save one would mean damning another. It doesn't matter which one was saved because saving everyone was impossible. How many times had Archer been forced to make the same decision Shirou had until it finally broke him? Until he grew jaded and spiteful at it all.

That was the fatal flaw in Archer's ideal, and Shirou could see a glimpse of it in Touch Me's.

The world was flawed, and there was no such thing as a true Hero of Justice or a Paragon of Virtue. Archer's failure was that he couldn't accept that fact until it was all too late. He was tormented and broke, striving for an impossible dream.

Shirou accepted the flaws in his long-time ideals and the truth that he couldn't save the world, thanks in part to the Counter Guardian interference, but that was no reason to give up on them. Even if his ideals were flawed, they were still beautiful and worth striving for. While he may never reach his goal, he would never regret the path he chose. Shirou never forgot why he began his journey in the first place.

This was the lesson Touch Me needed to come to grips with and accept.

"Touch Me-san, I want you to answer this question, and I want you to think very carefully on the answer."

Touch Me nodded, showing he heard and understood.

"For what purpose was it that made you wish to become a police officer in the first place?" Shirou asked of him.

"Purpose…? Well… I guess, it was because I saw many people that would try to use and exploit others for their own gain that I wished to put a stop to them. To make the street a safer place for everyone." Touch Me answered.

"A good answer, but ultimately not the answer I was looking for."

Touch Me blinks at Shirou's response. The insectoid warrior reviewed what he said in his head, wondering what mistake, if any, he made for Shirou to reject his answer.

"Again, what drives you to help others? For what reason would you call yourself a Hero?" Shirou rephrased the question.

Touch Me felt his brows furrowing in confusion. Despite the rewording, the question essentially stayed the same for him. He answered again, this time throwing in the added reason of honoring his parents and wishing to honor the work the police once did and stood for. Only to be met with the same answer from Shirou. Hints of frustration bubbled from the World Champion, but he kept it under control.

Touch Me was missing something, but the question was, what was it?

"I do not understand, what is wrong with my answers. What are you trying to get me to say, Emiya-san?" Touch Me voiced up.

"I'm afraid that's something you must find out for yourself, Touch Me-san. They're good answers, but they are all motives, not reasons." Shirou explained.

"Aren't those the same things?" The silver paladin pointed out. To him, there was no difference, but to Shirou, it made a world of difference.

"Then, let me help clarify. You see people in trouble, and you wish to help them. That is a motive, an incentive to act. Every motive requires a reason, the why. The basis, that which fuels a person with the desire to see the motive through. You must strip away everything until you are left with only the core essence. It is something intrinsic, that which drives us into action. For all of our actions, whether logical or illogical, have a purpose behind them. Why do we do what we do?

Anyone can say they wish to be a hero, an astronaut, or even something like a celebrity. But the reason behind that is truly telling. For an astronaut, they would wish to go to space-to reach past the endless sky. But it's because of a sense of curiosity and wonder that drove them to reach the stars. A celebrity would wish to be famous and rich, to have his name known and his future financially secured. Validation, a sense of accomplishment, or even because of their greed. For all reasons, good or bad, are, by their very nature, straightforward. For that is what I'm asking you, Touch Me-san. Why?!" Shirou asked of him.

In the face of such questions, Touch Me found himself stumbling for a moment. A ringing sensation reverberated in his head, small and slow at first, it persisted. He desperately tried finding the answer, but every time the insectoid warrior believed he had found it, the sensation would spike.

"What motivates you to help others, and what drives you to go above and beyond? Is it simply because it's your job or duty? Is it the sense of satisfaction that comes from doing good? Or do you seek validation for your actions? Perhaps it's the desire to alleviate boredom or to secure a stable financial future for yourself and your loved ones? Why did you offer aid to that man when you could have easily ignored him? Why do you go out of your way to help others in YGGDRASIL? Why do you feel the need to defend Players from PKers? For what drove you to strive to become a Hero in the first place, Touch Me-san?" Shirou challenged.

The faker pressed forward unrelentingly in his questioning, giving Touch Me no reprieve as his mind slowly spiraled out of control trying to find the elusive answer.

Touch Me clutched his head, trying to quell the sudden head-splitting feeling from taking over. A sense of vertigo overtook him, as his mind was a maelstrom of wild thoughts. The room spiraled around him, rumbling into a storm. Shirou's questions rang in his mind as he struggled to find the truth both Shirou and himself were looking for. Only to come up short time and time again, each one frustrating him even further.

He searched and searched, but every answer he found wasn't good enough. He was overlooking something. Something extremely fundamental, that one crucial fact.

Because of his family? His environment? How he was taught and raised? There were so many questions and possibilities, yet they weren't anywhere close to the truth.

'Why…?!' Touch Me screamed in his mind, his eyes snapped shut, and his teeth clenched. The headache only grew worse.

Why?

Why did he strive to become a Hero of Justice?

Why?

To help people, and make things better.

Why?

But why? What purpose did it serve?

WHY-

Crying.

He could hear crying.

A boy turned to see a girl his age crying on the ground, her knees scraping and bleeding. He approached her and kneeled before her without hesitation.

'Hop on.' He said to her, presenting his back to her.

The next moment, the two children were walking away, with the boy carrying the girl on her back. The girl managed to stop crying, sniffing as she peeked at the boy who was carrying her. Eventually, she spoke up.

'Why did you help me?'

The boy looked back at her and hummed before looking up at the sky. A few seconds passed before he spoke again.

'I don't really know. You were crying, and I wanted to help so you wouldn't cry anymore. So, I did.' He answered, flashing her a simple grin.

The girl blushed, hiding her face behind his back so that he wouldn't get to see her face at the moment.

'Thank you.' She muttered out.

'You're welcome!' The boy returned with a wide smile.

A small, meek smile formed as she relaxed against his back, feeling safe and content. The two continued on their way, forging onward.

-Touch Me froze. Not only in body but also in mind. His mind was completely clear, like an undisturbed pond. The cacophony of doubt and insecurity had subsided, replaced by a serene zen.

He finally understood what Shirou was truly looking for.

Touch Me had come to realize-no, that was incorrect. He did not stumble upon this, nor did he come to realize what was wrong. Rather, he remembered. Touch Me remembered why.

Why did he help people? Why he strove to become a Hero?

It was so simple. It had always been simple. Touch Me helped others because…

"… I want to help others. There is no other reason than because I can." Touch Me whispered both to reaffirm it with himself and also for Shirou.

"And what's wrong with that?" Shirou smiled at his friend's answer. He had finally realized what he was overlooking.

Touch Me ideals were very similar to Shirou's own, but they weren't the same.

For there lies one crucial distinction.

Touch Me wasn't Archer or Shirou.

Shirou, a man with a heart full of ideals, inherited them from his father, Kiritsugu. His father had saved him from a catastrophic event, and ever since then, Shirou had been enamored with the raw, yet beautiful smile on Kiritsugu's face as he held his broken body. That smile was etched into his memory, and it inspired Shirou to become a hero himself. His ultimate goal was to save people while wearing a smile on his face, just like Kiritsugu did when he rescued him from that burning hell so many years ago. Thus began Shirou's journey towards becoming a Hero.

That was his raison d'être - his reason for being.

In contrast to the grandiose nature of the aforementioned case, Touch Me's journey towards becoming a hero was relatively humble in comparison. His actions ranged from seemingly insignificant gestures, such as providing spare change to the destitute, to life-saving deeds of great magnitude. Unlike those who are motivated by personal tragedy, Touch Me's decision to pursue the path of heroism was driven purely by his inherent goodness and desire to assist others. He was, in essence, an ordinary individual who chose to dedicate his life to the betterment of those around him solely because he possessed the ability to do so.

One wanted to save lives, anyone and everyone he could, and the other wanted to help anyone and everyone possible.

On the surface, the connotation was nearly identical, and to a certain extent, they were. However, where they differed was in their ideals. Being a hero was merely a modus for Touch Me to accomplish this. Take that away, and nothing changes. For he still could do good even if he wasn't a 'Hero'.

Touch Me wasn't just a hero.

No.

For all his actions, his motives. At the end of the day, Touch Me was human.

He was an ordinary man. A good man, in fact. A good man with good intentions.

Touch Me was a good man who wanted nothing more but to do good and help others whenever and wherever he could. There was neither complexity to his motives nor any sense of ambition or hidden purpose. No different from how Shirou was back in the day as the 'Homurahara's Brownie.'

There was an almost inexplicable simplicity to his ideals. Like the innocent and sincere logic of a child. And yet, there was something inherently beautiful about it.

Touch Me did good, for goodness sake. Nothing more and nothing less.

For as he once proclaimed and vowed to all, "Saving someone who is in trouble is common sense!"

Touch Me remained silent for a few moments, reeling from the revelation he was reminded of. While it brought with it hope, there was still the lingering doubt and shame that plagued his mind.

"B-but… What I've done… How could I possibly justify it…?" He asked aloud.

"They don't." Shirou rebuked instantly, his voice for the first time becoming firm in his approach.

It helped to snap Touch Me out of it just before the tendrils of guilt hooked back onto him.

"Maybe you are right, you're not as heroic as you believed, or the ideal cop you once were and wish to be. But, so what? A hypocrite you may be, but you are still human. A man with good intentions, and no one can fault you for that Touch Me-san. You cannot forever blame yourself for something that was completely out of your control. What about the good you've done before the change? Are they invalidated? What about all those you helped within YGGDRASIL? Are you saying they don't matter as well? Were those you helped and protected worth nothing in the end?" Shirou challenged.

"No…" Touch Me muttered, a hint of resoluteness in his statement.

"Exactly. The past is the past, and there's not a thing we can truly do to change what has already happened. It is the future that we must look forward to. Life is far too fleeting to chain yourself down to misgiving and forces out of your control.

We've all made mistakes, that's simply a part of life. I've made a lot of mistakes of my own, far too many to count, and yet, I can remember them as clearly as day. I once dreamed and believed in saving everyone, good or bad. I believed that all lives were equal, and the hardest lesson I had to learn was that sometimes, to save lives, I must take them as well. I struggled to accept my new beliefs, but I continued to move forward and help others. I did what I could to save and protect people, even if it meant taking down those who would harm others.

Do you know why?

Because I accept everything for what it is and still believe in my ideals - the good in it. Even when I doubt it all, I remind myself of why I acted in the first place. I never forgot why I chose the path I took and all the good I have done and can still do.

You aren't a hero of legend. You, Touch Me-san, are a good person. A good man who wished to do more than he could realistically have done. And, in the process of chasing the impossible, you fell short. But that doesn't mean you can't get right back up. Even now, you're still striving for your ideals despite it all. No one will think any less of you for trying."

Shirou calmly walked towards Touch Me as he spoke, who remained rooted in place in deep thought at his words. Reaching him, he gently reached out and clasped him on the shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Ichirou-san." Shirou said with a gentle voice, calling the World Champion by his true name.

"It's okay." Two simple words, and yet the meaning behind them was innumerable.

It was okay to fall short. It was okay to fail sometimes. It was okay to be conflicted. It was okay that he couldn't be a true Hero of Justice. It was okay, so long as he remembered why he chose to begin this journey of his in the first place.

Shirou said no more, for there was no more that needed to be said.

A stillness permeated the room, unbroken for several tense minutes. Shirou couldn't help but wonder if something had befallen Touch Me, as the avatar stood motionless like a statue. The virtual magus strained to listen for any sign of life, but even the sound of breathing eluded him for a moment. Then, a noise emerged - a mix of wheezing and labored breathing, as if Touch Me was struggling to contain some inner turmoil. It was a moment of eerie silence, punctuated only by the avatar's labored efforts to keep his emotions in check.

Shirou knew immediately what it was.

"It's ok." He repeated in a tender voice, urging him forward.

A trembling hand rose and grabbed onto Shirou's shoulder as Touch Me leaned forward, resting his body against Shirou's. His other hand reached for his chest, his finger clinging fruitlessly against the smooth, impeccable armor as if trying to find some measure of grip. His entire body trembled as the sounds he was making earlier grew louder and louder.

And then, Touch Me cried.

In that moment, Touch Me; The World Champion of Álfheimr and one regarded by friends and enemies alike as an indomitable individual, allowed himself to weep. At that moment, he wasn't Touch Me of YGGDRASIL.

Merely a man, Ichirou Yukanna.

He let out a piercing, strangled cry. One that emanated from the very bottom of his heart. All those years of carrying a responsibility he had no place carrying. All those years of enduring ridicule for his actions. All those years of bottling his grief and putting a strong font. The weight and pressure of chasing an impossible dream and the extensional feeling of failure. A self-imposed curse.

As Shirou said, it was okay. His dream, his ideals-they weren't worthless.

All the anger, sorrow, regret, and loneliness poured forth from Touch Me. Every emotion he tried repressing over the years came flooding out as he allowed him to cry to his heart's content. He no longer needed to feel ashamed. His cry echoed throughout the room like an amphitheater and was almost deafening, fortunately, it was only the two of them to bear witness to Touch Me's moment of weakness.

He cried and cried and cried some more, until his voice grew slowly hoarse and his leg trembled and looked ready to give way, had Shirou not helped and kept him from collapsing. There the two stood, Shirou remaining respectfully quiet and offering his support and shoulder for Touch Me to cry on. The gentle pats on the paladin's back helped to soothe his emotions. Touch Me let himself soak in the comfort of a kindred soul as his cries turned to sobs.

It took nearly fifteen minutes before Touch Me regained his bearings and composed himself. Even then, he was still emotional. The two separated, facing one another once more.

"I-I'm s-sorry you h-had to s-see t-tha…"

"There's nothing to be sorry about Touch Me-san. If anything, it just proves my point. Crying only proves you are indeed human." Shirou gently but firmly interrupted.

"R-right… s-sorry." Touch Me chuckled lightly at the end, realizing what he had done.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Y-yes… I'll be fine." Touch Me answered back, his voice hitching a little as he was still recovering from what had happened. "I am feeling much better now than I was before. Truly. So, thank you, Emiya-san. You've given me a lot to think about."

"Of course, what are friends for? Also, if I may make a suggestion. You're married, right?"

The silver knight blinked at the sudden question.

"Indeed, I am."

"Then maybe allow me to trouble you with a small request."

Confused, but nevertheless curious, Touch Me nodded.

"Try talking to your wife about it. I'm sure she would also understand your plight if you talked to her about it. I may be your friend, but they are your family. They'll be there for you with the support that I could not."

Hearing Shirou's suggestion, Touch Me felt a bit stumped at the suggestion. Not at the idea itself, but rather how simple it was. He never told his wife, for he believed it was his burden to bear alone, which fed into the cycle of him turning to YGGDRASIL to alleviate himself and help cope. While far from neglectful, he could be doing a better job at being a husband and father to his wife and daughter. As he thought more about it, the idea had some merit.

"I'll try." Touch Me answered.

Shirou nodded, satisfied. "If you also want, you could also take some time off and spend it with your family and to relax. This is a delicate process, so take as much time as you need before you're back and ready. I can easily talk with Momonga-san and the others and cover for you if need be."

"I appreciate your concern, my friend, but I'm not made out of glass. You're not going to get rid of me that easily. Besides, if I disappear, then that means I'll be leaving my sidekick with all the work." Touch Me responded with a tinge of playfulness in his words.

"Sidekick?!" Shirou asked back with a certain level of incredulousness in his voice at what he just heard.

"Well, of course. Considering I was going around helping and protecting Heteromorphic Players way before you, that means I hold seniority."

"Seniority? Please." Shirou snorted.

A second later, the two broke out in laughter, the jest between the two offering levity to the somber situation and lifting the spirits of the two self-proclaimed heroes. As the laughter died down, they were left silent once more.

"Shirou…" The voice of the World Champion called out.

"Touch Me-san? What is-" When the magus turned around to face his friend, Touch Me had closed the gap between them and took him into a warm embrace, leaving the magus feeling cut off from his previous thoughts.

"Thank you." The World Champion whispered.

Shirou stiffened before he relaxed, and he returned his friend's hug.

"Any time."

"Anything else?" Shirou asked, and the two separated.

"Not that I can think of at the moment. I think that's it, so I'll probably log off now and take your suggestion."

Touch Me operated his menu, and with his finger just hovering on top of the logoff button, Shirou called out to him one last time. He turned to him as the magus imparted on him one last regard.

"Take it from one hero to another, it is never wrong to help people, but never let it cloud your view of those who matter the most. Your loved ones are the ones who bring meaning to your life and who you cannot imagine living without. Take it from an old man who lived through it: a life without family is a terrible fate that no one should have to endure."

With his piece said, Shirou disappeared in a flash of light, using the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown to teleport away. Alone, Touch Me recounted all that Shirou had spoken about and nodded to himself. Hitting the button, he logged off and pondered the course his life was now set on.

Returning to the present moment, a faint smile graced his lips. The lessons imparted to him on that day remained, and from them, he grew. Youta said that he was a naïve fool, perhaps, but that didn't mean he was going to let his words slide that easily.

With determined steps, he quickened his pace.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Back in the room, Youta was left all to his lonesome after delivering his speech, trying to call himself down. Only the sound of his wheezing subsiding as he regained his breath kept him company. He was left with no choice but to wait, and as he did, several scenarios played out in his head. He wondered if his speech had offended Ichirou so much that he had decided to abandon him there, or if he was going to be handed over to other officers. Youta's thoughts also turned to the possibility of something even worse happening.

Safe to say, he didn't exactly have the best opinions of his guildmate at the moment. Not with emotions running hot as they were. Youta had imagined several things, but Ichirou walking in a few minutes later, with a bottle of water and a cup in his free hand wasn't one of them.

"Here. You look like you need this." Handing over the bottle of water to Youta, Ichirou sat back down in the chair across from him. He took a sip out of his cup, coffee, if the salaryman had to guess by the rising steam from the cup and distinctive smell.

Youta said nothing but graciously took the water and drank it all in one go. The refreshing, cooled drink satisfied his parched throat.

"Thanks…" Youta begrudgingly whispered his gratitude.

"You're welcome, Youta-san." The corners of Ichirou's lips twitched upwards, hearing his comrade's thanks. Something quite rare to hear, especially from one another.

The room fell silent once more, the mood of the room was stilted and unsure after such an impassioned speech. Youta glanced at Ichirou, who was staring down at his coffee cup, seemingly searching for answers in the swirling brown liquid.

"Youta-san…" Ichirou said. Youta had his moment, now it was his turn. "I acknowledge and accept your arguments and anger." The police officer bowed his head in admission, surprising the salaryman.

Ichirou reached for his badge and unpinned it. He held it up for both of them to see.

"You are right. The justice that police officers once fought to uphold is gone. We're nothing more than a husk of our former selves. Almost as bad as those that run the corporation that ruined your life and the ones that perverted this once noble occupation. Even I am guilty of that which I once proclaimed I would never do, as well as condemning others for their less-than-scrupulous ways. Aye, I will not deny that you are right, Youta-san. My dream, my ideal as a cop and a Hero of Justice who would bring peace and justice to all, is nothing more than a childish dream." Ichirou grimly admitted.

Hearing this, the salaryman couldn't hold back the surprise and curiosity that showed on his face. Youta honestly never believed that there would come a day where he expected the proud, self-proclaimed Hero of Justice to admit his faults and defy his proud ideals.

"But…" Ichirou continued, showing that he wasn't done just yet.

"Even so, this still means something. If not to you, then to me. This badge still represents something-all the good that was once done in the name of justice and what it can still do. Call me a fool or an idiot, I will bear any insult you throw at me. But I will not stand for you disrespecting what this once stood for. And so long as I still draw breath, I will still try and follow my ideals until my final days on this earth."

Youta's countenance contorted with a mixture of disbelief and fury as he beheld the content expression adorning his rival's face.

"You still cling to an outdated and impossible ideal in such a corrupted world. Even when you just admitted how hypocritical they are? You really are the biggest fool in the world!" He ridiculed.

"Maybe." He nonchalantly agreed, which only infuriated Youta even further.

Ichirou shifted his focus back to the badge, gently tracing the symbol with his thumb. Memories of his childhood flooded his mind, a time of innocence when he first dreamed of becoming a hero. Over the years, that dream grew and became a burning desire. He also recalled the heartfelt conversation he had with Shirou, who guided him towards a better path.

"Aye, I will admit that you are right, Youta-san. Humans are selfish people, and so am I. My ideals are flawed, but so what? All ideals have a fatal flaw when you look at them critically enough. After all, no one wants to hear that their life's ideals and values are wrong." Ichirou rhetorically put out.

"I know I am selfish, but I cannot help it. I cannot find the heart, or the strength to throw it away. You may be right about how my ideal is impossible, but that doesn't mean they are worthless!"

Looking at his longtime guildmate, Youta couldn't help but be taken aback by the resoluteness shining in Ichirou's eyes.

"Just because something is impossible doesn't mean it's not worth chasing after. Just as I said before, this badge still represents something. The good it once held so long ago, the inspiration it passed onto others, and the good that can still be done. I know my dream of being a true Hero of Justice is impossible to reach, and I have finally come to accept that fact. But that is no excuse for me to stop now. In the end, I made my choice a long time ago to still follow after it despite all the setbacks. I can at least stay true to that and remain content knowing that I've helped people in one form or another. Because it's not wrong to help someone, anyone, in need!" Ichirou proclaimed with all his heart.

Youta was stunned upon hearing Ichirou's confession. A myriad of conflicting emotions overwhelmed him. He tried to muster up something, to call upon the familial burning rage that swelled within him, anything, and yet, he couldn't. Despite acknowledging and admitting that his ideal was little more than a farce, the naïve fool still clung to it. He only rationalized it in another form. The salaryman wanted to call him out, scream that he was a moron, a fool, and that his belief was nothing short of in vain.

And yet…

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

For the briefest of moments, another individual came to mind. The image of someone else appeared, superimposing over Ichirou.

A pair of heterochromatic eyes burned brightly, and Youta was reminded of something.

Whether it was because of some modicum of respect for his Heteromorphic guildmate for all they've been through or something else entirely, a small part of Youta couldn't help but acknowledge his resolve in the face of an adversary.

To chase after the impossible, knowing full well the lengths for it will drive a person to go. But, Ichirou would not allow it to rule him or dictate his life as it had before. A fool he may be, but that wouldn't stop him from doing what was right. In that respect, it was admirable, striving in pursuit of something out of reach yet worthy.

A viewpoint that stood in contrast to Youta's ideals, which were built on bitterness for the status quo and fickleness beyond belief.

Ultimately, he remained quiet. The atmosphere in the room grew still, and both individuals were satisfied to luxuriate in the present moment. They were left with only their thoughts and reflections, unsure of what their next steps should be.

It would be Youta who would bring up another topic of discussion.

"I gotta ask, since when the hell did you change your tune?" He inquired aloud. "You had a revelation or some shit?"

"I had some help. It was thanks to Shirou's stern words that finally drew back towards the right path." Ichirou revealed, calling their mutual friend by his real name.

"Emiya-san?" Youta muttered under his breath.

Hearing this, Ichirou quietly took notice of how Youta addressed the name of their mutual comrade and filed away that little piece of information for later.

"Indeed. He and I once sat down and had a long, heart-to-heart chat about what it means to be a Hero." Ichirou continued.

"Emiya-san was the first to point out the flaws in my ideals. At the time, I was heavily disheartened, trying to justify them at any cost and for every point I made, and he would counter them and shut my argument down entirely. But he did not condemn me, as I had originally thought. Emiya-san helped me realize that while something may be impossible to reach, it doesn't mean one shouldn't strive for it. My ideals may be selfish, but there is nothing wrong with perusing them. I can still be a Hero of Justice, I can still help others, whether it be in YGGDRASIL or real life. At the same time, however, I should not be blind to their faults. Move forward, but never forget why you are striving for your dreams."

Hearing how Ichirou spoke of Shirou and the gratitude and respect in his voice as he spoke, Youta couldn't help but think of him as well. The salaryman could tell that his words weren't vapid, and he truly meant them. On the surface, it may appear as if Ichirou never truly learned his lesson, as the belief he holds now has barely changed from before. To an extent, that was true, but he had changed; however small it was, it still greatly affirmed his new perspective on both his life and his ideals.

Youta found himself chuckling. Ichirou paused mid-sip of his coffee, a single eyebrow raised at the sudden and odd reaction of his guildmate.

"It always comes back to him. The sword-spamming idiot. You, Momonga-san, the bird brain and his sister, hell, just about everyone by this point…" Youta commented.

"Indeed. He does have a way with people, doesn't he? And I see that I wasn't the only one that he changed for the better."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face before Youta wrestled it under control, slapping back on his apathetic gaze.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He countered, which only further amused Ichirou in his denial.

"Try and hide as you might, Youta-san, but we both know the truth. It's not all that surprising, considering how long Emiya-san has been with us since near the beginning of Nines' Own Goal. I would say it was only a matter of time before he got to you."

"You're talking crazy. What makes you think that my opinion has changed in any way about him?"

"Well, for starters, you called him by his name."

"Huh?"

Ichirou couldn't stop the small, knowing smile he made.

"Earlier, when I mentioned his name, you addressed him with full honorifics by saying 'Emiya-san'. I noticed this, as you hardly use such formal language with someone you don't get along with. This is the first time that I've heard you refer to him with the proper honorifics. In the past, you would either leave it out or use something else to insult him, no different from how you typically speak to me or the likes of Peroroncino-san." Ichirou explained, gaining a wide-eyed response from the salaryman from his deduction.

Among the guild members, Ulbert/Youta was known for his straightforward and detached manner of speaking to everyone, except for the likes of Momonga and his close friend, Arcadia, whom Ichirou knew little about, even before his induction into Ainz Ooal Gown. He was capable of showing mutual respect to the likes of Tabula, Yamaiko, and others. However, with certain individuals like Touch Me, Peroroncino, and even Shirou in the past, he wouldn't bother with formality and always informally speak to them.

It was something Ichirou picked up on instantly regarding the World Disaster, as it just stood out compared to his previous actions. Upon reflecting on the matter, Ichirou realized that his behavior and general demeanor towards his fellow hero in arms had shifted some time after they had triumphed over The Tomb of Nazarick.

Ulbert remained as abrasive as every, but there was a subtlety to his behavior that wasn't there before. Where previous he would make an active attempt to antagonize them, he appeared to have mellow out in a manner of speaking.

Ichirou keen ears picked up the barely audible sound of Youta's tongue clicking in frustration. The salaryman held a irritable but sullen expression on his face. It seemed that he hadn't expected the police officer to be that perceptive, or at the very least, draw such an accurate conclusion just from one piece of information.

"How the hell did you…"

"In the academy, they taught us to look at everything with a critical eye. You'll be surprised at how something you think might be inconsequential may be the key to the situation." Ichirou replied with pride.

"Well, that's a surprise. So, they don't just teach you to arrest the poor, as well as take bribes during work?" Youta took a jab, earning a deadpan glare from Ichirou.

"No." He flatly returned.

"You could have fooled me." Youta gave a cheeky smirk.

Ichirou's eyes narrowed, it was clear that he was trying to shift the subject away, but it wouldn't work.

"You can try and deny it all you want, but it's clear as day to me that you've talked with Emiya-san. No matter how much you deny it. You have changed Youta-san, however small it might be. I can see it!" Ichirou proclaimed with absolute certainty, drawing ire from Youta.

"Emiya-san has a unique ability to connect with people. He can always find a way to relate to them, whether it's Momonga-san, Peroroncino-san, or Tabula-san. It's no wonder that he was able to connect with you too."

Youta felt his eyebrows twitch, his annoyance at Ichirou's cocksure attitude rising by the second as the policeman continued.

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious as to how Emiya-san got you of all people to sit down and talk it out. I can only imagine what transpired." Ichirou said casually.

At this stage, Youta had become extremely frustrated with Ichirou. It wasn't necessarily anger, but more of an irritation. If there was one thing he couldn't stand in this world, it would be the feeling of "I told you so." Especially from his friend-slash-enemy.

'If you want to know so badly, then fine! Let's see if you're still so smug after this!' Youta reasoned, knowing full well that the topic for which he was to speak would shock Ichirou to his core.

If the officer wanted to know so badly, then he'd oblige as a cheeky way to get back at him.

"How do I relate to that heroic wannabe cheater? Well, that's simple! We are bonded by the sacred bond of two fuckups, acknowledging how suicidal or mentally unstable we both are. Me with my misanthropy and self-destructiveness, and him with his distortion and similar behavior to my own." Youta answered.

It took a moment before Youta's words finally sank in for Ichirou. The effect on him was instantaneous, as a look of shock and horror dawned on Ichirou's face. However, the satisfaction the raven-haired man derived from the reaction was short-lived and fleeting as he opened up a new and complicated issue. His formerly smug grin faded away, replaced by a tight-lipped and serious expression.

Ichirou beheld a look of extreme concern over the new knowledge that his friend admitted to thinking about ending his life.

"I-I'm… I-didn't know… Youta-san… I'm… sorry…" He stuttered, trying to apologize, but was unable to find the proper words to properly convey his intentions.

The misanthropic salaryman rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Knock it off. I'm fine, really." He said.

Youta's words were hardly convincing, if the concerned and cautious look on the white-haired man's face was anything to go by. He let out a groan of annoyance at his guildmate's misplaced care.

"If I really was suicidal, I would have offed myself a long time ago. Trust me, anything is better than hanging around with you." He said, empathizing his point by dragging his thumb across his neck.

While Youta's assurance didn't entirely convince Ichirou, he did back off. At the very least, the policeman did not look at him as if he was a danger to himself.

"What happened?" The elderly officer had to ask.

"Hell, if I know." Youta fully admit, leaning back in his chair. "You are right about something. The bastard got some kind of sixth sense or something! He saw through me some fucking way and managed to get me to admit that I thought of offing myself several times in the past."

Ichirou winced and fidgeted in his seat at hearing how casually his companion was speaking on the matter of suicide. He took another sip of his coffee to soothe his anxiety.

A part of Youta couldn't help but wonder why he was still talking to Ichirou. Why was he disclosing so much information so freely? Not too long ago, he "hated" the man before him.

Perhaps the reason for this newfound openness was the sense of begrudging camaraderie that had developed between the two during their brief stint of an interrogation. Alternatively, it could be that Youta was simply feeling more susceptible than usual and found himself rambling on. Or maybe, deep down, he simply wanted someone, anyone, to hear his story.

Whatever the case, the reasoning was lost on him as he and Ichirou continued their conversation. One thing was for certain, however - he was finding it increasingly easy to open up to the man he had once hated so vehemently.

"But you'll never guess what he said to me. Come on, guess!" Youta prompted him with a mysterious grin on his face.

"W-well… At the very least, I imagined Emiya-san managed to talk you out of it and give you a good, stern lecture on the matter." Ichirou guessed. His cup rose to his mouth for another sip.

Youta's grin only widened.

"That's what I thought as well. I thought he would give the same cliché bullshit answer and tripe on how suicide is wrong, or I can be helped. Instead, the son of a bitch said, why haven't I done it yet?!"

Ichirou immediately began choking on his coffee. He pounded his chest, all the while choking up a storm from his coffee going down the wrong gullet. Youta had the opposite reaction, finding it amusing. He cackled wildly as Ichirou tried to regain his breath.

"Oh god! You should have seen your face!" He laughed.

"I-Him… how… !" It was safe to say that Ichirou was flabbergasted. Out of everything he thought his colleague would say, it wouldn't be encouraging such an act.

"I was almost the same. Well, besides the near choking on the coffee." Youta snickered, his laughter dying down.

"… What happened?" Ichirou couldn't help but ask again. He was beyond confused at this point and wasn't too sure how to react.

"What happened…?" Youta repeated. "I wonder that question myself."

As Youta's eyes glazed over, he felt the memory of that day resurface from the dark recesses of his mind. It was a day that he would never forget, one that was burnt into his memory with searing clarity. He could remember every detail with perfect accuracy-the events that had transpired and the words that they had exchanged.

Ichirou had called out to him when he saw Youta suddenly shut down. But try as he might, Youta was unresponsive to his comrade's calls. Lost in the memory that played out before him once more, the salaryman could not shake himself free from the emotions and thoughts that consumed him.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Ulbert's memory of the event remained vivid, almost as if it had occurred only yesterday. Within their guild base, which was still undergoing renovations, Shirou had managed to corner him and initiate a conversation. The exact circumstances and nature of the conversation that led up to the moment were hazy but ultimately important. What was important was everything that came after. He could distinctly recall the surge of emotion he experienced upon hearing the faker respond with the question he gave.

"Why haven't you done it?" The question repeated itself in Ulbert's head. To the World Disaster, it was akin to asking 'Why are you still alive?'

Ulbert first remembered feeling shocked at his words, only for it to transform into blinding anger at Shirou.

"You bastard! If you've got something to say, say it to my face!" Ulbert shouted, getting right in Shirou's face, who remained stoically silent.

Because YGGDRASIL lacks any user-supported facial animation, the goat Heteromorph could only guess at the expression his guildmate was making as he asked the question.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?!" Ulbert spat out venomously.

"I didn't say that." Shirou responded calmly. "All I did was ask you a simple question. Why didn't you do it?"

Hearing him repeat the question in that damn all-too-calm voice, Ulbert felt his rage flare up. Were they not in their guild base, the World Disaster would have attacked Shirou right then and there. Consequences be damned. At first, he thought the heterochromatic Player was goading him on. His mind conjured up an image of Shirou asking why Ulbert hadn't killed himself already with a condescending sneer. He was looking down on him, believing him weak-willed and afraid.

However, the rational side of his mind put an end to such biased thoughts. Loathed as he was to admit it, the two have known one another for a very long time - since their days in Nine's Own Goal. He was more familiar with Shirou than he cared to admit, and because of that, Ulbert knew Shirou wasn't that kind of person.

A fact which only made his words all the more jarring. The seriousness of how he asked the question wasn't spoken condescendingly or invasively, but rather calmly and firmly. Just a question, nothing more and nothing less.

Still, that didn't mean he had to stand there and listen to him.

"Forget this!" He gave a forceful shove, knocking Shirou back and away.

"I don't have to say anything, least of all to you!" Said Ulbert as he stomped away. He took no more than a couple of steps before Shirou spoke up.

"There's no shame in admitting you're afraid."

Hearing this, Ulbert instantly whirled around, his simmering rage swirling into a raging inferno at the implications.

"I'm afraid of nothing!" He screamed back, his pride speaking more than anything else.

"We both know that's not true. Death has always been an inevitability, something everyone fears most of all in this world." Shirou calmly replied.

Amidst the haze of anger, a creeping feeling began to pool within the World Disaster. There was something about the entire situation that felt… off. However, Ulbert brushed it aside, choosing instead to focus on glaring intently at the Humanoid Player. While the Heteromorph was yelling, his voice full of fury and emotion, Shirou remained composed and spoke casually, as if they were having a mild-mannered chat. Ulbert opened his mouth to respond, only to have the silver-haired Player continue.

"Because I couldn't go through with it either."

Ulbert went rigid as his brain processed Shirou's statement. It took a second before the realization hit him, as the man in front of him admitted having once thought of taking his own life as well. Behind the digital avatar, his eyes widened, and his mouth was left agape.

'Just like me…' Some unknowing part of Ulbert whispered in the back of his head.

Internally, he grimaced, unsure exactly where to go from here. Especially after his guildmate just dropped such a bombshell so casually.

"What's your point?" Ulbert spat out, trying to be indifferent.

Shirou looked at him but said nothing immediately. After a brief period of silence, he began anew.

"People often believe that suicide is the coward's way out. That even the mere thought of taking your own life is wrong and heinous. In many ways, that line of thinking is indeed correct. However, people often forget that death is a form of freedom on its own. The important factor in all of this is context. If a man with a loving wife and a child of his own began to think such thoughts, then in this scenario, it would be wrong. He would leave behind a grieving wife if he passed away. His offspring would be fatherless as they grew up. The family would suffer emotionally, physically, and financially. On the basis of everything he would leave behind, the man's passing would be regarded as a tragedy."

Ulbert only grew impatient and irritated as he listened to Shirou's words. There was no reason to stay and listen to Shirou, and he should've simply left. And yet, he remained. A decision that would leave his mark for the future.

"But what if we were to talk about someone who has nothing to lose? Someone truly alone in this world, insignificant amidst a sea of equally mundane people. No one would miss him, no one would care for him if he disappeared, and no one would mourn him. Be it friends, family, or lovers, none of them would care for him. And just as no one in the world cares for him, he too cares not about the world.

So, would death not be acceptable for him? Nothing is lost from his departure, just as nothing is gained from it either. Especially when he himself has no reason to continue living. He has nothing to attach him to the world, no physical or emotional connection, no goal to drive or push him forward.

Every day becomes a constant reminder of what he has lost and what he can never hope to gain. Life itself becomes his own personal hell. At this point, can one truly call it living when the act itself has no other purpose than to continue onto the next day, automatic and pointless?

At some point in time, even the act of living becomes too bothersome. Before long, we start to think, why should we even bother anymore? There's nothing left, so wouldn't it be better if it all just ended? To continue living is to continue to suffer. So, wouldn't it make sense to put it behind you once and for all? To finally be free of it all…"

Ulbert remained motionless, frozen in place like a lifeless statue, as a result of the overwhelming shock and fear that had taken hold of him. Shirou's words were delivered with a cold detachment and composed demeanor, as if he were merely an impartial spectator rather than an active participant in the situation. This caused a chill to run down Ulbert's spine, leaving him feeling uneasy and disturbed.

Ulbert's breathing became more rapid, almost to the point of hyperventilation, as Shirou continued with his speech.

Ulbert would never admit it, but he was extremely uncomfortable, even afraid, at that moment. It wasn't just because of his words and their context, but also because of how they related to the Heteromorphic Player. He had no idea if Shirou was knowingly or unknowingly speaking about himself, to Ulbert, or in general. However, it didn't matter, as each of his statements and points rang clearly in Ulbert's ear.

It was almost as if Shirou was there, had seen his past, and knew his exact thoughts. That was what frightened him. Shirou spoke with such assured confidence that it felt as if he were reading Ulbert like an open book.

Everything Shirou had stated, at one point in time, Ulbert once felt or thought exactly as he described. Before YGGDRASIL, Ulbert had no one. His parents had died when he was young, and he had no friends growing up, either in real life or online. His co-workers showed him no care or thought and vice versa. Every day was a struggle just to make it through. Ulbert saw his life as pointless, and even the effort to continue living day by day felt tiresome and repetitive.

No one cared about him, and so he cared for no one but himself. As Shirou had described, it all became a bother. What was the point of continuing to live when there was nothing in life to look forward to? His job was dreadful and would most likely be the cause of his death, just like his parents, as he feared. The people he saw every day, whether they were his co-workers or random people he crossed paths with, only cared about themselves. He had no real goals or aspirations because he knew it was impossible for him to claw his way out of his destitute situation. He was simply numb to it all.

One day, as Ulbert lay in bed, he came to the conclusion that the world he lived in was terrible and would never change. He believed that living on was just torment, so he wondered why he should bother continuing.

"And yet, when we try to go through with it, we cannot. Doubt and fear grip us when, before, we thought that it was what we truly wanted. In the end, we find ourselves unable to go through with it. Because we are afraid." Shirou continued.

Ulbert couldn't control the shudder he experienced. Once again, Shirou hit very close to home for the demon's liking.

"In the end, no matter how dark or bleak life may seem, and no matter how easy the decision may appear to be, no one is truly ready to die. This is not simply because we are afraid or because we are cowards, but because we are still seeking a purpose, a reason to continue living…"

Shirou turned to look at Ulbert, right in his eyes. Ulbert involuntarily took a step backward as his piercing heterochromatic eyes settled on the World Disaster.

"After all, we were born into this world for a reason."

Ending on that, the faker said nothing more, content to stand there and wait until Ulbert was ready.

"S-shut… S-shut… up!" Ulbert started, his voice shaky and trembling with anger. Then he unleashed all his repressed anger.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! SHUT THE HELL UP!" Ulbert exploded with all his rage. "You don't know jackshit about me! Not a single fucking thing, you hear me! You pretentious wannabe hero sack of shit! You don't know what I've been through or what I've seen and done! Don't talk to me as if we're friends or anything! Do you think you know me? Because you don't! You couldn't possibly know what it was like for me! Don't try and pretend like you know what's good for me! So, stop it! Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT! STOP IT RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"

He let out all his rage and vitriol. At the end of it, he was left gasping for air and softly whimpering, as if he were about to break down any second.

"You are right. Ulbert-san, I don't know what you went through. All I can do is wonder what happened to you in the past that made you who you are today." Shirou admitted. "However, I do know this. What I've seen and experienced makes what you've been through look like child's play."

A bold statement, if there ever was one. Ulbert couldn't even argue back, as he was still catching his breath, allowing Shirou to continue unimpeded.

"As blunt as this is, your case is nothing special, Ulbert-san. What happened to you is happening to hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of people around Japan. Do you think you're the only one who's lost people they've cared about? Do you think you're the only one who suffered at the hands of the cruel world around them?

No, you're not. You're but one of many.

And not just within Japan but also the rest of the world. Our world has always been mired by tragedy since the beginning of human civilizations. You are not the first unfortunate case of misfortune plaguing their life, and you won't be the last. Seeing so many play out in practically the same manner, it all just gets muddled together. People die every single day, be they mothers, fathers, or even children. A case of a child losing his parents is a tragedy. Millions of the same cases happening all across the world? Well, then it becomes a statistic."

It was here that Ulbert realized what was wrong. Why Shirou, of all people, unnerved him so much at the moment. It was because his words and demeanor were contradictory to everything he knew about the faker. The two may not be exactly friends, but even the Archdemon knew for certain what kind of person he was. Shirou was kind, brave, sincere, inspirational, helpful, and many others. Many within the guild, particularly his closest friends, considered him the heart of the group. He was like a brilliant, illuminating light that uplifted everyone around him with his presence.

The way he spoke and held himself went against Ulbert's preconceived notion of the optimistic idiot he thought he knew Shirou to be. The borderline nihilistic attitude that Shirou exhibited was completely at odds with the cheerful and optimistic persona that he held. It was almost like Ulbert was talking to himself in some regards, leaving the World Disaster to wonder which version was the true one, the optimist or the realist.

This was another side to him that not many people knew of, and fewer Shirou himself willingly showed to others.

"Are you saying what happened to me doesn't matter?!" Ulbert growled out. The appeal of firing his most powerful spells straight at the virtual magus grew by the second.

Shirou shook his head.

"No. What happened to you was indeed a tragedy, Ulbert-san. I'm merely pointing out that there are others just like yours that happen all the time. What I am saying is, just how long are you going to play a victim? There are even those who have suffered far worse than you, Ulbert-san. In fact, I know that's true because I've seen them firsthand.

Tell me, have you ever fought individuals who used the young as food to survive? Men willing to release some of the worst WMDs in the history of all mankind? Individuals whose own selfishness borders on megalomania. Or what about something more personal? A child taken away from their parents and taught to hate and kill? A child who was tortured and raped by her "family" for a decade for their own sick amusement? Those no older than adults being forced to kill one another for reasons even they cannot fully comprehend. Well…?"

Shirou listed example after example, taking a step forward with each one, until the two of them were practically face-to-face. Ulbert couldn't help but take a step back and turn his head, trying to avoid Shirou's piercing gaze.

"W-well, that is the pain of other individuals. It's just like you said, bad things happen to people all the time and everywhere. What do you know of suffering?!" Ulbert stuttered out, mustering his bravado and jabbing a talon at him.

"What do I know of suffering? A lot, or have you forgotten what I once told you all, all those years ago?" Shirou returned immediately.

Ulbert's eyes widened. He would freely admit that he had forgotten about Shirou's history and the backstory he had shared with them all those years ago after fighting Berserker. The subject was rarely brought up, and the digitalized man hardly ever mentioned it. As a result, the memory of the event faded into obscurity over time. But now, Shirou was more than happy to give him a reminder and more.

"My earliest memory is of a fire, a cursed inferno in which hundreds lost their lives. I was trapped beneath the rubble, surrounded by the ashes and charred remains of mountains of their corpses. My body was empty, mentally and physically scarred. In the hope of survival, I had discarded everything about myself - my memories, feelings, and humanity. In the end, even the hope I sought was lost. It did not end there, just like I told you before. I eventually lost everything I once gained and fought so hard to keep. Those who took me in and became my new family. The few friends that stuck with me for however long I knew them. Even those I grew to love and opened my heart to. They all disappeared in the end. And yet, I continued to move forward. For that was all I could do." Shirou added, revealing yet another piece of his history with Ulbert.

One that painted a vivid imagery for the Heteromorphic Player. Tragedy after tragedy.

"Now, tell me, Ulbert-san, have you seen Hell?" The magus asked.

Ulbert had wanted to answer "yes", but no words came out. There was something about the way Shirou asked the question that made it feel more visceral and personal. In the end, Ulbert said nothing, allowing Shirou to continue.

"I have seen and walked into Hell more times than I can imagine. These were warzones left behind by human struggles, ideological and otherwise. Scores of land were painted crimson with the blood of innocents and villains alike. Piles of corpses were left to fester and rot, serving as a feast for the ever-present that marked my every step. It was a place where humanity was stripped of its core, where the worst of us surfaced, and where death was a constant companion. And yet, I experienced it all willingly. I dove headfirst into the depths of human depravity, memorizing every single act of war, violence, cruelty, apathy, and greed that had ever graced this planet. I saw the horrors of genocide, the atrocities of war, and the suffering of the innocent. I felt the weight of despair, the sting of betrayal, and the emptiness of loss. Even when my body and mind rejected the reality I experienced, I endured. I pushed through the pain, the fear, and the hopelessness, all for the sake of understanding. Do you know why?"

Ulbert held silent.

"Because of hope. A hope, that this would be the last corpse I saw. The hope that this would be the last life I ended. The hope that this would be the last innocent I saw slaughtered. It never came. Even after decades, the bloodshed never ended. In the end, I chased after a fruitless ideal to the grave, and do you know what? I don't regret it. Why? Because it's never wrong to help a person in need.

So, tell me, Ulbert-san… Am I a Monster or a Hero?"

Hearing this question, Ulbert was left in silent contemplation. Shirou's words echoed through his mind, all his secrets and the question he left him. Seconds ticked by as if they were hours, the salaryman's mind trying to figure out his answer.

In the end-

"I-I don't… know…" Ulbert finally said, admitting the painful truth.

-He didn't know.

"The answer is neither." Shirou said, answering his question.

"Because, when you have a noose around your neck and the background is flooded with the misplaced hatred of all you have saved from experiencing the horrors of war, there is neither. Only the tortured and tiring existence of Man."

A numbing silence took over as Ulbert contemplated his words.

"W-why…" Ulbert couldn't keep the tremble from his voice. "Why are you telling me this?"

In the end, he couldn't understand why Shirou, of all people, was confiding in him. Why was someone like him looking out for Ulbert? What was the purpose behind it all?

"Because I once wavered and doubted myself. I am not afraid to admit that I am not infallible in my beliefs and ideals. I will not deny your beliefs, Ulbert-san. People can be some of the most terrifying of monsters, capable of acts that border on inhuman. When I was at my lowest point, I too hoped for an end. I allowed darkness to cloud both my eyes and my heart." Shirou told him.

His words were far from hollow, nor were they meant to be encouraging. In fact, there was a certain similarity between the two of them, perhaps not in their circumstances but in their struggles. Before he accepted Zelretch's deal, he had nothing. Nothing to truly live for. Everyone he once knew and loved was dead. His life's purpose was an endless chase, his body left nothing more than a frail husk, and the world he once knew was gone and replaced with a dying duplicate.

Alaya was the worst of them all. In the end, what he had dreaded most of all had come to pass. Despite everything, he had struck a deal with Alaya in his final moment of weakness. What pained him most was the fact that all the effort Rin had put in to help him had meant nothing. Once he finally died, he would be chained to her, forced into the role of Archer, a Counter Guardian. At the time, he was living in a paradox. He had nothing left to live for and, at times, wished to end it because he was tired. Yet he still clung to life with fervor and determination, refusing to kick the bucket as a way to delay the inevitable and to spite the collective consciousness of mankind, because, just like Ulbert, he too was afraid. Shirou didn't want to give in just yet. He was clinging to life for no other reason than he didn't want it to just end, and yet he had no true reason to continue living.

In the end, he continued living only for the sake of continuing to exist because he was afraid of the consequences. Nothing more and nothing less.

Until Zelretch entered back into his life.

"In the end, I did lose hope. I am far from infallible. I am human, and I do have my low points, just like everyone, just like you." Said Shirou, recalling back to his feelings before he had accepted Zelretch's deal. The numbness and despair of it all. "And through either luck or faith, I managed to find a reason to have hope again. Can you guess what it was?"

Ulbert turned to look at him, and for the first time since their conversation, he felt something emanating from the sword-spamming Player. He didn't know how, but the Heteromorph knew that he was smiling, at him no less.

"You guys. Everyone from Ainz Ooal Gown. Momonga-san, Peroroncino-san, Bukubukuchagama-san, Touch Me-san, Tabula-san, Amanomahitotsu-san, Yamaiko-san, and so many others, including you, Ulbert-san. You became my new hope and reminded me that there's still good in this world. You all became something I lost so long ago and thought I would never experience again. Those I can call my friends."

Ulbert was speechless.

It wouldn't shock anyone to hear that Ulbert did not like Shirou. While he could appreciate Shirou's expertise as a Player, that was where his admiration ended. Similar to his sentiments towards the silver paladin of the guild, Ulbert harbored a dislike for Shirou that mirrored Touch Me's. This was primarily due to the fact that the goat Heteromorph saw him as just another delusional, aspiring hero, no different from the World Champion. In Ulbert's eyes, Shirou was just another fool on a foolish quest, blinded by his idealistic views. It was his lack of awareness and preconceived notions that brought them together in Ulbert's mind.

He would never consider either of them real friends, acquittances at best, but nothing more. Ulbert thought he shared the same sentiment, but it seemed he was wrong.

It was one thing to assume, but it was another to hear it directly from the man himself.

A part of him wanted to deny his words, make a crude retort, or something, but he found himself at a loss for words and strength. There was blind sincerity laced in Shirou's words that even Ulbert couldn't deny.

"You believe that humans have the capacity to be monsters. That is true, but that is far from the whole truth. You forget that the same can be said for the opposite of that. If people have the choice to be monsters, then it only stands to reason that we also have the choice to do good as well. I've done my fair share of horrors, but at the same time, I do not lose sight of why I did them. I believe in the good that I've done and the good that I can do. And if someone like me still has a chance, then you can too, Ulbert-san." Shirou reasoned.

A feeling overcame him. Unable to take it, Ulbert couldn't help but look away. The near-smothering aura he gave off and the sincerity in his voice were foreign feelings. It wasn't necessarily a bad feeling, but just different. He was used to hate, hell, and to a certain degree, he thrived on it. At the same time, Ulbert had also experienced comradery and likes with Momonga, along with some members of Ainz Ooal Gown.

But this was something else, something purer and truer.

"W-why…" Ulbert whispered.

'Why do you care?' was the question that was left unspoken. To him, it made no sense. They were just two people who met online and just so happened to be part of the same guild. It was doubtful that they'd ever meet in person, let alone ever build a lasting rapport. In his mind, Shirou's care was misplaced and unwarranted. Not to mention, Ulbert had never been kind to the man, given his history of hostility towards him, much like with Touch Me. He had no reason to treat him with the kindness he showed.

Ulbert could confidently say that he and Touch Me were rivals with a strong dislike of one another's personality and views. However, he struggled to pin down his relationship with Shirou and how the magus perceived him. Ulbert's bias led him to believe that Shirou shared his disdain for him, but he soon realized that this was not the case.

So why. Why did Shirou care so much about him?

After all, Ulbert was just a nobody. He couldn't fathom why someone, anyone, would bother to care for a misbegotten misanthrope like him.

Once again, Ulbert felt Shirou's smile on him. This time, there was a sense of melancholy but also hopefulness.

"Do I need a reason to help out a friend?" He asked rhetorically. His words were simple, yet profound.

Gently reaching out, Shirou laid a hand on Ulbert's shoulder. He flinched, but he didn't shy away, nor did he knock his hand off it. Instead, he allowed the brief feeling of warmth to rest there.

"Everyone has suffered a tragedy once in their life, You and I, Momonga-san, and no doubt Touch Me-san have suffered in some way. But it is what we choose to do after that truly matters. Your story may not have such a happy beginning, Ulbert-san, but it doesn't make you who you are. It is the rest of your story; who you choose to be that defines you." Shirou gently imparted.

"Tell me, Ulbert-san. Do you want to live out the rest of your life in hatred? Angry at everyone and everything around you? You are not entirely wrong in blaming the world for your misfortune. But do you wish for it to be all you'll ever believe in?"

No.

The answer was immediate, even if Ulbert dared not to say it.

Instead, he said this. "How the hell are you even sure?"

"How do I know? Simple, because it wasn't too late for me, and it's especially not too late for you. Just like me, it was thanks to everyone who showed me the way. Because there are people who do care about you. You have friends, those in Momonga-san, Tabula-san, even Peroroncino-san and Touch Me-san, and others. But this change can only happen if you allow it to happen.

Even if you don't admit it, you do believe there is still some good left in this world. If you did not believe this, then why would you have remained with us for so long, from Nine's Own Goals to Ainz Ooal Gown? You undoubtedly consider Momonga-san and Arcadia-san to be true friends. If you were convinced that humanity was inherently malicious and despised everyone, then you would have bothered with us, now would you? You would have left a long time ago and remained a solo Player. Yet, here you remain with us to this day."

Shirou directed, pointing out the potential fallacy in Ulbert's argument and belief.

"As you mentioned, if humanity is responsible for turning this world into a living nightmare, it is only fair that we are the ones to take the responsibility to make it better. It all begins with a single step - no matter how big or small. You can start by lending a helping hand to someone in need, offering your seat to a stranger on the bus, or simply leading your ears to a friend's woe. The decision is yours, Ulbert-san. What do you want to achieve in life?"

With nothing more to say, Shirou turned and left while Ulbert watched him disappear from sight. Ulbert was left alone with his thoughts in the hallway, and he had no idea how long he stood there in silence. Time seemed meaningless to him as it dragged on. The only sounds were the soft ringing and the dead noise echoing in his ears. Meanwhile, his mind was a tempestuous storm of thoughts and questions, with Shirou's words echoing endlessly.

Suddenly, he burst into bitter laughter, his body shaking uncontrollably and nearly doubling over as he struggled to contain the convulsive fits of maniacal mirth that threatened to escape him. The sound echoed through the virtual halls, haunting in its intensity. The irony in his voice was unmistakable, a clear reflection of the tempest of emotions that raged within him. He laughed for what seemed like an eternity until his throat grew hoarse from the exertion.

Ulbert leaned against the wall as the dregs of his laughter died down. His knees were shaking and felt like jelly, but he powered through the numbness. His chest and throat hurt and burned, struggling to keep him from passing out. Yet, he persevered through it all.

From the moment his parents died and left him alone to now, Ulbert has lived on nothing but his hatred and anger. Fueled by that single, solitary belief that he held. It had influenced him and shaped him to be who he was this very day. A bitter and cynical man angry at the world.

The intensity of his animosity towards everything and everyone around him was akin to a mighty and destructive inferno. It was an all-consuming blaze that left nothing in its wake, and yet it was destined to burn out quickly. For years, this inferno of resentment raged on, fueled by his anger at the world for being the way it was and his contempt for the people who had turned it into the nightmarish reality it had become. This belief served as his driving force, propelling him forward with unshakeable conviction. Throughout his life, he had encountered nothing and no one who could challenge this unyielding belief.

Until now.

One serious conversation, that was all that it took. One conversation with the man he had once regarded as a simpleton, someone he had openly ridiculed and belittled, revealed to him just how insular his own views truly were. Ulbert had considered himself to be privy to the inner workings of the world because he learned the "truth" early in his life, only to have that same man throw Ulbert's words right back at him.

Amidst the harsh realities of life, Ulbert was forced to carry on, but never was he allowed the time to mature and come to grips with the world around him. He was forced to grow up, unable to work through his feelings, to actualize his thoughts and emotions, or process his trauma because he couldn't afford to. Instead, he clung to his childish ways, for he was still very much like a child, lashing out at everything because he was hurt. Hatred was an emotion humanity had in excess, and Ulbert simply latched onto it because it was easier to hate and blame everyone and everything than it was to admit otherwise.

Ironically, Ulbert's beliefs about humanity were somewhat simplistic and naive, despite his unwavering conviction in them as the absolute truth. While his perspective was not entirely misguided, it was far from the universal truth he believed it to be. And it would be Shirou of all people who pointed this out to Ulbert, which made him reevaluate his beliefs. Had it been Touch Me in his place, Ulbert had no doubt that the World Champion would have been quick to admonish his cynical outlook on the world. Such was the nature of the self-righteous man he was.

For Shirou, he acknowledges both the good and the bad of the world and of men. Unlike Ulbert, Shirou knows there's no such thing as absolute goodness or absolute wickedness in humanity. Merely people doing what they can.

Ulbert's ideology was inherently flawed. Much like a child who only saw things in black and white. The world was never that simple. Ulbert saw the world and its people drenched in blackness and the light as nothing more than a false promise. That couldn't be any closer to the truth, as the world was filled with a million shades of gray.

Shirou's life embodied that, going against almost everything Ulbert believed in. A man who epitomized the good and the bad in life.

Shirou imparted upon Ulbert a poignant realization of his own personal disillusionment. Despite having faced immense suffering, Shirou still found a way to smile, one that spoke volumes about his resilience. So, if someone like Shirou was still standing and smiling after the shit he has seen, why couldn't someone like Ulbert look past his misanthropy?

It was why he was laughing like a madman. As if he just heard the funniest joke, with himself being the punchline.

'How appropriate…' Ulbert thought.

Ulbert laughed uncontrollably because he couldn't help it, unable to contain his amusement at the delicious irony of it all. His negative perception of humanity saw anyone at their worst and anyone who tried to deny it as nothing more than a hypocrite. Such were his views on Touch Me and Shirou in particular. Ulbert thought of himself as savvy enough to know that he wasn't an exception in his views. However, he did see himself as enlightened enough to know where he stood, and he looked down on others for that same reasoning.

Ironically, it was such world views that Ulbert believed in an ideal that painted others as hypocrites while failing to recognize his own hypocrisy. He was too entrenched in his narrow-minded moral beliefs to see beyond his own preconceptions. If he didn't care about anyone, then why does he value his friendship with Momonga so highly or cared what his guildmates thought? Because, deep down, Ulbert was not as detached as he liked to think. He cared for connections, just as anyone else.

He was the biggest type of hypocrite-the one who didn't see himself as one.

It showed in how fickle his ideals and beliefs were that in one conversation, that seemingly seething, ever-burning fire has been doused, reduced to a mere smoldering ember. His deeply rooted ideals and beliefs were shaken by the words of a single man and from the unlikeliest of sources. For nearly two decades, he had clung to these beliefs, which had taken hold after the untimely passing of his parents. Prior to this encounter, he had never been challenged on his views, but now, everything he thought he knew was unraveling before him.

Shirou had cast doubt on his belief and made him rethink everything he once knew to be true. And the thing was, Ulbert couldn't find himself mustering any strength to say he was wrong or hate him.

"Youta-san!"

Youta was abruptly jolted from his thoughts when Ichirou loudly called out his name. He was forced back into reality, realizing he was back in the same room as his rival.

"I would hazard a guess that Emiya-san gave quite the talk to you, just like he did with me." Said Ichirou, giving Youta an expectant look.

A look that only annoyed Youta even further. "Knock it off. Just because I don't hate you now doesn't mean we're buddy-buddy. I'm sure as shit not going to spill my life's story just because you asked. You don't hear me asking for yours."

"Perhaps. However, it does warm my heart to see you've changed for the better, Youta-san." Ichirou let the matter drop but still gave a sincere smile at Youta.

Youta had undergone an experience similar to his own. How much and how far, Ichirou could only guess. As such, he refrained from pushing for an answer, as he was conscious enough to realize that he wouldn't want others to pressure him into giving details. He wouldn't do the same to a friend.

"Go eat a dick!" Youta derided with a deadpan glare.

"Eloquent as always, I see, Youta-san." Ichirou remarked with a flat look of his own.

To which the salaryman responded with a mocking snort. Oh, how things have changed, yet, they remain all the same. Then again, the two of them wouldn't exactly have it any other way. Youta's mocking derision versus Ichirou's straight-laced nature.

"You should really thank that bastard next time around. If he and Momonga-san weren't around, I would've likely gotten sick enough of your shit that I would've PKed you into quitting!"

Ichirou responded by chuckling at Youta's threatening remark. "Really? Then perhaps I should do the same. I may be patient, but there is a limit."

Youta grinned and gave a mocking laugh. "Please, as if you would have the balls for that!"

Ichirou smiles mischievously. "You'll find that I do have the 'balls' for many things, and I am not afraid to teach you a lesson, my friend."

"Try it and beat your ass black and blue!"

"Need I remind you which one of us is the World Champion?"

"You think I give a shit?"

"You would be surprised, Youta-san. Emiya-san has played the part of annoying conscience for quite a long time. Not only on me but all of us, I reckon. Ever wondered why we mellowed out on our PKing and aggressive expansion? Blame the team mom."

Youta was dumbfounded for a second, thinking on Ichirou's words before his eyes widened in realization.

"You know, I'm not sure if I should thank him or curse him. He stole my kills by pacifying my Demonic Bloodlust! Damn you, Hero Emiya!"

With mock fury, he raised his fist and shouted into the air, causing the edge of Ichirou's lips to twitch upwards. They fell into a comfortable silence before Youta spoke again.

"For the record, I'm calling him Team Mom next time we have a guild meeting."

The amusement that arose from this situation caused Ichirou to let out a boisterous laugh, which was followed by Youta's subtle chuckle. It was a strange notion, but not an unwelcome one. After a brief bout of shared laughter, silence reigned over the room before Ichirou promptly rose from his seat.

"I've kept you here for long enough. Come, let's get you out of this room."

"About time." Youta grumbled as he stood up and stretched, all too happy to finally leave.

Together, the duo made their way through the station, heading towards main door. However, just before they could reach it, they spotted the very same officers who had taken Youta in. The group noticed the salaryman, and the elderly officer could easily discern the mischief and intent glinting in their eyes. Behind him, he sensed his comrade tensing up, bracing himself for the ridicule that was to come.

Before anything could happen, Ichirou took charge and marched forward, startling and staring down his juniors with an air of authority.

"Is there something you or your friends need, Satou-san?" Ichirou questioned the younger officer, giving the group a hard look.

Caught off guard, the four couldn't help but freeze up under their senior's securitizing glare.

"I well…." The officer stuttered out, looking between Youta and Ichirou.

"I believed I said that I would take care of it. There's no need for you to concern yourself with him now. Now then, on your way. I'm quite busy at the moment." Ichirou dismissed them, and not wishing to make a scene, they listened to their orders.

Ichirou looked back to Youta and motioned for him to follow as the officers slinked away. Youta glanced at the retreating officers before glancing back at Ichirou.

"I could have handled them." He muttered, loud enough for Ichirou to hear.

"A simple 'thank you' would've sufficed, Youta-san." Ichirou quipped. "And, that, I have no doubt, but it never hurts to have a bit of help." He added, leaving Youta silent.

After arriving at their destination and retrieving Youta's confiscated items, including his breathing mask and coat, they noticed that it was raining heavily outside. The downpour had blanketed the sky in an inky hue.

"Figures it would be raining, just my luck." The salaryman clicked his tongue as he dressed himself.

"Would you also like me to escort you home?" Ichirou offered.

"What am I, a child? I can damn well take care of myself. Besides, what would your wife think if she were to hear you offering to take another man home?" Youta threw him a grin.

Ichirou rolled his eyes at Youta's juvenile joke. The salaryman got a cheeky laugh in at the exasperated look on the officer's face. As he reached for the door, Ichirou called out to him one last time, to impart onto him one last word and piece of advice.

"You know, we always have your back. Momonga-san, Emiya-san, and that includes myself. If you ever need something, don't be afraid to ask."

Youta paused and turned towards Ichirou. His face was unreadable for a few seconds before he flashed a mocking smile. "Careful Touch, your hero is showing. I'm not so pathetic that I can't take care of myself."

"No, but a friend can certainly help." Ichirou replied with a small smile. He gave the salaryman a slap on the back, which Youta shook off.

He glared back at him, more annoyed than any actual anger. Youta huffed and turned his back towards Ichirou. However, just before he put on his filter mask, he craned his neck back at the white-haired officer one last time.

"See ya around, Ichirou-san."

With those final words, he walked away. Had he lingered a little longer, he would have noticed Ichirou's surprised look before it turned into a soft smile with sincerity dancing in his eyes.

"To you as well, Youta-san."

And so they parted ways that day, a cheerful camaraderie once thought dead, reignited. In a different time, such an event would've never happened, and their paths would have become irreversibly diverged. However, this time around, the Fates were much kinder, thanks to the meddling of a Fake Player.

They would meet once again under the banner of Ainz Ooal Gown, and a story for another day.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"I'm home." Said Ichirou as he stepped through the door to his well-furnished home.

"Papa!" A high-pitched voice called out.

In front of the doorway and across the hall were a set of spiral staircases that led to the house's second floor. Rumbling footsteps could be heard as someone ran down to greet him. It was none other than his daughter, who ran up to her father and jumped into his arms.

"Woah!" Ichirou caught her as she hugged his chest, giggling all the while as the two spun in circles.

"Papa! Papa!" She excitedly called out.

Seeing the warm and energetic smile on his daughter's face, Ichirou couldn't help returning with one of his own. Already he was starting to relax, all thanks to the pride and joy of his life.

"How are you doing, sweetie? How was school?" He asked with a smile, a hand running through her lovely hair.

Instead of answering immediately, his daughter instead looked up to him with her tiny hands outstretched. Seeing his, Ichirou couldn't help but chuckle. Reaching up, he removed his police cap and rested it on her head. The hat, being a size too big, sat loosely on her head, leaning in one particular direction. She paid it no mind and smiled with a smile sweeter than any candy.

"Thank you, papa!"

"Always, sweetie."

"Well, someone seems happy to see daddy today." A third voice chimed in. Walking towards the duo was none other than Ichirou's lovely wife. A childhood sweetheart of his from when they were still kids and the very first person he helped/saved.

Ichirou's smile only grew, feeling the tender embrace of both his beloved wife and child.

"How was work today, dear?" Ichirou's wife asked.

"A roller coaster of emotions, I'll say that much. But I'll have to say, it's gotten a lot better with you all here." Ichirou smiled.

"Oh, you! Always the charmer." She teased, leaning in and giving him a chaste but loving kiss. One that Ichirou returned.

"Eyyy, Mama and Papa are making kissy faces again." The two heard their daughter's comment.

The parents couldn't help but smile, amused by their daughters' words.

"And when you're older, you'll be making kissy faces as well, young lady." Ichirou's wife playfully replied, booping her on the nose.

"Yuck! Boys are nasty!" Ichirou's daughter stuck out her tongue in mock disgust. "I don't have time for boys! When I grow up, I'll be too busy being a hero! Just like Papa."

"Not on an empty stomach, you're not. Come on, let's get ready for dinner."

"Ok!"

The mother extended her hand toward her daughter, who grasped it excitedly with both hands, and they exchanged joyful smiles. As they strolled towards the dining room, they noticed that someone was absent.

"Papa?"

"Dear?"

They both called out. Ichirou lingered behind, wearing a peculiar yet satisfied expression in his eyes. He blinked and shook his head before joining them.

"Coming!"

As the family of three strolled together to the dinner table, Ichirou's mind wandered back to a significant moment. He recalled the words that Shirou had imparted to him when he opened his eyes to the fact that there was more to existence than just pursuing one's ideals.

'Touch Me-san. It is not wrong to chase after them, no matter how impossible they may be. But never lose sight of what is truly important in your life. There'll come a time when you might have to make a choice. Choose what you know is right, not what you think is right.'

As long as Ichirou lived, he would not give up on his ideals as a Hero of Justice, but he would not allow them to rule him. After all, it was also for them-his wife and daughter-that he continued striving to be the best he could be.

And that was good enough for him.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Youta sat on the tram, taking in the torrential rain pouring outside the windows. His face was inscrutable behind his mask as he mulled over his recent experience at the police station. After leaving the police station where he was held, he raced to the closest station and boarded a tram to finally make his way home. Despite the crowded conditions, he boarded it in time and was fortunate enough to snag a seat, though he was uncomfortably close to his fellow passengers with his shoulders touching his neighbors. Nevertheless, it was still a marked improvement over standing in the cramped aisle of the tram.

As the tram pulled into a station and more passengers boarded, Youta was jolted out of his deep thoughts. He observed the commuters entering the train in a lazy daze until his attention was drawn to one particular person. Amidst the throng of fully-grown adults, he noticed someone who appeared to be a child. The individual was noticeably smaller than the other passengers and was wearing a nondescript overcoat and face mask.

Youta had no idea why, but his eyes wouldn't leave the kid alone. Because of this, he was able to pick up on the small details surrounding the youngling. The kid was leaning against one of the metal poles erected in the middle. One of his hands wrapped around the pole, but it was clear to all that his grip on it looked loose. The salaryman could make out minuscule tremors coursing through the child's frame; most notably, his legs were shaking intermittently, and his mask was drooping frequently.

It didn't take a genius to guess that the kid looked ready to collapse at any second, and the kid was struggling to remain conscious. He glanced around, looking at everyone to see if anyone else noticed. If any of the passengers did, they certainly didn't show it. They remained content to remain as they were, refusing to acknowledge or even care for the child's well-being.

If no one was going to help him, then who would?

"Hey, kid!"

All heads turned towards the sudden voice, as it was none other than Youta that spoke up. He stood up and pointed at the child. The child appeared confused and uncertain, looking around before hesitantly pointing at himself.

"Yeah, you. Hurry your ass up already!" He ordered, which got the kid moving. He wobbled forward, almost tripping over his own feet as he attempted to navigate through the cramped and crowded space.

Youta could feel the eyes of everyone watching him, but he gave no attention. His focus was solely on the kid. He vacated the comfy seat and presented the empty spot to him. The child looked at it and then back to Youta, almost as if he wasn't sure what to believe.

"T-thank you…" He whispered hoarsely as he settled into the seat. Gratitude shone through the mask's lens, and Youta simply nodded in response.

He walked over to take his place near the metal pole where the kid once occupied. The gaze of the passengers remained on him, but Youta paid them no mind. He leaned against the pole and watched as the kid sat down and made himself comfortable. Within seconds, he started to relax, and soon he was asleep.

"Tch, couldn't you have handed it over to someone who might need it more?" A voice scoffed.

Youta turned toward the voice and glared at the man. "You're an adult, so suck it up and quit being a bitch!" He bit back.

Silencing the man, he turned back around and kept his gaze on the sleeping youngling for the rest of the ride. It wouldn't be long before the tram arrived at his destination. As luck would have it, it wasn't just Youta's stop but also the kid's, as he awoke suddenly from the intercom's callout. He jolted awake, rushing to make it out before the door closed. As he tried to leave the tram, he stumbled and nearly fell, but Youta stepped in and caught him just in time.

"Watch yourself, kid." Youta said, and he kept a hand on the kid's shoulder to stabilize his balance.

He turned to the salaryman, recognizing the voice to be the same man who was nice enough to offer his seat to him.

"I-I'm sorry." The boy stammered.

"Where are you heading, kid?" He asked.

The kid answered by pointing at an apartment complex that was just across from the tram station. The same apartment complex where Youta lived as well.

"What are the odds?" He muttered to himself. "That's also where I'm headed. Come on, let's go."

"I-I'm fine, sir… I can…" The kid tried to get out, which was promptly shut down by what the salaryman had to say.

"Kid, if it weren't for me holding onto you, you would flop onto the ground." Youta deadpanned. "Don't be difficult, and come on. We don't have all day." Despite his seemingly harsh words, he was looking out for the young boy.

After some hesitation, the boy gave in and held Youta's hand as they slowly made their way home. They walked at a sedated pace, with Youta slowing down and matching his pace with the kid as he was still regaining his bearings. Eventually, they reached the complex and the elevators. Within the building, they tore off their masks and allowed themselves a moment to breathe. First things first, Youta had to drop the kid off at his home.

Upon reaching the floor, he escorted the kid until they arrived outside his door. He stood and waited, hearing the telltale noise of the door unlocking, revealing who he presumed to be the kid's mother greeting them.

Youta could tell that she was tired but made an effort to hide it if the smile on her face was any indication. It reminded Youta very much of his own mother and how she would always try and smile, no matter how rough things got. The mother's eyes brightened when she saw her son but widened instantly upon seeing him with a stranger next to him.

"Dear, who's this?" She asked in a guarded tone. Her eyes trained solely on Youta, and despite the previous fatigue shown, she looked ready to fight.

"I'm no one. Your kid looked like he needed some help from tripping over himself, so I decided to lend a hand." Youta answered.

She looked at her son, who nodded enthusiastically with a smile.

"He's a nice mister, mom! I was feeling really tired on the way home, and he gave me his seat, but I fell asleep. He also helped me when I was about to fall and helped me walk!"

Hearing this, she visibly relaxed, giving Youta a sheepish glance.

"Thank you for taking care of my son." She bowed to Youta.

"Thank you, mister!" The boy added.

"Sure, whatever, you're welcome-"

All three of them heard a loud rumbling noise, which cut off Youta in the middle of his sentence. His stomach rumbled, sending out a distress call that he was hungry and causing his face to immediately redden in embarrassment. Mortified couldn't even begin to describe what he felt at that moment, and in front of strangers no less.

The mother held a hand to her mouth and had the decency to at least not laugh, but he could all but see her amused smile. The boy, on the other hand, had no restraint, and found it to be the funniest thing as he giggled.

"Would you… like to come in for a quick bite to eat?" The mother offered.

"You're just going to invite a stranger into your home?" Youta instantly questioned. He had no idea if she was being generous or cheeky with her offer.

"You helped my son. That's a hell of a lot more than anyone has done for him. Think of it as thank you for your help."

Youta looked at her, finding her to be sincere in her offer. He glanced back at the boy who looked at him with eager eyes, he too wanted Youta to join them. The salaryman mused on it.

'Ahh, screw it. I'm already late as it is because of Touch Me, so what the hell? I'll be sure to apologize to Momonga-san when I get on later.' Youta reasoned. Nodding his head, he accepted her invitation. If nothing else, he'll get a free meal out of it.

"Yay! Let's go, mister!" The boy cheered, grabbing the salaryman's arm and pulling him forward.

"Easy brat! Also, stop calling me mister! I have a name, you know."

"Care to share, or else my boy will just call you mister for the rest of dinner." The mother asked, following right behind Youta.

"… Youta Kurayami."

"I see. Come then, Youta-san. I'm sure you must be quite famished."

As Youta dined with them, time flew by quickly. Initially, he planned to have a quick meal and then leave to go back to his own apartment. However, he ended up staying longer than he had planned, enjoying their company and the delicious home-cooked food. He left only after spending an additional hour chatting away with them.

For the first time he could remember in years, Youta ate with others, no longer feeling alone. And the thing was, he enjoyed it.

Chapter 7 - These Ceaseless Changing Times I

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 04/18/2021

Chapter 7 - These Ceaseless Changing Times I

November 26th, 2135. Location: Unknown.

Nothingness.

A darkness that would not subside, a fugue that would not dissipate.

Entrenched in its depths, Shirou was lost. And so, he did what he only could - he marched onwards.

Where was he going? He did not know.

Why was he walking? He couldn't say for certain.

All he knew was that he had to continue forward. And so he ventured forth into the yearning abyss.

All he could do was walk, and so he did. He marched forward, even if the reason behind this ceaseless action eluded him. All within a dark abyss that stretched without end.

Once upon a time, this world was illuminated by an incandescent sun, one that shined bright and beautiful. And when the sun would sleep, stars decorated the skies, illuminating the night sky like a million candles on a canvas.

Shirou knew this…

How does he know this again…?

But long ago, they dimmed, cloaking the world in naught but a blanket of eternal night. There was no light, save for one.

Shirou's solitary companion, a small incandescent flame nestled within the palm of his hand. A guiding light that glowed softly and warmly with the sea of darkness. Yet, with every step he took, the fire flickered ever so simply. He continued on his aimless journey as the flames grew weaker and the shadows grew.

And so, he would walk, and walk, and walk without rest. Time and distance lost all meaning to him in this bleak and endless expanse, and he marched on without rest or respite.

His steps were slow, as if weighted by the world with every step. An invisible burden that only grew as he continued. As time went on, he slowly felt weary, tiring with every step he took. Despite his growing weariness, he trudged onwards with nary a thought or concern for himself.

But even his iron will could not stave off the inevitable forever. As his exhaustion deepened, his body began to falter, and the numbness spread until he lost all sensation in his arms, legs, and torso. Finally, his balance gave out, and he stumbled forward, tumbling to the ground in a heap.

For just the briefest of moments, Shirou caught a flash of something just before he fell.

A flash of steel…?

Shirou tried getting back up, but he couldn't feel his legs anymore. With the little strength he held, he crawled forward at mere paces, only for his arm to grow lame and drop then and there.

He tried mustering what little strength he could, but it was futile. So, there he remained, useless.

His eyes drifted back to the flame in his palm, only this time it was smaller than before. Ebbed away over his travels, it was nothing more than a faint glimmer within a blackened void.

Shirou's gaze remained mutely transfixed on it, watching as the flame flickered, struggling to hold back the encroaching darkness. However, it was a losing battle, and naught but embers remained, growing ever dimmer with each passing second. A state that mirrored his eye growing heavy with unfathomable exhaustion.

Finally, the flame was extinguished, snuffed out as total darkness descended on him.

Yet, he endured.

In those precious extra seconds, gained through his characteristic stubbornness, he was able to glimpse at something.

The barest shimmer of light, far beyond his reach and beyond yonder.

Shirou closed his eyes and his consciousness no more.

Within, unbeknownst to its owner, the spark of light in the yonder pulsed.

It withered and flickered, growing and shrinking, yet unable to expand.

Finally, it returned to its previous inert state while basking in a war-torn world devoid of life and with the tiniest of hopes.

It wasn't much, but it'd be enough.

For now, the world fell silent, as it waited for a brighter tomorrow…

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

November 26th, 2135. World: Helheim. Location: The Great Tomb of Nazarick

As quick as Shirou's slumber ended, his consciousness forgot about the dream, once again occupied with the waking world.

All that remained were vague emotions that faded until nothing remained, leaving him uneasy as his senses slowly returned to him.

Thankfully, the bark against his back was reassuring and comfortable, reminding him of his location.

Swathes of verdant grassland swept across the horizon, with cherry blossom trees dotting the land. Above, a clear blue sky shone brightly over the land, with an illuminant sun shining warmth and light upon the field. A gentle breeze blew across the field, leaving a wash of pink leaves flowing through the air as an ocean of grass swung to and fro as far as the eye could see.

The entire scenery exuded an ever-lasting tranquil atmosphere. Over in the distance, he spied a large shrine, easily the most impressive architecture around.

He was on the 8th Floor, more specifically - The Cherry Blossom Sanctuary. An area so majestic and soothing, it had become a favorite resting place for himself.

Shirou remained there for a few more moments, taking in the serenity of the land.

Silently, the virtual magus removed himself from his comfy spot and stood up, stretching out the kinks in his body. His mind lingered on the fading remnants of his dream.

Over the decades when he was alive, he stopped dreaming a long time ago. Something he was grateful for in his later years, as his dreams brought nothing but regret and unwanted memories. Of simpler times, happier times.

Even in the beginning, when Zelretch transported him into the virtual world, he still did not dream. Not that it bothered him in the slightest either way. In truth, he had forgotten all about it.

Until only recently.

In the beginning, they were few and far in between. Some were memories of times past, while others were vague and obscured, and for a time, Shirou thought little of it. As time went on, they became more frequent.

His dreams have always had a prophetic nature to them, spanning all the way back to the Holy Grail War. Knowing his luck, there was a meaning to these distant dreams. However, he was no closer to deciphering the meaning of the dreams now than he was all those times beforehand.

No matter how many times he tried, his dreams always remained fleeting. The more he tried to conjure up the remnants of the dream, the more they slipped away. It was like trying to grasp water as it leaked through his fingers.

A small headache pulsed as he once again failed to recall his dreams.

The projection magus closed his eyes and shook his head with a small sigh, dispelling the matter for the moment. Running in circles would do him no good. With his eyes still closed, he turned, only to run into an unexpected form.

It was his luck and instinct that allowed him to steady himself and catch his victim.

Eyes now opened, he saw what, or rather, who he ran into.

Shirou found himself holding onto a shrine maiden, dressed in a red hakama and a white haori. He instantly recognized her by the soft and gentle smile that graced her beautiful face.

One of the Guardians of the 8th Floor and the protector of the very domain he was standing in, the level 100 NPC - Aureole Omega.

One of his arms wrapped around her waist, his hand gently pressing against her back, and the other holding onto her outstretched forearm to keep her from falling. With a tug, he straightened her upright.

"Aureole… I'm sorry for bumping into you. I didn't see you there." Shirou apologized, his face flushed with a hint of embarrassment.

He knew that she was an NPC and naturally wouldn't respond, but he could neither help the hand that scratched his head nor the awkward energy that filled him in response to her ever-present smiling face. Still, it was the thought that counted.

Aureole remained where she was, still and content.

He quickly patted down her kimono, fixing any small wrinkles he may have caused along with her clothes. Lastly, he corrected her headpiece. Satisfied, he took a step back.

As he looked at the NPC, a sudden thought entered his mind.

'I thought Aureole was assigned to stand guard and wander around only the shrine. What's she doing over here?'

Shirou found it a bit curious that the NPC would be just waiting nearby instead of wandering around like it was programmed to. Doubly so when the thought of the NPC standing there, watching over him while he was resting all this time, crossed his mind. In the end, he shrugged and simply chalked it up to perhaps her settings and general coding.

Turning away from the NPC, he waved his hand and opened up his interface to check to see if anyone was online. Most of everyone on his friend's list, which included all members of Ainz Ooal Gown, showed gray circles next to their name. This indicated that they were offline. Only two were online, none other than Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama.

He quickly sent a [Message], asking them where they were. A second did not even pass before he received a reply. They were lounging in the Throne Room. Nodding to himself, he turned back to the shrine maiden one last time.

"Take care, Aureole. And keep up the good work." Shirou bid farewell despite knowing it was a pointless gesture.

Using the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown on his finger, he teleported away from the 8th floor towards the 10th floor.

Aureole watched from the sidelines as his form shimmered and disappeared from the scenic Floor. There, she remained for only a short moment. Were anyone present afterwards, they would have seen Aureole Omega bow her head after he was gone. With a casual stride, she began walking towards the shrine, her dazzling smile a touch brighter than before.

As for Shirou, his entry into the 10th Floor was quick. A flash of bluish light, and he was granted physical form once more as he hurried down the decorated halls that led to his destination.

The hallways held a startling amount of detail and a possible obscene amount of invested wealth as well, but he paid it little mind.

Within a minute, he arrived at his destination, marked by the towering set of double doors that spoke of the importance of the incoming room.

The design was nothing short of stunning, with intricate patterns and carving engraved along its surface. A nice artistic quality, of the dichotomy between the angelic goddess and the vicious demon, depicting two creatures of opposing nature dominating their respective sides.

As he took confident steps forward, the gargantuan doors began to tremble in recognition of one of its masters. With a deep and sonorous rumbling, the doors slowly parted, granting Shirou entry into the inner sanctum of the Throne Room.

His eyes wandered around the room. Despite seeing it so many times, he was always left captivated by its sheer splendor.

Ainz Oown Gown's crowning jewel: The Throne Room.

The Throne Room, or Throne Hall as it would be more accurately called, was grand in size. Its beauty and architecture were nothing short of breathtaking.

Obsidian and golden carved stone columns flanked the sides of the room to hold up the extravagant ceiling above. The surrounding walls exhibited a regal white and gold theme. Up above, the ceiling was extravagant and adorned with glittering crystal chandeliers that bathed the room in a mesmerizing array of hues. All the colors imaginable were reflected off the crystal sheens of not only the chandelier but every reflective surface, basking the entire room in a beautiful spectrum of light.

The marble flooring was polished to perfection, so much so that one could clearly see their reflection in it, stretching onwards until the end. A luxurious red carpet extended from the doorway down towards the end of the room. Walking down the colossal hall, there was a row of flags, and royal banners that extended from the walls as one traveled inward. Each flag was emblazoned with a unique sigil that represented one of every member of Ainz Ooal Gown. Forty-two flags in total.

At the very end of the opulent chamber were a series of steps, as wide as the room, with a raised dais leading upwards. Everything led to this: a hunk of obsidian crystal at the end of the room, one fashioned into a majestic throne. Behind it was a large banner that proudly bore the symbol of the guild itself: the iconography of Ainz Ooal Gown.

While the room was beyond extravagant, his attention lies elsewhere.

At the steps that led to the Throne of Kings, two figures stood in place, idle banter and conversation flowing naturally between them.

Shirou couldn't help but feel his face crack into a smile. Their eyes were immediately drawn to him, and a certain avian Player started emoting heavily, flailing his arms in the air to grab his attention.

"Peroroncino-san! Bukubukuchagama-san!" Shirou called out, acknowledging his entrance and their presence as he walked towards them.

"Emiya-senpai!"

"Shirou-kun."

The golden archer happily greeted, halting his frantic waving, while his sister politely delivered her greeting with a small bow. Shirou joined the siblings at the dials that led up to the World Item.

"Is it just you two that are on? Strange, I thought there would be more of us online." Shirou commented, his eyes wandering around the room as if looking for anyone else.

His words drew a shared glance of amusement from the two siblings.

"Shirou-kun, you do know that it's very late at night now, right?" Bukubukuchagama pointed this out.

Shirou blinked. He pulled up his menu to see that Bukubukuchagama was indeed correct. The time read 11:45 p.m. So late into the night, it was only natural that there was rarely anyone online at this time.

His eyebrows furrowed as he pondered this. Thinking back on it, Shirou was certain that he had only planned for a short nap, yet his clock spoke otherwise. Evidently, what was supposed to be an hour of downtime, had turned into a several-hour rest. Appreciated for the energy and alertness that he felt himself brimming with, but the wreck that was now his schedule would need reworking. However, that could wait for later.

"Guess you were really tired, huh, Emiya-senpai?" He heard Peroroncino say.

"I guess so. It must have slipped my mind. I only intended for a short rest before I had to return to my duties."

"You've been keeping yourself busy, Emiya-senpai? We had planned to invite you to a small raid, but when we tried to contact you, we were told by Nishikienrai-san to let you rest. Seeing as how you've been keeping the guild afloat in our absence, we decided that it was best if we didn't bother you…" Peroroncino explained, saddened that they had missed their chance to play together.

"Don't say that. Neither of you are ever a bother, Peroroncino-san." Shirou shook his head vehemently at the idea that the sibling's presence could ever be unwanted. "We can always get together tomorrow for that raid, right?"

His only response was an awkward silence as the two siblings glanced at one another once more.

"Ehh, about that, senpai…" The winged Heteromorph began, and quiet uncertainty filled the avian's tone.

"We would love to do something together, but I'm afraid we're going to have to take a rain check on that. Me and sis will be booked for the next couple of days. You see, my girlfriend and I are planning some stuff for our upcoming anniversary together early this time around. Reina-chan has been all sorts of stressed and excited about our fourth anniversary, so I have to make sure it goes off without a hitch!"

"As for me, Shirou-kun, do you remember that job opportunity I spoke about a couple of weeks ago? Well, the manager of a new virtual idol group has been quite earnest in recruiting me as a voice actress. Apparently, he is a fan of some of my previous works, much to my displeasure. Thankfully, he is professional about the matter, so the next few days will be busy as he hashes out the details and agreements for the contract." Bukubukuchagama explained, her gelatinous body wiggling slightly. A frowning emoticon made her displeasure at the situation known.

"Oh… I see." Shirou quietly let out upon hearing the news.

The siblings stood awkwardly, fidgeting in place. The nervous cheer they had felt earlier was substituted by an almost somber regret. Their shoulders slumped as they could practically hear the disappointment in their friends' voices at the news. Their playtime together had already decreased in recent months, and now they would be gone for even longer. This only fueled their contrite consciousness.

"So, it's finally your two's turn, huh?"

Shirou's voice was subdued, so quiet was it that they wondered if it was just their ears playing tricks on them, but they heard it nonetheless. For a certain golden archer, he took it a bit further.

"We're sorry, Emiya-senpai! I promise we'll make it up to you as soon as we're finished with everything, and then-"

Before Peroroncino could go any further, the lone Humanoid Player raised his hand to call for a stop to his apology. Shirou softly shook his head.

"Sorry? There's absolutely nothing to be sorry about. If anything, this is great news all around!" He said, his previous tone all but erased.

His new cheerfulness, despite the emotional whiplash it inflicted, proved to be infectious. Peroroncino felt his body loosening up, happy that his senpai was back to normal, and smiled along. The same couldn't be said about Bukubukuchagama, who remained silent, almost contemplative, as she mulled over his words. To her keen ears, she detected something off in his voice. It was almost as if he mustered up the enthusiasm at the last second.

It was not his words, for they were true, but rather the sentiment behind them that she was attentive to.

A particular question came to dwell inside her, fueled by a suspicion that she has been having for a while now. Her thoughts would be on hold as the magus walked up to them and pulled the two siblings in a great big hug. His arms rested on one of their shoulders, keeping them close.

"Have fun and take good care of not only your girlfriend but also yourself, Peroroncino-san. Four years is a long time, and an anniversary doesn't come around often, after all. This is a momentous occasion, so take your time with it and enjoy it for all its worth. These are the moments you'll look back on and cherish, so make some memories. And try not to do anything too crazy." Shirou imparted, giving the avian Heteromorph a playful shoulder rub.

"You know it, Emiya-senpai." Peroroncino snorted playfully, bumping his fist into the magus's chest in return.

"For you, Bukubukuchagama-san, I suppose congratulations are in order! I always believed that you have an amazing talent, and now the world will finally get to see it as well! You deserve this and everything that comes after." Shirou praised her, patting her shoulder.

"T-thank you." Bukubukuchagama bashfully returned, the pink Elder Slime's body jiggling gleefully at his words.

"Careful sis, or else you might actually turn into a puddle of goop." Peroroncino snickered, which soured his sister's mood.

"Shut it, you." The sister snapped, throwing a punch at his gut, which he barely felt and only earned a chuckle from him.

"I'm just happy that you're finally moving on from the eroge industry. It's no place for a proper lady to work in." He said, almost as if lecturing her.

"Oh, please, don't pull the whole concerned brother card now." She rolled her eyes.

Peroroncino continued as if he didn't hear her.

"Now I don't have to accidentally walk in on you recording any moans or something lewd and getting my ass kicked for it just because you were being a bit too loud!" The younger sibling happily exclaimed.

"Boo-hoo, yeah, right! The only thing you're glad about is that now you can jerk off to your stupid eroge and hentai games without hearing my voice in them and not feel guilty about it." Bukubukuchagama added, a hint of mock disgust leaking in her voice.

"They are not stupid! Eroge is humanity's greatest gift to the world! The work of geniuses!" The Birdman argued back.

"I think you mean perverts that create self-inserts and wish-fulfillment games and visual novels so that they can live out their fantasy of ever getting any kind of action besides their hands." The gelatinous slime fiercely fired back.

Peroroncino gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if he couldn't believe what she'd just said. "Sacrilege!"

"Ugh, despite having Reina-san, you're still sticking to those perverted works. How she can stay together with a pervert like you for basically four years is anyone's guess." The sister groaned, letting out a small scoff. Shirou could imagine her giving her brother a flat glare behind her amorphous character model all too easily.

From there, the two siblings descended into more bickering, A small quarrel broke out between the two, their voices echoing within the Throne Room as he watched on. Despite the insults flying at one another, there was no true heat behind them. The two siblings' shenanigans never failed to bring a small amount of entertainment to the guild and him as well. Seeing the two going at each other so affectionately, Shirou's lips curled into a soft smile. It helped to remind him where they had once been and where they now stood, showing just how far they've come along in these last few years.

Shirou watched from the sidelines with a small smile on his face as they talked about Peroroninco's girlfriend. As he continued to listen in, hearing more about Peroroncino's exploits and combined with what he already knew about his golden friend's relationship, a thought popped up in his head. One that left his lips faster than he had time to fully process it.

"Have you ever thought of marrying her, Peroroncino-san?" Shirou voiced, drawing wide-eyed stares from the two siblings.

The two paused and were taken completely aback by his words. Where exactly did such a notion come from?

"Woah, woah! Marriage?! That's still a bit of a long way away, don't you think so, Emiya-senpai? I mean, we haven't even had sex yet!" Peroroncino exclaimed, confused as to why his friend would ask him such a strange and serious question out of literally nowhere.

"Idiot!" Bukubukuchagama knocked him upside the head. "That typically comes after you get married, you perverted horndog! Ugh, and you wonder why you're still a virgin even after all these years."

"That's a low blow, sis." Peroroncino murmured, rubbing the back of his head. "But just you wait, I'll show you all! A day will come when I shall enter the domain of manhood and join my fellow brethren! It's only a matter of time before I get inside her pants!"

The golden archer bold declaration echoed through the Throne Room. With a raised fist in the air, he seemed to be making a sacred vow to the heavens. Bukubukuchagama fixed him with a long stare; no words were needed to express the disappointment and embarrassment she felt in that moment for her perverted brother. Slowly, she turned back to the faker, who was silent throughout this.

"Would you like to retract your earlier statement, Shirou-kun? You know it's not too late."

"Hey!"

Shirou openly laughed at the sibling's antics. Same old Peroroncino, passionate as ever. Yet, he had been invited to step in, and who was he to decline such an offer? After all, it was a senpai's job to guide their juniors.

"I see. Is that truly what you seek from that lovely young lass, Sir Pero? I must admit… I am disappointed!" Shirou spoke, shaking his head disappointedly.

Straightening his back to an uncomfortable degree and crossing his arms, the redhead's visage was endowed with the presence of an older figure, saddened by the depths their younger friend had fallen to. His eyes, however, shone with unmistakable mirth, and his voice was laced with playful undertones.

Something the two quickly caught onto and acquiesced, joining in on the fun.

Spurred by his friend's actions, the avian Player took a few steps away, swaying with a swagger common in hoodlums. With a sudden twist, he spun to face his audience and snapped his arms outward in a taunting gesture.

"My goals are beyond your understanding, old timer! I shall gaze upon the holy land and gain entry, through my smooth moves and awesome self! I shall not be denied my passage to paradise!" Peroroncino vowed.

"I see… Perhaps there is truth to your sister's words. I overestimated you. What a horrid sight, to see my protégé fall so far! I thought I had raised you to be better!"

His voice was thick with sadness, a sigh accentuating the lamentation he felt at the male sibling with whom he had shared his skills. However, Shirou would not allow for that tragedy to remain unchallenged!

"Buku! I believe a lesson is in order. Allow me to strike sense into your foolish brother!"

Unwinding his arms and donning a scowl that he had seen among his employers in his time as an Enforcer, an invisible tension saturated the air. The only dam stemming the escalation he sought was a single slime's silence.

"Hmm… who am I, to get in the way of a teacher and his student?"

Her words were paused, timed to portray a silent pondering that never took place. After all, she had no reason to stop Shirou's supposed actions.

"Traitor!" Peroroncino cried out at the betrayal, and by his own flesh and blood, no less.

The faker offered a solemn nod and approached the golden archer. With a grim resolution that he hardly felt, he grasped hilts that didn't exist, ready to engage in bloody combat. Opposed, yet undaunted, the pervert smiled ruthlessly. His hands moved with practiced grace, notching an arrow between blinks. He wouldn't give up on his ideals so easily.

Swords and arrows were drawn; they promised the demise of one another… and their ideals.

There, the two Players stood, facing one another. Neither party willingly made the first move as Bukubukuchagama watched in silence, as if as a mediator between the two. The silent tension was boiling by the second, rising and rising until, finally, it reached a crescendo.

And the silence was broken.

Bukubukuchagama's will was the first to break, her avatar giving away the unrestrained humor that coursed through her. Laughter filled the Throne Room.

"No… huff… No more! You two look ridiculous!" She laughed wholeheartedly.

Freed from their roles, both of the lead actors dropped their roles and indulged in the cathartic laughter and painful wheezing that followed.

"Do you have any idea… how hard it was to keep a straight face?" Gasping for air, the slime had difficulty speaking, yet she conveyed her question in full, showing how silly their speech had seemed.

Two sworn brothers, about to fight… over one's perverted antics. It was such a ridiculous standoff, that they couldn't help but laugh.

"Better… than you… it seems!" Peroroncino quipped, clutching his pained stomach, holding the small victory over her head.

"S-hut it!"

This only spurred more laughter from the trio. Together, they basked in the absurdity and familiarity of the moment, drawing comfort from the colorful atmosphere that had grown around them.

Finally, after their laughter had run its course, Shirou allowed himself to answer Bukubukuchagama's sarcastic statement from before.

"There is no need for that, Bukubukuchagama-san. I still stand by what I said. If I suggested such a serious step, it's because I believe he is ready. It may not be now, but maybe in the future. If he's willing to take the next step. It's true that he might be… more lustful than average, but underneath whatever vices he has, no one can deny the good heart within Peroroncino-san. And a good head on his shoulders, even if it's sometimes hard to see it."

Bukubukuchagama snickered at the slight jab at the end and did so again when she saw her brother's pout, huffing indignantly at his friend's words. Shirou simply shrugged, a small, innocuous smile tugging at his lips.

Despite this, Shirou stepped forward and laid his hand on his friend's and junior's shoulders. The action garnered the attention of both of them as he allowed a full smile to bloom.

"All jokes aside, I want you to take my words to heart, Peroroncino-san. Time marches onward even if we're unable to keep up, and if my years of experience have taught me anything, it's that the way you talk about Reina-san, the way your mood brightens, and how I can feel the smile when you talk about her, is something special. It's rare to find a person who can make you feel that way, especially in this day and age. So I want you to consider one thing. Can you imagine a world without her? I want you to think about that, and if the answer is no, then I suggest you go to her and let her know just how special she means to you. Don't worry about me or anyone else, and take as much time as you need. This is your time and no one else's. So enjoy every moment of it, because one day you'll look back on it, and I want it to not be with any regrets."

Silence was all that met Shirou after he finished his speech, even as he let go of Peroroncino and returned to his original position. The sibling duo remained quiet and pensive, taken aback by the spontaneous but emotionally heartfelt speech that he shared with them. In the face of such overwhelming sincerity, just what could he say?

Finally, the brother responded, gathering his wits.

"I… Wow… I-Um… t-thank you, Emiya-senpai! I'm not sure if I'm ready, but I'll try my best." Peroroncino shyly muttered, a contrast to his normal rambunctious self. Pride swelled in his chest as he straightened his back at the sudden but kind praise, his talon rubbing just under where his nose would be in an idle gesture.

Smiling, the lone human in the room had but one thing to say in the face of his friend's newfound courage.

"That's all I can ask for."

Both of them were fully engrossed in the moment of trust they shared, so they failed to notice the uncomfortable shifting of the Elder Slime's movement. She appeared to be gathering strength, taking a shaky deep breath to calm her nerves. Shirou's speech to her brother carried with it a sincere and passionate timbre commonly associated with him. Yet, underneath his encouraging words, she sensed a layer of sadness in it all. Bukubukuchagama briefly wondered if her brother, or even Shirou, for that matter, had noticed it in the first place.

She watched the tender moment, unsure of what action to take. However, she knew she would come to regret it if she held her tongue out of fear. Finally, she spoke her mind.

"Is… Is everything okay, Shirou-kun?" Came the hesitant voice of Bukubukuchagama. One that was noticeably unnerved, unwilling to damage the amiable mood that had been so pleasant.

Yet she wouldn't allow herself to waver… even as an apology and hasty retreat seemed increasingly more appealing.

Startled out of his pensive state, Shirou's gaze focused on his other dear friend, whom, embarrassingly enough, he'd briefly forgotten about. Despite this, he still noticed Peroroncino stiffening out of the corner of his eye.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" He returned, turning to face her.

"It's just… I… well…" Her slimy hands wriggled as she stuttered, trying to formulate her thoughts as he patiently waited for her.

"You seem not to be like yourself lately, Shirou-kun. N-not like in a bad way or anything! I… Maybe it's just me, but as of late, it's just… different." Said Bukubukuchagama, struggling to express her true thoughts on the matter.

His heartbeat hastened for an infinitesimal moment before Shirou reigned it under control.

"Really? You would think that I would be the first to notice, but I'm dense enough to miss something like that!"

The humor that he half-heartedly injected into his denial was supposed to divert their attention, but it seemed to only worsen it. Bukubukuchagama's tensed body told him as such.

"Well, I know we haven't hung out like we usually do since our schedules kept on changing. I don't know about the guild members, but even I can tell that you… don't seem all there. And just now, you seemed… sad when we mentioned we had to leave. Has anything happened when we weren't online? Is there something wrong, Shirou-kun?" Bukubukuchagama observed.

"You can talk to us, we're here for you."

Being insightful and having a sharp mind were valued in the chaotic mess that battles and raids often descended into. Unfortunately, it had more than its fair share of uses outside of it. Shirou felt Peroroncino's gaze on him and sensed the worry and concern for him wafting off of their avatars.

The faker knew a simple denial would only compound their fears and concerns. Thus, he opted for an alternative. He'd never been the best at lying, but he had picked up a useful skill for these situations.

Shirou took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh, his firm posture slackening ever so slightly.

"I'm fine, but I will admit that I've been feeling somewhat bored and tired lately. Since things have started slowing down and without you guys around, the days just seem to blend together. I'm also disappointed in myself for sleeping the day away while you two were on."

Half-truths. Incomplete statements. Words that could be left to interpretation. All methods of deflecting unwanted inquiries.

They likely expected another deflection or for him to deny the Elder Slime's words. It would explain why they flinched so suddenly before Peroroncino took over for his sister.

"W-well, if that's the case, then we'll just have to make it up! Heck, when we get back, let's gather everyone, and we can head out to try and do some adventuring. Or heck, we can do some PK stomping! Whatever you want to do, Emiya-senpai." Peroroncino jumped in, attempting to uplift the group's spirit.

"I appreciate the thought, but please worry about your lives first, Peroroncino-san." Shirou softly chided. "I can take care of myself."

"Besides, it's not like I'm going anywhere any time soon."

Despite Shirou's seemingly innocent words that were meant to be reassuring, they had the opposite effect. One that dredged up a level of uneasiness between the two siblings that came from his reassurance.

It served as a stark reminder of Shirou's reality, one that was completely digital.

The virtual magus quickly sensed the shift in the air, and before either of the siblings could add anything else, he spoke up one last time.

"It's getting late. You two have big days ahead, so it's best to get a good night's rest." Shirou urged.

They glanced at one another once more, unsure of what to do. He knew they weren't all too happy to leave on such a note, but despite their clear reservation, the brother and sister decided not to push on the matter, as he knew they wouldn't.

"Alright… Take care, Emiya-senpai. We'll be back before you know it!"

"Indeed. Once everything gets sorted out, we'll be back."

"No rush, you two, take all the time you need. Good night, Peroroncino-san, Bukubukuchagama-san." Shirou said, bidding them farewell.

Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama reluctantly waved goodbye as they logged out.

And then, there was only Shirou.

For several seconds, all was quiet. A melancholic silence filled the air, persisting for several moments. The weight of melancholy lingered within him as he turned to take one final look at the splendor of the room. His gaze drifted down the hallway, settling upon the majestic flags that hung proudly on display. Among them, his own flag stood, encapsulated with a circular yin-yang symbol that was formed from the distinct black outline of his signature Noble Phantasm, Kanshou and Bakuya. It was positioned alongside the flags of Momonga and Touch Me, surrounded by those of his fellow guildmates.

Nostalgia coursed through him, a haze that muddled the mind and submerged it in pleasant thoughts.

For a moment, he lingered in place, savoring the atmosphere and warmth of what came before, reminding him of better times. Of more triumphant times, when they had earned the flags that decorated the heart of Nazarick and stood in unity, here in the Throne Room.

Yet, for all the rose-tinted glasses that obscured his vision, something broke through his cheer.

What had happened, to those carefree days?

A silent question to a nonexistent audience for an answer that never came.

Shirou had no idea just how long he remained there before he departed, wary of the answer and holding onto the warmth of this late-night encounter in the hopes it would abate the cold emptiness in the depths of his stomach.

With the Throne Room behind him, he traversed the 10th Floor in quiet rumination.

His feet led him to parts unknown, down the ever-increasing and expansive halls that dominated the 10th Floor. But, for all that he appeared oblivious to those who gazed upon his wandering form, his mind worked at paces often reserved for battle, struggling with the selfish desire that warred against his rational mind.

Even in thought, his body moved forward through the beautifully decorated halls with ease. Having walked down the same path thousands, if not tens of thousands, of times before, he could walk through the entire 10th floor blindfolded if he wanted to.

Full of color and splendor, yet at the moment, the halls felt empty, with no one to traverse them but himself. The opulent floor was silent as a grave, with only his footsteps echoing through the halls.

Only his thoughts to keep him company.

Four years.

A blink of an eye, yet an eternity on itself.

Four years have passed since the newly reborn Ainz Ooal Gown completed their first official dungeon raid together as a guild, conquering The Great Tomb of Nazarick on their first attempt. Thus, they were rewarded with complete authority over the dungeon base and its surroundings.

With Nazarick under their ownership, the decision was quickly made to make the great tomb into their guild base. The fruits of their labor were evident in the countless hours, unwavering dedication, and vast resources they poured into customizing and fortifying their new home. Each member contributed generously to enhance and improve their guild base, knowing full well that nothing less than the best would suffice.

They spared no expenses in their efforts to improve their new home and their guild headquarters. Absurd levels of digital wealth, countless artifacts of immense power, and a few microtransactions were used during the massive renovation. Shirou himself had surely contributed almost half of the guild's currently obscene vault, but it was still a battle to meet the demand brought by their rapidly inflating numbers. Not to mention all the microtransactions involved…

Their efforts were concentrated on a dreary, six-floored dungeon that they sought to elevate to new heights of magnificence. One beyond in scale and comparison. The contrast between the original state of the dungeon and its current, transformed state was striking and dramatic. What had once been rough cobble floors now resembled the finest marble, and walls that had been plain and somber were now adorned with the guild's numerous achievements. The spoils of war that each member had collected were proudly displayed, lending a touch of grandeur to the surroundings.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick, which was initially a six-floor structure, has now grown to hold ten massive floors. Each floor has been expanded from its original size, with additions made to enhance its functionality. Moreover, each floor's design was tailored to meet the specifications of particular members. A domain that each member of Ainz Ooal Gown was proud to lay claim into creating a reality. All these aspects made the ten-floored guild base and its actual treasure even more valuable.

The crowning jewel of their investments would without a doubt be the countless numbers of NPCs and mobs that inhabit the tomb. These NPCs of various types brought life to the mausoleum that would otherwise be lacking.

It took several long months of continuous effort before it was finished-the culmination of all their blood, sweat, and tears-to bring to life a place they were all proud to call home.

This wouldn't be the only change Ainz Ooal Gown would go through. Along the way, the guild grew in size, taking in new Players - all of whom were Heteromorphic Players. They expanded their numbers, going from the original twenty-nine members to consisting of forty-two powerful Players with Shirou remaining the sole Humanoid Player amongst Ainz Ooal Gown's ranks.

Over the course of a mere four years, the name Ainz Ooal Gown had risen to unprecedented heights, making an indelible impression on the virtual realm of YGGDRASIL. The newly formed Heteromorphic guild had achieved so much, yet it never felt like a chore. The camaraderie among them infused vitality into even the most tedious of quests and raids. Their explosive debut was followed by a string of accomplishments, capturing the attention of their contemporaries and contenders alike.

During that time, Ainz Ooal Gown emerged as one of the most de facto Heteromorphic guilds across the nine worlds. They were a formidable presence, rivaling some of the most illustrious guilds in history. Their name was known by all, whether it was uttered in scorn or admiration.

Four long and adventurous years have passed, all within what seemed like the blink of an eye. Yet, Shirou could remember every day of it all with perfect clarity.

All the misadventures and quests they undertook, the dangers and challenges they endured against dungeon raids, boss fights, and against other Players and PKers. They all endured countless trials and tribulations in order to climb to the top. He enjoyed it all, through all the joy and frustration, grief and pleasure. He would never trade even a moment of it away for anything.

How he wishes those wonderful times could continue for just a little while longer.

Unfortunately, as the saying goes, all things must come to an end one day.

With a flick of his wrist, Shirou called upon his friend list, only to be confronted by a wall of gray text.

- 9 mins

- 9 mins

- 2 days

- 7 days

- 15 days

- 4 days

- 23 days

- 19 days…

And on it went, each denomination indicating a period of time from when they were last online. Some short, others long.

With the biggest perpetrator being… Touch Me - 35 days.

Staring at the virtual screen, Shirou couldn't help the pang of sadness he felt at the sporadic, but ever-increasing number. From a guild with daily attendance for years to one where members disappeared for days on end.

The pang of sadness he felt did not simply come from the fact that his friends were spending more time away from YGGDRASIL, but from the awareness that it was only going to continue.

Much like the passing of the seasons, time will inevitably bring about change in all. Such was the fact of life.

Everyone within Ainz Ooal Gown played YGGDRASIL for one reason or another. Whether it be a hobby they indulged in, a form of escapism from the harsh reality and immersing themselves in a fantastical world, or simply to satiate a curiosity or boredom that dominated their lives.

Whatever the reason, they all came together and were united under one banner-under one belief. And for four long years, Ainz Ooal Gown has carried that on without pause.

But ever so slowly, things have begun to settle down.

There was no doubt that, when looking back on these times, it would be considered the golden age of Ainz Ooal Gown. The twilight of an era. A time of transition where every member dedicated their hearts and minds to the guild. An era where they traversed the nine realms, and every day was a remarkable expedition in its own right.

But those days have quietly passed, and akin to summiting a mountain, the only direction left to go was down.

It was not the end, far from it. Merely the prelude.

It wasn't a matter of 'if' or 'how', but rather 'when.'

Four years was a very long time to devote oneself wholly to a game such as YGGDRASIL. This timeframe doesn't even take into account the additional playtime and years spent playing together beforehand, during their time as Nine's Own Goals, or the individual time spent playing before that. Some of them have played YGGDRASIL during the first year of its release, such as with Touch Me or Nishikienrai. Shirou himself was slowly coming up on his seven-year tenure in the digital domain.

Time passes, and life continues onward.

And of late, over the past several months of this year, Player attendance and activity have started to wane and dip within the guild.

Shirou couldn't pinpoint a date for when it all began, but it was a gradual process.

In the very beginning, it was the odd member here and there. Time and days spent playing fluctuated, and they only increased as the days and weeks passed by.

It wasn't uncommon of a sight that sometimes, only half of the members would be online for a few short hours before logging off. In other cases, they would be online at irregular intervals during the week. There were even times when a couple of them wouldn't be online for a few days at a time. The largest case before was Touch Me, where he was offline completely for a whole week and a half.

But now, slowly and with increasing regularity, his friends and fellow guild members were logging in fewer hours than they did before. Their playtime gingerly dwindled as time went on. These gaps in time were becoming a regular occurrence. They grew ever sparser with every passing week, leading to the difference in login and playtime.

Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama's situation was but the latest of this. And if theirs were anything to go off of, then it would only continue further down that path.

And in many ways, Shirou anticipated it.

Playing YGGDRASIL was an enjoyable experience for the guild members of Ainz Ooal Gown. However, it was ultimately just a game - a temporary source of entertainment. As time passed, it wasn't too difficult to imagine a handful of the guild members feeling burned out or fatigued due to various reasons. Especially given the supar performance of the shitty devs and how they chose to run YGGDRASIL in addition to the overall player base.

In reality, the members had to balance their personal and professional lives with their gaming commitments. Every member of Ainz Ooal Gown was a working member of society and had responsibilities that demanded their attention. The delicate juggling act between their real-world lives and duties and their virtual gaming lives grew increasingly challenging. It was not uncommon for some members to miss out on gaming sessions due to their busy schedules. Even Touch Me, who was a prominent guild member, had to look after his family.

The fact of the matter was that there were times when they couldn't simply afford to log in to YGGDRASIL for one reason or another.

YGGDRASIL was merely one chapter in their lives, and with the passage of time, a new one will undoubtedly replace it.

Ainz Ooal Gown, they'll move on.

However, the same couldn't be said for Shirou's case.

Before he could continue further down that particular dark road, he quickly caught himself. Stopping in the middle of the hallway, he shook his head.

"It's ok… It's ok…" He repeated it like a mantra.

As he stood there, he sensed a presence up ahead, multiple in fact, coming his way. Shirou raised his head to see an entourage of maids being led by a butler rounding the corner and walking towards him. Recognition instantly dawned in his eyes as the crimson-cloaked Player looked upon the group of NPCs.

How could he not when Shirou had a hand in helping his guildmates bring them into this world.

The Pleiades Six Stars, led by none other than the head butler himself, Sebas Tian. The creator of whom was none other than the valorous World Champion himself, Touch Me.

Sebas Tian stood tall and firm in his archetypical butler attire, with broad shoulders and a commanding presence. From what he remembered, Touch Me modeled the butler's appearance after himself, albeit with some aging to give the iron butler an air of authority and sophistication. Sebas had an immaculate beard and suave white hair, and his firm expression showed that he was ready to serve whenever he was called upon.

Just behind him were the Pleiades, a name that was associated with a group of six NPCs that comprised the group.

Yuri Alpha, the deputy leader of the group, and the creation of the healing brawler herself, Yamaiko.

Lupusregina Beta, the creation of the king of the jungle himself, Beast King Mekongawa.

CZ2I28 Delta, or Shizu Delta, as she was often called, was tinkered into existence by none other than the proud mechanic himself, Garnet.

Narberal Gamma belonged to the grand assassinator of Ainz Ooal Gown, Nishikienrai.

Solution Epsilon was designed from the mind of the great programmer himself, the slime monk Herohero.

Lastly, Entoma Vasilissa Zeta, who was created by the ever-reliable and organized Genjiro.

Despite their general humanoid appearance, they were in truth all Heteromorphs, following Ainz Ooal Gown's manifesto. Each maid possesses a charm and a perilous beauty that help distinguish them from one another.

As the NPCs approached him, they immediately kneeled in his presence, much like a peasant would prostrate to a king. An action no doubt set in place by the programming of one of his friends.

"There's no need for that, stand." Shirou was quick to say.

The NPCs immediately stood up, obeying his command.

"You know, you all don't have to kneel whenever one of us just happens to walk by." Shirou found himself conversing.

Much like with Aureole Omega, the NPCs did not respond to his words. The NPCs remained where they were, standing with their backs to the wall and giving him a wide berth, silent, with their heads dipped in respect.

A silence that persisted for a few more seconds.

'It's a good thing no one's here, or else the others might start to think I'm losing it…' The faker briefly mused.

As of late, Shirou had developed a habit that he found himself indulging in quite frequently. Whenever he was alone in the Tomb of Nazarick, which was quite often, he would spend time with the NPCs that kept him company. This particular idiosyncrasy had started as a whim, but as time passed, he grew accustomed to their presence and began treating them more like individuals with personalities and emotions, rather than mere mannequins with lines of code. Sometimes, he even struck up conversations with them, if only to break the monotony and silence that surrounded him. Their exquisitely detailed and lifelike appearance only added to his ease of falling into the role of conversing with them.

With the massive amount of points allotted to Ainz Ooal Gown upon their victorious raid, they had carte blanche to spend it however they wished on the creation of NPCs for the great tomb.

One of their greater undertakings was an idea proposed by the guild's resident mangaka and maid connoisseur himself, Whitebrim, and endorsed by the fashion consultant herself, Yamaiko, of having numerous level 1 homunculus maid NPCs roaming around the 9th floor - The Royal Suite. They wanted to give the illusion of hospitality and spark some much-needed life into the dreary tomb.

Many would've deemed such a thing to be wasteful, to spend their previous points on creating a host of level one NPCs that served little in the way of defending their base and more for decoration and aesthetic purposes than anything else. But for Ainz Ooal Gown, such an endeavor didn't matter. Especially since many of the members were on board with such an idea.

"Maid uniform is justice!"

Shirou could all too easily hear Whitebrim's excited voice and catchphrase whenever he talked about maids. A novelty that he championed with all his heart.

Following the general theme, these six specific NPCs were modeled to be maids, but not just any ordinary maids. They were battle maids, or more specifically, battle maiden knights.

They were all dressed in distinct maid uniforms that complimented their natural beauty. The frilly gowns were unique to each one of them and suited their appearance and body. Their uniforms were adorned with metallic plates that served as armor, creating a combination of fashion and function.

A smile crept its way onto his face as his eyes traveled from one to the next, briefly admiring the sheer detail on them. He reminisced fondly back on the discussion that led up to the conception and eventual creation of Pleiades today.

It was a general project that all the members contributed to, first, by throwing various ideas into the ring and seeing which one stuck. Eventually, the conception of the NPCs that would be known as the Pleiades evolved from that.

It went something like this: What was better than maids? Combat maids! What was even better than simple combat maids? Combat maids that were knights!

And thus, the Pleiades Six Star Knights were born.

It also made thematic sense since the Pleiades and Sebas were designed to be one of the last lines of defense should any invaders reach the 9th and 10th floors. Their purpose was to slow down any Players that managed to penetrate deep within the tomb and allow time for Ainz Ooal Gown to mount a final stand within the Throne Room.

It was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up. They had a throne room and even a king with his very own crown, no matter how many times Momonga tried to dissuade them from saying otherwise. It seemed only appropriate.

After all, who better to protect a king than a set of knights, dedicated to giving their lives to the very end?

For Shirou's contribution, he provided the Pleiades with weapons from his Excalibur series. For what was a knight without their valiant swords?

It seemed only fitting with the Greek alphabetic surname of the NPCs, and he thought it would be a cute idea and connotation. Plus, it was doubtful that he was going to ever use them, so the virtual magus figured he might as well put the weapons to good use rather than have them collect digital dust on a mantelpiece.

Of course, due to their levels and job classifications, the Pleiades couldn't properly wield them in their original forms. So, he, along with the help of Amanomahitotsu and Warrior Takemikazuchi, modified them for the NPC's usage. The modifications made them considerably weaker when compared to their original forms, but that didn't make them any less of a threat in the hands of the NPCs.

Entoma was given the simple but powerful Excalibur Zeta (ζ), in the form of a longsword. It was better suited for her specialty as a tailsmancer and as a secondary means of defense and attack.

Solution was gifted the swift and deadly Excalibur Epsilon (ε), taking the form of two thin-bladed stilettos. A weapon perfect for piercing strikes and backstabs and well suited for her job class as an assassin.

Narberal received the multipurpose Excalibur Gamma (γ), a blade bowstaff that doubled as a catalyst for her. Much like with Entoma, it served as a secondary means of defense or attack while also amplifying her spells as a magic caster.

Shizu was handed the deceptively but nonetheless lethal Excalibur Delta (δ), which was composed of several combat knives due to her primarily job class as a gunner. They could be wielded in close-quarter combat or thrown.

Lupusregina was bestowed with the destructive and massive Excalibur Beta (β), a giant zweihänder that complimented the NPC's strength and abilities.

Lastly, among all the Pleiades, only Yuri possessed her own Excalibur Alpha (α) in its original form, due to Yamaiko choosing to create her as a full-fledged knight with the appropriate classes. Because of this, the Dullahan was the only one of the Pleiades that was capable of using her Excalibur to its fullest potential.

Lost in thought, he found himself fully immersed in the fond recollection of the lively banter that the guild members indulged in after they had successfully completed their task. The playful teasing from the likes of Luci*Fer and Peroroncino about their esteemed Guildmaster and king's supposed harem of alluring women was met with jovial banter and good-natured ribbing. Meanwhile, the mischievous threats and joking reprimands from the creators themselves, such as Yamaiko, Nishikienrai, and Herohero, were always in good humor, should Momonga ever decide to get handsy with their "daughters." And of course, the hilarious and exaggerated reactions from Momonga himself, who did his best to deny any accusation thrown his way, no matter how outlandish it seemed, were a source of great amusement for all.

Shirou internally chuckled, remembering the flustered state his undead friend was in at the constant ribbing and jokes.

'Honestly, we probably wouldn't be making so many jokes about him being a king if he didn't get flustered every time we brought it up. Oh well.' He mentally shrugged, smiling at all the fun memories at their Guildmaster's expense.

After all, that was what friends were for.

For a few brief moments, Shirou felt his spirits lifted, enjoying those once nostalgic days. However, as swiftly as it came, so too was it replaced by an all-too-familiar mood.

On the topic of his undead friend, an errant thought quickly settled in as he came to a sudden realization.

"That reminds me, Momonga-san never did log in after all. If he did, he would have sent a [Message] my way." Shirou commented aloud.

The matter in question was regarding his friend coming to him to ask for some advice-dating advice, to be exact, surprisingly enough.

Not one to be deterred, he lent his ear to Momonga's plight and offered whatever advice he could for his longtime friend.

The two talked for minutes on end before coming up with a plan. Knowing that Momonga's girlfriend too played YGGDRASIL, the magus suggested the idea of giving her a tour of the entire Tomb of Nazarick. Momonga was hesitant at the idea at first, not because she was an outsider and not a full-fledged member of the guild, but rather because he was worried that she wouldn't enjoy what amounted to a glorified field trip. It took a bit of encouragement on Shirou's part before his friend finally agreed and saw the merit behind it.

Momonga didn't remain online for long, logging out mere minutes after they were done talking. The Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown promised to log in the very next day to make up for lost time.

A quick check of the logs showed he never once logged in or anything.

Despite this, Shirou couldn't find it within himself to muster any anger or disappointment at this, far from it. This was far from the first time something like this happened, where Momomga's free time was taken up by one thing or another. Similarly, he couldn't find fault in Peroroncino or Bukubukuchagama for prioritizing their personal lives and interests first, nor Touch Me's wishes to spend more time with his family, or even Ulbert's sudden attention outside of playing YGGDRASIL. The same sentiment was shared with the rest of the guild.

They all have their lives ahead of them, and if it comes to pass as a cost of spending less time online with him.

Then that was fine.

It would be fine…

And just like that, his mood quickly grew dour as before. His smile creased into a frown as a deep sigh left his lips. A hand pressed against his forehead, rubbing it to nurse the small headache that formed.

All but unnoticed by Shirou, the NPCs were looking at him, their expressions set and impassive as before. Yet, behind their stoic expression, there was a sense of concern lingering behind their vacant eyes. It was almost as if they could sense his plight but were unable to show their support for their liege lord. And it would continue unnoticed, as he was all too wrapped up in his thoughts.

Even Shirou recognized just how sporadic his thoughts were of late, a constant whiplash of back and forth between pleasant and melancholic reflections of the past.

"This is fine… It's fine…" He repeated, but it all rang hollow in his ear. Much like the weak whimpering of a child afraid of the dark, seeking a reprieve.

The virtual Player's body moved forward, propelled by instinct as he sought to rid himself of the dark thoughts. A feat easier said than done.

Unbeknownst to him at that moment, Sebas and the Pleiades were following right behind him in a dutiful line. Much like a duckling waddling after its mother.

It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he could never rid himself of those dark thoughts that plagued his mind. They linger within the dark recesses of his mind, always ready to leap out in his moment of peace. Compounded by not only the forethought of an uncertain future but also by the admission that he had a small helping hand in all of this.

It was the nature of time, really. To change, some things had to be lost. There will come a day when his guildmates will log out for good. It could be in a year or two from now, or it could happen within the next couple of weeks, but whenever it may be, there was little doubt in his heart that it would come to pass.

Walking down the windy road known as life, Shirou, in his long life, has seen the backs of every single individual he ever called a friend, or something more, depart from his side. For one reason or another. Ainz Ooal Gown would soon add their names to that long list.

A time will come when they will arrive at a crossroads. Slowly, but surely. And when that time comes, his guildmates, his cherished friends must make a choice going forward.

They'll move on. And Shirou? He'll remain static, ever trapped in limbo.

It was a somber realization. Knowing that they would leave him all one day. One that kept him awake for days on end as he mulled over the uncertainty of it all. One that gave way to a much darker conclusion.

Ultimately, he made a choice. He could sit back and simply wait for the inevitable, or he could take matters into his own hands and prepare.

Forced between two unavoidable paths, Shirou chose the one that guaranteed the happiness of at least one party.

He couldn't ask for them to devote more of their time to this game, simply to soothe his wants and worries. Not when they all had their own lives to live and were as hectic as they were. His friends were moving forward, how could he possibly think of slowing them down? It would be simply unfair and beyond selfish of him.

For all his strength and prowess in the game, he was truly powerless outside it. He could not turn back the hands of time or hope to extend the present. The one thing he could do was prepare for the future. Not only for all of Ainz Ooal Gown but for himself as well.

It was why he had been as proactive as he could, trying his best to be a positive force in his friends' lives. He advised, taught, and comforted his friends in their times of need, with the understanding that time was limited. There was only so much time afforded to him, and Shirou planned to impart as much wisdom and support as he could. After all, it was the duty of the old to pave the road for the youth. All in the hopes that they would outgrow him so they could move on to better things.

To use a certain phrase from a certain cynic, life outside of YGGDRASIL was a "shit reality," but it was the only one they've got. And if he could somehow help them, no matter how insignificant it was, then he would.

A gentle nudge here, a soft suggestion there. All in the service of pushing them forward.

It was why he encouraged Bukubukuchagama to send resumes and ask around for jobs outside of her niche, and it seemed to be working wonders. For someone as talented as her, she deserved better.

It was why he helped both Peroroncino and Momonga gain the confidence they needed to not crumble under the weight of a serious relationship and all of its commitments. Maybe one day they will forge a family of their own.

It was why he had pushed the likes of Touch Me to open up to his family, so he no longer had to bear the burden of his failures alone. On and on, he poured every moment he could spare into helping and improving the lives of his fellow guildmates.

From lending some advice to the likes of Yamaiko in her career as a school teacher to offering an ear whenever one of them needed to vent such as Herohero, or even offering suggestions and general life advice in the case of Tabula. He did what he could, all so they would not require escapism and, by proxy, YGGDRASIL and himself.

Ever so slowly, but noticeably, it was working. Or at least, that was the faker's hope if the increasingly longer login dates were anything to go by.

He would see them on their way, to move forward and enter that new chapter of their lives with their heads raised high and ready for what the future held for them.

However, much like with his E-ranked luck in life, not everything was smooth sailing. Then again, it was arrogant and folly of him to think they wouldn't notice the changes in his usual attitude and demeanor, no matter how slight or insignificant they may appear to be. They've been together for years now. It would be more shocking if they didn't notice anything unusual.

Subtlety, it seemed, was still something that the magus was far from perfecting even now.

Just like the case with Bukubukuchagama, some of the members of Ainz Ooal Gown have noticed or suspected that Shirou wasn't acting his usual complete self. That he seemed almost withdrawn or aloof compared to before, that, and a sudden interest in their personal lives. The more astute members have even gone to him and asked if there was something wrong.

To which he would often deflect and downplay the entire matter to mix success. Most he had managed to dissuade their concerns, others not so much.

Shirou knew the only reason the more inquisitive members, such as Bukubukuchagama, Momonga, or anyone else for that matter, hadn't fully pressed him on this issue was due to the members' conflicting schedules and personal affairs. The faker placed a measure of faith in the fact that each member's personal affairs were more important than his own, and they would dismiss it as an idle issue and eventually forget about it. Their own lives and concerns took precedence over someone like him, thus aiding him in stalling the matter.

He and Ainz Ooal Gown were worlds apart. Literally.

In addition, Shirou knew better than anyone that none of his friends would try to press the issue if it came down to it and would fold with some coaxing. After all, they seemed to believe it was a mostly minor issue, or they trusted him to be capable of fending for himself. They trusted him. And he was using that trust against them.

He felt a tinge of anger at himself for putting them in such distress, making their questions and good nature clash, creating a conundrum he could exploit for time. All because of his selfishness. But it would only stall them for so long.

He could only hope he could continue this dance of theirs long enough that they'd be able to move forward and put him behind them. But if push came to shove…

Shirou stopped for a moment, pausing to allow his resolve to catch its breath. The turmoil of it all had produced a nasty headache. It was far from the first time he suffered through these tumultuous times, and it was doubtful it'd be the last.

Massaging his forehead to ease his nasty headache, he looked up to see where exactly he was, having been completely lost in his thoughts, wallowing in his desolation.

Since his aimless departure from the Throne Room, Shirou has found himself circling back near it. More specifically, he was standing in the middle of the Lemegeton, a hall that stood before and led up to the great entrance of the Throne Room itself.

The domed hallway was massive in size, with rows of niches lining the wall of the circular room. Each one was filled with a golem in the appearance of demons. The room took inspiration from the legend of the Lesser Key of Solomon, with each golem modeled after one of the seventy-two pillars.

"It's better this way." Shirou muttered to himself. It was a simple truth, even if he wished otherwise.

No matter what, he would continue on the path he set for himself. For his friends' wellbeing, he would encourage them in their endeavors and support their dreams. They would be the ones to build their road to heaven, brick by brick. They were sturdy survivors and would continue to be, even after he was gone.

Peroroncino was on his way to becoming an artist and was part of a healthy relationship. While he never personally met this 'Reina-chan', the fact that she was someone who accepted him, pervert and all, meant that Shirou could rest easy knowing that he was in good hands. From the way things were, they might eventually move up from just boyfriend and girlfriend and become some more, and he wished him the best of luck in his future.

Then there was Bukubukuchagama. She had been a fairly successful voice actress, despite the risqué genre she typically worked in. Now, she wasn't only that, but also a possible idol. True, that position was still in the air, but it had already done wonders for her confidence and mood. He hadn't heard anything regarding romantic developments, but he was sure that whoever she ended up with would be a lucky individual.

The two siblings will be just fine, they've got each other to depend on.

Just like with Momonga, who, in a twist no one in the guild saw coming, managed to snag someone for himself. And if the stories the undead Player had shared with him held any truth, then the faker knew his timid friend was in capable hands. Over the years, Momonga had grown and improved, and his girlfriend would be there to provide him with comfort where Shirou could not.

Touch Me was already set for life even before YGGDRASIL, so there was little to worry about on that front. Perhaps he'll finally have that second child he once admitted to wanting to Shirou that one time. While Ulbert and he never talked that much, the magus knew he was a survivor and could no doubt take care of himself as he'd always done.

And so forth for every other member.

Shirou found himself cracking the slightest of smiles, his body untensed, and he closed his eyes, imagining the future held for his guildmates. A budding hope to replace the somber dread.

The virtual magus was confident everything would work out for everyone in Ainz Ooal Gown, one way or another-they'd be fine without him.

But what about you…?

He choked back a gasp, his eyes snapping open as a voice he thought long gone whispered in his ear. Rin, his better half, who had saved him from becoming Archer… for a time.

But, as much as he wanted to ignore the words, they rang true. In the recesses of his mind, his near non-existent self-worth called out.

His guildmates, his friends, would be fine, but what about Shirou himself? What would happen to him? Did he not deserve a chance at happiness after all he'd been through?

Was it not cruel to have him rekindle what he thought was once lost, only to have it ripped away once more by the world at large? To waste away within this digital domain alone.

Could one truly even call that living?

How ironic that now the roles were reversed. In the beginning, it was he who refused to slow down, striving forward with his selfish ideals, uncaring of companions that couldn't keep up. Now, he was the one lagging, unable to tread the road of life, tired as he was. In comparison, his friends were energetic. Even the oldest among them, Touch Me, seemed to bounce off the wall when it came to matters of his family, acting like the most common age demographic YGGDRASILL tended to attract.

Before, he walked alongside his friends, and when Momonga took charge, leading Ainz Ooal Gown to new heights, it was Shirou that kept to the background. He would be the arm around their shoulders, the helping hand ready to support them and push them forward whenever needed.

He was behind them every step of the way, but ever so slowly, as they marched forward, Shirou was slowing down. Eventually, he stopped while they surpassed him. Disappearing forever into obscurity as their shadows blanketed him. Never once looking back.

It was only a matter of time before these once lively halls would grow silent and vacant. Where the merry laughter and banter of his friends would become nothing more than a faint memory, an echo of what once was. Until only he remained to walk along these once hallowed grounds. Where only the lifeless NPCs would be left to keep him company in the distant, murky future.

He'll only have himself to keep himself company, but for how long? Days, weeks, maybe months, perhaps even years?

He would be well and truly alone once more, and this time around, there will be no more second chances.

You save everyone, but, who saves you?

Shirou's breath hitched, panting under his breath. The shadows cast by the crystal lamps on the ceiling of the Lemegeton stretched and grew, dancing as the lugubrious dimmed all around. Darkness fostered and spread from every corner, entrapping the Fake Player. Tunnel vision slowly took over his sight. The golem's demonic visage grew sharp, all but sneering at him as if judging his actions and mocking his motives.

How fitting it was that their guild base, their home, was that of a great tomb.

A reminder of ages past and a monument to everyone's efforts that would remain after they no longer would.

Shirou, he was present at the beginning of it all, and at the end, he'll be the one to put up the chairs, turn off the light, and lock the door behind him. He would be the one to bring it all to a close.

In the end, it seemed Shirou was destined to be alone one way or another.

"I-I… need some fresh air…" Shirou muttered, despite the validity of that statement being quite dubious in his circumstances.

In the deep silence, his voice was thunderous as it reverberated through the empty chamber, with none to challenge or accompany his words. Shirou's footsteps echoed as he ran out of the room and put everything behind him. The massive double door leading to the Throne room, the great hall itself, everywhere seemed all that much larger, closing in on him.

Shirou needed a distraction, something, anything.

Back within the Lemegeton, Sebas and the Pleiades remained stationary within the center of the hall, having followed him all this time. There they stood, watching as Shirou sprinted out of the cavernous room before disappearing in a ray of light, having used the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown to teleport away from the floor.

The NPCs remained unmoving, but that was far from the truth. A closer inspection revealed tiny trembles that racked their frames, almost as if they were struggling against some unknown force keeping them at bay. Soon, they began walking again, out of the Lemegeton and into the various halls of the 10th floor, resuming their patrolling as they were programmed to do. However, there was a marked difference in their demeanor. Where before they held their heads high and proud, they walked with their heads lowered, imbued with a solemn air that seemed to weigh heavily on them.

It was as if they were consumed by a deep sense of shame.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

November 29th, 2135. World: Niðavellir. Location: Tomme Fjell - The Starting Town of Vetur Ljós

In Norse mythology, Niðavellir, or Svartalfheim as it was sometimes called, was the realm of the dwarves and the lesser-known home of the dark elves. In YGGDRASIL, it was known as the 'realm-hub of commerce' by the Players. Many Players would shop in the realm's largest city, Nidavellir, to trade their coins and sell their discarded gear. The realm has the highest chance of spawning Legendary grade items in the market and a few Divine grade items in certain tournaments as well.

The realm catered to Players with support classes such as the ubiquitous [Smith] class, the underused [Chef] class, the niche [Merchant] class, and many other non-offensive classes and roles. It was considered the home realm of supporters, similar to how the playable world of Midgard was recognized as the ultimate haven for Humanoid Players.

Niðavellir was characterized by its vast and rugged mountain ranges, which seemed to stretch on endlessly. The rocky plateaus were so brittle they appeared to shatter at the slightest touch, while the deep valleys left permanent marks on the land. However, the most notable feature of the expansive realm was its evergreen forests, which extended as far as the eye could see. A boundless sea of green stretched across the realm.

Many starting towns and cities that Players could visit and rest at were typically located in wide-open areas, with swathes of grassland surrounding the landmark. One such location was the Grassland of Tomme Fjell, a beginner area with a city right in the center of it all. The town in question was named Vetur Ljós.

Since it was a beginning area, any Player regardless of their level, was allowed entry. It was a commercial town, a place where adventurers would gather to do business of any kind. The main hub of the town was the massive bazaar-like encampment in the main square.

Numerous tents and stands were erected, with both NPCs and Players milling about. Some were chatting and negotiating, while others were inspecting items or browsing for what they needed. The air was filled with voices and shouts as hundreds of Players advertised their goods and services, talked and bargained, and engaged in various activities.

Watching from the side, a cloaked figure took a step forward, weaving through the masses. His name was invisible over his avatar. Normally, such a thing would've aroused suspicion from any would-be passerby at an attempt to hide their identity. However, he managed to avoid that entirely.

Light on his feet and as silent as a mouse, he gracefully traversed through the bustling bazaar, leaving everyone around him none the wiser. With so many Players packed closely together, there was a small sense of clustered chaos. Even if someone did happen to spot him, he would be gone in less than a second, disappearing into the sea of Players, their gamertags used as camouflage to hide his invisible own. Thus, it wasn't too hard for him to slip by everyone.

Soon, he arrived at a rather nondescript tent, and without wasting a second, he entered it. On the inside, it appeared more spacious than it did on the outside.

Walking up to the receptionist's desk, one manned by an NPC, he opened his menu and pulled out a quest log. The NPC read it and then offered him passage. Walking past the desk, he walked down a hallway with numerous doors lining the walls. He eventually stopped at the one he was looking for and entered.

Upon entering the room, it became clear that it was a spacious area, albeit cluttered with an efficient system of organization that was difficult to decipher. The items within the room varied greatly, from tall bookshelves that were fully stocked with books and scrolls, to a small weapon rack that was securely fastened to one of the walls. In the center of the room, a delicate glass table was positioned and was accompanied by two comfortable couches, which were surrounded by stacks of paper and chests. At the end of the room was a desk filled with an array of knick-knacks came into view, and behind it, a Player sat in a large, plush seat that almost appeared like a throne.

Roman - Lvl: 100

The Player was dressed in an unblemished, all-white suit with peculiar embellishments affixed to it. On his head rested a vibrant top hat, adorned with a sizable, rainbow-colored plume attached to one side. He was a humanoid Player, that much was certain, lacking any distinct traits that would classify him as either a Demi-human or Heteromorphic. His countenance resembled that of a Pierrot, white with makeup and colorful markings, such as a solitary tear beneath one eye and a perpetual smirk adorning his avatar's face. Lastly, he gripped a cane tightly within one hand, even as he remained seated.

"Hohohoh~ Back already? I was sure it would have taken you a while." Roman spoke, his voice light and flamboyant. "But then again, I had no doubt you would have completed it."

The cloaked figure chose not to respond outright. His eyes roamed around the room, focusing on the corner of the room filled with shadows. Almost as if on the lookout for any sign of danger or treachery.

"It's just you and me. You should know your secret is safe with me, ol' Player Killer."

A smiling, winking face emoticon popped up over Roman.

Walking forward, he drew back the hood to reveal a pair of striking silver and golden eyes and a mop of silver hair. It was none other than Shirou. The item in question was a gacha item courtesy of his friends. It was known as the [Unwanted Cloak] and it served to hide one's name from any undesired spies or seekers. A very useful item to have for someone like Shirou, considering his reputation.

Shirou's eyes narrowed slightly at that particular moniker.

In the realm of MMO-RPGs, it was a common occurrence for a Player who had achieved a certain level of notoriety to develop a reputation of sorts, often characterized by a title or a name that was either used to show respect or in a derogatory manner.

For Shirou, his early days in YGGDRASIL as the [Heteromorphic Savior] were not easily forgotten. As time passed, his reputation grew, and he became even more renowned, from his Nine's Own Goal days to his Ainz Ooal Gown era. Shirou never ceased to protect innocent Players and would go after PKers who unjustly attacked others, regardless of whether they were Humanoid Players, Demi-humans, or other Heteromorphs. However, his actions also made him a fair share of enemies, which led to personal attacks and ambushes. Despite this, he managed to repel the attackers and sometimes even escaped with the assistance of others. Regrettably, his actions only served to fuel the hatred of certain Players who expressed their disdain for him on various online forums.

During his lifetime, he was feared as the second coming of the Magus Killer, following in the footsteps of Kiritsugu. He built a reputation for himself by eliminating countless amoral and cunning magus. He also took on highly dangerous missions and jobs that involved entering war zones and emerging victorious. In YGGDRASIL, he was recognized as a Player of exceptional skill and ability. He had a fearsome reputation for targeting Humanoid Players and defeating them.

All of this earned Shirou a fair number of epithets and monikers during his tenure within YGGDRASIL. Mostly those of scornful contempt.

[The Merciless Edge].

[Crimes against Humanity].

[Heteromorphic Lover].

Of course, the one most immediately thought of when discussing him and the one that stuck the most would have to be [The Player Killer]. How apropos.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say you don't trust me. How long have we been working together?" Roman deposited.

"That's because I fully don't." Shirou bluntly stated.

"Ack! Your lack of trust truly wounds me so, my friend." Said Roman, dramatically clutching his chest and leaning back in his chair. A teary-eyed emoticon popped up.

Shirou internally rolled his eyes over the merchant's theatrics.

"Enough of this, Roman-san. I've completed the quest and would like to be compensated." He politely but straightforwardly said to him.

With a wave, he opened his menu with practice ease and dropped a bunch of items onto his desk. The pile consists of raw materials, scales and hides, even organs, and an assortment of goods.

Roman eyed the pile before looking at Shirou, all the while clapping his hands.

"Splendid work as always! I do hope you don't mind if I make sure everything is in order. Not that I don't think it is or that I'm doubting you, Emiya-san, but it doesn't hurt to always double-check."

Shirou jerked his head, giving him the go-ahead as he stood there with his arms crossed while Roman sorted through the pile.

Running and maintaining a guild base was no easy venture. The larger and greater the guild base, the higher the cost of maintenance would be. And for Ainz Ooal Gown, which operated from an expansive, multi-floor dungeon guild base with numerous NPCs attached, the cost to maintain it all was nearly astronomical.

It was imperative for the Nazarick guild to maintain a well-stocked coffer to keep their base thriving and to be prepared for unforeseen circumstances. Hence, it was the duty of everyone to always deposit a percentage of their gold or items into the guild's treasury. Gold held little worth for the magus, and he would always deposit any that was on his person. In fact, he had taken on the self-appointed responsibility of procuring gold and resources whenever possible, in order to alleviate the burden on his fellow guild members. This had been his practice for the past several years, and he had become quite adept at it.

The most profitable venture was that of quests. Quests could be found literally anywhere, from posts in cities and towns to quests given by NPCs or even hidden quests discovered in the overworld. Players could even lobby their quests for other Players to take on, and so forth.

That was how Shirou first met Roman some years ago. He had come across one of his quests on his own, and despite its difficult status, the reward for completing it was very enticing. This was an equally risky venture for Shirou, as with his reputation, there would be no shortage of Players who would seek to screw him over. Thankfully, Roman was among the percentage that cared little for his reputation and only cared about whether the faker could accomplish the difficult task or not.

The two maintained a strict business relationship. An 'I scratch your back, you scratch my back' kind of situation.

Roman would supply personal quests for certain items or materials, most of which were difficult and out of the way, and as such, weren't picked up often by other Players while also keeping quiet about his presence. In return, Shirou would take up the more laborious quests that Roman truly desired and complete them in a timely fashion for a large sum of gold and other rewards.

Despite working with him for a few years, he never once fully trusted the merchant, even after all this time. At times, the cane wielder was shown to be very avaricious. It wouldn't surprise the faker if one day he decided to sell Shirou out. For the moment, however, the dandy-looking Player knew better than to ruin a good thing that was going for him.

"It seems everything is in order. I can truly depend on you, Emiya-san!" Roman cheerfully exclaimed as he put everything in his inventory.

A celebratory ding echoed in his head, signaling that Shirou had completed the quest. Floating at the corner of his eye was a window that detailed his reward. The gold was immediately deposited into his inventory. The faker dismissed the screen and was about to leave until Roman spoke up once more.

"Say, Emiya-san, is there any reason for this change in behavior?" The pierrot asked abruptly.

With his back facing the white-suited Player, Shirou gave him a cursory glance.

"Usually, you would only come to me for a quest about two to four times a month. Yet, in the last few days, you've completed a dozen of them. Nearly back-to-back, I might add. Now, I'm not one that would look a gift horse in the mouth, but even I can't help but find this a bit peculiar." Said Roman, leaning forward on his desk.

Shirou offered no answer, coolly regarding Roman with a quiet stare before responding.

"What is it to you?" He returned, his voice calm and level.

"Call it a harmless curiosity." The merchant shrugged, unphased by the Player Killer's tone.

"… I had some time on my hands." He simply gave. Shirou turned away and began walking towards the door, concluding the conversation.

"Do be careful not to be seen out there. I would hate for my favorite client to be discovered. Especially with all the hullabaloo going on." Said Roman, giving one last regard.

Upon hearing this, Shirou halted, his hand resting on the doorknob. What he had just said roused a question that had been on the magus's mind for a while now, ever since he arrived in the virtual realm.

"Roman-san." Shirou called out, turning back towards the man.

"Hmmm, yes?" Roman cocked his head, which was resting on his hand propped up against his desk.

"What's been going on recently? Is there an event or something in Niðavellir that's attracting Players here?" Shirou questioned.

Initially, it went unnoticed by him, but as time passed, the he noticed a marked rise in the level of Player engagement and numbers in the overworld. This was not restricted to the towns and hub regions, but it was also evident in the wilderness, surpassing what he had observed previously and typically. At the time, Shirou attributed it to minor, incidental explanations, perhaps an event or something similar. He figured that the numbers would dwindle quickly enough.

However, the last three days hardly saw a decrease in Player activity and presence. If anything, it was increasing. It wasn't just Vetur Ljós, but every other landmark and nearby area, anywhere that Players could gather, would be overflowing with people.

This sharp increase in Player activity meant Shirou had to be extra careful when traversing through the town, even more so when playing and hunting on his own.

"You truly do not know?" Roman asked, genuinely surprised. "Considering your reputation, I would think you would frequent the online forums and everything. Well, if you truly wish to know, it'll cost you a little."

Without another word, he turned around and opened the door. Roman's voice called out to him at the very last second.

"Wait! I was just kidding, Emiya-san. My goodness, it was just a joke!"

Shirou leveled a deadpan stare at the clown's blatant attempt to extort him. After a few seconds of silence, Roman cleared his throat and began explaining the source of the increase in Player presence within Niðavellir.

Around a month ago, a certain piece of information made waves across the YGGDRASIL forums. It involved a party roaming across the wilderness of Niðavellir, where they encountered what they described as a random NPC Boss while wandering in an unexplored area within the overworld. The party was then abducted and forced into an alternate space that served as an impromptu dungeon. They were then forced to fight the boss in order to escape.

Naturally, being the first one to have ever encountered such a foe, the party was caught off guard and was woefully ill-prepared. The party was trounced, and to add insult to injury, they couldn't even travel back to the spot where they died to retrieve their precious dropped items.

Irritated and annoyed, they went to the forums to argue and complain about the unfairness of it all. The member's claims were met with staunch criticism, as no other Players believed them. The idea of a roaming dungeon and boss was beyond absurd. Many called them out as fakes and trolls. That was until another party of Players encountered the same roaming boss while duking it out with a rival clan. They meet with the same fate as the previous group. From there, sporadic updates and information on the roaming boss continued circulating.

Such a concept was an outlier when compared to YGGDRASIL's standard dungeon and boss raid formats. It was learned early on that the boss wouldn't appear at the same place twice. From little that was gleamed and speculated, the boss teleported all across the playable virtual world of Niðavellir.

When taking into consideration that approximately only 9% of the vast expanse of Niðavellir has been explored and discovered by Players, locating the boss within the virtual hub world was a daunting task. The NPC could be lurking anywhere within the virtual hub world, including uncharted territories, making it nearly impossible to track down. This meant that Players had to rely on luck and chance encounters to come face-to-face with the elusive roaming boss.

Despite the challenges, the rumor of such a unique boss spread like wildfire, attracting Players like sharks that catch the scent of blood. It was a challenge that many were eager to take on. The realm of the dwarves saw a significant influx of Players seeking to encounter the boss, defeat it, and claim the lost loot from the Players who had previously fallen victim to it. Additionally, the much-coveted loot drops from this unique boss further added to the allure of the challenge, thus explaining the bustling activity within the realm of Niðavellir as of late.

Hearing all of this only garnered a passing interest from the projection user. However, it was the description of the boss that drew his complete attention. A boss draped in purple, known to fly and teleport around and shoot magical lasers - yeah, that sounded very familiar to Shirou.

"Do you happen to know its name?" Shirou spoke up, catching Roman's attention.

"My, my! Are you interested in joining the little hunt, Emiya-san?"

"No. Just call it professional curiosity."

Roman couldn't help raising a brow at the honesty of that statement and the large lack of greed or ambition he had learned to detect from his hired help. That instinct had saved him from being scammed far too many times to doubt its accuracy, making him all the more curious about his intentions.

"If the forums are believed, the boss's name is Caster. Just Caster, strangely enough. You would think that they would have some elaborate title to match the novelty of the boss, but nope! ~Sigh~" Roman let out a dramatic sigh. "Makes you wonder if the shitty devs are losing their theatrical touch."

Roman's rant went mostly unheard, its recipient busy contemplating the significance of this particular piece of information.

"How confident are you in the validity of this information, Roman-san?"

"I learned of this through my usual channels and in addition to my own research. I can't say for anything else, but I can say with confidence that what I've shared with you is 100% true."

Another pause of silence. After a moment or two, Shirou nodded and shelved it for later, once he wasn't in dubiously neutral territory.

"Thank you for sharing this with me. It's a pleasure doing business, Roman-san. Farewell."

With that, Shirou walked out the door, leaving Roman alone once again. The pierrot leaned back into his chair, his fingers drumming against his desk. He was contemplative over the magus's odd behavior. To appear interested but also not be at the same time. He couldn't quite figure out where the Player Killer fell. Roman quickly gave up. Despite the oddity of it all, he truly didn't care about the matter. Instead, his mind drifted to all the possible profit that he could garner with the delivered items and materials, greed brushing any speculation aside.

As for Shirou, he donned his cloak once more and stepped out of the tent. He didn't stop for a second once outside, weaving through the traffic of Players in his way, and left the bazaar with nary a trace. Once outside of the town, he traveled in a random direction, heading deeper into the vast and untamed wilderness of the overworld. He took great care to remain hidden from view, both from the hostile mobs and other Players. He allowed himself a moment of tranquility, caught in the rhythm of traveling incognito.

For nearly ten minutes, he journeyed forth, unnoticed and unaimed. Eventually, he came across a small creek, his pace slowing down as he decided to stop there.

Shirou opened his menu and rummaged through his inventory, eventually retrieving a scroll. He tossed it into the air, and it unfurled before promptly burning away. An invisible pulse rippled out around him, traveling far and wide across the area. He waited, watching until it told him that there were no Players within a half-kilometer radius of himself. Although there were a few mobs in the vicinity, they were far enough away that they posed no threat to him.

Observing that there were no imminent dangers lurking nearby, Shirou allowed himself to relax for the time being. He walked forward and knelt down beside the stream of water. Dismissing his cloak, he scooped a handful of water from the stream and splashed it across his face. Shirou repeated this a couple more times, enjoying the cool sensation against his skin.

He looked at the pristine stream, his reflection as clear as day, staring back at him. A face so similar to his own and yet different all the same.

After the raid on The Tomb of Nazarick, he finally felt comfortable with experimenting and altering his attire to try and get away from looking completely identical to his Counter-Guardian self. If Shirou was being honest, it was tiring to see Archer's reflection every day, and the faker wanted to change that. It was high time the virtual magus came into his own style and look.

Although most of his armor and clothes remained the same, some pieces were modified. Specifically, his iconic crimson coat was transformed into a shroud that covered his left side and arm. Dark markings lined the length of the shroud on his arm, leaving his black and silver bodysuit more visible. He also created a black and crimson armor piece that extended from his shoulder to his forearm, forming a vambrace. This was connected to a small pauldron on his right shoulder that had a unique design. The plates that made up the armor were slim, allowing for flexibility while still providing sufficient protection despite its seemingly thin appearance.

What remained of his crimson coat was repurposed into a slimmer mantle that covered his chest with a hood that could be pulled up to help obscure his face. These, in addition to ten rings adorning his fingers and a pendant with a deep crimson triangular-shaped gem that hung from his neck, all made full use of all of the YGGDRASIL attire slots.

Every item was carefully crafted and skillfully forged using the finest materials. They were also enchanted with powerful effects and buffs, each designed with a specific purpose in mind. Some were created to compensate for his weaknesses, while others were meant to enhance his strengths. All of these items were intended to give him an advantage over his opponents, whether he was fighting against mobs or other Players.

The last, and perhaps most inconspicuous, change was his hair. His hair relaxed, no longer maintaining its usual spikiness. One reminiscent of his younger self's hairstyle, granting him a much softer appearance. To his disappointment, he couldn't change its color. So instead of his natural autumn red, Shirou had to settle for suave and slick silver hair for the foreseeable future.

Overall, Shirou was satisfied with his new look. It was both aesthetically pleasing while maintaining its core features, allowing for freedom of movement and proper defense and offense capabilities.

It was one he was happy to call his own.

However, it was just his appearance that changed.

Under the glaring, clear sky, Shirou allowed himself a quiet moment to relax among the canopy of the forest. The melodic sound of the stream combined with the soft noises of the forest provided a soothing atmosphere. He looked around before choosing a spot to sit down with his back against a tree, its leaves hanging over him and casting a cool shadow for him to bask in.

While on the outside he may appear at ease, the same couldn't be said for his thoughts. His mind worked tirelessly, unraveling and examining the facts and what they could mean for the future and contemplating what they had once meant in the past.

It has been nearly four years since his last encounter with a Servant Boss, of whom was Assassin. In that time, he had searched and searched for the remaining Servants, only to come up empty-handed. Now, he learned that Caster dwelled somewhere within Niðavellir.

Such news should have brought long-awaited anticipation or even exhilaration.

Yet, Shirou couldn't bring himself to care about it one bit.

He reminisced about the days gone by, when Berserker had been defeated, and the subsequent discovery that the other Servants were also present in YGGDRASIL. Every moment he could, he would invest in the search for the remaining Class Cards. Looking back, finding Lancer, Rider, and Assassin had been an incredibly lucky break, somehow encountering the Servant bosses so soon after the first and in a relatively short time frame of one another as well.

Perhaps that was what made him devote months of passionate tracking to the others. He was drunk on the adrenaline of finding four of the seven Class Cards in such a relatively short amount of time, especially considering that they were also classified as World Items. He believed himself to be the one to find them all. It was rather foolish to think his good luck would continue forever and that the trail wouldn't run cold.

He persisted in his search with unwavering dedication, spending countless hours in pursuit of the remaining Servant bosses. His all-consuming obsession raised the concerns of his friends in those early days, ultimately leading to an intervention by his guildmates. It took several heated debates and persuasions before he relented.

So, he had been forced to put down the cause by the guild, mentioning it as unhealthy, and by himself, realizing he had fallen into the sunken cost fallacy of relentlessly chasing after them.

Although he had once been vigilant in keeping up with rumors about the Servants, his interest had waned over time. The intense desire to track down the Servant Bosses and acquire the Class Cards had long since been extinguished. Instead, he had found happiness in spending time with Ainz Ooal Gown. As a result, the recent significant development had gone completely under his radar.

Now, he was faced with a new conundrum.

What did he do about the new information?

It had been a long time since Shirou had had so much time on his hands that he truly didn't know what to do with it. In the past, when Ainz Ooal Gown had daily meetings and group sessions, his time to indulge in individual activities dwindled fast. His loneliness was replaced by the joy and passion of playing with his friends.

The only time Shirou was fully alone was when everyone would log off for that day, only to see one another once more the very next day. This went on for years. But of late, with his friend's playtime growing sparser, Shirou's schedule grew empty for the foreseeable future.

With a surplus of free time, Shirou found himself unsure of what to do. He couldn't simply lounge around the base and sleep all day; the boredom would drive him mad. Even now, the magus found that idle hands and minds weren't suited for someone like him. And so, Shirou slowly fell back into his usual habits due to his comrade's absences. That, and to distract himself from the situation as a whole.

Thus, the faker took up the self-imposed task of exploring the virtual worlds for the remaining Servant bosses once more. All the while combating PKers on his travels and interspersed with taking on quests and missions for the guild.

Shirou had once again picked up the mantle that gained him so much infamy in his early days.

The Player Killer once again stalked the nine worlds.

In the very beginning, he used the free extra time afforded to do whatever he wished, simply to keep himself distracted. But as the weeks and eventually months dragged on, as his friends were spending less and less time online and, by extension, Shirou, he was left with more and more time alone.

His attempts to distract and occupy his time grew sober and monotonous. He picked up on it early on, how his action had a noticeable lack of zeal to them. Shirou still carried on, but his daily actions have turned into just going through the motions with no drive or passion behind them.

It all felt hollow.

There was something fundamentally missing in all of this.

It didn't take him long before he came to realize what was missing. It was his friends, Ainz Ooal Gown.

In the past, Shirou rarely played by himself, always tagging along in groups or parties. He couldn't quite remember the last time he truly played all by himself, not since the very early days when he was first transported within YGGDRASIL, and yet, lately, that was all that was happening.

It was true what they say-everything was more fun with friends.

Every day was a delight when he was with Ainz Ooal Gown. They would venture out into the unknown world, seeking quests and adventures. They discovered dungeons and fought intense battles against terrifying bosses and other Players. The playful exchanges between them were cherished moments. Every experience, whether significant or not, filled him with a deep sense of purpose.

It was because he was doing it all with them. To share in the experience of it all.

But alone, he had no one. Only himself.

It all begged the question: What was the purpose of playing if there was no one for him to play with?

He searched far and wide, traveling across the nine different worlds and exploring unseen lands. Yet, no matter how breathtaking or incredible the scenery was, it failed to arouse any sense of awe or wonder from the virtual magus.

For what good was it to witness mesmerizing landscapes that he had never seen before across the vast open world or unravel hidden mysteries in isolation? He longed for someone to share and echo his excitement and speculation regarding the potential dangers or thrills that could lie ahead.

He explored dungeons, fought high-level mobs, conquered bosses, and completed challenging quests single-handedly. However, no matter how arduous the battle or how impossible the situation, it failed to evoke any fervor or quiver in his heart when he emerged victorious.

What was the point of overcoming grueling challenges and seemingly insurmountable odds if there was no one to revel in the same feeling of triumphing over adversity? He craved the joy of sharing the moment with a companion, relishing in what they had experienced, and rejoicing together in the sheer exhilaration of victory.

Not even the likes of combating injustice and rampant PKing whenever he came across it and saving Players from being harassed managed to stir within him what was once there.

It all failed to stroke any passion within him aside from a sense of apathy. For every party or group he helped and saved, a dozen more could be happening anywhere else within the overworld.

Shirou had sought out a means to occupy himself from the steadily growing reality of the situation, yet it has only highlighted what was truly wrong.

To some and many, Shirou's situation was an ideal one. To be able to play YGGDRASIL effectively all day every day. To not worry about such menial concerns as work or responsibilities in general and to be able to engross oneself in the virtual world. A world unrestricted, allowing for practically limitless freedom. He knew many who would give anything to have it.

But that was all a lie.

The peaceful atmosphere that had seemed almost picturesque a second ago soured as an oppressive air fell across the clearing.

With a grimace adorning his face, seemingly etched into stone with how unmoving it was, Shirou tried to dispel that particular line of thought to little avail.

At that moment, he caught something moving out of the corner of his eyes. It was a butterfly, colorful and bright, flapping its wing nimbly through the air. He watched the butterfly flutter around him. Shirou raised a hand to it, and in turn, the butterfly flapped towards him before landing at the tips of his fingers.

He gently moved his hand closer, inspecting the butterfly without trying to spook it. Thankfully, it was content to rest on his fingertips. Shirou watched it, his eyes fixed on the winged insect's small form.

Such a scene should've brought a smile to his face. Yet, such a sight only brought a sense of pensiveness.

For it only served to reinforce what he already knew.

It was a particular line of thought he rarely indulged in and actively avoided, one that only led to somber conclusions. But rarely have they ever been banished from his subconscious. After all, everywhere the projection user looks, he's reminded of one irrevocable fact.

He was trapped in a fake world. With fake trees, fake rivers, fake animals, and fake people. It was all artificial. While the emotions and actions taken by the player base were ultimately purposeful, it didn't change that they lacked consequences.

After all, that was what this land he inhabited amounted to.

Shirou came to realize something. YGGDRASIL, despite its wonderful vastness and near-infinite potential, was a prison. A prison without borders or walls, forged from millions of lines of code and decorated with a kaleidoscope of grandeur, but nevertheless a prison.

It was a playground for the weary and the intrigued, where consequences were nonexistent and freedom was unlimited. In this land of wonder, was there really a need for a hero? One who saved and fought for the sake of others? Where death meant naught but lost experience and equipment?

He has the freedom to live a carefree life, with an insane amount of possibilities, but it was devoid of consequences, making it ultimately pointless.

It was said that the human mind craved stimulus because the psyche was fragile. If an individual had too much time on their hands, they would start to ponder it all. Not only their actions but also their very own existence. People require distractions in their lives, or else the mind will wander on constantly and be besieged by doubt and anxiety. Eventually, they would question their own inevitability. From there, it was an ever-downward spiral.

Born from that moment of loneliness, Shirou self-reflected and asked himself a question. What did it all mean?

He was like a hound, relentlessly chasing after its tail, yet what would happen once he caught it?

What would happen if he gathered all the Class Cards? To Shirou, they represent an important piece of his past, but to everyone else, they're simply World Items - beyond rare and valuable, but at the end of the day, fugitive. Even now, their true usage eludes his understanding. Shirou realized that the purpose of chasing after the Class Cards was for his sake and his alone.

What purpose did saving Players from PKers mean if the act itself would continue unabated somewhere else? No matter how many PKers he stopped, no matter how many Players he saved, it did little to correct the clashing relationship between the Humanoid Player community and that of the Demi-human and Heteromorph communities. So long as the game itself allows Players to do this, even indirectly encouraging it, there will never be an end to it all.

Like putting a bandage over a grievous wound. His methods were half-measures.

In his moment of loneliness, he came to realize something. It came slowly but surely for Shirou, akin to the grogginess associated with waking from a pleasant dream.

Or perhaps deep down, within the pit of his soul, he has always known this, but no longer can he turn away from the irrevocable truth that he faces.

It was a fatalistic thought, knowing and coming to grips with it. And with all the time afforded to him, he could never escape it. Not when everything he saw served as a reminder of that fact.

Everything he had done within this virtual world. It was nothing more than a footnote, a small blip in history.

A man was defined by his actions and the motives that gave him a purpose in life. So what was Shirou's motive now?

Once upon a time, it was the pursuit of a smile, one so happy and pure, that it had saved its owner. To help and save anyone and everyone he could.

Like a true hero.

Now?

He wasn't quite certain anymore.

Shirou remembered being melancholic as it dawned on him, leaving him inconsolable for a few days as the full reality of it all settled in on him, the day's blurring into one as he tried to consolidate his thoughts and emotions. He even locked himself in his room on the 9th Floor on a particular day when there was no one online.

It was one stark revelation after the next. The ineluctable departure of his cherished companions of Ainz Ooal Gown, the frugalness that was his existence within this virtual prison, and the perpetual fate that was his futility that would come when he would be alone once more. They all weighed heavily on his shoulders. Each felt like a massive boulder, bearing down on him, forced to carry the weight like that of the great titan Atlas, holding up the sky. An all but insurmountable endeavor.

It was overwhelming. Even for someone like him.

Humans derive worth and meaning from their actions. And it's only when one finds their life at its lowest that their decisions reflect upon their truest essence.

The greater the pressure, the deeper the revelation, and the truer the response.

For Pressure forces a Response.

Response in turn shows Judgement.

Judgement reveals their innate Value.

Lastly, Value shows Character-the truest essence of an individual.

When Shirou finally emerged from his isolation, he had made his decision.

He had resigned himself to what was to come. But not just yet.

For there was still much work to be done.

Perhaps his existence had no further meaning within this virtual cage that was known as YGGDRASIL, but it was his actions so long ago, whether they were pointless or not, that led him to Momonga. And from that one choice, he met so many wonderful people that he was proud to call them his friends.

Their future was far from set in stone like his, and as their friend, he had a duty to uphold. In his final hours and until his last, he would continue, while also preparing and fortifying his heart for the inevitability.

And thus began his endeavor to help them.

A choice was made to sacrifice the present for the future.

In the end, it all came full circle.

All of this began as more and more of Ainz Ooal Gown's time was slowly taken up, the years passed by, and their playtime was reduced due to outside circumstances. All as Shirou watched on.

In their absence, Shirou was left with more and more free time. Time that he was unsure of and knew little to do all by his lonesome. And with it came a sense of solidarity.

Left with seemingly all the time in the world, his mind wandered. First of the present, then came to reminisce on the past before ruminating on the future. In an attempt to distract himself and ground his fleeting thoughts, he fell back into old habits and sought to wander YGGDRASIL by himself. Only for his actions to accelerate the downward spiral.

Uncertainty gripped him as he watched helplessly as his friends continued with their daily lives. The forlornness choked his heart, and the pain continued for weeks and then months. His thoughts were occupied by dimmer and dimmer notions, exacerbated by the virtual prison that held him. He was burdened with the knowledge that they'd all leave him someday.

He was powerless to stop it, and even more, he was utterly helpless outside of YGGDRASIL, unable to offer anything to their daily lives besides a momentary respite. Alone, where would that lead him? Back to where he started in the beginning. With no one but himself. The weight mounted and mounted until it all came crashing down, and he reached an existential question and a conclusion. One that he had no answer for and one that only bred further despair.

The question of what his existence was and amounted to, combined with the weight that one day it would only be him left, left an immeasurable abyss within him. From that despair came desperation and a search for meaning. He sought an answer for a goal that he was robbed of. Something. Anything.

And after countless hours of self-reflection, he had found it. Not in himself or his future, but in Ainz Ooal Gown. His comrades, his cherished friend, and, dare he admit it, his family. They, who reminded him to laugh and enjoy life again. They, who brought light to his world and helped fill in the yawning void from those years ago.

They had become his reason for being, and now it was his turn to do right for them as they had done for him.

In turn, this laid the foundation for his beliefs and fueled his actions. Ainz Ooal Gown, they all had their lives ahead of them. Some more than others, admittedly, and while he couldn't magically whisk away all their troubles and make all their lives better, he would help them reach their potential or, at the very least, push them in the right direction. He had all the time in the world, so he might as well use it.

All the while cherishing the moments he had left with them to lessen the blow when they do leave.

But in doing so, Shirou would directly and/or indirectly be responsible for them spending more time away from YGGDRASIL and, by extension, him. Thus, expediting the matter and shortening what potentially little time he had left with him, which bred further melancholy.

And on it went, each feeding into the next, creating a self-perpetuating, paradoxical loop. One that will continually spiral downward until there was nothing left but him.

The Fake Player was fully aware that his actions were confoundingly contradictory. He strove to enjoy what little time he may have left with his cherished friends while wishing for these wonderful times to continue. Yet, by his actions and admissions, he was actively shortening that precious resource.

For behind his altruistic motives belies an equally selfish rationale for it. Having seen these events transpire similarly once before, this time, Shirou sought to take the initiative. To prepare for the coming future. To lessen the inevitable that was to come.

It was in the hope that he would be able to prepare his heart and steel himself for the inevitable day to come with the assurance that they would have a better future. One without him in it. The virtual magus would take solace in that, however small or insignificant it was. It did little to diminish the gnawing guilt that ate at him day in and day out. However, he'll continue towards that goal, for that was all he could do.

A selfless goal mired by selfish desires.

In the end, he was trapped.

Damned if he did, and damned if he did not.

All the contradictory thoughts and dissonance boiled just underneath the surface, tearing away at him.

Want conflicted with desire. It all ate away at him like a festering disease.

Even if it were all to come to pass, whether or not he'd buckle under the weight of loneliness was an entirely different matter. But then again, how many years did he spend alone, wallowing in his desolation back on earth? It would be nothing new.

Shirou couldn't help but let out a bitter, mocking chuckle aimed at himself. He was in such a sorry state that it was nothing short of pathetic. Just how long did it take Archer before he could no longer bear the weight he carried on his shoulders, after countless battles and atrocities? Centuries at the very least, yet here he was… Fatalistic and all in but a fraction of his time.

Were Rin or Saber here right now, they would no doubt be beyond disappointed in him, seeing just how far he's fallen.

How maddening that even after spending days ignoring these thoughts, they returned the moment he relaxed.

How cruel the mind can be when it's left to wander.

"Was this what you felt, Kiritsugu?" Shirou wondered aloud, thinking of his adoptive father.

He knew that in the beginning, his father was hired by the Einzbern for the 4th Holy Grail War. It was this event that led him to meet Irisviel. In the beginning, he regarded her as nothing more than the Vessel for the Grail and a liability. Yet, over time, the homunculus managed to break down the cold walls he erected over his heart and worm her way into his soul, and the two fell in love.

She showed him a miracle, that he was more than just a killer-an empty husk. Irisviel believed he was worthy of being loved and giving it. Illya was clear proof of that.

Love and a family were both things he never sought but couldn't live without after discovering it.

However, their love was destined for tragedy from the very beginning.

No matter how the Grail War could've ended, Irisviel would've died one way or another. Such was her fate as the Vessel of the Grail and a homunculus of the Einzbern family.

Shirou always wondered if his adoptive father knew the true depths of what he was stepping into. And would he have made the choices he'd made had he known the consequences that would come from them from the very start?

To discover true happiness, only to be burdened with the foreknowledge that it was never meant to be.

Forced to acknowledge and come to grips with the reality that there was absolutely nothing he could hope to do to change her fate or save her. In one form or another, he would be responsible for her death.

Sacrificing one ideal for the sake of another…

It was enough to break an already broken man.

Was that not why his father shared a sexual relationship with his assistant, Maiya, despite loving Irisviel with all his being? For it served as a rehearsal for when the moment of truth came. Because allowing his wife to sacrifice herself to complete the Grail was a betrayal of her love, no matter the reasoning or the cause, and so when it came time, it was necessary that Kiritsugu did not hesitate.

And so he used whatever excuse he could, no matter how flimsy or weak-willed it may be, as justification for his actions.

A twisted and self-centered rationale.

It was the curse of being an Emiya, to sacrifice one thing for another.

Like father, like son. A dark part of him whispered.

A hand was brought up, clutching his face, his dichromatic eyes gleaming through the gaps, glazed but resolute.

Even if he wavered, he would not stop now. He couldn't. Not after all that was said and done. Not after he made his decision. He would see it all to an end, one way or another.

Shirou, he'll keep moving forward as he always has.

Until it was done.

… Never once yielding, Never once victorious…

How little things have changed…

'I hope everyone is doing alright right now. Hopefully better than me.' Shirou briefly mused, his thoughts retreating to his treasured friends. A part of him recognized it as an attempt to drive away the downright depressing thoughts. A routine that has been coming around with increasing regularity.

He didn't know how long he spent under the tree as he languished within his head.

With a sigh, Shirou stood up and gazed across the riverbed he occupied. The water seemed murkier, the sun dimmer, and the air heavier.

He shook his head.

The Fake Player had already spent long enough resting and mulling over foregone conclusions. If he had to dwell on the fruitlessness of it all any longer, there was no doubt he would go mad. Rather, Shirou could perhaps use that time more productively. Maybe he could see about tracking another quest? Even with his recent marathon, it was better safe than sorry when it came to guild upkeep.

Shirou briefly entertained the idea of trying his hand at tracking down Caster, despite the impracticality of one person searching for it alone and the minuscule chances of him coming across her.

It was at that moment, while brooding on what action to take next, that the decision was made for him.

His ear twitched, catching the sound of something at a fraction of a second before the air cracked with the sound of thunder, followed by an ear-splitting whistle.

Instinct propelled him forward as he tucked and rolled as the shot narrowly hit its mark.

'Sniper!' He quickly realized.

Shirou immediately took off as another shot rang out, hitting just where he was. He ran into the forest, hoping to use the thick foliage as cover while weaving through the surroundings as shots continued to beset him.

He clicked his tongue, chastising himself for having gotten lost in thought once again. It was just his luck that a party or group of PKers had managed to catch him ill-prepared.

Before he continued any further, from the corner of his vision, he caught a glint of steel. Without warning, a heavily armored warrior emerged from the dense thicket of bushes, brandishing an enormous battle axe.

"Gotcha! [Devastating Sweep]!" The Player roared, swinging his axe.

"Trace on!"

Prana expanded forth as he projected Touch Me's shield, Earthen Recover. Streaks of [Reinforcement] quickly covered his body and shield.

He braced himself as the tremendous force of the attack managed to send him flying back a fair distance. Using the momentum, he righted himself and retaliated.

"[Trace Bullet]!"

Prana poured from his hands with a flourish. Several weapons were traced and fired towards the axe wielder.

His shots flew, finding their mark, and detonating upon impact. A cloud of dust was kicked up.

Shirou managed to land squarely on his feet as the dust settled, revealing a transparent dome with cracks that had shielded the Player from harm. Standing next to the armored warrior was a new Player, a mage, who had not been there before. Shirou prepared a second volley, only to be blindsided as two more Players suddenly appeared, one on each side.

One of the Players was a woman dressed in a futuristic ballerina-like dress with bladed skates. She dashed forward with her leg raised high, her skates lighting up with the activation of a skill as she descended upon her opponent.

On the other side was a Player with a tribal mask who wore an open-chested fur jacket. His weapon of choice was a bladed gauntlet, which gleamed with crimson blades upon the activation of his skill as his fist blurred.

"[Crescendo Axel]!"

"[Mach Knuckle]!"

"Trace on!"

As the attacks came his way, Shirou sprang into action, projecting Kanshou and twisting on his heel to intercept them. He raised Earthen Recover in time to block the punch. Even though he succeeded in stopping the attack, the sheer force behind the blow made his arm vibrate, and small cracks began to appear on his shield. At the same time, he used Kanshou to parry the dancer's axe kick from taking his head. Although he successfully redirected the attack, the attack left a painful gash down his shoulder.

Gritting his teeth, Shirou forced the two Players back to create some separation between himself and his attackers. Suddenly, a sound he recognized all too well pierced his ears, causing him to instinctively raise his protective shield just in the nick of time to block the bullet aimed directly at him. The impact of the bullet was so strong that it caused an explosion, sending Shirou hurtling backward and causing his projection to disintegrate into a shower of sparkling motes of light. He hit the unyielding ground with a resounding thud, tumbling uncontrollably.

The magus rolled back to his feet, crouching and coughing harshly. The impact of the attack hit him squarely in the chest, knocking his breath away. A quick glimpse at his health bar showed it taking him down in the low green.

He heard the heavy-footed charge as the PKers rushed him all at once. Prana pooled and poured forth from his hand, and with a wide flourish, a host of projected weapons appeared in the air. He fired them at the same time the mage erected another barrier spell. His artillery struck the barrier and the surrounding area, kicking up dirt and debris. The PKers charged unimpeded, confident in their abilities and believing his attack was simply to hinder them while he retreated.

To the astonishment of everyone, Shirou emerged from the thick smoke, catching them off guard. Despite being outnumbered and outgunned, any rational and sane Player would have chosen to retreat. However, they underestimated his tenacity, as he charged headfirst instead.

With little time to react, he was already in their guard, wielding Kanshou and Bakuya in hand, and several projected weapons trailing behind him. He struck mercilessly, landing several slashes before they could even defend themselves, and ran through them without halting. In a split second, he willed his lagging projections to detonate, causing an explosive blast that left the PKers hurt and stunned. Shirou left them in his wake as he ran back the way he came.

Another shot rang out, and Shirou was again dodging the high-speed bullet as it whizzed past him and blasted through a nearby tree. He deftly maneuvered and weaved his way through the sea of trees, using the natural cover to mask his movements and shield himself from view. Shirou trained his ears, attempting to pinpoint the sniper's general location as more shots echoed through the air, piercing through the serene atmosphere of the forest.

His main concern was the sniper, who was undoubtedly keeping an eye on the area from a vantage point somewhere. If they were going to fight, he needed to deal with him first and foremost. He, of all people, knew that nothing was more dangerous than a ranged fighter with free reign and line of sight of the battlefield.

He came upon the edge of the woodlands. There were cliffside ridges that surrounded and looked down on the forest from where they were. A perfect location for a vantage point for someone like a sniper.

Arcs of prana poured and condensed around his arm, forming an oddly shaped gauntlet with a steel-hooked claw at the end. Simultaneously, the magus traced several dozen weapons around him. He aimed the hookshot at one of the sturdy rocky cliffs, firing the zipline and snagging onto the side. The line became taut as he reeled it in, and in seconds, he sling-shot himself into the air using the momentum.

At the same time, he fired his projections into the sky, soaring higher than he before arcing back and descending onto the earth.

His projections rained down, bombarding the sides of the cliffs. Explosions rocked the area as his eyes watched for any signs of movement, like a hawk flying through the skies, gazing down upon any fleeing morsel or prey. Shirou caught something, a shimmer of movement. Then he saw it, a glint of metal pointing directly at him.

A shot rang out as his Mind's Eye already allowed him to act, moving his head before even the sound of the bullet being discharged broke through the air. He avoided the headshot by a hair's breadth.

"There you are. [Trace bullet]!" Launching a volley of traced weapons, he heard a cry ring out.

From the smoke, he spied the downed sniper. The Player appeared to be wearing some cloak that distorted the light around him, hiding him like a chameleon blending into his surroundings.

His grapple hook fired again, reeling him in sharp and fast. Kanshou reappeared in his hand as he descended upon the sniper with the grace of a swooping bird of prey. Just as he reached the downed Player, the black blade ready to take his head, a flash of light appeared next to him. It was another Player. The newcomer touched the sniper, and then they disappeared in another flash of light at the very last second.

Shirou skidded as he whiffed his attack, cutting through only the air.

The magus clicked his tongue. It seemed they had a second magic caster hiding in the wings for support and one that was capable of teleportation. This presented a dangerous combination, as that meant the sniper was able to reposition however many times he wanted, keeping him at a distance and pushing their advantage.

"[Widened Maximize Magic: Greater Lightning Storm]!" A voice roared.

Dark clouds began to form, darkening the sky as lightning crackled. Shirou poured more prana into his legs, [Reinforcement] lighting up as he jumped off the edge without any hesitation. Furious bolts of lightning descended onto the land, the air hissing with every strike.

"Activate: [Mana Barrier]!" One of the rings glowed, and a small magic circle appeared over the azure gemstone. A brilliant barrier formed around him, protecting him as a few stray bolts struck.

However, it wasn't quite enough, as his HP dropped to the high yellow. His body tingled from the electricity.

With a less-than-graceful landing, Shirou landed on his feet. However, he was given no reprieve as the other PKers rushed forward, relentless in their pursuit and attack.

His eyes narrowed. He was certain that he got at least one of them in the chain explosion from before. Which meant the mage must've used a high-tier resurrection spell then. With that information, his eyes scoured, trying to find the support mage. He needed to be dealt with immediately.

A short exchange took place as Shirou kept to the defensive, parrying and blocking the attacks sent his way. His attempts to put some distance between them proved difficult as the trio of PKers surrounded him, relentless in their assaults.

"[Trace Bu-"

His words were cut short and replaced with a pained cry as a successful shot struck the back of his shoulder. Reeling from the attack, the masked player rushed to capitalize on the opening. Shirou mounted a last-second counterattack, blowing him away, only for the armored Player to appear from his peripheral. He'd used his companion as a meatshield and distraction to close the distance.

Too late, Shirou was left open as the axe wielder capitalized on this and landed a skill on him, sending him tumbling back against the ground.

He heard the roars of the PKers rushing towards him while he was down, ready to finish the job. Shirou matched theirs with a battle cry of his own as he slammed his hand against the ground. Prana poured forth from his hand and into the dirt.

Weapons shot forth from the earth, towering blades jutting from the ground to skewer them. The PKers barely managed to stop just in time and avoided being impaled by them, their sharpened steel cutting only skin deep into their digital flesh. However, they performed their duties. They had bought Shirou a second, and that was all the time he needed. The projected weapons glowed and detonated, producing a massive explosion that sent the PKers lurching backward and kicked up a large cloud of debris and dust.

Using it as a smokescreen, he managed to dash past their notice and withdraw further into the forest while they were dazed. Another shot rang out, and the sniper fired blindly into the smoke in hopes of hitting him. With practiced speed, he operated his menu seamlessly, selecting the perfect contingency items for such a situation. Producing two scrolls, he immediately used two of them. They were [Perfect Unknowable] and [Anti-Information Magic Wall].

Shirou's form shimmered before becoming completely invisible. Without pausing, he sprinted deeper into the dense forest. The clamor of his foes grew fainter and fainter. When he was sure he was far enough away and hidden, he took a moment to catch his breath. From his inventory, he retrieved some potions and consumables to restore his health and buff him for good measure.

Wiping his mouth after drinking a potion, the Player Killer contemplated his next course of action.

The most prudent course of action was to simply retreat. He had several [Gate] scrolls in his inventory for quick getaways, and considering they were using [Teleportation] and the like, that ruled out anti-teleportation measures such as [Dimensional Lock] being in place. Not unless they did so via a silent casting sometime later, in which case Shirou could simply choose to retreat completely on foot.

They had caught him unaware, and no doubt they banked on killing him when he was unprepared. They missed their shot. If he left now, it was doubtful they'd continue a successful chase after him. As for Shirou, the faker had no interest in humoring a fight that he had little to no stakes in and nothing to gain from participating. What better way to get back at them than to deny their quarry entirely?

Shirou grabbed a [Gate] scroll from his inventory, but before he used it, he paused, and a thought occurred to him.

While the group had managed to ambush him in his absentminded state, Shirou was certain that they lacked the skill to bring him low. They were coordinated team, but he'd fought worse. Leaving would be easy, but he'd leave behind a team of no doubt frustrated PKers who'd likely turn towards the weaker Players for stress relief. They would harass others in revenge to vent their frustration and resentment. And considering the state of Niðavellir was in at the moment, Players and parties were abundant all around.

He'd encountered it plenty of times before. The pettiness of people never failed to astound him when he saw some go to such despicable lengths. Unneeded cruelty and violence for the sake of amusement.

His hand tightened around the scroll, indecision waging within him. If he were to leave, another group might suffer. On the other hand, a voice argued that it wasn't his concern. A few death and loss gear was hardly something to make a big deal out of. Yet, he couldn't find it within himself to completely dismiss such a notion. No matter what he'd been through.

Shirou remained hidden, far out of sight, and used the dense foliage to his advantage even while invisible. As he gathered his thoughts on what to do next, he could hear the faint voices of his pursuers calling out to him, scattered and distant.

"Come out and face us like a man! Or is the great Player Killer nothing more than a coward?!"

"You see just how fast he ran away when he saw us? I almost thought we got the wrong guy with him running away with his tail between his legs. Just like a scared little bitch!"

"Bwak Bwak Bwaaak! Chicken, chicken. Bwak Bwak Bwaaak."

He heard them mock and jeer, but their insults washed over him, rolling off of him like rain dripping upon an umbrella.

He wouldn't fall for their weak and easy insults. He had been subjected to much worse from far more threatening individuals in the past. Any casual Player would be inflamed by such blatant antagonization, with their wounded pride driving them to make rash decisions, and no doubt what the PKers were banking on. However, such attempts wouldn't work on him. He could tell the party was not as experienced when it came to hunting down Players as compared to some of the more dangerous PKers he encountered in the past, judging by their performances. Their audacious taunting, carried out so openly and without concern for the danger he still posed, reeked of arrogance. They were either fueled by misplaced confidence in their chances against him, given that he was outnumbered and on the perceived back leg, or they were simply ignorant of the risks they were taking.

Ultimately, he decided he wouldn't back out because what was a minor annoyance to himself would be the death of many others.

Shirou's mind raced, formulating a counter-offensive as he analyzed the information he managed to garner about the PKers during their brief skirmish.

'I could try hit-and-run tactics, get some distance and cover while luring them away. That's, of course, not counting the sniper repositioning himself and keeping a beat on me. The others seem quite strong and coordinated as well. Maybe I can scare them off, pick them off one by one, and make them reconsider fighting me? Keeping it completely close quarter to stop the sniper from attacking for fear of friendly fire would be an option. Hmmm, the obvious choice would be the mage of the group. Take out their support and any chance of a resurrection spell. However, there's still that other mage with the sniper. The axe wielder looked quite tanky, so I should probably focus on the other two…'

In moments like these, he wished his friends were here with him. With them by his side, there was no doubt in his mind who would emerge victorious at the end.

With Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama, he could leave his avian friend to deal with the sniper, drawing the Player's attention. He had confidence in his junior's skill and marksmanship. This would also divert the attention of the second mage, allowing Bukubukuchagama and Shirou to focus on the remaining four PKers. With the dependable pink slime by his side, there would be little for Shirou to worry about, leaving her to tank all the attention while he methodically eliminated each PKer one by one.

If Nishikienrai were present, Shirou could take on the role of bait, allowing the assassin to pick off the sniper first with little trouble, and the rest would fall prey to his assassinations while the magus kept them occupied. Alternatively, should Warrior Takemikazuchi, Bellriver, or Herohero be at his side, they would easily hold their own and turn the fight around against the fighters while he dealt with the mage or sniper of the party. He would prevent any reinforcement or ranged support on the part of the enemy while providing his own ranged support.

Heck, Touch Me alone could take on the four PKers by himself and win with little trouble while Shirou ran interference and kept the sniper's attention on him to allow the World Champion to battle it out. Ulbert would no doubt try and blow them all to smithereens, going with brute force and employing his most powerful spells to wipe them all out in one go, leaving the magus to finish off any stragglers.

Momonga would offer to employ a more cautious approach, using his spells to summon hordes of disposable mobs and summons to create buffers between them and the PKers. This would give him time to gain some distance and rain down upon them a bombardment of Broken Noble Phantasms while the undead sorcerer kept them distracted and pinned down.

Shirou could all too easily imagine and hear the insults that Peroroncino and Ulbert would hurl at them just before killing them and having the last vindictive laugh. Tabula or Yamaiko would no doubt try to keep the more rowdy members under control, but would join in by having a few choice words themselves. Not even the normally soft-spoken Momonga could resist a bit of trash-talking. And then-

'Focus!' He caught himself, reeling in his wandering thoughts under control. Now wasn't the time to be daydreaming and being bogged down on what-ifs.

'They're not here… It's just me…' He reminded himself.

Having lost himself in thought, he could hear their voices getting louder and louder, the crunching footsteps drawing closer and closer all around him. Tension slowly mounted as Shirou needed to make a decision, and quickly.

However, a new voice disturbed the volatile tension before it could ignite into conflict.

"Another pack of lost souls, I see… No matter, I shall deal with all those that dare threaten my peace."

"What?" He heard one of the PKers uttered loudly.

"Shit, don't tell me we're being third-party or something?!" The female Player squeaked.

Shirou was also experiencing a similar state. His eyes grew wider, and his body became rigid with tense shoulders, although for a slightly different cause.

That voice just now. That silky yet sinister voice. There was no doubt about it.

He glanced out from where he was hidden, catching a glimpse of the PKers huddling up with their backs to one another and weapons drawn.

He could sense the panic and unease rolling off the party. Despite their frantic efforts to identify the supposed third party, they failed to even catch a glimpse of the elusive foe. Their heads swiveled back and forth, searching for any sign of the source of the mysterious, silky voice. A flash of purple drew all eyes towards the center of the area.

There, levitating high in the air, was a figure shrouded in a long, flowing cloak of black and regal purple hues. A peek through the slightly parted folds of the cloak revealed an equally magnificent purple dress underneath. Much of her body and face were hidden by her attire, with her hood hiding everything but her lower face. Clutched in their hands was a lengthy metallic staff. With her unique appearance and level, everyone realized that she was an NPC.

Caster Lvl - Lvl: 150

Upon seeing the once familiar Servant, the image of her in the past was superimposed with her in the present, as memories of the past flooded his mind.

'If Caster is here, then that means… I need to… !'

Before Shirou could finish his train of thought or any of the PKers could take action against the boss, a purple, intricate magic circle materialized beneath him. It wasn't just him alone, as identical magic circles appeared under PKer's party. In a blinding flash of purple, they disappeared. The only one left behind was the bewildered sniper, who, being far enough from the rest of the party, was spared from the mysterious occurrence but witnessed everything that had transpired.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

A sense of vertigo overtook Shirou for but a second before he was deposited harshly onto the ground. Rolling, he quickly jumped to his feet with Kanshou and Bakuya already in hand as he took a defensive stance. His eyes were alert, and he scanned the new surroundings he found himself in.

Before he could wonder where he was, Caster's reappearance was announced by a flash of purple.

"All those that dare threaten our peace shall be eradicated!" Caster spoke velvety, but there was an unmistakable layer of malice in her words.

Shirou was quick to act, projecting a couple of blades and firing them at the hovering Servant. At the last second, Caster suddenly vanished in a shimmering flash of purple light. Shirou remained alert, keeping his guard up and anticipating any further action. After a few tense seconds, he eventually relaxed his stance upon seeing no immediate threat.

There he remained, silent and conflicted, his thoughts frazzled and a mess, the reality of the situation finally settling in.

"I really must be cursed or something." Shirou grumbled aloud, running a hand through his hair.

The faker never had any true intention of chasing after Caster, and if she had been dealt with by someone else, it was doubtful he would lose sleep over it. However, fate seemed to have other ideas in mind for him, as he now found himself facing off against the digital Heroic Spirit herself, despite only learning about her recently.

What were even the odds that Caster's pathing would just so happen to lead her to him of all people at that exact moment, thus leading to their involvement and beginning the raid in and of itself?

If he didn't know any better, he would ponder the idea that someone or something was conspiring against him.

"The question is, what do I do now?" He wondered, trying to decide which course of action to take next.

While the matter with the PKers was more or less resolved, it was replaced with an entirely different ordeal.

The seemingly obvious course of action was to go forth and try to fight against the Servant. However, there were two reasons for his slight hesitation. The first being Roman's information and the facts he managed to impart concerning Caster and those that have died by her hand. Which indicated that there was much more to this "raid" than meets the eye. On his own, it'll prove a definite challenge.

Secondly, there was little motivation for him besides the reward of the Class Card, which he had already made peace with. His thoughts shifted, focusing on how to get out of this pocket dimension for the moment.

Grabbing a [Gate] scroll, he tossed it into the air, watching as the parchment burned. He waited, but nothing appeared.

"So teleportation is out." He muttered, already deducing what was going on.

This area, or 'dungeon' Shirou found himself in, was a pocket space of some sort, sealed off and separated from the main overworld of Niðavellir. No one could get in, not without Caster's intervention, and presumably, no one could simply escape. Both Shirou and the PKers were effectively trapped. The only way to leave was to complete the raid and somehow win, or take the unavoidable death and forfeit one of their cherished gear or items.

This whole scenario reminds Shirou of that one time when he and Ainz Ooal Gown were ensnared by the World Item [Depiction of Nature and Society] due to the machinations of a rival guild. The parallels were certainly apparent. Only in this case was it doubtful that there was an exit route hidden somewhere for the Player to escape though.

Any normal Player would feel incensed about being forced into a cheap and unfavorable situation. After all, no one wants to lose, especially to something beyond their control. Which fitted the shitty devs M.O. when it came to game design for YGGDRASIL.

For Shirou, however, he quickly evaluated his options. While he could fight, there were other alternatives.

'I could always just kill myself and save all the trouble.' He briefly entertained the macabre thought.

It would be easy, too. Trace the likes of Gáe Bolg or something lethal and stab it through a vital area like his neck or heart, allowing the instant death to take effect. While discomfort was an issue, death would be quick and painless. Something he was at least grateful for Zelretch's inclusion in his situation. Plus, he could easily manage it so that when he does die, the gear or item he'll drop will be an easily replaceable one.

He'll respawn in a safe location and be free from the PKers and Caster. Nothing of importance will be lost besides maybe his time, which he had an abundance of anyway.

It'll also be the quickest and easiest solution…

Shirou immediately shook that particular line of thought away.

He really must be losing his mind if such a thought was actually being considered.

"Well, it's not like I have anything better to do." He idly commented.

Were he to escape, Shirou would likely jump back into doing some quests to make himself busy. Caster's intervention proved to be unexpected, but a fortuitous one.

Though he made his thoughts on Caster and the rest of the Servant bosses clear, the magus couldn't deny the curiosity bubbling within him to fight her. If only to experience it once and see what the developers and Zelretch had in store for him.

And so, he made his decision.

Assessing the situation, he knew he was in the middle of the woods. Behind him, there was a thick fog that encircled the surroundings. He attempted to move past it, only to be pushed back by some repellent force. If the magus had to hazard a guess, he'd say that it was the boundary of the 'dungeon.'

With nowhere to go but forward, he began making his way slowly ahead. As he walked through the forest, the familiarity of the landscape clued him in on just exactly where he was. He exited the woods, spotting a new location up ahead as well as the confirmation that he needed.

At the edge of the outcropping leading towards the mountainside, a majestic torri, a traditional Japanese gate, stood tall. The gate bore the kanji that read Mount Enzo. Beyond the gate lies a flat expanse of land that spreads out at the base of the mountain. From the torri, a winding pathway snakes its way across the flatlands, ascending the steep slope of the mountain. While the climb may not seem overly perilous, it culminates at the entrance of the complex that was Ryuudou Temple.

It didn't take a genius to guess where he would find the elusive boss.

As he stood at the entrance to the gates, a sense of nostalgia washed over him as he gazed upon the scenic, familiar landscape.

Shirou silently made his way through the oriental gates, taking in the tranquil landscape that surrounded him. Despite his journey thus far, he had yet to encounter any resistance on the path leading up to the temple. This unusual calm only served to heighten his vigilance, as he remained alert and on guard, anticipating the true start of the raid.

It finally came after he'd taken his first few steps towards the mountain. Shirou's ears perked up, catching the sound of something whizzing through the air towards him. From above, bolts of purple beams rained down on the faker.

He pushed forward, evading the bombardment of purple beams. The attack exploded all around him, leaving scorch marks and kicking up dust in their wake.

Though numerous, they were scattered and random, far from difficult to dodge by simply veering left and right to avoid them completely. However, that wouldn't be all.

As he drew closer to the base of the mountain, his second challenge appeared. Making their appearance were mobs easily recognized as skeletons. However, they all lacked a distinct skull, with their heads being only jaws. Some carried weapons, while others were running on all fours, their skeletal jaws snapping wildly.

Dragon Tooth Warrior - Lvl: 55

While relatively weak, there was an innumerable amount of them pouring out of the woodwork. The mobs of skeletons charged forward with reckless abandonment as bolts of energy continued raining down on the surrounding area.

With Kanshou and Bakuya in his hands and [Reinforcement] lighting up all over his body, Shirou charged head-on.

The virtual magus tore through the skeletal army. His swords, like a hot knife through butter, slashed and decapitated the skeletal warriors with ease. Even with their numbers, they couldn't halter his pace up the mountain's path.

His ear picked up the sound of an incoming purple bolt. Shirou reached out and grabbed one of the Dragon Tooth Warriors and threw it into the air. The two collided, canceling each other out. With a new strategy in mind, he continued onward with little impeding his way like a well-oiled machine. The magus made full use of the terrain and mobs as he ascended the steps, trekking up the winding path and deeper into the mountainous terrain.

'So far, so good.' Shirou thought, seeing as he'd reached the midway point with little difficulty. To his right, there was an open space that made up the cliffside, allowing for a clear view down on the land. To his left was the side forest, one that grew denser the more he ascended.

A bit too easy if he was being honest with himself. However, he spoke too soon as he noticed a flicker of light up ahead, his danger sense blaring to life.

"Trace on!"

Projecting a massive tower shield, he planted it on the ground and braced himself. A fraction of a second later, concentrated and more potent purple energy beams slammed into the shield. Pieces of his projection were almost instantly vaporized, but the shield held, protecting him from attack.

"Quite the persistent one, aren't you?" Caster appeared once more. Her robes spread opened, resembling butterfly wings, with the interior of the robes adorned with brightly colored swaths of her mana along the fabric. Numerous magic circles appeared, circling her, constantly shifting. Aligning, she fired off several greater beams at him.

Responding, he dashed forward as she rained down attack after attack with reckless abandonment, the Dragon Tooth Warriors being destroyed in the crossfire.

"[Trace Bullet]!" He invoked, tracing and firing his projections in retaliation as he ran parallel to her.

However, Caster proved to be a very slippery target to hit, as she shimmered just before his attack made contact. Remembering what happened last time, he willed them to track her, but his efforts proved inadequate. She moved with lightning-fast speed, appearing and disappearing in rapid succession, all while unleashing beams of potent mana to intercept his homing projectiles and detonating them harmlessly away from her.

Once again, she materialized before him and unleashed a barrage of purple beams.

Shirou's eyes focused on her as he dodged her continual bombardment and parried with Kanshou and Bakuya.

In contrast to the Players, the Servant Boss could spam [Teleportation] like it was nothing, as well as make full use of [Flight] within the open space, two very powerful aspects when it came to mage combat. Caster zipped around the air, moving effortlessly and instantaneously with impunity, relentlessly pursuing her opponent without any constraint. This formidable arsenal of abilities made it incredibly difficult for Shirou to land a proper attack. As if the obstacle wasn't enough, the purple mage fired beams of purple mana without end, forcing Shirou to move quickly to avoid and weave through her volleys.

With another flourish, he traced another dozen or so projections, but instead of firing them all directly at Caster, he fired them outward into the air in a spread. The Servant boss disappeared once more before reappearing, exactly as he had planned it. He couldn't predict exactly where she'd reposition, but he could at least account for it.

Willing the closest Noble Phantasms to her, they detonated in a wide area in a powerful explosion and managed to engulf Caster.

Caster emerged out of the smoke, but this time she was protected by a barrier that glistened like a sphere of glass, and, judging by her HP bar, his attack had no effect.

'I should've figured as much.' Shirou tsked.

After all, spellcasters were notorious for being the weakest in overall survivability. He shouldn't be surprised that the boss had some protection spells and buffs on her. Especially since her counterpart during the Fifth Holy Grail War had them as well.

"[Αερο]!" Pointing her staff at Shirou, he had barely enough time to react as a powerful gust of wind rushed towards him. Blades of compressed air slashed at him as he raised his arms in protection. Numerous cuts adorned his body as he was sent flying backward, hitting a large tree.

The remaining Dragon Tooth Warrior rushed him as he was down. However, he swiftly retaliated, taking them down and rising to his feet in one fluid motion. Shirou's eyes narrowed in annoyance. He needed a new plan of attack. He needed to shut down her constant teleporting, and luckily for him, he had the exact method. He avoided another blast of purple mana and dashed inward, into the side forest of the mountain's path.

Caster persisted in her attacks, strafing at the edge. Amidst the explosions and trees, flashes of light could be seen flickering within the forest, shrouded by the purple discharges.

Shirou emerged from the far side of the forest, this time with his black bow in hand, a Hrunting arrow ready, and a crystal in his hand.

"[Delay Teleportation]!" Shirou shouted the spell, tossing the spell crystal into the air before light emanated from the crystal as it exploded. The light spread across the area and coated Caster in it.

Caster teleported once more, dodging another volley of [Trace Bullet]. This time, however, there was a noticeable delay in her action. It was no longer instantaneous, allowing him to spot where she would appear next. Exactly where Shirou was ready and had primed his arrows.

Loosening his arrows, they struck but were unable to penetrate through her barrier. Even without her constant teleporting around, she continued to be nimble and glide through the air with unrivaled grace. With yet another flourish, he released a wave of projections that were dispersed and random, just like before. This time, he detonated them randomly, some more slowly than others, as opposed to having them all go off at once. Caster's form constantly flickered, disappearing and reappearing, albeit much slower now as she used [Flight] in between her teleporting to evade being caught by his attack.

Shirou knew that pinpointing exactly where Caster would reappear would be challenging in its own right, due to her range of teleportation being vast and nearly limitless within the open air. What he could do, however, was limit her options and make her move to where the magus wanted her to be. In other words, he kited Caster to make her teleport where Shirou wanted her to appear, such as a seemingly open space that was free and safe, exactly where he would be waiting for.

"There!"

Sensing his opportunity, several projected weapons shot forth from the forest, those that he had projected and had hidden throughout back then. They cut through the air with blinding speed, hitting her the split second she reappeared before she had a chance to react. Over the transparent barrier, visible cracks developed.

At the same time, Shirou let loose Hrunting. She attempted to flee, evading the attack and retreating, only for his arrow to bend at an unusual angle, resuming its chase. Caster was unable to teleport away in time, and the crimson projectiles struck her from behind, bypassing her weakened defense with ease.

Caster let out a cry as her barrier shattered, Hrunting fiercely biting into her digital flesh, and exploding. The boss lurched, teleporting away again, but thanks to the spell crystal, she was met with the same fate as before. Several more projections in reserve took to the air from the forest, detonating and forcing her to be kitted, just as Shirou had planned. The magus unleashed several high-speed projected arrows alongside Hrunting, catching her in a burst of explosions as she reappeared further away, exactly as he had predicted. This strategy continued, effectively keeping Caster in a state of lockdown.

Despite how fruitful his strategy was, Shirou found himself frowning slightly. He couldn't help but feel a sense of unease looming in the atmosphere. With one spell, he had all but crippled Caster's greatest asset, and with several key attacks, he had effectively dropped her HP bar down to mid-yellow. Dare he say it, the fight was almost easy.

What happened next would only affirm his suspicions.

Caster's body flickered, her body shrouded by a transparent coat of mana, and she disappeared. She reappeared right where she was before. That wasn't all, as her HP was full again. Shirou's eyes widened as an all-too-familiar memory replayed itself back in his head.

'So they turned that into Caster's special boss skill.' He grimaced.

"But if that's the case, that means Rule Breaker-"

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, Caster brandished it. In her hand, the purple mage held a weapon - a jagged dagger featuring a thin, dark, and luminous purple blade. At first glance, the weapon did not seem particularly threatening, but he knew from first-hand experience what it was fully capable of. The boss immediately turned the blade on herself, nicking her hand.

The glow that once coated her when he first used [Delay Teleportation] dispersed from her body.

Without delay, Caster teleported away once again, this time instantly, just as she had done before. She reappeared directly above him, her gaze solely focused on the virtual magus.

"[Machia Hecatia Graea]!" Caster shouted as the skies lit up with multiple large spell circles. Whirling and thrumming with power, they aligned and targeted the faker. A barrage of blue lighting plunged towards him.

Shirou's eyes widened in alarm as his hand raced to his menu with the utmost speed, shifting through before bringing out one of his many contingencies. He held in his hand a small rod with lines of pulsating mana. He crushed it, and a blue dome expanded forth, shielding him. It was a consumable cash item, one that erected a barrier spell used to block against high-tier magical attacks.

He raised the barrier spell just in time to protect himself as a shower of blue lightning crashed into him. The attack tore the surroundings apart, and thunder roared as if the sky were splitting. He hissed through clenched teeth as the attack was stronger than he had anticipated, doing a fair amount more damage than he had anticipated despite the barrier and his rather high [Magic Resistance] stat.

The attack eventually let up, and not even a second after her attack finished, Shirou rushed out, bow in hand and arrows drawn. Caster disappeared as perusal, and Shirou waited. His eyes watched the skies, but this time, she didn't reappear instantly. For several seconds, he braced himself before he blinked, seeing that she was nowhere in sight.

His heterochromatic eyes narrowed, his bow lowering as he realized that Caster was completely gone.

'A timed fight encounter?' He speculated.

He was given no more time to wonder about the rules and mechanics of the encounter as his hearing picked up rumbling, the stomping skeletal feet of additional Dragon Tooth Warriors rushing up the pathway towards him. Shirou resumed his trek upwards, racing up the mountainous trail. Along the way, he used a potion to heal himself back to full health. As he soon reached the upper summit, the pathway narrowed, and flanking the smooth stone steps was a grove of trees and bamboo on either side.

A brief stint of nostalgia coursed through him as he looked at the stone steps that led to the temple's gate. Both before and during the war, so many memories…

His eyes scanned the area as he hurried up the steps, keeping the entrance to the temple in view, alert for any potential threats. Shirou half expected to encounter a certain katana-wielding Assassin.

"Ahhh!" A scream cried out. Shirou came to a quick stop when he saw something being thrown from the entrance above. It was one of the PKers from before.

Acting on instinct and absentmindedly, he jumped and caught the Player. Landing, the two briefly made eye contact before the PKer violently tried to untangle himself, forcibly pushing Shirou away.

There was a brief pause as they cautiously eyed each other. Shirou saw the Player raise an open hand towards him, and he immediately prepared an attack. Whether or not the PKer was going to attack him or perhaps even warn him, the faker would never truly know as a black blur landed in between them. Shirou staggered back and could only watch as a fist lashed out with frightening speed, a silhouette of a snake encompassing the fist as it barreled through the Player, exiting out the back.

The PKer's HP bar, which was in the red, dropped to zero, and he shattered like glass into polygons.

It was only Shirou and the mysterious attacker now.

The figure turned to face him. The silver-haired Player felt a rush of emotions surging within him. How could he not when he came face to face with his former sensei?

Souichirou Kuzuki, he looked exactly as Shirou last saw him. Dressed in a dark green, well-worn suit and tie, he stood tall and imposing. His softly cut black hair on top of his head, coupled with his bespectacled face, gave him an emotionless and austere appearance, as if he were made of stone. His entire body was covered in glowing streaks that Shirou immediately recognized as [Reinforcement], with particular attention paid to his limbs.

Sensei - Lvl: 125

It seemed that Caster wasn't the only boss he had to contend with.

He was given little time to dwell on this as his former sensei-turned-boss charged straight towards him, lashing out with a fist that he narrowly dodged. Shirou retaliated, setting [Reinforcement] ablaze all over his body.

Shirou slashed with Kanshou and Bakuya, but Kuzuki showed great dexterity by bending his body at an almost impossible angle, deflecting his attack entirely while also striking Shirou in the ribs with his fist.

The magus grunted, reeling from the heavy strike. He quickly found himself on the defensive, blocking and countering Sensei's flurry of attacks as much as he could, but the former assassin was formidable, even after all these years. Sensei's fists lashed out with lightning-fast aggression, seemingly curving around his slashes and striking his weak points. Seeing that his current strategy wasn't working, Shirou disengaged, jumping back to avoid an attack.

He dismissed the married blades and motes of light condensed within his hand as two new weapons formed. The first, a sword crafted from obsidian and crimson bearing the name of Hrunting, remained in its original form, as opposed to the various instances where he had utilized [Reinforcement] to transform it into an arrow. The second was a black and red gun, none other than Kanshou Alternative.

The two lunged forward again. Kuzuki landed another curving strike, while the Hound of the Red Plains managed to draw 'blood' with his attack. Hrunting lit up with an ominous, bloody glow.

Pivoting on the ball of his foot, Shirou lashed out with a reinforced kick, which Kuzuki brought up his hands to block and, using the momentum, leveled the silver barrel of his gun at the boss. Kanshou Alternative fired, landing several shots before the boss jumped backward, into the hedges, and used the trees and bamboo as cover as he ran. His shots rang out but were unable to find their mark.

Kuzuki grabbed a hold of a particularly long and thick bamboo and, using his momentum, swung himself around with the bamboo, appearing at Shirou's unguarded flank. A fist lunged forward, aiming at his opponent's exposed backside.

Only to be met by Hrunting, Shirou's arm and part of his upper body being brought around by the backhanded swing.

'Hrunting.' Shirou mused.

The sword of the legendary Beowulf. It was said that the crimson blade would hunt its prey no matter what once it drew blood. It looked for the most effective ways to kill its prey, almost as if it had a mind of its own. Shirou simply used this facet of the Noble Phantasm to his advantage, slacking his body to allow Hrunting to seek optimal movement. This allowed him to make on-the-dime turns and counters when needed.

Dismissing Kanshou Alternative, he traced a second Hrunting. From there, the two re-engaged in a hectic close-quarter melee, their bodies twisting as they attacked and dodged, pushing their bodies to keep up with each other.

Were there any spectators, they would be left simply befuddled, unsure of what exactly they were witnessing. It was less of a coherent fight and more like a jumble of moves and attacks being strung together. It was a constant back and forth between the combatants, where they were simultaneously attacking and yet evading all within the same breath. Highly unorthodox, yet Shirou was able to keep pace with the boss.

Hrunting struck relentlessly with pinpoint slashes, as he allowed it to help dictate his motions while parrying and repelling his former sensei's equally swift strikes however much he could.

Blow for blow, they traded, but it was far from equal. Shirou gritted his teeth, pain shooting out with every successful hit that landed on him. While he managed to land several deep wounds and gashes, Kuzuki's attacks were far more impactful. Each of the boss's blow practically produced bursts of wind with every swipe and strike.

'Heavy…' That was all he could say. Each impact was enough to rattle his bone, even with [Reinforcement]. His former sensei's blows were easily on par with Yamaiko's.

Glazing at their respective HP, Shirou was down to the low greens, while Kuzuki wasn't that far behind him HP wise.

Dodging a strike aimed at his temple, he broke off and jumped back, trying to put some distance between them.

"[Earthquake Foot]!"

Shirou's progress was abruptly halted as the imposing boss raised a foot and stomped the ground. The impact caused the ground to split and the air to quiver with the force of the earthquake. Shirou was momentarily thrown off balance, struggling to maintain his footing. Without wasting a beat, Sensei assumed a formal stance, lowering his center of gravity and drawing back his arm. A bright white aura enveloped his fist as he unleashed his attack.

"[Snake Strike]!"

Like a compressed spring being released, his fist struck blindingly fast. The image of a snake coated his fist once more. Shirou only had enough time to bring both blades up as the attack connected.

Hrunting nearly shattered upon impact, the force of the attack sent him flying back and tumbling down the stone stairs at the base. The Noble Phantasms dissolved soon after.

He coughed, trying to control his ragged breathing as a hand nursed where his sensei struck him, trying to abate the pain.

Another familiar sense of déjà vu washed over him, reminding Shirou of their first fight and how it went all those years ago. It was almost as if history was repeating itself.

He quickly brushed the idle thoughts aside and leaped out of the way as Kuzuki prepared to decapitate him by bringing down an axe kick where his head had been. The ground cracked up from the force. Rubble and dust kicked up as the attack narrowly missed, but the boss was quick to capitalize on the faker's moment of weakness, turning on his heel and rushing him down.

Prana flowed and pooled between his fingers as Shirou charged at him, the two exchanging attacks as they met. Kuzuki's serpent fist curved, landing a blow on his back and knocking him to the ground as they passed one another. The digital sensei would've rushed to finish off his downed opponent were he not inexplicably frozen in place, courtesy of several Black Keys being stabbed in his shadow.

It held him down long enough that Shirou recovered in a split second and projected his bow with arrows notched and ready, in addition to several traced broken Noble Phantasms. Without hesitation, he fired them all at Kuzuki. The entire surrounding area was rocked by the sheer force of his attack. Taking the brunt of his barrage point blank, the co-boss was sent flying backward, his body crashing through the hedges and leaving a wake of broken trees, bamboo stocks, and upturned dirt in his trail. His body lay there, battered and injured, his HP plummeting to half of its original amount.

Despite doing a fair bit of damage, a sense of suspicion bloomed within him, starting back when he managed to hurt Caster. When compared to other Dungeon Bosses of similar levels that he had previously battled, they were notably weak. He knew there was more at stake in this battle, and his suspicions were confirmed when Kuzuki was engulfed in a transparent coat of mana before his form briefly flickered and reappeared on his feet. His HP bar had recovered to 100%.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" He couldn't help but exclaim.

It seemed that Caster's time-flickering ability wasn't just limited to herself. He quickly climbed the steps as he turned his attention to the temple. He needed to get to more open grounds. Crossing through the temple's gate, he was greeted by the sight of Ryuudou Temple, exactly as he remembered it.

His eyes caught the glitter of items sprawled across the rocky temple grounds. At least he didn't have to worry about the PKers being an issue.

Before he could go any further, a beam of purple mana shot forth, slicing itself through the rock garden in front of him and halting any progress towards the temple. Above the temple, Caster materialized, her magic circle pulsing with readiness and brightness. From the entrance, Kuzuki appeared, walking calmly through the gates, his blank eyes focused solely on him.

Glancing between the two bosses and keeping both in his line of sight, he felt a grimace take hold. Two versus one. Far from the direst of situations he'd faced before in both YGGDRASIL and the real world, but it would still be an extremely uphill battle as he knew there were still tricks and gimmicks aplenty that he needed to unveil before he could assess just how the boss fight would go and devise a strategy to win.

Unfortunately, that wasn't all, however.

A deafening roar shattered the stillness of the atmosphere, a sound that was not unfamiliar to him. Its origin was undoubtedly draconian, with the thumping of powerful wings resounding through the air. As he looked up, his body was briefly shrouded in a shadow before he spotted the massive beast soaring above him.

In comparison to its more formidable counterparts from the YGGDRASIL breed, this dragon had a more slender physique. It was elongated and lean, with small forelimbs, resembling more of a winged serpent than its larger, more scaley brethren that ruled the skies. Its entire body was covered with dark green scales, which imparted a rough texture to its hide.

Colchis Dragon - Lvl: 125

The dragon circled high in the sky, its slender wings flapping and its black, beady eyes fixed to the temple.

To the front lay Caster, her spells attuned and ready for devastation. To his back stood Kuzuki, imposing and watchful, ready to strike when he'd least expect it. High above the cloud, the Colchis Dragon soared, cutting off any chance of escape.

Shirou was starting to understand how entire raiding parties were wiped out and met with nothing but defeat.

Were it only Caster or Kuzuki, one on one, Shirou was confident he could carve out a victory even with all their potential tricks up their sleeves. It would be a matter of practice and patience. Against the two of them, it would be a challenge, most definitely, and would undoubtedly involve very risky plays on his part, but not completely impossible. However, the presence of a third boss in addition to the horde of seemingly limitless mobs turns this into a battle of pure attrition.

Shirou could still do it, but he'd need to learn their abilities and exploit them as much as possible. He needed time. Time that his enemies aren't willing to give.

Not to mention that all three of them were tireless, capable of rotating aggro to allow the others to recover. Eventually, something of Shirou's will have to give, and that would undoubtedly be his MP, which was less than halfway drained from the encounter with the PKers and the brief altercation with Caster and Kuzuki. While he had an army's worth of potions and legendary-grade food within his inventory to keep his HP topped up, once his MP reaches zero, his combat capabilities will be severely impacted - even with the weapons he keeps in his inventory as backups. Avalon and MP regen potions provided only a temporary solution, more of a stopgap than a definitive solution to the problem at hand.

As he stood there, he couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu, as if he had been transported back in time to the Fifth Holy Grail War. Of all the Servant Bosses he had faced thus far, Caster was undoubtedly one of the most challenging, second only to Berserker in terms of sheer difficulty. Despite being objectively the weakest of all the Servants, Caster compensated for it by being exceptionally cunning and sly, utilizing her numerous abilities to offset the balance in her favor. To make matters worse, she was now free from the constraints that had hindered her during the previous Grail War, meaning she could operate at her full potential, much like Berserker. And if that wasn't enough, she was also backed up by two equally formidable co-bosses.

Shirou could only see one viable strategy: to completely nuke them with a full combo, dropping their HP from 100 to 0, preventing them from having time to use the time flicker skill.

Not even the developers would be cruel enough to tack on something such as a resurrection for the bosses on top of an already challenging raid. At least, that was his hope.

In the end, it was a feat easier said than done, as were he to risk it all and kill Caster, there was no guarantee that it would end the raid itself.

Surrounded from all sides and facing near insurmountable odds, any other Player would feel boxed in, tension and pressure slowly mounting before panic would beset them. The thoughts of losing and thus missing a chance at an enticing reward, an unavoidable death, and the loss of a precious item on their person only heightened their anxiety.

Yet, even with potential death looming over him, Shirou felt oddly at ease. It wasn't born out of a sense of confidence, but rather a certain assurance. The battle with Caster was nothing more than a means of killing time. Win or lose. The outcome mattered little to the faker in the end. He would simply move on.

There was a certain liberation to knowing that not even 'death' matters.

It would be an entirely different story if he had a party to back him up and coordinate with. If his friends were by his side…

But they weren't here.

It was only him-

[Message]!

And then, something unexpected happened. A message notification popped up, knocking him out of his thoughts. His eyes widened at the sender.

It was Momonga.

Last edited: Dec 2, 2023

Chapter 8 - These Ceaseless Changing Times II

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 04/18/2021

Chapter 8 - These Ceaseless Changing Times II

|||Leading up to the [Message] given by Momonga|||

November 29th, 2135 World: Helheim. Location: The Great Tomb of Nazarick - 10th Floor.

"And lastly, but certainly not least, our final destination. The Throne Room of Ainz Oown Gown and the Crowning Jewel of the Great Tomb Of Nazarick. Nestled within the deepest part of the tomb, no one but the members of this guild has seen it… until now." Momonga narrated.

The set of massive double doors rumbled as they opened by themselves, having recognized the authority of the Guildmaster, allowing for two Players to enter. The first was Momonga, the Elder Lich, who strove forward unimpeded and proudly. Following behind him was none other than Kasumi, or Destana, as she was called in game.

Where Momonga took on the appearance of the archetypal dreaded Overlord, Destana was his antithesis. Twelve pure white, beautiful wings sprouted from her back, allowing her to float gently after the magic caster. She stood at just a head and a half smaller than Momonga's avatars' towering height.

The Aerosphere was adorned in regal blue, silver, and gold. She wore a white toga-like dress underneath, which was complemented by silver and gold accented armor pieces on top. The armor included elegant gauntlets, a stylish chest piece, and crafted greaves, all armored in silver with blue accents.

The digital representation was an exquisite beauty and was endowed with a supple chest and lovely curves that were all the more pronounced due to the tight-fitting attire. The avatar's stunning features were equally divine, with a heart-shaped face adorned with regal cheeks and a flawless complexion. The glimmering emerald eyes, with their star-shaped pupils, were captivating, while the ruby-red lips added to the avatar's allure. The locks of brilliant golden hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, completing the avatar's enchanting appearance. A smile played at the angel's lips, which could be both pure and enticing, depending on the observer's perspective. The golden jeweled circlet resting on her forehead added to her regal appearance, while the white marble staff with its beautifully crafted bulbous pointed end added to her mystique. The white halo floating above her head completed the angel's celestial image.

Her appearance was simply angelic. Momonga realized the accidental pun as he thought of this.

"Woah…" Destana let out breathlessly.

Gliding into the room, her eyes immediately sought to take in everything. The sheer size and splendor of the room was practically overwhelming.

"It's just… amazing… I mean… ! Just, wow!" Destana stuttered out, too excited and happy to put it into words. For what else could she say? It was grand, it was magnificent, and it was truly beyond words.

The angelic Player had seen some amazing scenery and locations in her time playing YGGDRASIL, but what the Great Tomb of Nazarick had to offer was beyond compare. She never thought something of such grandiosity and scale was even possible, imaginary or otherwise. It was almost as if someone took a piece of fantasy and somehow molded it into reality.

"Man, whoever designed this knew what they were doing! It feels so real and amazing that I can't believe it." The Aerosphere praised wholeheartedly.

"It is, isn't it?" Momonga puffed out his chest in pride and preened at her words.

The Throne Room, much like the rest of the Tomb of Nazarick, was delicately and painstakingly handcrafted. Every member contributed in some way, whether it be ideas, materials, or actual coding and design. It stood as the culmination of their contribution, and it was always nice to have their work appreciated.

For a few minutes, the two said nothing. Destana was completely awestruck by the marvelous room. Her avatar twirled and took to the air as she sought to capture every nook and cranny of the Throne Room from the sheer size of it all to the immaculate details in the architecture. Momonga watched silently behind her, a small giddy smile tugging at his lips every time she let out a small squeak or gasp in awe upon seeing more of the room. Pride filled his chest at her reactions.

Destana drifted towards the Throne of Kings, circling it and admiring the crystal throne as Momonga moved at an easy pace.

"So, you're like the Guildmaster and the king of the guild? This is your throne to sit on, right?" She asked him.

"Technically, anyone can sit on the throne. It's not just reserved for myself. Also, please don't call me a king. I'm just the Guildmaster, not a king." Momonga countered.

"Sweetie, you literally have a crown on top of you and a personal throne." Destana pointed it out. "Name me something kinglier than that, Momonga-sama~" She sing-songed.

"Uggh, not you too." He lamented. It was bad enough that he had to hear this kind of constant teasing from his friends.

"Awww, why not? Momonga-sama has a neat little ring to it." Destana chirped. "Besides, if you're king, then that makes me your queen! The great Destana-sama, I quite like the sound of that."

"Of course, you would." Momonga huffed, but in good humor.

In response, she showed an emoticon with its tongue sticking out towards him, which only made Momonga chuckle under his breath.

A brief respite took over the Throne Room as the couple simply basked in silence. It was broken by Destana as she drifted closer to the undead Player.

"I really had fun on this date, Satoru-san." Said Destana, speaking up and looking at him, affection radiating from her gaze. Her voice was soft and full of appreciation.

After their memorable encounter last time, Destana revealed that she wanted to see if there was a chance between him and her. Against all odds and even surprising himself, Momonga decided to give the two of them a shot. It was certainly slow and difficult at first, with the occasional road bumps, and there were times where he allowed his usual pessimism to plague his mind, but he fought through the doubt. If not for himself, then for her at the very least. Through a miracle or chance, here they were, many months later, officially boyfriend and girlfriend. Even now, he still couldn't truly believe it.

It was a gradual process in those early months. The two of them began their relationship as committed partners, growing together and learning to accept one another's presence. It was pretty obvious right away that neither he nor Kasumi had ever been in a committed relationship before. Because it was all new territory for them, it took a few trials and errors, to put it mildly, before they settled into a routine.

Gradually, over the first year, they warmed up to one another, and Momonga especially grew to take comfort in the entire situation. Honestly, he still wondered if everything was just some elaborate dream or fantasy, as he still couldn't believe he, of all people, would ever be lucky enough to have a significant other. Especially someone as spirited as her. Guess the saying holds true: opposites do attract.

Despite working at the same company, the two occasionally had schedule conflicts, which made the initial stages of their relationship rather difficult as the two warmed up to one another. However, this only served to make the moments they did have together all the more precious. It took some time before they were able to work out a compromise that would allow the budding couple to spend time with one another while navigating the usual roadblocks that can arise in any relationship.

Destana, unlike her partner, was not a complete introvert, and her leisure time was not limited to playing video games. To his surprise, she had always been a casual player. Balancing work, leisure time, and a relationship was a challenge for Momonga, but to his ever-increasing surprise, he was able to manage it to a certain extent. Kasumi's patience and willingness to build their relationship gradually, one step at a time, were also invaluable.

Sometimes Momonga wondered if she was too good for someone like him. It was far from the first time he pondered such a thought. Only for her to lightly reprimand him and tell him, 'Don't think like that' before giving him a kiss or an equally tender affection.

Now, after their second year together, their relationship was still going strong.

However, if there was one thing that the undead Player felt was lacking, it would be on the actual 'dating' front. Most of their dates were outside, usually hanging out at the bar she frequented, drinking, eating, and chatting about whatever was on their minds. Occasionally, they would find new restaurants and enjoy whatever was available. They would also have sporadic virtual dates, though it was just them playing together in YGGDRASIL as he thought it would be convenient for the two of them when they couldn't go out in person, not that she seemed to mind.

Momonga always enjoyed spending time with her, but he never got the impression that they were doing anything special. He constantly felt as though something was missing. As if he were acting improperly and could do something more.

A date was supposed to be something special, something the two could look back on and reminisce about. It was supposed to be a treat for both parties. Or at least, that was what the salaryman defined as a date. And he felt he was failing when it came to that aspect.

Momonga remembered expressing this to her once, feeling as if he was lacking in his duties as a boyfriend for being unable to treat her to something nice or special.

Kasumi was touched by his thoughts and perceived concern. She told him in no uncertain terms that it didn't matter. To her, it was of no consequence if they were spending their time in either a restaurant, in YGGDRASIL, their own homes, or even in bed - the latter much to Momonga's embarrassment and her amusement.

So long as they were together and they were having fun, that was all that truly mattered, in her opinion, and that was enough for her. An attitude that only further endeared her to the undead sorcerer.

He admired her patience and understanding towards him, which only intensified his desire to come up with a proper idea for dates. He knew that his girlfriend deserved nothing less than the best, and he wanted to express how grateful he was to have her in his life. Though he knew Destana would disagree and point out how hard he was being on himself, again, Momonga thought it was necessary to make up for the rather lackluster second-anniversary celebration they had a while back.

As he pondered ways to show his appreciation, an idea suddenly dawned on him. A plan to treat his girlfriend to a special date, one that should definitively show her his appreciation. After seeking some advice from a certain silver-haired hero, Momonga decided to show off Ainz Ooal Gown's base: The Great Tomb of Nazarick. As these two things held a special place in his heart, it felt only fitting.

When the idea was first suggested to Mononga, he would admit that he was apprehensive, unsure of how she would respond to a tour of all things. But those fears were banished instantly upon hearing her excited answer. And so, on their next available free day, Momonga took her with him on an exclusive tour of the entire Tomb of Nazarick.

The journey began on the 1st Floor and proceeded downward to the 10th Floor, leading to the innermost chambers. It would be an understatement to say that she was thrilled. Throughout the extensive tour, she was filled with an exuberant enthusiasm, akin to that of a child in a candy store. Momonga graciously regaled the rich histories and origins of each floor, starting from its inception and continuing with the fascinating tales of the various NPCs that inhabited the different levels to all the neat little facts and tidbits he could muster. Destana was entirely captivated and spellbound from beginning to end, soaking up every detail he presented with starry-eyed wonder.

He showed off everything the Great Tomb of Nazarick had to offer. Everything from the tonally thematic detail of the 1st to 3rd Floors, which were specifically crafted to complement the Heteromorphic and villainous aesthetic of their creator, Ainz Ooal Gown, to the intricately beautiful centerpiece that was the 4th and 6th Floor, which hosted a lush and verdant landscape illuminated by a day-night cycle that was utterly breathtaking to behold. The glittering stars that adorned the ceiling of this floor only added to its otherworldly beauty. As they descended lower, Destana was treated to the 7th and 8th Floor, which held their own spectacular beauty, especially the amazing canvas that was the night sky filled with luminous stars crafted by none other than Blue Plant. Then there was the 9th Floor, the Royal Suite, a space that was packed to the brim with luxurious features and meticulously crafted details. Finally, there was the grand Throne Room on the 10th Floor, which was a truly majestic and all-encompassing space located at the very heart of the tomb.

He was a little worn out by the end, Momonga wouldn't deny it. What with Destana constantly quizzing him on everything she saw and dragging him along whenever something caught her eye. Nevertheless, she enjoyed herself and had a great time on the entire tour, as did he. That was all that mattered in the end for him.

"Helloooo? Earth to Station Momon-kun? Do you copy?"

The remark was spoken with a drawl that dripped with amusement and mischief that was all too familiar. The insistent poking finger on his chest and badly mimicked radio static sound only emphasized how accurate his assessment was.

With a chuckle and a nervous scratching of his skull, a habit he picked up from a crimson Player, he allowed himself to fully focus on the present, reminiscing over everything that led up to this.

"Sorry about that… I was just thinking."

"Oh? Is our date so tiresome that you'd rather be daydreaming? How dastardly! Or maybe you're thinking about someone else, hmmm?"

Despite the words spoken, his girlfriend never lost her usual cheer. It only seemed to grow with every syllable, ramping up to worrying degrees, if he was honest. It never ended well for his heart and mind when the angelic Player decided to have a bit too much fun. Especially at his expense, more times than not.

As if to prove his instincts right, Kasumi moved from her position next to him, if slightly ahead, to directly ahead, forcing him to focus on her and her actions. She turned to face him and walked backward, her hands crossed behind her at her lower back. Comfortable and aware of his eyes on her, she leaned slightly forward to emphasize… ahem… some of her assets, an emote with a cheeky smile hovering above her all the while.

"Now now, Momon-kun, such behavior is no good! You shouldn't be thinking about anything but my cute, adorable self while we are together!"

Momonga allowed a short chuckle at her antics, a smile growing involuntarily as exasperation set in.

"I am, Kasumi-san. I was simply thinking of how we ended up here… together."

Her stride faltered for a brief moment, as if the jovial energy that had been filling her had suddenly dissipated. The exasperation that replaced it was palpable and seemed to match, if not surpass, his own. She let out a deep sigh and met his gaze, crossing her arms defensively. Finally, she spoke, her voice laced with resigned concern.

"Dear… how many times must I tell you that you don't need to doubt your qualifications to be with me? Seriously, when will it sink into that thick skull that I have chosen you and you alone, no matter what? Sheesh, I love you, and you love me. What else needs to be said?" Her words dripped with mock exasperation and affection, as if she had been forced to repeat this same sentiment over and over again.

Frankly, hearing her open declaration of affection was more than a bit embarrassing, but he would be lying if he said that it didn't make some part of him feel warm and fuzzy. Still, he felt he needed to clarify something.

Speeding up his strides to close the handful of meters that separated the two, Momonga allowed himself to slow down. He gently took hold of one of her forearms. As her grip on herself loosened, he guided her arm to the side before letting go and slipping his hand across her abdomen until he encased her in a one-arm hug.

Momonga could sense the surprise emanating from her, for he was not one to openly display affection. Nonetheless, he would at least try for her. The Aerosphere reciprocated with a warm embrace of her own, and they held each other tightly for a few more moments.

He couldn't see her face, but he didn't need to. He had spent enough time around his better half to know what made her tick. At the moment, she was likely flustered, always shocked by the physical intimacy that she hadn't begun. Still, he wasn't done. Leaning forward the smallest bit, he positioned his mouth near her ear before making a single declaration.

"I love you, too." Momonga whispered, his voice full of sincerity and warmth. Something that was often left unsaid but always understood.

He could feel her body quivering, and she snuggled deeper into his shoulder, attempting to make herself smaller. He permitted her to do so, knowing full well how shy she could be beneath her confident and cheerful exterior. In fact, he found her shyness even more endearing than his own, but he refrained from expressing this sentiment aloud, lest he attract retaliatory teasing from her.

She was a glass canon, if there was one. A 100-attack strength in teasing, but an absolute 0 in defense.

"… No fair."

Her voice was small, more of a whisper than anything else, but he couldn't hide the mirth that it caused in him, his face morphing into a joyful smirk.

"All is fair, in love and war."

With that closing remark of his, all conversation between them ceased, and a tranquil stillness settled over them. Even as they parted ways, holding hands this time, a peaceful contentment enveloped them, impossible to put into words.

After a while, Destana was the first to break the silence, all the while opening the channels for further conversation.

"Y'know, I've said this before… but thank you. For everything you have done."

"Hmm? There's no need for that, it's just a simple tour."

Destana's eyes glossed over. She turned her eyes upward, her gaze drifting lazily from banner to banner. Slowly, but surely, a small, wistful smile bloomed on her face.

"I'm not talking about our date, however wonderful it might've been. No, I'm talking about everything…"

She tried to say more, but nothing more came out. For a second, she stood with her mouth slightly parted, as if urging words to spill out. Ultimately, it just made her look adorably clueless. Momonga gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, showing that he was there for her. That was all she needed as she mustered up her resolve. With a single calming breath, she allowed herself to say what she truly felt.

"Thank you for giving this a chance. And I know that we've only been dating for about two years, but if I'm being honest, the time we've spent together has been the happiest part of my life. It might be corny, but I just want you to know, I can't imagine a life without you!" Destana passionately declared.

Momonga would be lying if he said that her words didn't make his heart skip a bit, a complex blend of emotions blooming in his chest. He was so overwhelmed by the unexpected surge that he failed to notice the mischievousness that filtered into her smile.

"Which is why, for all that you have done, I think it's only fair I give you a little reward~" Her teasing tone returned with a vengeance.

Still distracted, Momonga failed to steady himself for what came next. She distanced herself from him before she changed before his very eyes. In a flash of light, Kasumi's avatar took a drastic turn for the… risque.

Where before she held the bearings of a regal angel, now she donned a different persona. One that had been carefully crafted by the angelic Player for the sole purpose of pressing her boyfriend's buttons and flustering him… And if she enjoyed seeing him blush more than usual, no one could say that she was vengeful for her earlier embarrassment.

Her dress and armor had vanished, replaced by what only Momonga could describe as a lingerie negligee. The garment hugged every curvy detail of her body, draping down to her knees. It was semi-transparent, revealing everything except for her privates. The silky white material was adorned with sparkling glitter and decorated with snowflake patterns, giving it an ethereal, almost otherworldly quality. She also wore long, transparent gloves that extended up to her elbows and high, lacy stockings that ran up and covered her legs. Both were adorned with adorable patterns that matched those on her negligee, giving the whole ensemble a cohesive and playful feel.

With a few more quick commands from her menu, her twelve magnificent wings stretched out, casting a small but powerful luminosity behind her. The ambiance was now set perfectly. Previously, there was no question about her beauty, but now she was downright bewitching. Her emerald eyes emanated an ethereal glow that captured the attention of the undead Player, rendering him unable to look away. Her star-shaped pupils were replaced with burning pink hearts, affixed solely to him, smothering him with affection.

It was a mixture of sinfulness and purity that created one hell of an image that the Overlord was burning into his mind. Destana's new appearance left very little to the imagination, and Momonga was gobbling it all up.

Momonga was beyond thankful that YGGDRASIL was limited in facial animation, or else he would look like an idiot with his eyes wide and his jaw on the floor as he stared unabashedly at the alluring sight in front of him. He wanted to turn away, but his traitorous mind wouldn't comply. He would be a damn liar to say he didn't somewhat enjoy it, especially considering their relationship.

Destana twirled in the air, graceful as a nymph, motes of light trailing behind her as she lowered her feet to the smooth marble floor. She took a step forward, putting extra sway in her steps. The light fabric of the negligee swayed with each step she took, gifting her boyfriend with a rather tantalizing view as she sashayed towards him.

However, she knew that what captivated Momonga the most was the delicious pound of flesh that was her thighs and legs.

No MMO-RPG worth their salt was complete without some kind of provocative or downright sexualized piece of clothing or costume that was passed off as armor for Players to wear and ogle at. It was an unspoken rule, one that persisted since the dawn of video games themselves! And YGGDRASIL was no exception.

While certain actions were restricted to prevent any 18+ or inappropriate acts between Players, there was just enough elbow room to use what she had to her advantage. Namely, certain actions a Player could do to their clothing that didn't breach YGGDRASIL's clear and strict regulations.

From restriction comes innovation. And sometimes, having some clothes on was just as effective, if not more so, than having none on at all.

Her hand went to her flowing golden locks, and with a flick, they flowed. Her majestic hair flowed in the air with sprinkles of light trailing after her, all courtesy of the cash item she had equipped and the special effects from her menu that allowed her hair to sway even though there was no gust of wind within the chamber.

"See something you like, dear~?" She purred, every syllable dripping with sultry cadence. Spreading her hands open, she rolled her hips with every step, presenting herself fully to him. Her smoldering heart-shaped pupil gaze focused solely on Momonga.

His gulp was audible, which was all the answer she needed. A teasing-smile emoticon popped up on top of Destana, reflecting the user's pleasurable smile.

Who knew that the famed leader of Ainz Ooal Gown was such a fan of thighs and legs?

Well, she did. Which explains why her wardrobe has had more skirts and stockings added to it in the last year than ever before. Either way, seeing him flustered was a familiar and welcoming view, and it made her smirk grow to see him in the same position that she had held not long ago. Part of her will admit she very much enjoys the more assertive side of her boyfriend, but there was an order to this!

She wasn't going to allow him to show her up. Now, she just needed to keep up the pressure.

Unfortunately, she missed her next stride as Momonga's reaction continued to unravel.

"Beautiful…"

Destana expected several responses, from outright embarrassment to sputtering, even silent bewilderment, to perhaps even a wolf whistle, however unlikely that was.

She had fully designed and planned for this, dressing herself in such a style to maximize the effects. Sexy, scandalous, alluring, those were but one of the many considerations she made when putting this together.

But beautiful? She could safely say she wasn't expecting that from her boyfriend. What caused her to nearly make a misstep was how he conveyed it.

It wasn't a comment made as empty flattery, instead, it was the breathless sort of observation that was likely involuntary. Which made it all the more genuine and embarrassing. Destana could feel his gaze on her, as if she were the most captivating thing in the world.

It wasn't often that her boyfriend was emotionally expressive, part of why the last couple of minutes had thoroughly shifted the emotional power scale to his end.

Performing an impressive recovery, she hid her misstep as an exaggerated sway of her hips. She just hoped he didn't notice.

Finally, she found herself entrenched in the Guildmaster's personal space. Leaning against him, she allowed herself a small mental cheer when she saw the floating emoticon denoting a blushing face and his turned head to mean her outfit was exceptionally effective.

It was only her newfound position and previous emote gazing that drew her eyes to the crown that rested on her boyfriend's head, its polished silver sheen standing out against his mostly dark outfit. The bare bones of a plan began to form in her mind, a plot to get back at her involuntary tease of a skeleton and finally put him in his place.

It was a matter of pride at this point.

"How unfair! I am your Queen, yet I am without a crown to grace my head!"

She allowed her countenance to be overcome by a childish pout, huffing in a manner befitting a petulant royal.

Whiplashed by the sudden shift in tone, Momonga took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding.

"May I remind you that you already possess a circlet?" He pointed out.

To his amusement, her pout only seemed to intensify.

"That is not the same as a crown, and you know it!"

He honestly wasn't certain about the validity of the statement, but he decided to relent. Momonga knew that an argument with her, no matter the severity or levity, would always end in his loss.

"Alright, then. Do you want to have one commissioned? I can have Amanomahitotsu-san forge you one easily. Or, I'm sure I can find one in the Treasury."

She gave an uncommitted hum, shifting her head from side to side as if in deep thought. Finally, she seemed to nod before looking him straight in the eye and pointing at his head.

"I want that one!"

The gaze of two deep red orbs was directed upwards, fixated on the Crown of Worlds which rested atop his head. This World Item was earned by him and Ainz Ooal Gown for their triumph in conquering The Great Tomb of Nazarick. Despite its immense value, the crown boasted a simple design. Comprised of metal bands plated with gilded silver, they intertwined at the center to form a sharp point where a solitary gem sparkled. The crown's surface was adorned with glowing runes, an ancient knowledge of magic that had long since been lost to the ages.

"Hmm, you know for a fact what this item is and its importance, so why should I hand it over?"

The tone he used was neutral but gleamed with hidden amusement. While the majority of the player base in YGGDRASIL would've likely taken great offense to being asked to give away a World Item, even if temporarily, Momonga trusted Destana wholeheartedly. Enough to give her his Crown, but he wasn't going to fork it over without some resistance.

The angelic Player remained unfazed before his cold rebuttal and, in fact, seemed to become more energetic.

"Well, if you want your present in full, I'll need that crown of yours!"

She spoke in a singsong way, tempting him with promises of further rewards in response to his compliance. Of course, such methods wouldn't work on hi- what was his hand doing?

Before he could realize what he was doing, he had already unequipped the Crown of Worlds, holding it in a loose grip in her direction.

"Thank you, Momon-kun~" Destana happily exclaimed, her attitude inflamed by his thoughtless actions. Before he could take it back, she had already appropriated it and equipped it, all in a single smooth motion.

With the silver crown resting on her temple, just under the white halo, she made a speedy dash towards the throne. Her movements were filled with such unrestrained giddiness that she almost tripped on the steps. After that particular close call, she fully ascended to the centerpiece of the room before bending over to give the throne a quick inspection and then sitting down.

As she was doing this, Momonga's crimson orbs were firmly fixated on her fleeing backside as she raced towards the Throne of Kings. Especially when she briefly bent over the Throne of Kings and involuntarily gave him a very nice view.

'Damn… Was this what Peroroncino-san meant by 'hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave?' If so…'

It would appear that the lord of bones wasn't just a man of the thighs after all.

With the crown safely in her possession, she made herself very comfortable on the throne and prepared for the next step of her master plan!

Destana's new position allowed her to have an overview of the whole room, with her gaze fixed specifically on Momonga. She looked down at him and, once she was certain she had his attention, slowly and sensually crossed her legs, making a show of it. She propped her elbow up against the armchair of the crystalline throne and rested her head against her hand. Leaning back onto the throne, the seductive Aerosphere gazed down at him in a haughty manner before finally addressing him, completely relaxed.

"My my, isn't someone being a naughty little boy? Do I see a bone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? Gazing upon your Empress with such a lecherous gaze, the nerve!"

She scoffed disdainfully, as if the thought itself were offensive, while also putting in the effort to make her voice low and sensual.

"Hmm… Although, I suppose you have earned a reward for your loyal servitude." She said, her voice dripping with honey. "Come, my loyal consort! I shall grant you the honor of kissing my divine form! For I am Destana, Empress of Nazarick and the Supreme Ruler of this Tomb!" The scantily dressed angel loudly declared, her beauty and power on full display.

Silence graced the Throne Room as Kasumi sat upon the throne, sitting tall and composed despite her outlandish behavior. She wore a placid smile, patiently waiting for Momonga's reaction - the squeaky sputters, the adorable flustering, or the soft denial of her audacious statement. Typical reactions that she knew her boyfriend would undoubtedly make and ones she oh so enjoy basking in.

However, what she heard instead was the steady and measured footsteps of the undead Overlord, as he made his way up to the throne without any fuss or commotion.

Each step he took echoed throughout the room, and with each sound, Destana's front slowly cracked. In no time, the Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown himself stood before her. Destana leaned back into the throne in his presence, quelled by his towering presence.

'Was he always this big?' She couldn't help but squeak. Admittedly, she was currently seated, but even then, Momonga's massive form made her feel quite diminutive. His towering presence was even more apparent now that she had lowered herself by sitting down.

Finally, the true ruler of the Tomb of Nazarick spoke.

"You're doing it wrong."

"Eh?"

Her dumbfounded response only made him chuckle. He took one of her hands in his own and pulled her into a standing position, all the while keeping her close with a hand on her waist.

"May I have back the crown?" Momonga gently requested.

Distractedly, she unequipped the World Item and handed it over, still confused by his words and lack of reaction to her plan.

With the Crown of Worlds back in his possession, Momonga discreetly accessed the main control menu and issued a command for Sebas, the Pleiades, and a contingent of maids to converge in the Throne Room. With the task accomplished, he turned his attention back to his girlfriend, who had snapped out of her confusion but was still pouting.

He couldn't help but grin at her as he pulled her close, savoring the warmth of her body. With her face no longer buried in his robes, he almost didn't hear her remark at his behavior.

"Killjoy, not letting me have my fun. Stupid, skeletal servant, not listening to his Empress!"

The rest of her grumbles became indistinguishable, but he was certain that they were variants of her previous statement. It was adorable just how moody she was acting.

Their embrace was cut short, however, when the Throne Room doors creaked open, revealing the NPCs he had secretly called for.

"Huh?" Perplexed, she turned her head to investigate the source of the noise. To her surprise, a man who resembled a butler was at the forefront, accompanied by six knights who were adorned in maid-like attire. A legion of maids followed diligently behind them, marching in an orderly fashion. Before she could ponder the situation any further, she felt an unexpected pull downward.

Momonga took advantage of his position to usher Kasumi back to the Throne of Kings, but the outcome was vastly different. He took a seat first and gently drew his precious angel towards him, guiding her to perch on his lap. Her head nestled against his chest, where his pectoral muscles would have been if he weren't a skeletal being. His embrace was tender, yet it exuded an intangible layer of protection, assuring the woman in his embrace of her safety.

It took her a moment before she realized the position they were in, her body fidgeting inadvertently and nestling herself further in Momonga's embrace. His rich obsidian robes partially shrouded her, like a blanket of comfort. She was fortunate that YGGDRASIL didn't support facial animation, or else all would've seen a blush slowly overtaking her face. Her plan had backfired rather spectacularly in her face.

Before she could speak up, Momonga had this to say.

"What is a coronation without subjects to bask in your glory?" He whispered enticingly in her ear, sending a pleasurable shiver running up her spine at his sudden baritone voice.

"Come forward." He ordered the NPCs. They walked forward before stopping at the bottom steps of the dial.

Destana couldn't help but fidget a little in front of the crowd of lifeless, staring NPCs. Several dozen pairs of eyes bore down on her, creating an overwhelming sense of scrutiny. She leaned further into Momonga's embrace, snuggling up to him for comfort. Momonga couldn't help but inwardly chuckle at her display of vulnerability. Despite her bold exterior, she was quick to revert to her shy self when faced with daunting situations, which only served to endear her to him even more.

Momonga took a moment to clear his throat before addressing them.

"Hear me, my loyal subject of Nazarick! I, Momonga-sama, am here to deliver to you all a royal decree! Rejoice, my loyal subjects, for today you have earned the privilege of gazing upon her, whom I declared to be my equal. Your king commands you! Kneel! Kneel before your Queen, your Empress! The divine and radiant Destana, the Archangel of Beauty!" Momonga projected in his 'roleplaying' voice, one that was deep and powerful, epitomizing his Overlord persona. His booming voice reverberated throughout the inner confines of the Throne Room.

The NPCs immediately did as they were commanded as the maids dropped to their knees and bowed wholly to the throne. Sebas and the Pleiades dropped to one knee, performing a knightly kneel, bowing their heads, and radiating complete servitude.

Momonga leaned back into the crystal throne, a satisfied smile on his lips, and basked in his girlfriend's stunned silence. He allowed it to persist for a few more seconds before wrapping it up.

"You are dismissed. Return to your regular duties, but I bestow upon you an additional task! Spread the word, from the lowest levels of Hell to the peak of Heaven itself, that Destana has joined our ranks, as the Lady of Nazarick and the Empress of the Tomb! Now off, be with you!"

Coordinatively, the NPCs stood up in unison and marched out through the entrance of the Throne Room. The two Players silently watched them leave, and just like that, it was back to the two of them.

"Now that is how you make a declaration." Momonga whispered, his voice warmly smug. However, Destana only half heard him, recovering from her stunned state.

"S-show off" Destana pouted, a tiny stutter infiltrating her voice.

She even slapped his chest for good measure.

"When the hell did you get so smooth?" She demanded, as if he were to blame for his smoothness. Though, from his position, her glare was as dangerous as one from a little kitten sitting on his lap.

Momonga chuckled, amused by her reaction. "I'd say around the time I realized how easy it was to handle you." He answered, shifting slightly in his seat and bringing her in closer, though she didn't seem to mind the closeness.

"Me, easy? As if." Destana scoffed as if offended.

"Hmm, you're right, you are quite the pain to handle sometimes." He remarked, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Excuse you?! Is that the way you speak to your beautiful and caring girlfriend, you insensitive brute?!" She slapped his chest again, chastisingly, which only brought another round of laughter from her skeletal cushion.

"Also, what was that 'kingly' shit back there? I thought you said you weren't a king, hmmm?" She pointedly probed, no doubt trying to find a way to get back at him.

Momonga simply dismissed the query with a shrug.

"Well, I figured it's alright to indulge, and it seemed only appropriate for my Queen of Hearts." He emphasized.

With what he had just displayed within the Throne Room still fresh on their minds, Momonga sought to capitalize on the mood once again to tease her and remain on the offensive. However, all he received was a blank stare in response.

"Err, what?"

"Huh? I… you know. Like, since I'm a king, that would make you a queen. And I love you with all my heart as well. That means you're very close to my heart, and… So you know, a queen of my hearts…" The undead Player explained, his once unshakably confidence slowly chipping away.

Again, Destana just stared before finally commenting on that.

"Not going to lie, babe, but that's a bit corny even for me." She snarked.

"Whatever. I still won in the end." Huffed Momonga, holding the victory over her head.

"Fine, fine I'll concede. For now!" Destana immediately rebuked.

With a swift movement, she pulled away from his hold and repositioned herself on his lap. She faced him, standing on her knees and locking her emerald eyes with his crimson orbs.

"Don't think you're in the clear just yet, buster! Just wait, I'll be making you pay for this later, with interest as well. That's a promise." The Aerosphere vowed.

"There you go again, teasing me. Should I be afraid?" Momonga challenged back.

Destana let out a small "hmph," but he could all too easily hear the smirk in her voice. Leaning forward, her near-naked form pressed enticingly against his skeletal ribcage as her arms snaked around the back of his neck, pulling their faces closer together. The angelic Player rested her head against his broad shoulders.

"Who said anything about that being a tease~?" She insinuated with a throaty purr right into his ear, and with it came a promise of a good time.

Momonga suppressed the pleasant shiver that ran down his back, threatening to escape his lips as an exhilarated breath.

'Down boy! Don't let lead her by your head!'

If there was one thing that came from being in a relationship with someone like Destana, it was that there were no such things as breaks. Whether or not that was beneficial to Momonga's overall health, he couldn't quite say.

No real segway or topic followed, so the two just decided to linger and unwind, lulled in by the enjoyable surroundings. It was around this time that Destana returned to her normal attire, much to Momonga's silent disappointment.

Conversations quickly picked up, but most of it was quaint and aimless, talking about their days, troubles, plans for the future, and so forth. Until Destana brought up a topic regarding a certain someone.

"Say, babe."

"Hmm? Yes, what is it?"

"If it's not too much to ask, is Emiya-san here by any chance?" Destana inquired.

Momonga blinked at the sudden request.

"Is there a reason why you wish to see him?" He asked curiously.

"Oh! I never told you, right? I met him once, back when I was still starting out." She revealed.

"You did?" Momonga perked up. "Huh? What a small world." The Guildmaster muttered.

"I know, right?! Anyway, I had gotten ambushed by some PKers, and… well, Emiya-san must have been traveling nearby, because he decimated them without breaking a sweat! Unfortunately, he was gone before I could have a chance to thank him. Destana gave a sigh, lost in memories for a brief moment. She seemed sad at the thought of a good deed going unrewarded.

"You know, he doesn't do it for the sake of praise. He'd probably just smile and thank you for thanking him." The Elder Lich's words didn't seem to dissuade her. Instead, they further emboldened his girlfriend.

"That doesn't mean I shouldn't still do it!" Her cute pout and glare were enough to make a deep rumble leave his chest, adoring the sight.

"Indeed. Well, I suppose I could arrange a meeting, but I'm not sure when our schedules would match. He did have all those raids to take care of, taking up the next few time slots." The skeletal Player pondered to himself, occasionally muttering sounds of annoyance, lost to the world. Unbeknownst to his quiet pondering, Destana's face pinched into a confused frown.

"But, didn't you say that he was always around? I thought he was the most active in the guild!" Her words cut through his fugue, stripping away thoughts of time management and leaving him flatfooted, not expecting her interjection.

"I… yes, he is, but… he isn't? I mean, he is always online, but lately, well…"

Destana couldn't help but find his stutter adorable. The urge to tease him was only tempered by the unease she heard in his voice.

"He's been a bit elusive of late. We haven't talked much as of recently." He explained, the lighthearted tone in his voice was replaced with a soft, somber timbre.

"Really? But from the way you always mention him, I thought you two are as thick as thieves!" She replied, easily taking note of her boyfriend's change.

"Yeah, we were-are, I mean…" Momonga quickly corrected, but she easily picked up on it. To her, it sounded as if even her boyfriend wasn't quite sure of where they stood currently.

"What do you mean? You guys got into a huge fight or argument?" Destana asked, trying to learn more about the situation.

"W-what? No, no! Nothing serious like that…" Momonga was quick to clarify. The thought alone was absurd.

"It's just… different…"

He gingerly scratched the back of his skull, a nervous tic he had unconsciously picked up from a certain false hero. Despite his best efforts, he found himself struggling to articulate the precise nature of the situation. There was an unmistakable sense of disconnect between him and Shirou, a subtle but palpable gap that seemed to have emerged between them. They were still friends, but it felt as though Shirou was actively avoiding him, which struck him as absurd given their long-standing bond.

"Different? Different, how exactly?" Destana inquired.

"It feels as if things aren't the way they used to be. That thing's changed…" Momonga voiced.

"I mean, it's kind of expected, right?" The Aerosphere tilted her head. "You've got work and your own life to worry about, and he has his own stuff to do. So, of course, there's going to be gaps in time between when you're online and when you're offline. That's normal."

"Perhaps…" He muttered, yet he seemed unsure.

His fingers tapped against the armrest of the Throne of Kings, another habit of his that Destana picked up whenever he was hesitant.

"But I can't help but feel as if there's something more… As if he's slowly slipping away. And there's little I can do to stop it."

The room grew quiet after the confession. Although his emotion was concealed by the stoic visage of an undead Overlord, Destana could still see the obvious internal conflict. Without a word, she jumped off of his lap as her wings managed to right her midair. She turned to the seated Player, her hands taking his into hers as she bent her knees while floating. Their faces were at eye level. The angel's thumbs rubbed over his skeletal palm, gentle and rhythmic.

"If you're not sure, then [Message] him. The first step to any solution is talking it out after all."

"N-now?"

"Of course! If not now, then when?"

"But, this was supposed to be our time; our date-"

Destana let out a scoff. "Please, I'm not the clingy type that's going to demand all of your time, babe. It doesn't change the fact that today has been wonderful!"

"Besides, it's hard to continue having an enjoyable time when you know your boyfriend is thinking of another guy." She remarked with a sly chuckle, snickering at the insulation.

Momonga gave his girlfriend a flat stare. Leave it to her to make it out in such a manner, though it did manage to rouse some cheer in him. The corner of his lips twitched upwards into the barest smile.

Nodding, he slowly rose from his throne. Destana quietly let go, drifting a fair distance back to give him his space and privacy. He placed his hand to his ear, sending a [Message] to Shirou. He waited for the call to connect as seconds passed in silence. Given that he was aware of his longtime friend's reputation for being prompt with responses, this fact made him uneasy. Momonga reconsidered sending another just as it finally connected. Shirou's voice came through the link, loud and clear.

"[Momonga-san?]" Came the voice on the other end of the line, sounding both confused and surprised at the same time.

"[Emiya-san.]" Momonga returned, finding himself happy to hear from his friend. Despite being only gone for a bit, hearing his friend's voice brought back a sense of familiarity to the undead Player.

"[Is there something wrong? I wasn't expecting a call from you since our last conversation.]" Shirou asked, unintentionally bringing up another point of contention.

Momonga winced at his perceived failing. He had sought out his best friend for advice on how to plan a special date, figuring he had some experience. Despite not talking about his past all that often, Shirou had revealed a long time ago that he had been in another committed relationship for years, with two women no less. The revelation was only really memorable due to Bukubukuchagama's reaction at the time. Momonga couldn't believe a human could produce such a high-pitched sound!

Grateful for the guidance he had received, Momonga promised to repay Shirou the following day. He had even prepared a few quests for the two of them to tackle together, which he had carefully noted down in his quest log.

But he had forgotten, and no doubt he kept his friend waiting. The crimson archer had likely waited long after he failed to show up, probably in hopes of it being a delay.

It was one thing to forget, but breaking a promise and failing to apologize? Even among friends, that wasn't something that was easily ignored.

"[I'm very sorry about leaving you hanging, Emiya-san! I'll be more than happy to make it up to you shortly, I promise! I was actually curious about something else. Do you know when you are next free?]"

As the line went dead, the passing seconds dragged on, each tick of the clock filling Momonga's stomach with a cold dread. Had he come off too strong?

Before he could berate himself over his lack of tact, a voice returned his question.

"[It's fine. Also, isn't my schedule common knowledge among the guild? If it is a matter that needs my immediate attention, then I- AH!]"

The short exclamation jolted the Guildmaster, concern and guilt quickly came to the forefront of his mind.

"[Emiya-san! Are you alright?! If this is a bad time, I can call another lat-]"

"[I-I'm fine. A stray attack clipped me.]" The human's voice was strained, his focus split between the conversation and what was undoubtedly a challenging battle.

"[Emiya-san, if you are having trouble with an enemy, we can join you! That way you won't be distracted, and we can have this talk in person!]" Momonga offered, a plan quickly forming within his head.

While he had failed to keep his earlier promise, fortune seemed to be smiling upon him on this particular day. He was thrilled at the prospect of joining forces with Shirou, and together they'd defeat whatever it was that was giving his friend trouble. Additionally, this presented a golden opportunity to have Destana and Shirou, two of the most important people in his life, finally meet. Afterward, they could complete the quest he had planned, further cementing their bond through an afternoon of questing and adventuring.

Momonga couldn't think of a more perfect way to conclude the day and the date, with the two people who meant the most to him by his side. In essence, it would be like killing two birds with one stone.

"[I'm afraid that's a bit impossible, Momonga-san.]" Shirou answered, snapping Momonga out of his good mood. His voice was oddly relaxed.

"[W-what?! Why not?!]" The Overlord exclaimed, a [Gate] spell ready to be used.

"[Servant Boss.]" He simply stated.

Momonga's eyes widened at this news, and, were it possible, the red orbs would bulge out of his sockets once he learned the extent of what was going on at Shirou's end.

Having fought alongside Shirou against Berserker and the one known as Rider in the past, he was well aware from experience that Servant Bosses were notorious for possessing some of the more esoteric abilities available to any entity within the game.

"[The dungeon or area I'm in is some kind of pocket space that's isolated from the rest of Niðavellir that the boss trapped me in. From what I gather, it's similar to the time we were stuck in [Depiction of Nature and Society]. I doubt conventional means such as [Teleportation] or the like would even work. Trust me, I already tried it.]" Shirou explained, drawing on an experience that Ainz Ooal Gown encountered once before for reference.

The World Item [Depiction of Nature and Society] was unique in terms of mechanics within the virtual world. It allowed the user to manipulate space, creating a small pocket dimension to trap a Player or Players within. What made it truly dangerous was that the user was allowed to manipulate the dimension with several dangerous environments and overworlds for the trapped Players. Those trapped within couldn't escape it using conventional means such as [Teleportation] or [Gate]. At least, not without the interference of another World Item.

In the context of Players trying to infiltrate the pocket dimension, the same principle held true. Once trapped within its confines, there were only two means of escape: either by meeting one's demise or by discovering a concealed exit route located within the corresponding dimensional realm. Given Shirou's present circumstances, the parallels between the two scenarios were strikingly evident. As a result, it was reasonable to assume that the guidelines governing Caster's predicament would be similar in nature.

"[Surely, there is something we can do to help, at least. Something that I can do… ]" He tried, frowning. The thought of him being utterly powerless to even help his best friend didn't sit right with him at all.

"[What can you do?]" Shirou returned. Again, his voice relaxed almost to the point of monotone.

Momonga had no immediate answer.

"[There's no need to get riled up, Momonga-san. This situation will resolve itself in time… one way or another.]" Shirou continued, acceptance and resignation subtly hidden within his tone. Yet, Momonga could tell.

In his head, he already knew that there was little that could be done. His friend may be among the strongest Players to exist in YGGDRASIL, but even he was far from invincible. All it would take was a particularly sturdy wall for Shirou's blades to dull upon. A battle of pure attrition. And from the sounds of it, Momonga would wager that Shirou was doing it on his own.

He knew his friend was right. Rationality dictated that he ought to allow the matter to settle. Sometimes, a situation could either be fortuitous or unfortunate. It was a coin toss. Such was the nature of YGGDRASIL, and in this particular instance, it was the latter. If, or perhaps, when, he loses, Shirou will be forced to relinquish an item on him and then respawn elsewhere. The prospect of forfeiting the rewards from vanquishing a Servant Boss was not to be dismissed, though.

Far be it from a tragic fate, it was simply how the game was played. Shirou, and consequently, Ainz Ooal Gown, had encountered their fair share of insurmountable battles and defeats. This particular one would be but one of several misfortunes they had endured before, but this time, Shirou would have to face it alone.

Deep within himself, Momonga acknowledged that this was not a dire matter that he should be so riled up about or make a big issue of. It was far from the first time he experienced a loss, and if Shirou wasn't concerned over this, then neither should he. He would do well to heed his friend's words.

He should just… let it go-

So why, then… Why did it feel as if Momonga was failing his friend?

It wasn't just simply about the boss or the raid, or about winning or losing. No, it was much more than that.

He was well aware that, if he quit at this moment, he wouldn't be able to work up the courage to bother his friend once more.

He would simply bow his head and allow time to take its toll, afraid of the changing tide.

The thought was sickening, a scene befitting a coward. The thought was disappointing, reminding him of his faults.

-But then again, emotions were rarely logical.

"[Can you try holding out? I think… maybe there's another way… We can… ]" He stuttered, racking his mind, trying to come up with a solution, but he needed a bit more time.

The barest inkling of an idea was forming, but before he could voice it, his friend continued.

"[It's fine, Momonga-san.]" Shirou said, something he had heard time and again in the past.

Before, it was a voice of confidence, a form of reassurance. That everything would be okay, that they would make it through.

But this time, they were words that attempted to pass off the situation as a trivial matter.

It would be what he said next that would pull his heart into a vice grip.

"[Besides, it's not like this is the first time I've fought alone.]"

What truly pained the Elder Lich was how assured he sounded. A resigned acceptance of not only his situation but Momonga's own.

As if stating an irrefutable fact.

"[Enjoy the rest of your date, Momonga… ]" He bid farewell in one last regard.

"[Shirou-!]" Momonga cried out as the [Message] ended abruptly, leaving him in silence.

His bony digits clenched tightly into a fist, quivering with the turmoil of emotions swelling within him. Momonga wondered if the game developers had implemented aftertaste mechanism, as the bitter taste of disappointment lingered in his mouth. The Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown remained motionless, shrouded in a deafening silence that lasted several agonizing seconds, leaving him uncertain of what should or could be done.

He found his body leaning back, sitting back down as he sagged against the crystal throne. Lethargy permeated his body from the news given to him.

"Satoru-san…" Destana called out, her voice soft and gentle, pulling him out of his reverie and reminding him that he was not alone. She had been observing everything from the sidelines, and though she could not discern what had occurred, she could feel the waves of sadness emanating from her boyfriend. Closely hovering by his side, she placed a tender hand on his shoulder, her worry palpable.

"Sweetie, talk to me. Are you okay? What happened? What's wrong?"

The Overlord opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to find the right words to say to her.

"This… isn't something you need to worry about, Kasumi-san." Momonga finally said, his voice hushed. He wished not to burden her with his affairs.

She didn't answer immediately, and for a moment, he believed she would stay out of it until the angelic Player had this to say.

"Bullshit." She bluntly returned, knocking him out of his stupor at her crass language. She casually floated in front of him.

"Maybe it isn't my problem, but I am your girlfriend, and if it's clearly hurting you, then that makes it my business." Destana declared, her words direct and unwavering, cutting to the heart of the matter.

Crossing her arms, she glared down at him, waiting until he explained himself.

"So talk." She all but ordered.

Momonga knew that she wouldn't budge, no matter how much he would try and persuade her otherwise. If anything, that would only incense her further. Over the course of their relationship, she has been dedicated to bolstering his self-esteem in any way she can. She has always made an effort to be there for him, especially when he was feeling down or stressed. She would unfailingly be the first to notice when he was out of sorts, and she would patiently coax him to confide in her. She did so even when the issue at hand wasn't her concern.

Many outsiders would've found her behavior to be intrusive and bothersome, constantly sticking her head where it didn't necessarily belong. But Momonga found that quality of hers to be beautiful and laudable. She was caring as she was stubborn, and he loved that part of her.

With a deep breath and a sigh, he moistened his lips and readied himself to recount the details. He began from the very start, carefully articulating each thought and doubt he had been carrying, all while his patient listener attentively absorbed his words. As he spoke, he felt a slight relief wash over him, as if a small burden had been lifted from his chest. His concerns were not about himself but rather about Shirou. It took a few minutes to bring her up to speed on the situation, although he shared only a highly edited version of the events.

"Ok, ok, let me see if I got this right." Began Destana, pinching the bridge of her nose at the information.

"You feel as if your friend, Emiya-san, has been a bit of a recluse recently. A feeling that sprung up a few months ago You've felt as if he's grown distant from not only you but also the guild as a whole, for no explicable reason. And despite harboring these doubts, you've yet to fully act on them. And so, every time you've tried asking him about it, he basically says, "I'm fine," and you leave it at that. Am I understanding the situation correctly?"

Momonga slowly nodded at her summarization, already internally wincing. He knew that tone of voice of hers better than anyone and knew he was in for a major scolding.

"What about your friends and guildmates? Surely, if you've picked up on it, then that means they must've also noticed his odd behavior popping up. Have they tried talking with him? Have you heard anything from them?" She questioned.

"Unfortunately, no. As of late, I've only spoken with a few of them, but they haven't had much luck either. We haven't had much time to come together and discuss it as a collective." Momonga admitted awkwardly.

This month alone has been particularly challenging for a majority of the guild, with numerous conflicts in their schedules and online presence. Apart from the guild members he encountered in the game, even Momonga was uncertain who was currently online or offline, and vice versa. Furthermore, the duration of their game time fluctuates significantly between guild members. To make matters worse, Shirou was on his own and typically did his own thing. It has been some time since all of them were present online and accounted for.

Momonga had briefly conversed with the other forty-one guild members on the matter, but the discussions failed to reach any concrete conclusion. Some have tried talking with him about it but were met with similar responses and left it as it were. With everyone having their own lives and personal issues to contend with, the matter was never properly resolved and stalled for as long as it did.

Some members, like Amanomahitotsu or Nishikienrai, were uncertain about the course of action to take and chose to remain passive, waiting and observing. Those who were spending more of their time outside of YGGDRASIL, like Touch Me and Ulbert, were also unavailable. Other members, including Punitto Moe or Luci*Fer, made the decision to stay away from the issue as they did not perceive it as particularly serious or significant. They claimed that Shirou would let everyone know if it was dire or truly an emergency. Momonga quietly fell into this camp. The remaining members held divergent views and continued to be doubtful but were unsure of how to approach him.

Whatever their stance, all were equally uncertain about the root cause or reasoning behind the issue and could only offer conjectures to support their concerns. A worry that was gradually becoming well-founded.

"So let me make sure I understand correctly. Emiya-san is clearly not himself and is obviously struggling with something, yet he refuses to open up about it. And despite all the evidence pointing to the contrary, neither you nor anyone else in the guild has had the courage to confront him directly. Instead, every time someone tries to broach the subject, they get stopped stone cold, and everyone just backs off, even though it's clear that he's not being entirely truthful. As a result, this loner behavior of his is only getting worse due to all of y'all's unintentional negligence fueling it because you and the others are too chicken to dig deeper and get to the bottom of it. Does that sound 'bout right?"

Momonga recoiled as if he were being physically struck. He felt a mortal wound as he looked away, unable to refute her words despite how accurate some of her assessments were. Destana's blunt statements wrapped up the entire situation succinctly, leaving no room for Momonga to defend himself.

"I-well, basically… yes…" He answered in a small voice.

Destana raked her fingers through her hair, inhaling a deep breath.

"Alright, then here's my next question… Why, in the name of all that is good in this shitty world, haven't you all pushed to ask him what's wrong?! Heck! You said that he's online every day! I don't know how or even why, but that means he's always available! Instead, you all are just pussyfooting around it and sitting on your asses, twiddling your thumbs! You're letting this persist because… reasons!" Her exasperation was palpable, as she flung her arms up in the air, making her point with fervent emphasis.

The angel glared at him, waiting for what possible answer there could be to justify this type of behavior.

"W-we've tried!" Momonga tried to defend himself.

"You're asking him, not talking with him!" She stressed the difference.

"I-we… don't wish to intrude any more than we need to. Maybe… maybe, there's a reason for all of this. M-maybe it isn't as bad as it might be? P-perhaps this is just a small, rough patch? We… I… don't know what's going on, but Shirou has always done right by us. I-we… trust him to handle himself." He explained.

"But what if you're wrong?" Destana immediately challenged.

Momonga was unable to produce an answer. His silence, however, was all the answer she needed.

Destana didn't say anything, leaving the room quiet and tense as she fixed him with a hard stare.

"If you were in a situation where you risked losing a friend, would you rather it because you stuck your nose where it might've not belong, or because you sat on the sidelines?" The angel posed, dropping such a question onto his lap and completely catching him off guard.

"W-what? I-I don't get…" He stuttered.

"Please answer the question." She swiftly cut off.

"W-what does it matter? The results will be the same, won't they?" Momonga answered after a few seconds of deliberation.

"But the roads taken are vastly different. One is because you made a choice, regardless of the consequences. The other is you being a damn coward." She answered with a sudden sharpness and an uncharacteristic layer of sadness laced within her voice. Something Momonga filed away for later

"Are you really his friend?" Destana questioned.

"O-of course I am!" Momonga fiercely returned without hesitation, almost offended.

"Then why haven't you tried harder?" She asked simply.

Momonga opened his mouth before closing it. An action that was repeated several more times. What could he even say?

Nothing.

Because he knew whatever he could scrounge up and scrape together as a justification would sound no different from an excuse.

Destana was right, they had all the time in the world. It wasn't as if Shirou could just leave or ignore them, so why then was this problem persisting? Momonga or any of the others could've approached him and gotten to the crux of the matter if they insisted enough, even pushed the matter if need be, but why was nothing being done?

They had many options they could have chosen from, but they chose not to. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they felt it was unnecessary to interfere unless specifically requested. They were content to wait on the sidelines until needed. But, what happens then if Shirou chooses to keep it all to himself?

Shirou has consistently exhibited remarkable capabilities, extensive knowledge, and a trustworthy demeanor. Whenever there was a need for information, assistance, or any other random justification, Shirou was always present and approachable. There was a presence around him, always so inviting and approachable. He was a constant in their chaotic lives and they took solace in that fact.

Momonga only remembered a handful of occasions where Shirou came to them for anything. Advice or questions, yes, but never help. Never truly.

This half-hearted negligence wasn't born from a place of maliciousness, nor was it from a sense of carelessness, but, ironically enough, from a place of trust.

They trusted him, to prevail, as he had always done, and to be the pillar of strength he had always shown himself to be.

They trusted him, but there in lies in the issue. They trusted him too much. Too much trust breeds assurance, and with it comes complacency. One that festered across all of them.

Ainz Ooal Gown can be likened to a grand temple, a towering edifice that embodies the trials and tribulations of its members. Their core and beliefs served as the bedrock upon which the guild was established. The stones that have built it up were the members' deeds and accomplishments, while the walls that aligned the foundation were their name and reputation. Each member plays a crucial role in upholding this grand structure, something more significant and greater than themselves. They were the pillars that hold Ainz Ooal Gown aloft, the foundation for which it has risen to such great heights.

And Shirou?

He was among the greatest of them, viewed as an unshakable pillar. The sturdiest of them all, but even stone can chip and crack, giving way over time.

He has always been there for them, through thick and thin. Yet, in his hour of uncertainty, the same couldn't be said of them for him. It was not failure that struck Momonga, and in some ways, it was far more egregious.

They were complacent. They would wait, but by then, it would've been too late. Or maybe, it already was…

Momonga could say nothing. In retrospect, it should've been obvious something was wrong, but instead of doing something about it, he did nothing. It wasn't just him either, but the others too, to varying degrees.

An overwhelming sense of shame filled him. He looked away, downwards, slouching as it hit him.

Destana fixed him with a long stare as Momonga grew stricken, falling to the prolonged stiff silence. She took a deep breath and sighed, her body sagging slightly. Her hands delicately caressed his skeletal cheeks as she kneeled to him, breaking him out of his self-imposed stupor and bringing his eyes to hers.

"Momon-kun, Satoru, baby, darling, the love of my life and father of our future children…"

Momonga instantly choked on his breath at the last bit, sputtering to try and speak up, but Destana continued as if nothing happened.

"I love your kind and gentle nature. You always show consideration for others' opinions and feelings, sometimes even more than your own. While this may not always boost your self-esteem, it demonstrates your thoughtfulness towards others. You have a talent for seeing the best in people, and that's one of the things I admire about you. That's why I fell in love with you in the first place… but sometimes, you can be such a dunderhead!" She chastised at the end, her voice going from soothing and understanding at the beginning back to her usual self. The twelve-winged angel even hit him on the cranium with her fist.

"W-what…?"

"Hush dear, I'm still talking." Destana politely but sternly objected, pressing a single finger against his skinless lips to silence him.

"When someone you know is clearly troubled and their response to questions asking what's wrong is "I'm fine" like that, 95% of the time, they are not fine!"

"I thought you said that rule only applies to women?"

"It applies to guys as well, but that's a bit beside the point!" Destana softly rebuked, steering the conversation back on track.

"Your faith in him is commendable, but no one is infallible. Sometimes a person can be blind to their faults or so wrapped up in their actions that they do not recognize the harm that is inadvertently being done to not only themselves but others around them. And it might be too late before they fully realize what has happened. Is that not why friends look out for one another?

I know I'm not a guild member and that I don't know Emiya-san as personally as you do, so it's probably not my place to say anything on this, but I will say this much. You're his friend, just as he is yours. You once told me that he was your hero - that you looked up to him above all else. You told me all those stories about where you stumbled or had a shortcoming, and who was it that always had your back? That's right, it was Emiya-san.

He was with you every step of the way, right there beside you. And now, it's his turn. He needs you, even if he doesn't know it or even wants it. Maybe it is nothing, or maybe it is! Whatever it may be, are you just going to turn the other cheek simply because you think it might be none of your business or because you don't know?!

Well, screw that! After all, meddling in affairs not your own, but with the desire to help those that didn't ask for it-that's the truest essence of being a friend!" Destana proudly proclaimed, a single finger pointed upwards.

In that fleeting moment, Momonga's eyes grew wide with the sudden presentation of a cherished memory. A memory that he would hold dear until the end of his days. It was the day that he had first met Shirou, when he had saved him all those years ago. The moment that cemented their bond of friendship for years to come.

"W-why did you save me from those PKers? N-nnot that I'm not g-grateful or anything. It's j-just a bit weird that a max-level Player like you would save a low-level noob like me." Momonga confessed, fighting to control his nervousness.

Shirou took a moment before replying, his eyes shifting sideways before he turned his gaze towards the descending sun. It was as if he was lost in thought, perhaps reflecting on past memories.

Finally, he answered Momonga's query.

"Truth be told, I don't have a real reason. I heard some commotion and found you being bullied by them, and my body just moved on its own. I guessed… I jumped in to help because I could."

"Y-you saved me on a w-whim?" Momonga couldn't help but voice, incredulousness leaking through words.

He paused, looking back at the undead Player fully.

"Old habits, I guess. After all, it's not wrong to help someone in need. You could even say I have a penchant for meddling in other people's business whenever I see someone in trouble." Shirou added. The soft sound of his chuckles echoed at the end.

Momonga said nothing, his head leaning back and hitting the back of his throne with a soft thud.

"I'm such an idiot." He muttered chastisingly.

"I would say only a half idiot, but a well-meaning one." Destana quipped, trying to add a bit of levity to the situation. This earned a half-playful snort from him.

He bowed his head and looked back at Destana. His crimson orbs blazed with a newfound intensity and determination. From his throne, he rose, reaching his towering height. His posture was straight, no longer hesitant.

"We need to hurry! Emiya-no, Shirou needs our help!"

"But didn't he say that it's impossible for anyone to waltz right in? Plus, he's fighting alone. Who knows, what if he already died and respawned?" Destana pointed it out, her smile dimming as she thought it through.

"He won't." Momonga instantly replied as if that were a fact. "Even in his current state, if he's half as capable as I know he is, he won't lose so easily. Which means we need to hurry! But I can't do it alone. I need your help, Kasumi-san!"

"I would be a poor girlfriend if I turned down my boyfriend's heartfelt request for help when he needs it the most. I'm with you, all the way!" Destana affirmed confidently, taking his hands in hers.

Momonga couldn't help but smile, infected by her energetic essence. Hope swelled within him as he began operating his menu, his mind already racing for the proper course of action. The faintest glimmer of an idea formed during all this time.

Of course, there was still a part of him that was uncertain. That ever-present cynical voice inside his head, the one that constantly doubted, spoke. It spoke of how it would be a waste of time. That Destana was maybe right-that Shirou has either died and respawned elsewhere or was very close to it. That his effort would be wasted and for naught.

Perhaps it was nothing, or maybe there was something there that caused the shift in his friend. He cannot say, and that was why he'll get to the bottom of this, one way or another. Better to try and fail than to live with the regret of not having tried at all. And if he did fail, then he'll bear the consequences and face them head-on.

As he should've done in the first place.

"I need you to head down to the Treasury and pick something very important up. We'll need it if my idea will even work."

"The Treasury? Don't I need to be a member of the guild to be-"

Her confusion was soon answered when she received a notification to join Ainz Ooal Gown. Destana immediately accepted, and not a second later, Momonga tossed her a [Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown].

"I've written down a list of instructions on how to navigate through the Treasury without setting off the traps, as well as the item in question. Also, since you're a part of the guild, as Guildmaster, I've permitted you to use [Message] on all members. Send a [Message] to these available Players with what I've written as you make your way to the Treasury and tell them I sent you." Momonga instructed, never once missing a beat as he handed the instructions to her while operating his menu.

Of course, he knew that he and Destana, along with the few others already online, might not be enough. He needed backup. Thankfully for the Guildmaster, he had one such method.

"Are you sure your friends will be okay with this without you consulting them first?" Destana couldn't help but voice.

"Probably, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it." Momonga brazenly dismissed, which earned an amused grin from Destana.

She equipped the [Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown] and prepared to set off when she turned around in shock to see Momonga hovering over the logout screen.

"Wait! Where the heck are you going?" Destana called out.

"I'm going to make some calls. I'll be back."

Leaving on that note, he disappeared in a shimmer of light. While Destana was confused by what he meant, she would leave it up to him. The angelic Player shook her head and got to work; her boyfriend was counting on her after all.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"Finally, home sweet home! And here I thought we would never make it." A voice exclaimed, accompanied by the sound of a door opening.

"Calm down, you big baby." A second voice chimed in.

The voices belonged to Kazuto and Reina, who had just returned from a delightful afternoon at the amusement park. Reina clutched a massive, panda plushie while Kazuto carried a few bags on his arm. As they entered their apartment, they could feel the excitement of the day ebb away, replaced with the comfort of home.

"You're the one that kept on playing despite throwing away your money to the vendor." Reina voiced.

"Like hell, I'm going to give that crook the satisfaction of robbing me blind. Besides, that game was rigged, I tell you! Rigged!" Kazuto argued.

"And yet you kept on playing anyway. If anything, you probably gave him more money than you should've had you just stopped."

"I wasn't going to leave until I won! Besides, you were certainly not complaining when I got you that prize." He smirked, throwing an amused glance at the large stuffed animal cradled in his girlfriend's hand.

The discussion revolved around a shooting gallery game that they stumbled upon during their date. The rules were straightforward. Earn points by hitting moving targets, then redeem them for rewards at the conclusion. One of the grand prizes was the enormous plushie, which Kazuto saw Reina eyeing as they passed the prize stall. So being the kind and awesome boyfriend he was, he marched over to the stall, slapped down some cash, and got ready.

He'd figured it'd be a breeze, and afterward, he would present the prize to his lovely girlfriend, and she would swoon and shower him with praise.

Or at least, that was what should've happened had the game not been rigged! It took him a couple of infuriating attempts before he figured it out. Any normal person would've just taken the loss and left it.

What did Kazuto do instead? He doubled down, naturally. His gamer pride ignited, combined with the indignation of wanting to show off, propelled him forward to win. He was one of the best bowmen in all of YGGDRASIL. His skill in marksmanship was second to only one other. He wasn't going to let some flimsy game best him in a contest of skill and accuracy. It took several more attempts and a lot of money down the drain, but in the end, Kazuto considered the smile from his girlfriend's joy at the stuffed animal to be worth it.

"Whatever." Reina pouted, hiding her cheeks by hugging the doll tighter.

This brought a snicker to his lips. Try as she might to hide it, Kazuto knew his girlfriend had a weakness for cute things.

Walking into the living room and dumping the bags, he looked around at the rather spacious room and subsequently quirked a brow when he noticed something. Or rather, a lack of it, to be more precise.

"Say Reina-chan, where's your parents and sister? I don't see them anywhere."

"Hmm? Oh, my parents are away on a small trip with my baby sister. It's just you and me." She informed him before dumping herself onto one of the couches and letting out a content sigh, all but deflating once her back touched the cozy couch.

She closed her eyes and relaxed as a serene silence filtered in. For several seconds, it continued. It was nice and quiet, a bit too quiet. She opened one eye and saw Kazuto just standing there. An uncharacteristically serious expression took over his face.

"Kazuto-kun, are you alright?" She asked.

He said nothing, content to just stand there for a few seconds before walking towards her. With a quizzical expression etched on her face, Reina raised an eyebrow, unsure of what was going on.

But then, something completely unexpected happened. Without warning, Kazuto suddenly dropped down to one knee right in front of her. And as if that wasn't enough, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black box, which he then presented to her.

Where before he had her curiosity, now he has her full attention.

In an instant, Reina's slouched posture straightened up and her face lit up with surprise.

She could only watch in stunned disbelief as he opened it, revealing what was inside.

A pair of silver rings were there, placed side by side. Apart from the engravings that followed a wing motif and ran alongside the two silver bands, they lacked any noticeable jewelry. On one ring each, their respective names were engraved in the center. Although it was by no means extravagant, there was a simple charm that captivated her.

For a fleeting moment, she believed that he was about to propose to her. Thankfully, calmer minds prevailed, and she noticed a few key details that rebuked such an idea. Nevertheless, the theatric gesture of kneeling and presenting the box with rings did little to dissuade her from the idea.

"W-What are they?"

"A gift, of course. From a lucky boy to the most beautiful girl…"

"Y-you didn't have t-to." She stuttered.

"I didn't, but I wanted to. After all, isn't it a boyfriend's duty to pamper the woman of his dreams?" He smoothly countered, flashing her a charming smile, which only brought further reddening to her cheeks.

"May I have the honor of putting it on you?"

Absentmindedly, she put out her left hand, and it was too late for her to retract it once she realized it as he slipped the ring onto her ring finger. He went as far as planting a chaste kiss on her knuckles before separating.

"Think of it as practice for when I get you a real one." He teased with a wink, showing his ring on the same finger.

Her blush reached nuclear proportion as her entire face and neck turned a rosy pink. She turned away, her eyes glued back to the elegant ring on her finger.

Silence reigned over the room once more. Kazuto stood there with a small, dopey smile. Meanwhile, Reina's gaze never left her ring, her locks cascading down to obscure her visage. Her countenance was almost veiled, giving no clue to her expression.

However, as the seconds ticked by, his smile grew strained, drooping into a small frown. Kazuto wondered for a moment if he went a bit too far on the theatrics, especially on a topic as heavy as marriage.

He opened his mouth to speak, if only to dispel the awkward silence, but Reina beat him to the punch.

Her arm shot out, grabbing his own before dragging him with her. Kazuto's countenance was the picture of confusion as he was tugged along by his girlfriend, while her own remained a mystery. They stopped right in front of her room.

"Soooo. What now?" He drawled out.

She didn't answer him immediately, drawing out the silence even further, which only made bred further confusion with the blond-haired man.

"S-stay just outside my room. And don't come in until I say so!" She all but ordered without turning around.

His eyebrow practically rose to his hairline at the extremely odd demand. She was gone before he could offer any word in, practically slamming the door shut as she entered. Kazuto nevertheless acquiesces as he stands with his back leaned up against an adjacent wall.

If he strained his ear, he could pick up faint noises of something being moved around and the rustling of clothes? He quickly gave up and leaned away. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was peeping on her.

His girlfriend had quite the killer right hook, just like his sister.

So he waited, humming a small tune as he fiddled with his ring. His thumb traced over the smooth engravings on it.

His senpai's advice stuck with him over the past few days. He had always known that his friend and mentor was a wealth of knowledge, always perceptive, almost to the point of being all-knowing. However, the last few words Shirou shared with him before their departure were the most profound ones. One with a lasting impression and one that forced Kazuto to consider his goals and the future as well as the present.

It was almost as if he were giving parting advice…

Kazuto shook his head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts.

'Everything's fine…' He told himself. 'Everyone goes through the odd rough patch here and there, and Emiya-senpai is probably no different. Things will be back to normal in no time…'

In an attempt to distract himself, Kazuto's thoughts returned to his girlfriend.

The rings were ones he had commissioned days ago, and he was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to reveal them. When he realized it was just the two of them, he realized it was the ideal chance for him, and so he followed Shirou's advice and seized it, while also having a little bit of fun with it. He had a few predictions about how she would react, but he had not expected her to give such an unusual response of silence. An anxious fear bloomed within him as he began to worry, worrying that he might have messed up somehow.

Before he could go any further, Kazuto was taken out of his musing by several soft knocks coming from Reina's bedroom door. He walked towards it, returning with a few knocks of his own.

"Everything alright?" He called out concernedly.

"You can come in…" A soft and quiet voice answered back.

Carefully, he grabbed hold of the doorknob and opened the door. As he pushed the door open, a soft beam of afternoon sunlight illuminated the room, casting a gentle glow upon the otherwise dark and silent space.

His eyes scoured the room, briefly taking everything in before coming to Reina. She sat on the edge of her bed, but what was most curious was that she completely engulfed herself in her blanket. This left only her head uncovered.

"Everything ok, Reina-chan?" He asked.

She said nothing, content with just sitting here, her gaze directed elsewhere. She seemed hesitant to meet his gaze, but couldn't help stealing a few glances at him from the corner of her eye. Her cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue. It was among the few times he had ever seen his girlfriend look so demure.

Without a word, she threw off the blanket, revealing what she had hidden underneath. When Kazuto decided to surprise her with the rings, he anticipated a few responses and reactions. What he didn't expect was for it to somehow lead to him standing in her room while his girlfriend was dressed only in a sexy purple and black lingerie.

A lingerie that looked awfully similar to one he commented on half-heartedly months ago which would look absolutely killer on her. A comment that earned him a hard knock to the head in response from her.

"W-well?!" He heard her squeak out, knocking him back to reality as, for the last minute, he was staring dumbly at her.

"Give me a second. I'm both so aroused and confused, that my blood doesn't know what head to go to." The connoisseur of the erotic answered, a calm born from sheer emotional whiplash stalling his usual excitement.

Despite his quips, he was far from oblivious. The intention of her actions was made clear in his mind, it was just taking a moment to process.

Had it not been for the growing unrest in his partner's eyes, he would've surely stayed catacombic. However he may feel, this had surely taken immense courage from her, so it was only fair that he responded in kind.

"You… are sure you want to do it?" For a moment, he wondered if he was dreaming. He never thought such a day would finally come, and so suddenly as well!

"For someone so lecherous, you sure are slow on the uptake, huh?" She scoffed, tension bleeding from her form as the usual banter between them returned.

"Well, I imagined anyone would be stunned if they were invited to sleep with a goddess." The compliment flowed easily from his mouth.

Reina rolled her eyes, but there was no mistaking the edge of her lips quirky upwards slightly.

Another pause of silence.

"Are you really, really sure about this?" He asked again for further clarification.

"What, are you chickening out now?" She prodded, staring unflinchingly at him.

Kazuto could see it in her eyes. She was 100% serious. He didn't answer. Instead, he tilted his head upward, much to her confusion. His eyes were all but concealed in shadows.

'This is it!' He thought ecstatically as manly tears of joy flowed from his eyes, dripping down his cheeks like waterfalls.

Kazuto gave a silent thank you to the eroge gods, who finally heard his prayers and answered them.

His springtime youth has finally come!

At last, he was ready to join his fellow brothers in the sacred land and witness paradise!

"W-well…?! A-are y-you just going to s-stand there and make me wait all day or what?!" Reina passively-aggressively said, a luminescent blush on her cheeks as she kept her gaze squarely on him.

"Impatient, are we?" He teased, which only brought an embarrassed-filled scowl his way.

He then grabbed a hold of his open buttoned shirt and threw it over his shoulder dramatically before reaching the hem of his undershirt and slowly lifting his shirt up, revealing his well-exercised body. He was purposely making a show of it.

Kazuto smirked inwardly, seeing Reina's eye glued to his fit form. Another misconception was that since he always harped on erotic works and games, he would be a lazy dullard with a body to match the image of someone of such a stereotype. However, that couldn't be any further from the truth.

Kazuto allowed himself a moment of pride as his girlfriend's eyes greedily drank his muscular form. He may be an individual who indulged heavily in eroges and the art of perversion, but he most definitely didn't fit the associated stereotype.

His friends and sister might complain about how unrealistic the thousands of hours he toiled away at eroge and hentai he'd completed were, but even they couldn't deny a simple fact: a man who took care of his body was much more appreciated by the ladies.

He allowed a smirk to play across his lips, his flustered girlfriend unabashedly eying him like a piece of meat, whose eyes screamed love and lust in equal parts.

All of his training, it was all leading up to this moment. His mind, one sharpened by simulations of this virtual day over countless hours. His body, one meticulously forged to be as aesthetically pleasing as possible.

He was ready!

He will readily admit that, in the grand scheme of things, he was a little timid for what was to come. The two of them had always joked around the idea of doing it in the future, but it had always remained playful banter and nothing more. And for all the eroge and porn he watched and experienced, they always involved a screen. A separation between reality and fiction.

But no longer.

In only his boxers, he walked forward confidently. Approaching her bedside, he leaned in for a kiss, which she eagerly reciprocated.

"Get ready, babe, because I'm about to rock your world!" He grinned confidently.

"Whatever you say, sharpshooter. Let's hope you're not shooting blanks." Reina teased, shooting back with a grin of her own.

Kazuto chucked as his girlfriend's arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him down onto the bed with her, him on top of her. As they lay there, their foreheads touching, he gazed down at her with tenderness and anticipation.

"Careful for what you wish for, babe. I'm about to show you why I'm called the King of Explosive Strikes!"

-30 mins later-

The two lay in bed right next to each other, their hands interlocked as they stared up at the ceiling, naked as the day they were born. The smell of sweat and musk permeated the air. Their breaths slowly steadied out after a moment of passion from where they were joined as one.

"W-wow…" She let out breathlessly. "That was… something…"

Reina knew their first time together would've been something, but she didn't quite think it would've gone like that. She'd heard and talked with plenty of friends who did the tango with their respective boyfriends and had heard the experience to be mixed. More often than not, the first time was a bit underwhelming.

But with Kazuto, it was certainly an experience. Far from bad, but not anything mind-blowing as was typically depicted in hentai and other explicit works. It was satisfactory, she would admit that much. He was eager to please, and that translated to pleasure for the both of them. Perhaps all those eroge that he played weren't a waste of time after all.

"So…" Reina began, turning to rest on her side, her elbow pressed against her pillow as she rested her head on it. "Was it everything you wanted and wished for, and more?" She teased her boyfriend.

Kazuto said nothing, content to stare at the ceiling with an unblinking expression. One far more serious than she'd ever seen of him before.

"It wasn't what I expected." He replied.

"What, disappointed?" She returned, a frown digging at her lips.

"Oh no, never." He answered immediately, turning to face her before returning to look back at the ceiling. "I was just thinking that while sex is amazing, it might not be the end all be all that I thought it was." Kazuto admitted, his face oddly Zen.

"… Who are you, and what have you done with my perv of a boyfriend?"

"He has ascended past his former self and been enlightened to the ways of the flesh by a certain wonderful woman… I've seen things more clearly now than I've ever before. I have become the master of my own mind."

Reina simply stared.

"Damn. Post-nut clarity hit you hard…"

"Indeed. I have tasted the forbidden fruit at long last and suckled on its splendor. I've now transcended past mortal comprehension."

"Alright then… Well, since you're oh so enlightened now, I guess that means we won't need to have sex anymore then…"

"Now, now. Let's not be hasty!"

Kazuto instantly dropped the act, turning to his girlfriend with a wide-eyed look. Reina couldn't help it and burst out laughing, unable to take his sudden heel turn. She playfully slapped his chest.

"You're such a dork." She scoffed affectionately.

"But I'm your dork." Kazuto gave her a lopsided smile.

An arm reached over and brought her in close, their cheeks squishy and rubbing together affectionately. Reina didn't resist, tucking up to his side. For a few minutes, the two couples were content to remain there, cuddling and enjoying their warmth.

"So, what now?" He asked aloud, unsure of what to do next. In truth, he never bothered to think so far ahead, even in such a scenario.

"What now?" Reina rose from his side, and before Kazuto had a chance to add in a word, she deposited herself on him, straddling him.

"I'm on top now." She purred authoritatively.

His girlfriend peered down at him with a sultry look, her arms pressing lovingly against his splendid and fit chest, biting her lips enticingly. The day was still so young, and she intended to use every bit of it.

Kazuto looked at her, slowly turning his gaze downward.

"Godspeed mini-Pero. Godspeed…"

Before another round of loving-making could occur, something unexpected happened. A sharp and abrupt ringing echoed through the bedroom, knocking the two out of it. It took a second for the two of them to realize that it was coming from Kazuto. A hand snaked its way to the back of his nape, where his Neural Nano import resided.

The couple turned back to one another, Reina giving him a look with a hiked brow while Kazuto had on a sheepish smile.

"S-sorry. Mind if I get this?"

Reina wordlessly got off, sitting in the corner of the bed, her eyes following him. Kazuto quickly sat up, turning off the ringing and accessing the Neural Interface.

Kazuto silently grumbled. To think he would encounter the dreaded 'cockblock'.

While Kazuto was a bit peeved at the interruption, a small part of him was curious who it was. He didn't have many friends outside of a chosen few, which included Reina and his sister. He made sure to keep them on mute, while his sister knew that he would be spending the better part of the day together with his girlfriend.

Opening it up, he was treated to one more surprise.

Accessing the virtual interface through his eyes and the connected neural network, he found that he had received an email message.

Opening the message, Kazuto froze upon seeing the message. It was short, no more than a single line.

It simply read, "Shirou needs help. Please come if you can. - Momonga."

He quickly read the message again, and then a third time for good measure, before the weight of it finally struck him.

In the early days of Ainz Ooal Gown, back when the Great Tomb of Nazarick was still in the process of being constructed, one of their biggest fears was of an opposing guild or group infiltrating their base, breaching the inner sanctum, and destroying the guild weapon, thereby sealing the doom of the entire guild. While Peroroncino understood the danger and concern, certain members, such as Punitto Moe, Bellriver, and Momonga, were particularly anxious about the issue and spent countless hours discussing the logistics and how to prevent such a catastrophic event from happening.

Thus, the decision was made for them to share their numbers and contact information, strictly to be used only in an emergency concerning the guild's affairs.

Kazuto recalled only three instances where the utilization of the emergency contact was necessary. The first occurrence was an impromptu test to ensure that it functioned correctly. The second event took place when a post on the YGGDRASIL forums began to gain traction, creating a contentious debate over a planned assault on the Great Tomb of Nazarick. This happened during their meteoric ascent to infamy, necessitating all hands on deck to address the situation. Fortunately, it turned out to be a false alarm, as interest in the matter eventually waned and dissipated. The final and authentic employment of the emergency contact was when Ainz Ooal Gown lost total control over the Seven Hidden Mines, which they had a monopoly on. A competing guild leveraged Ouroboros, one of the Twenty, to banish Ainz Ooal Gown completely from the realm, thereby allowing the rival guild to take over control of the Seven Hidden Mines. It was one of the few instances where a circumstance managed to shake Ainz Ooal Gown in a serious manner.

Kazuto had completely forgotten about the whole emergency contact system, as it was never brought up again until now.

The message was simple, and, on the surface, it appeared almost arbitrary, but one thing stuck out most of all. Momonga, ever the stickler for formalities, used their friend's first name. That told Kazuto all he needed to know about the severity of the message.

Minute trembles spread from his hands. His teeth clenched as his face twisted in a pained grimace, and his mind warred with itself. The feeling of apprehension, one that was born from his last conversation with Shirou, returned with a vengeance.

Reina looked on with no small concern as she watched her boyfriend go from confused to conflicted in a matter of seconds. A change that only made her worried that something serious might've happened.

"Everything alright?" She asked, moving beside him.

"It's… one of my friends… He… needs help…"

"You mean from that game you played, YGGDRASIL, right?"

Kazuto nodded, his eyes looking back between her and the air, where the message was only visible to him.

"Ok… And…?" She asked, relaxing upon hearing the issue and all but dismissing the problem.

Reina leaned in, her lips pressing tenderly against his skin, trying to rekindle the mood. However, a crease of worry etched its way onto her brow as she observed Kazuto's hesitancy. She could see the conflict in his eyes from the way his eyes shifted between her, his clothes, and the message visible only to him. Eventually, he reached out, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Reina-chan… I… you mind if we take a small rain check…?" He asked with a strained smile.

Her eyes widened as she looked at her boyfriend in disbelief. She couldn't quite believe her ears. However, her disbelief gave way to another emotion.

"You can't be serious…" She muttered incredulously, hints of anger leaking through as she shrugged off his hand.

Kazuto winced, already knowing what was to come.

"You told me it would just be me and you, no distraction or anything. That it was "our time and no one else's." You even promised!" She shouted, hints of tears leaking from her eyes. She stabbed her finger into his chest, each one only accentuating the building conflict.

Kazuto flinched at her accusation because she was completely in the right. The following day, after leaving YGGDRASIL for the weekend and taking his senpai's advice, he did make good on his promise to her. He fully intended to make sure their fourth anniversary was memorable.

He did not fault her for her anger. If the roles were reversed, he too would be beyond peeved. Especially since he was aware of how courageous she was being to make this much of an effort and present herself to him. A courage that he was but spitting in the face of.

To her, Kazuto was putting more importance into a virtual relationship than their own and that was what stung the most.

"I know… I know… but I…" He tried to placate her, but his girlfriend was having none of it.

"What, you care about some random person on the internet over me, your own girlfriend?!" She accused.

"It's… It's not like that! I do care about you, but also him as well… And I…"

Kazuto struggled to put it in a way for her to understand, but for an outsider, it was difficult to convey the true depth of it without it sounding like nonsense to her. The disparity between firsthand knowledge and hearsay only served to exacerbate the difficulty of conveying the gravity of the situation, especially given her understandable indignation, which made it unlikely that she would readily accept his explanation.

"Why? It's just a game. If you miss it, you can just say it was because you were busy. You don't have to do this, y'know."

Reina wasn't wrong. Momonga's text said to come if they could. He could keep quiet and let it pass, and when they would meet up next time, he would explain himself. There was little doubt that they would understand and not hold it against him, especially Shirou.

But what about himself?

Could he justify it to himself, knowing that he had the chance to help, only to let it pass?

The memory of their last conversation replayed in his mind. The way things had started to feel strange towards the end, and how, after the siblings had finally logged off, a sinking feeling slowly crept into his stomach.

No. He found himself answering, he couldn't.

Kazuto wouldn't be able to look himself in the mirror, knowing he had a chance to help but refusing to do so, regardless of the reason. To him, it was no different than allowing it to persist in the first place.

However, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his girlfriend so suddenly. Yet, he knew that one of them might require his assistance more urgently than the other. And so he made a concerted effort to reach out to her and communicate his intentions clearly.

"I… I can't. I just can't…"

"Why not?!"

"Because this could be important too!"

"More important than us? Than me?!"

"No! I didn't say that!"

The two continued, their argument slowly becoming heated. Kazuto tried to explain himself, but Reina wouldn't listen.

"Who the hell cares about some nobody?!" Reina shouted, her voice growing hoarse.

In a fit of anger, she forcefully shoved him off of her bed, causing Kazuto to hit the floor with a thud. Although he was physically unhurt, he was visibly shocked and taken aback by her callous words. A fleeting expression of something indescribable flickered across his face, causing a sense of trepidation to penetrate through the veil of anger that clouded her mind. She had seen him angry before, but it had always been superficial, either playful or merely an annoyance. However, this time was different - his fury was palpable.

Reina worried that she might have gone too far as he stood up, uncaring for his naked form. But before she could do a thing, Kazuto surprised her a second time.

Faster than she could blink, Kazuto immediately dropped to his knees, his fist pressed against the floor as he bowed his head down, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Reina winced at the sound, her anger giving way to concern. It took her a moment before she realized what he was doing. He was bowing on his hands and knees.

When Kazuto raised his head, Reina was taken aback by what she saw. A large red mark spread across his forehead, but that was inconsequential compared to the sight of his tears. His bright blue eyes, which always captivated her and reminded her of clear blue skies, reflected nothing but conflict and hurt. She had never seen such raw emotion from him before. The tears flowed down his cheeks without end, a clear indication of his inner turmoil.

"I'm sorry…" He said, his voice no louder than a whisper, but in the silence, it was thunderously loud for all to hear.

"You are important to me, Reina-chan, and I wouldn't give you up for anything in this world. But so too is Emiya-senpai. I know this is unfair, but I can't put one of you over the other. I'm sorry, but I… just can't. Please… please don't force me to choose between you and him." He softly pleaded, bowing his head.

Silence filled the room, dispersed by the occasional sniffles from him.

"You once told me that you saw your friends as family. Honestly, I always thought you were exaggerating a bit. I understood that you really cared for your online friends, but this… I… You've talked about him a lot of times before, so why him? What about him makes him so special? What does he mean to you? And please, be honest with me." She implored, her voice subdued.

The name Emiya had become a familiar one to Reina, having heard it countless times from her boyfriend. From his animated accounts of their friendship, it was clear that Kazuto held his friend in high esteem. There was a palpable sense of elation and enthusiasm in his voice every time he spoke of him. Reina had always assumed that their closeness stemmed from close friendship, male bonding, or something or another. But there were moments when she detected a wistful longing in Kazuto's tone whenever Emiya was mentioned.

Reina playfully entertained the idea that her boyfriend swung for the other team, or perhaps even played for both sides. Considering how fervent he could be when it came to this 'Emiya' person, it wasn't an unreasonable assumption.

However, it wasn't until she witnessed Kazuto's emotional response to news of Emiya's troubles that Reina realized she had underestimated the depth of their friendship. The intensity of her boyfriend's concern for someone he had never met in person left her questioning the true extent of their bond. Perhaps she had been too quick to dismiss the importance of their online friendship.

Kazuto answered, and she was treated to one last surprise from him in the form of a confession.

"What does he mean to me? I don't even know where to begin… Emiya-senpai… Shirou… He's an amazing person. Honestly, it would probably be easier to point out what he isn't amazing at. Hehehe." Pausing for a brief chuckle, he leaned back, a look of reminiscence tinged with only what she could describe as embarrassed admiration flickering across his face.

Kazuto took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he would say next.

"He's one of my closest friends, a man I respect over anyone, but above all else, he's someone I looked up to above anyone else and someone I wished for as a father." Confessed Kazuto.

Her bewildered look managed to rouse some joy from him, dispelling some of the gloom that clung to the air. He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, ne honeyed with self-embarrassment at such a reveal as his cheeks pinkened.

Prior to meeting Shirou, Kazuto tended to play solo or with his sister. He was a loner who tended to keep to himself and avoid interaction with others. He didn't have much or any friends to play with, as many were put off by his 'quirky' personality and his 'particular' interests. However, the day the siblings met Shirou brought about a completely new opportunity. Through him, he was introduced to an array of wonderful individuals who he was grateful to have as friends, including Momonga, Touch Me, Warrior Takemikazuchi, and everyone from Ainz Ooal Gown.

Kazuto owed a great debt to Shirou, who had not only become his first genuine friend but also a trusted mentor. Through every stage of Kazuto's ascent among the YGGDRASIL player rank and beyond, Shirou had been there to provide guidance and support. He was the one who had taught Kazuto how to soar above the rest and achieve greatness.

For the Haruto siblings, Shirou was a constant source of comfort and camaraderie, offering them kindness that they had never experienced before. In a world as dystopian as theirs, such acts of benevolence were rare and foreign to many of them.

Perhaps most importantly of all, Shirou never treated him any differently because of his sexually explicit hobby or when his perverted side reared its head. He was aware that he was a pervert, enjoying and indulging in the hobby to the point that it almost seemed like a porn addiction. He didn't really hide it, but he would admit that deep down, it would sting from time to time, seeing and hearing his friends' disgusted or exasperated reactions. Not even his sister was immune, occasionally reacting with disgust when he went too far. But Shirou was different. He never looked down on him as if he were some degenerate or lesser for his choices. He treated him as he always was, a friend.

Would someone, anyone, be willing to go through all of that if they genuinely didn't care?

Shirou possessed an array of qualities that Kazuto envisioned as the epitome of a father figure. He exuded kindness and nurturance, a veritable source of wisdom and experience, yet was firm when the situation demanded it, never crossing the line into being overbearing. He was always understanding, striking a delicate balance that made him the embodiment of an ideal father figure. Someone that Kazuto strove to make proud.

Kazuto could still remember coming to such a startling realization all those years ago and how bizarre the whole thing was. A person his age and maturity developing a dad complex was certainly unexpected. Though, considering his and his sister's circumstances growing up and their parental situation, well, maybe it wasn't completely out of nowhere. Shirou wasn't called the team mom for nothing.

In retrospect, when viewed through a particular lens, the various pieces of Kazuto's behavior slowly coalesced into a cohesive whole. He always sought out his senpai's attention and time, whether it was through playing, farming, conversing, or any other activity. Like a five-year-old constantly vying for his father's attention. He wanted to make Shirou proud, no matter what the task at hand may be. Perhaps this drive stemmed from a commitment to seeking his approval, regardless of how small or insignificant it was. Kazuto strove to measure up or exceed his senpai's expectations in any way he could - like a son to a father.

Of course, he kept it under wraps and refrained from revealing any inkling of his true sentiments. He never even broached the topic with his sister. He continued to play the role of the hyperactive kouhai who looked up to his senior or regarded him as an older brother figure.

The last thing he wanted or even needed was for people to misconstrue his relationship with Shirou and risk being perceived as having a deep paternal complex. His family situation was already complicated enough as it was. He did not wish to worsen it by opening that particular can of worms anytime soon.

Shirou had always been there for him, so it was high time that Kazuto was there for him for a change. And so, he decided to confide in Reina, finally sharing his close-kept secret in the hopes that she would understand.

"Shocking, isn't it? Good ol' pervy Kazuto has a dad complex." He let out a sheepish laugh at the end, one awkward and filled with self-embarrassment at his revealed secret. Kazuto couldn't find himself to look at her, unsure of what expression she was making at that moment.

The room was plunged once more into silence following his admission, leaving no one knowing what to say or do next. Finally, it was Reina who broke the barrier of silence with a sigh.

"Go." She uttered.

"S-so you're not mad?" He cautioned a guess.

"I'm still upset, I'm not going to lie." Kazuto winced, but before he apologized, Reina continued. "But I know that holding you here is selfish. I want to ask you one more time. Does he mean that much to you?"

"Yes, just as much as you and sis." He answered instantly, his eyes resolute.

The two locked eyes.

"… Then go. It sounds like he might need you more than I do." Her gaze softened and encouraged.

Kazuto immediately jumped forward and embraced her, pulling her close and resting his forehead against her.

"I'll make this up to you." He promised, his voice sincere and strong.

"You better…" She murmured back. "And don't think we're done with this. You and I are going to have a serious talk after all of this. Also, you're in the dog house until further notice. You hear me, buster!?"

Kazuto's head bobbed in agreement, a bashful chuckle escaping his lips. The prospect of snuggles and cuddles seemed unlikely in the near future, but he knew it could have been worse. He resolved to make it up to her by treating her to something special once all this was over, acknowledging her patience with someone like him.

As he planted a tender kiss on her forehead, he quickly got to work dressing himself. Reina watched with a faint hint of amusement as he hurriedly threw on his clothes, all the while struggling to contain his restlessness. Despite the rush, he managed to get himself presentable again, and with a final affectionate but hurried goodbye, he darted out the door.

She sat there, taking in the sound of his heavy footsteps reverberating throughout the quiet house, before the door loudly opened and shut behind him. And just like that, she was alone.

Reina's room was filled with silence as she sat on her bed, lost in her thoughts. With a deep, heavy sigh, she fell back onto the soft mattress. Her hand draped over her eyes, providing a brief moment of respite from the world around her.

To think her horndog of a boyfriend actually rejected the invitation to sleep with her again. He chose his dad complex over his girlfriend. On any other day, she would wonder if he was playing a bad joke on her. Reina didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity of it or sulk at the misfortune of it all.

Although she was filled with an overwhelming amount of disappointment and conflicting emotions, she couldn't help but feel her curiosity peak. About this 'Emiya' he held in such high regard.

"Maybe I should've given more thought to trying out YGGDRASIL as he suggested." Reina mused aloud.

She was quite curious to meet the man she had heard so highly about. Perhaps one day…

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"… Furthermore, we believe this branding will be maximized if we were to present you as 'Kazeumi Kumi.' It's an instantly familiar name, and that would be used to attract fans that know of your previous work. In addition, I've gotten word back from our designers with some new models for you to look at and choose from. Personally, I'm in favor of the recent one, as they've got a certain charm and would appeal to the loli aesthetic we would go with, furthermore…"

Chihiro sat there, her finger tapping restlessly on the armrest of her wheelchair, as the voice droned on and on. A firm grimace stretched across her lips.

She was currently in talks with a manager for the virtual idol corporation. It was supposed to be the final stretch. All that was left was hashing out the final details before signing the contract. However, she had run into some complications at the last possible minute.

Upon receiving acceptance to her new position, Chihiro was initially overjoyed. However, her elation became slightly tempered upon discovering that the manager with whom she would be conversing was a fan of her prior works. One major concern the paraplegic voice actress harbored was the possibility that her previous roles might influence her potential for success in this new venture. Fortunately, the manager conducted himself with the utmost professionalism, refraining from delving too deeply into any sensitive topics and displaying genuine enthusiasm for her inclusion on the team. Despite this glimmer of hope, her optimism was short-lived as the higher-ups, upon learning of her past reputation and accomplishments, swiftly sought to capitalize on her previous work experience.

Chihiro was then transferred to talk with another manager, one that was primarily focused on giving the executives what they wanted. And one that seemed insistent on cutting her off at every turn.

She originally petitioned to portray a more mature character. While her specialty was voicing loli characters, that did not mean that was all she could do. Being in the voice acting industry as long as she has, she has developed a wide range of vocal talent and could pull off a riper and fem-fatale kind of character. Plus, it would be a departure from her usual roles, a fresh start for something more.

Only for her request to be outright denied. Instead, they were using her previous reputation to their advantage by providing her with templates that all catered to the loli-moe archetype. They blatantly disregarded her thoughts and contributions, choosing instead to push their views with the excuse that it would be best for "her and her image moving forward."

Chihiro remembered letting out a derisive snort when they told her that, and she had to physically hold back her tongue, lest she give them a piece of her mind.

How ironic that she was treated with more respect and courtesy from those in the eroge industry when compared to how a professional company such as theirs was treating her.

That was just one of many confrontations and differences that have persisted, allowing for little to no progress to be made between the two parties to reconcile their differences. The only reason she was still in talks with them and trying to work out some measure of a compromise was because she didn't want to give up this opportunity given to her and her promise to Shirou.

On the topic of her not-so-secret crush, her grimace only grew strained as the mood plummeted. Their last conversation and their less-than-stellar departure were still fresh in her mind. For the umpteenth time, she found herself thinking about him again. Because of the lingering unease, she was unable to completely get him out of her mind.

Chihiro knew something was wrong. She first noticed his odd behavior all those months ago. In the beginning, she said nothing but kept an eye out, confident that whatever it was would pass. But over time, that uneasy feeling only grew. Yet, she never truly bothered to confront the matter directly.

Always watching but never acting.

Much like her attempts to actually work up the courage to confess to him, she has been skirting around the issue. She was unsure and afraid of the results if she tried.

'Like a coward…' A dark voice mocked.

Suddenly, she heard a loud banging noise followed by thumping footsteps running just outside her room, snapping her out of her gloom before it could get any worse. Her face twisted in bewilderment as she wondered who or what was happening.

"Megumi-san?" The voice of the manager called out from her monitor, using the alias that she gave them.

"Something abrupt came up. Please hold." Chihiro quickly informed him, putting him on mute before he had a chance to respond. She was all too happy to use whatever excuse she had to not hear the incessant babbling of her wheezy manager.

As she wheeled herself towards her door, she turned the knob and was taken aback to find her brother hastily making his way down the hallway. He came to an abrupt halt, avoiding a collision with her by the narrowest of margins. Chihiro observed several things about his appearance - beads of sweat trickling down his face, one hand pressed against the wall as if to steady himself, and his breaths being labored and uneven. Her brother appeared as though he had just completed a full marathon and then some.

The paraplegic sister's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as she was certain that her brother was meant to be spending some quality time with his girlfriend. However, he was now back at home, leaving her concerned at his state.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, making her presence known.

Kazuto turned to her, eyes wide and frantic. He said nothing, only a loud wheezy gasp escaping his throat, trying to suck in as much air as possible.

"Deep breaths, then talk." She advised, her hand reaching out and stroking his back, patting it, and doing whatever she could to help.

"Momonga… message… senpai… help!" He managed to gasp out.

Although fragmented, Chihiro was able to grasp what he was trying to say. Her hand immediately scoured the back of her nape to where her Neural Nano interface was. Touching it, she received a message saying she was out of nanomachines and it needed to be refilled.

She vaguely remembered being low on nanomachines when she had logged off of YGGDRASIL the other day, but with the pressing talks, she had neglected to refill them, reasoning that she would do so once everything was done. Hence, she didn't receive the message.

Chihiro wasn't sure what the message said, but she was aware that something was amiss upon seeing her brother's urgency and hearing about Momonga's message concerning Shirou.

"Damn it, help get my set-up ready!" She exclaimed, fully intending to join him.

However, before she could take any further action, she felt two arms calmly pressing down on her shoulders.

"Woah, woah, sis. Don't you have to worry about the idol thing on your end?" Kazuto pointed this out.

Chihiro clicked her tongue, her face scrunching up.

"T-that can wait… This is way more important!"

"But so is this idol career, sis." Kazuto argued back. "Who knows when you might get another chance at anything like this again, assuming the corporation isn't petty and doesn't just blacklist you outright for just up and ditching them? Something I can totally see those asshats doing. You've been waiting months for this! Nee-chan, this is your dream, and you're just a step away. You can't just throw it all away now. Not to mention, Momonga sent this out to everyone. We might have more than enough to go and help him…"

Chihiro fell silent to his arguments, but it would be his last point that captured her.

"Emiya-senpai wouldn't want you to throw away this opportunity."

Kazuto didn't wait any longer and rushed towards his neural set-up station in the living room to get everything ready for the virtual dive and connect to YGGDRASIL.

Chihiro wheeled her way back into her room slowly, her eyes slowly drawn back to the monitors where the manager was still muted and, from the looks of things, was starting to get irritated by the silence and lack of response. Her key to her idol hood, the one thing she'd always dreamt about.

That's right…

He always wanted what was best for her.

A cherished memory resurfaced from the recesses of her mind, one that reminded her of the reason why she embarked on this journey in the first place.

She couldn't recall the specifics of what had happened, but she distinctly remembered the presence of her brother, herself, and Shirou. In the midst of conversation, Peroroncino started talking about her burgeoning voice-acting career and brought up how she had what it took to be an idol during the conversation. It was a not-so-subtle attempt at being her wingman - pun fully intended. As the conversation progressed, the situation ultimately culminated in a private setting where Shirou was treated to a song from her.

Bukubukuchagama had just finished the last line of the song, leaving the room in total silence. The Elder Slime, being an amorphous slime without any distinguishable features, was grateful for this fact as she felt a rush of nervous anticipation course through her body. Throughout the entire performance, Shirou never once took his eyes off of her as she sang and danced to the music.

"Wow…" He simply let out, almost breathless. But in her heightened, anxiety-filled state, it only brought her down.

"I know, I know, I'm not that good, and I…"

"What are you talking about, Bukubukuchagama-san? You were amazing!" Shirou praised wholeheartedly, but her pessimism countered his cheer.

"Yeah, right. You don't have to pretend; I know I'm kind of bad at this and…" Bukubukuchagama continued dejectedly, believing that he was just saying that to be nice.

"Are you saying I'm lying?" He said, surprising her.

"W-what? N-nno, of course not!" She exclaimed, her voice cracking as her normal voice slipped out at the sudden question.

"Then believe me now when I say that you have a beautiful voice. An amazing voice. You have an incredible talent, Bukubukuchagama-san." He replied softly, and she could sense the supportive smile in his voice.

His sincere and inspiring voice pierced through the cloud of negativity surrounding her.

"You think I have what it takes to be an idol?"

"I know it." He answered instantly.

"In fact, as of this moment, consider me your first and number one fan! I'll be cheering you on all the way."

Shirou threw out a peace sign with his hand and a smile. One that proved infectious as she smiled alongside him.

"Well then, I'll be taking your word for that, and when I do become an idol, I better see you at every single event. Front and center! You hear me?" She joined in.

"Of course. How can I call myself your number one fan if I were to miss one of your precious events?"

The two soon burst out into fits of giggles, joking and laughing all the way.

Merry laughter echoed in her ears as the daydream subsided, drawing Chihiro back into reality.

She glanced away from her monitor, her eyes drifting towards the painting she had commissioned some time ago. Even in painting format, it still managed to capture his essence. One she always felt upon gazing. So daring, so inspiring.

Shirou…

She knew that Shirou, ever kind and ever selfless, would want her to continue on her path. Afterward, once she got in, she would share the good news. She'd be officially an idol, just like what she always dreamt of and what he wished for her.

He would want her to think about herself first…

But what about what she wanted…?

Without another word, she wheeled back towards her monitor. The light from her computers illuminated her face, one filled with determination and purpose.

She instantly unmuted the call, just in time too, as the manager was going off on a tangent about how unprofessional it was to leave him in such a disrespectful manner and that she should be grateful that they haven't ended things already. And blah, blah, blah, whatever nonsense Chihiro ignored.

"This conversation is done." She said.

"I have no idea what is going on, but this matter is far from over. I would suggest you be on your best behavior, or else we might have to pass over the position to someone else." He said smugly, a thinly veiled threat.

To which she responded with one simple word.

"Bye."

Chihiro slammed on the key, ending the call. She smirked and took immense satisfaction from the sputtering tone of the manager at the last second before disconnecting, no doubt catching him off guard completely from his failed threat.

She grabbed onto the wheels and wheeled herself out of her room, the door opening up with a bang as she made her appearance. Kazuto, who had just finished setting everything up, looked up to see his sister racing down the hallway towards him.

"S-sis?! B-bbut what about the position?!" He gasped.

"Fuck'em! I kind of always liked my old gig anyway. At least they don't treat me like shit from the big corps. Besides, how could I possibly leave my adorning fans without their previous Kaze-chin~ Now, are you going to help me or are you going to stand like a dumbass?" Despite her coarse words, there was a familiar levity that sparkled within her tone.

Kazuto blinked before sporting a toothy grin. Rushing over, he took hold of her wheelchair and wheeled her to their setup.

After all, they had work to do, and two sets of hands were better than one.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Ichirou released a contented sigh as he finally eased himself onto the wooden bench. The wooden bench creaked under his weight. Though he felt tired, that did little to diminish the smile that stretched brightly on his face as he watched his daughter frolic and play. She giggled and ran across the open grass park, her string in hand and a colorful kite soaring overhead, just like the other joyful park-goers.

Ichirou had taken his family to their local, sprawling park, one with a dome that replicated a clear, sunny day.

"Tired already?" A voice called out.

Sitting next to him was his wife, a smile playfully on her lips.

"Aye. I think I might be getting too old."

"Oh, nonsense. If that were the case, then that would mean I'm getting old as well. And we can't have that, now can we?"

"Oh, heavens forbid such a travesty." Ichirou rolled his eyes at his wife's jape, which she returned with a playful slap.

As his wife leaned onto him and rested her head against his shoulder, the off-duty officer gently placed a hand over her shoulder to pull her close. The two were content to watch their daughter enjoy herself from the sidelines.

The peaceful atmosphere that enveloped the couple was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a gentle ringing, prompting the husband and wife to turn their heads in unison. Ichirou quickly realized it was him. He retrieved his phone from his pocket, one connected via his Neural Nano network. Curious, he opened it and saw he had received a message. As he read the message, a wave of tension washed over him, causing his face to contort in a familiar expression of concern, which his wife recognized all too well.

"Go." Ichirou heard his wife say, turning to her in surprise.

"W-what? B-but you don't even know what it is. So how…"

"How long do you think we've been together, dear?" She rhetorically asked with a knowing smile, her hand reaching up and caressing his cheek.

"I probably know a few things about you more than you probably do. Such as that face you're making whenever something's going on and one that needs your help. So go, Adachi-san's family is also here. They'll keep us company for the time being until you finish things up."

His eyes widened before he looked at her, a chuckle leaving his lips.

"You're too good for me sometimes. Thank you." He told her lovingly and appreciatively.

"Of course. I am the wife of a hero, after all." She returned with a similar voice, smiling.

He leaned in and kissed her while grinning. Just as their daughter joined them, he stood up. Kneeling, he looked at his pride and joy and kissed her forehead.

"I'll be going somewhere for a bit, sweetie. Help take care of your mother while I'm gone." He told her before taking off into a sprint.

"Where's papa going?" The daughter's eyes shone with confusion and encroaching sadness at seeing her father leave them.

"There, there." The mother soothed, pulling her daughter into a hug. "Papa has some hero work to do. That's why he needs to go."

"Really?!" Her eyes lit up instantly, dazzling with awe and excitement.

"Good luck, papa!" The daughter cried out, waving her hand excitedly alongside the mother as the two smiled and watched. Ichirou waved back and then quickened his pace, estimating how long it would take to get back home in his head.

After all, what kind of hero would he be if he were to arrive late?

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"Oi, brat! Quit running around, are you trying to make me drop the food?!" Youta chastised as he glared at the child running around the dining table.

Said brat simply flashed a not-so-sorry grin before running to the other side of the table, away from the salaryman's wrath.

"Now, now, Youta-san, please don't scream. You're more likely to drop it yourself. And you, sweetie, stop running around and help prepare the table." A third voice mediated.

The mother appeared in the dining room from the kitchen, wearing an all-too-familiar amused smile at seeing the two go at it.

"Yes, kaa-san." Said the child, rushing to do as he was told while sticking his tongue out at Youta as they crossed paths.

"You spoil him too much, Yui-san." Youta grumbled, addressing the mother.

"And you are too abrasive, Youta-san. I suppose that balances it out." She said, smirking at the end, which earned an eye roll from him.

Steadily, the table was set up as food was piled onto it. As the mother urged her son to quickly wash up, Youta took a step back, taking in the moment. A part of himself was still bewildered that he was in the situation he was currently in.

If anyone were to tell Youta he would open up to a single mother and her child, living and interacting contently with them, acting like some kind of pseudo-family, he would call that person out as a damn liar, and yet here he was.

He was living a life of relative normalcy that he always saw as an impossibility. At least, for someone like him.

Shaking his head, he watched as the kid finished up and ran to his seat. With everything done, the two adults followed suit and took their seats. However, as soon as he touched the seat, he felt something ringing. Puzzled, he touched his nape, looking away as the message appeared within his sight.

"Hey! Mama says playing at the table, only eating." The kid called out, but he ignored him.

The salaryman's stoic expression remained largely unchanged, but Yui could sense a hint of tension in his demeanor. Youta was quiet, his gaze fixed on a message only he could see. Eventually, he let out a sigh.

Youta turned to face Yui, and it was the first time she had ever noticed anything resembling remorse in his eyes.

"Sorry, but you all eat without me. Something came up."

Without another word, he looked back at them, stood up from the table, and made his way to the door.

"Hey, wait!"

Feeling something latch onto him, Youta let out an exasperated sigh as he looked down. He found the brat grabbing onto his arm with both hands, his lips puckering into a pout as he gave his best glare at the salaryman.

Youta glared down, but it lacked any true heat behind it.

"Let go, brat. Something came up, and I need to deal with it." He said, but unfortunately, the kid wouldn't relent.

"You can't! You, me, and mama haven't eaten together in a long time." He tried to argue.

"It was only three days ago, brat." Youta deadpanned. "Quit blowing things out of proportion. Plus, there's next time."

However, the child would not budge.

"Is it that important?" Said Yui, joining the conversation.

"Probably, it looks like some serious shi-" Youta tapered off, Yui sending a narrowed-eyed look at his particular choice of words. "… Some serious issues popped up. I can't be quite sure, but someone might need my help." He quickly corrected.

The two adults locked eyes, a silent conversation taking place between them. Breaking off, Yui turned her gaze to her son. Her eyes softened with understanding.

"Sweetie, let Youta-san go." She told him.

"No! I want him to eat with us. I want the three of us to eat together again…" His voice tapered off near the end, the heat in his voice replaced with a melancholic frustration.

Youta said nothing, spying down on the pouting kid who was doing whatever he could to get him to stay. The salaryman let out a sigh through his nose before wrenching his arm away from the kid's grasp and planting it on top of his head. His thumb gently rubs through the hair, drawing the kid's attention.

"Listen up, brat. There will come a time in everyone's life when you'll owe someone, something. Whether you'd like it or not. A man always has to pay his debts, or else they stick with him forever. And this is a debt I'm not keen on keeping on my back." Youta explained.

"I don't get it." The kid pouted, frowning in confusion.

The salaryman let out a small 'hmph' but cracked a small smile.

"Wait until you're an adult, brat, then maybe you'll understand." Youta ruffled his hair in a slightly patronizing but affectionate manner.

The kid groaned, fighting to get the hand off of him.

Youta turned back to Yui, who watched it all with a smile.

"We'll still be here. But please, do try and make it quick. Or else all the food we've taken to make will get cold."

Youta cracked a smile of his own. He nodded before hurrying to the front door, grabbing his belonging, and running through the hallways and into his apartment room. His thoughts raced, speculating just how dire the situation was.

He also made plans to give a certain wannabe hero a good socking for ruining his dinner.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

All across Japan, Momonga's message was relayed instantly. Some were unfortunately unable to respond, and his call for help was left untouched. Many more saw and read the message for help but could not join, too preoccupied with whatever matter they had on hand to help. But the few that could need no other justification and hastened to answer the call without hesitation.

After all, they had a friend that needed their help.

Chapter 9 - These Ceaseless Changing Times III

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 04/18/2021

Chapter 9 - These Ceaseless Changing Times III

Shirou swung Kanshou and Bakuya in a sweeping arc, cutting down the Dragon Tooth Warrior around him. His body never stopped moving as he dodged an attack from Kuzuki, leaping away as his former sensei struck the ground with an axe kick, kicking up dirt.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed more Dragon Tooth Warriors encircling him as he retreated, the co-boss hot on his trail. Caster's beam rained down without end, striking all within her sight.

The magus watched it all with weary eyes.

Attack, defend, run, and repeat. He was merely going through the motions with his form and body.

How long has he been fighting again since his last conversation with Momonga, he mused.

Five minutes? Ten perhaps? Twenty, thirty, an hour? He couldn't say. Time itself was all but lost on him, blurring together and muddled. However long it was, the fatigue was slowly sapping his strength away after constant battling.

Without hesitation, Shirou sprinted towards an opening in the woods and reached a small precipice. As he pumped as much prana as he could, the trees behind him disappeared, and he leaped off the edge. In mid-air, he saw rolling hills below him on the mountain's side. Kuzuki followed closely behind him, and they continued their fight in the air. After gaining a momentary advantage, the boss delivered a powerful kick, but Shirou managed to block it with his married blades. However, the impact caused him to plummet downward.

Shirou hit the ground with a heavy thud and was immediately beset by the Dragon Tooth Warriors. He quickly dispatched them as his former sensei landed. Kuzuki rushed towards the magus with a series of serpent-like punches, but Shirou managed to parry them. However, the force of the blows took a toll on Kanshou and Bakuya, causing hairline fractures to appear on their surfaces. With no other choice, he was forced to disengage and retreat momentarily. As he caught his breath, a sudden purple flash caught his attention, but the exhaustion that had been building within him finally took hold. His reaction time was dulled, and he could only bring his blades up at the last second to defend himself.

Shirou numbly watched in slow motion as his projections broke against one of Caster's beams, protecting him from the full brunt of the attack. The force sent him reeling back before his body tumbled against the unforgiven dirt, coming to a harsh stop against a broken tree trunk.

As the haze of fatigue began to envelop him, Shirou struggled to stay on his feet. In a desperate attempt to flee, he stumbled forward, but Caster was already pointing her staff in his direction.

A magic circle materialized beneath him as the air around him stilled, his body frozen in place as if some unknown force were pressing against him from all sides. A muted noise rang through his ears within the frozen space. Another blast from the past.

Frozen, Shirou's fight was all but concluded. Surprisingly, neither Kuzuki nor any of the Dragon Tooth Warriors decided to attack and finish him off.

Though, to call it a fight was putting it generously. It was more accurate to call it a game of cat and mouse as there was little fighting on his part, save for the hit and run strategies he utilized to contend with the three bosses and the accompanying hordes of mobs.

The Dragon Tooth Warriors, though individually weak and of low level, proved to be an unrelenting menace. Unlike in the Fifth Holy Grail War, their numbers seemed endless, and their constant presence created a constant distraction for Shirou. Compounding the difficulty was the fact that Caster and Kuzuki dominated both the skies and ground, making it nearly impossible for Shirou to focus on one without being vigilant for an attack from the other. Their pursuit was tireless, leaving Shirou with little respite. Adding to the chaos was the Colchis Dragon, a boss beatstick whose presence made the already daunting task all the more challenging.

Throughout the intense battle with the bosses, he managed to cause significant damage to them on multiple occasions. However, he wasn't able to deliver a finishing blow or continue his attacks due to frequent interference from the other bosses who aggroed on him, allowing the other to recover.

Despite being unable to gain any upper hand, he tested the limits of the boss raid throughout the battle and quickly grasped the rules of the raid. This allowed him to develop effective counterstrategies that could be utilized to permanently defeat the bosses.

Not that such knowledge mattered in the end.

It only proved what he knew from the beginning. He needed a party to help him, his friends…

His vision refocused on Caster, high above the skies, staring putatively down at Shirou. She twirled her staff before slamming it forward.

Magic circles surrounded her, far greater and brighter than what she had shown before. They blanketed the skies and all moved independently of one another, each bearing arcane symbols that pulsated with power. Purple mana streaked across the sky, and Shirou could practically taste the overwhelming mana pouring forth, saturating the air.

Shirou would put this attack on par with the likes of Super-Tier Magic itself.

'This is it…' He thought, staring all but certain death in the face.

A part of him wondered why it took so long to reach this point. He knew that victory was beyond his grasp all by himself. Death was of little consequence, so why then did he continue to struggle? Whether his survival until now was purely due to ingrained instinct or something else, he couldn't quite say. Considering his current situation, the issue was null and void.

In the end, he only delayed the inevitable.

"I should probably avoid heading back to Nazarick when I respawn. The last thing I want is to be a third wheel on Momonga's date." Shirou idly mused.

"[Calamity of Gods and Kingdoms]!" Caster shouted, and the radiant magic circles shone.

A powerful storm of blinding purple light erupted from the skies, unleashing a deadly onslaught upon him with unmatched energy. The faker embraced the end he sought and closed his eyes.

"Oi, Emiya-san! What the hell are you doing, taking a nap right here?!"

Only to suddenly snap his eyes open, hearing a jovial voice call out to him, admonishing him. He opened his eyes to an impossibility - the presence of Warrior Takemikazuchi, a friend who should not be there. As his sight returned, he was shocked to see Ainz Ooal Gown standing by his side, defying all rational explanation.

He opened his mouth to scream, to warn them, but it was unnecessary.

Shirou saw Tabula break something between his webbed finger, a crystal hourglass, before throwing his webbed hands into the air.

"[Super-Tier Magic: Absolute Terror Field]!"

Unlike Caster's Super-Tier Spell, which required a cast time, Tabula's was activated instantly, courtesy of the cash item. Above them, a massive hexagonal barrier of pastel purple and red hues materialized. Just in time too, as Caster's potent attack reached them.

The clash of two powerful magics created an intense and destructive force that shook the very land beneath them. Streaks of energy flew forth from Caster's magic, relentlessly pounding against the barrier and causing devastation to the mountain range and its surroundings. The roaring winds ripped through the air and land, annihilating anything that stood in their path.

Cracks appeared on the barrier, and for a moment it looked as if Caster's attack would triumph over Tabula's Super Tier Magic, but the bulwark held. Her attack finally finished and dissipated, leaving them all safe and alive.

So startled was Shirou that he could only watch, his mind desperately racing to catch up with the current situation. Call outs filled the air as his companions cleared the area of the Dragon Tooth Warriors.

"[Greater Nullification]!" Yamaiko cast her spell.

Light washed over him, dispelling Caster's spell as he felt his body drop. Before Shirou's body hit the ground, the faker felt two sets of hands grab onto him, lifting him and keeping him steady. Turning his head, he saw Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama helping him.

"P-pero… Buku…" He muttered woozily.

"Yo, Emiya-senpai~"

"Easy there, we got you, Shirou-kun."

"[Boost Magic: Sacred Blessing]!"

A bright aura enveloped him, his fatigue and wound ebbing away, leaving him revitalized as his HP bar was topped up. A spell courtesy from an unfamiliar voice.

"There you go, good as new!"

He glanced towards the voice to spy an angelic Player he'd never seen before, but one he quickly realized by her gamertag - Destana, Momonga's girlfriend, whom he'd heard so much about.

His ears perked up as Kuzuki rushed towards them, but Yamaiko confronted him. His attack, [Snake Strike], lashed out at extreme speed.

"Ora!" Roared Yamaiko, letting her fist fly.

A burst of air shook the field as their punches connected, and both Player and Boss held their ground. The two brawler quickly started trading punches, dodging and sidestepping each other's blows while counterpunching.

While brief, Yamaiko stood toe to toe with the co-boss, landing a few solid hits.

Tanking one of his hits, the Heteromorphic boxer lured the boss in just as she wanted.

"[Heavy Knockout]!" Yamaiko roared, pulling her fist back as [Female Sensei's Iron Fist of Wrath] glowed with a radiant pink upon the activation of her skill.

She slammed her gauntlet into Kuzuki's face faster than anyone could blink, sending his former sensei flying back and creating a small shockwave in the process.

"We're clear!" Ulbert yelled.

"Understood! [Widen Maximize Magic: Greater Teleportation]!"

With the widened and maximized metamagic, Momonga was able to teleport everyone away. They reappeared far away and safely, for the moment.

The party quickly got to work securing the surrounding area. [Mirror World], along with several scrying and protection spells, were put in place, keeping them hidden and protected for the time being. Free of any immediate danger, Shirou quickly composed himself. His heterochromatic eyes swept the guild members currently with him.

There was Momonga, Touch Me, Ulbert, Peroroncino, Tabula, Bukubukuchagama, Warrior Takemikazuchi, Yamaiko, and lastly, Destana. Nine Players in total.

"W-what are you guys doing here?" He stuttered out, finding his voice and drawing their attention.

"What do you think we're here for? To help you, of course!" Touch Me answered, his voice as boisterous as ever. Shirou had almost forgotten just how comforting it was.

"Yep. Momonga-san sent out an emergency message, and we came as soon as we could, Emiya-senpai. We couldn't wait any longer for anyone else to join, so it's only just us." Peroroncino jumped in, jabbing his thumb at the undead Player, and revealing the instigator of it all.

He looked at his longtime friend with equal parts disbelief and annoyance.

"I thought I told you it was fine?!" Shirou argued.

"You did, and I thought otherwise." Momonga challenged him, surprising the faker with the unwavering resolution in his voice. "And as you can see, I wasn't alone in that belief."

He swept his skeletal hand, gesturing to every member there, and though hidden from the world, Shirou could feel each one of their determination shining through their eyes.

"Oi, don't misunderstand. I joined in for Momonga-san's sake, so don't lump me in with everyone else." Ulbert spoke up, crossing his arms adamantly.

"Come now, Ulbert-san. There's no need to be like that. It wouldn't hurt to admit you have a heart from time to time." Touch Me jest, patting the World Disaster's shoulder affectionately. To which he grunted, shaking off the hand.

"But how?!" He spoke, struggling to keep up. "It should be all but impossible for anyone to enter here through any means. The only way to get here is to encounter her in Niðavellir, but considering the statistical improbability, that wasn't an option either!"

"Oh, that? Yeah, we just used [Bifröst] to reach you." Tabula revealed casually.

"You WHAT?" As soon as he heard this, Shirou yelled, his jaw dropping at the revelation and his eyes going wide.

One of the rarest treasures possessed by Ainz Ooal Gown was [Bifröst], a World Item earned after the guild's victory over a rival faction a year prior. It was speculated to be one of the Twenty as it could only be used once, unlike the other World Items held in the Treasury.

[Bifröst] had the appearance of a simple but quaint large three-paneled dressing room mirror with a charming rainbow-decorated rim. For a World Item, its ability and description were relatively simple. [Bifröst] allows the user to transport themselves anywhere they wish in the overworld by selecting a location and walking through the mirror. And when it says anywhere, it truly means anywhere. There was no limit to the locations that could be reached, including hard-to-find dungeons, secret areas with limited access or specific conditions, or well-fortified zones. The World Item was capable of traversing all nine virtual worlds with ease, nothing was beyond its reach. Similar to a [Mirror of Remote Viewing], it allows Players to survey their destination in real-time before allowing them to select it as their destination.

Undoubtedly, the most apparent limitation of utilizing the World Item was also its most significant advantage. Given the vast expanse of the nine playable realms, with numerous uncharted territories and locations dominating the overworld, using it half-heartedly could result in squandering its immense potential but could also be a detriment more than anything else. The last thing anyone wanted was to be trapped or struck somewhere far, far away.

Punitto Moe and Bellriver speculated that [Bifröst] could even bypass heavily secured guild bases, including those in the top ten, with no way to counteract [Bifröst]'s range and abilities besides another World Item.

The World Item was one of their greatest finds, as its potential usage was practically limitless. It was carefully housed within the Treasury, only to be used in the direst or most critical of circumstances. Furthermore, the decision to employ the item necessitated a majority vote, with a minimum of thirty individuals concurring before it could be utilized.

"The controls were super janky. It's a good thing it let you track your friend's position, or else we would've spent forever searching all Niðavellir for you, Emiya-san. A second late, and you would've been toast!" Warrior Takemikazuchi added, and a few others nodded along.

"A waste of a perfectly good World Item if you ask me." Ulbert grumbled.

"Oh, quit it, Ulbert-san! You certainly didn't have any problems when Momonga-san decided to use it, so please don't start now." Chided Bukubukuchagama, wagging her finger like a mother to a stubborn child.

"Plus, this is one of those Servant Bosses Emiya-san talked about before. We beat it, and we'll get a World Item in return. So, one for one. Who knows, maybe we'll get a net positive if RNG is feeling generous this day and gives us a second World Item for beating this unique boss." Yamaiko proposed, leading to excited speculation among them.

Everyone's voices blended together and contributed their own opinions as the conversation flowed easily. An all-too-familiar sensation of banter and comradery exuded forth. And for a moment, all was right in the world. Yet, among the groups of friends, one could not understand.

"W-why…" Shirou utterly softly, yet it was enough as they all heard it.

"Hmm? I thought we already made it clear, Emiya-san? We came because of you." Momonga repeated.

"No, no. This…" Shirou shook his head, a hand resting on his forehead, staring almost incomprehensively at what was going on.

"Guys… you didn't have to do this. This was unneeded! I wouldn't have cared if I had died. I wouldn't have. I don't care about these Class Cards, not to the extent I used to. This… all of this! It doesn't matter! Yet…"

Words failed him as he quietly looked at the brother-and-sister duo.

"Peroroncino-san, Bukubukuchagama-san, what are you doing here? You two had more important matters to take care of, didn't you? Please don't tell me you gave it up for this." Shirou began, addressing the two siblings first.

"Isn't today your day off, Yamaiko-san? Shouldn't you be resting instead of being here?" He moved on to the schoolteacher.

"And you, Touch Me-san. What about your family? Surely, they needed you with them, more than you being here." The faker looked at the World Champion, contending.

"What about you, Tabula-san? You wish to pursue higher education. Surely this would be a bump in your schedule of studying and preparing for the entrance exam." He turned to the Eldritch Heteromorph, arguing.

"Momonga-san… This was your special day, wasn't it? It should've been just you and your girlfriend, that's it. You didn't have to concern yourself with any of this! And surely you didn't need to involve yourself or rope in your girlfriend in all of this!"

One after the other, he probed, finding whatever justification he could. But throughout, they said nothing, weathering the verbal storm as if it were a gentle breeze. This only served to further incense the faker.

"I don't understand. All of you! I didn't want any of this! You have better things to concern yourself with than…"

'Than me…' Those words were left unspoken, but everyone understood.

"So… w-why…" Shirou repeated as if truly lost, unable to comprehend the reasoning behind their overboard actions. Why were they willing to go out of their way and risk so much just for him?

"That's a rather pointless question, don't you think, old friend?" Momonga stepped forward, his hand outstretched.

"Ainz Ooal Gown always looks after their own."

His words, they were simple, yet there was warmth behind them. An unrivaled conviction. His eyes wandered towards the other figures standing behind him, who remained silent but exuded a solid and unwavering presence.

Shirou attempted to say something in response, but a wet sensation on his cheeks caught his attention. Gingerly, he touched it, but there was nothing there. Yet, the wet sensation dripping down his cheek persisted. I'm… crying…? - He realized with a sense of disbelief. Shirou could hardly recall the last time he cried. Although his tears have long since dried up, his heart still holds the memory of what it felt like to cry, even if his body could no longer do so.

How long had it been since he could entrust his back to another, without the fear of betrayal or loneliness? He had always been the one to come to the aid of others in their time of need. It was he who needed to be strong, for others sake.

Those that he cared for and trusted dwindled until little to none remained. Until now, until Ainz Ooal Gown reminded him that he was far from alone.

The warring emotion that he fought to suppress for so long, for the sake of his friends and selfishness, bubbled within him, exploding forth from the surface, unable to be held back any further. His heart raced with an emotion he'd almost forgotten: hope. He rubbed his eyes, trying to stop, but the sensation continued, like an overflowing damn.

Momonga recognized it easily. Shirou's longtime friend stepped forward and took him into a hug, engulfing him in his large form and robe. Shirou's body quivered minutely like a leaf within a storm as the undead Player laid a soothing hand on his back, providing all the comfort and support he could for his precious friend as the tears ran their course.

It was okay.

The rest remained silent and content, watching the tender scene before them. All but one.

"Hey, hey!" Ulbert snapped his finger impatiently. "Let's save the sappy and mushy shit until after we're done." He stressed, his talon pointing outwards. In the distance, the Colchis Dragon roared, soaring through the air and reminding everyone that they were still amidst a raid.

"Really, Ulbert-san, really? You couldn't hold it in for like a few seconds?" Bukubukuchagama deadpanned, a flat stare emoticon popping up over the pink's slime head.

"What do you think this is, a soap opera? We're in the middle of a raid! We got shit to kill and things to do!" The goat Heteromorph returned. "Besides, you're just saying that because you wanted to join in on the hug."

"Ha! He kind of got you there, sis." Peroroncino cackled, earning a sucker punch from his sister.

"Zip it!" The Elder Slime squeaked, earning a few giggles from the others.

Shirou couldn't help but chuckle under his breath at the playful banter playing out in front of him, hiccupping as he regained his spirit. Oh, how he missed them, all of them. Same old Ulbert, blunt as ever, but the World Disaster was right. The waterworks could wait until later. Right now, they still have a boss fight to win.

Removing himself from Momonga's embrace, he dried his tears. Heterochromatic eyes flared with a newfound determination.

"Sorry about that, everyone." Shirou quickly apologized.

"Don't be. You're only human, after all. Everyone feels the need to let loose once in a while." Echoed Touch Me, patting his friend on the shoulder.

"Exactly. So, what's the plan, boss man?" Said Warrior Takemikazuchi, coming to his side and bumping his shoulders genially.

The others converged, ready and willing. Ease and familiarity quickly settled in as he took the lead role and began explaining the rules and mechanics of the boss fights and how they would go about achieving victory. It took a few minutes to catch them up to speed.

"Damn, it sounds like those shitty devs made a real pain in the ass fight." Said Ulbert, echoing many of the members thoughts.

"But it's not impossible, ain't that right, Emiya-san? So, how are we tackling it?" Asked Tabula, deferring to his judgement.

"With only so many of us, we'll be splitting into three groups to take them. Each party's maximized to deal with their intended boss."

"Divide and conquer, huh?" He heard Bukubukuchagama's comment.

"How're we playing this Emiya-senpai?"

Shirou didn't answer Peroroncino's query, not yet, as there was one piece of the puzzle left that he needed to know first.

"Destana-san, what is your build and strength? I cannot properly form the groups unless I know where I can put you to synergize with."

"Well, my build mostly revolves around using angel summons as my main form of attack. I'm more of a supporter than anything else." The Aerosphere answered.

"Think of her as a more streamlined version of my build and abilities for summon control. Her playstyle is similar to my own, with more emphasis on utility spells and holy magic." Momonga supplied, helping Shirou gain a grasp of Destana's role.

"Alright, here's the plan. Touch Me-san, Yamaiko-san, Bukubukuchagama-san, and Takemikazuchi-san, you four will take on Sensei. The key is to keep both him and Caster separated. Momonga-san, Ulbert-san, Tabula-san, and Peroroncino-san, you guys got Caster. Keep her away from Sensei, and once he's dealt with first, collapse in and take care of her. Destana-san and I will take the dragon."

"The teams are a bit skewed, don't you think, Emiya-san? Especially in your case, considering you're almost out of MP entirely. Shouldn't we balance the teams out a bit more?" Tabula remarked.

A quick glance showed that his MP was almost at zero, owing to his long and drawn-out fight with Caster and Co. beforehand. Avalon's passive kept him going for longer than he thought, but it wasn't a game changer. Still, he should have just enough for what he had planned.

"I have enough for one good shot left. If all goes well, I'll only need Destana to finish the job. Believe it or not, the dragon is probably the easiest of the three to deal with. If all else fails, we'll keep it distracted so it doesn't interfere with the rest of you. And once Caster and Sensei are dealt with, it'll be easy pickings to take down the Colchis Dragon. If anything, I'm more slightly concerned about your guy's chance with Caster and Sensei without me." He explained, expressing some last-second concerns.

"My, my, have we been gone that long that you're doubting our skills, Emiya-san?" Warrior Takemikazuchi scoffed, playful hurt lacing his words.

The World Champion chuckled alongside the samurai. "I suppose you'll have your answer when we beat the bosses and remind you, Emiya-san, why we're the best around!" He chipped in confidently, rousing a round of laughter among the Players. One that found Shirou smiling alongside.

Before they fully dispersed, Momonga put out his arm, his fingers clenched into a fist. Seeing this, one by one, every Player added their own to the circle.

"Best of luck to everyone." He said, bumping fists with one another.

Momonga's red orbs settled on Shirou and Destana one last time.

"Watch each other's back, you two. And if it doesn't work out, we'll be ready to assist."

"Don't worry, babe, everything's fine now that I'm here. Now get your fine ass up there and whoop some butts!" Said Destana, flashing an emoticon that blew hearts and kisses at her boyfriend.

"Good luck…" Shirou wished them.

With nothing left to say, it was time. Shirou watched as they disappeared in a flash via [Teleportation], leaving only himself and Destana.

Before anything else, Shirou turned and bowed to her, earning the angel's attention and clear confusion.

"I would like to apologize for my display earlier and for what you had to witness. I'm very sorry if Momonga-san dragged you into my mess."

"It's cool." Destana shrugged, waving away his apology. "Technically, I'm an outsider. And while Momonga told me what I needed to know, I still don't have the full story. So it'll be unfair to judge you only off of that."

The Aerosphere easily dismissed his words. However, she wasn't done just yet.

"But you're wrong about one thing. Momon-kun didn't rope me into anything. I joined in because I cared about him, and he was really worried for you. So let me set you straight, buster. If you make my precious hubby sad again, you and I will be having some words." She said, punctuating her words by cracking her knuckles alongside an emoticon with a red tick mark and narrowed eyes popping up.

It was safe to say that Shirou wasn't expecting that of all things, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but smile warmly for his friend. Momonga found himself quite the woman.

"'Alright, so what's the plan to take down that flying gecko?" Destana asked, getting down to business. Her emerald eyes locked onto the dragon.

"Firstly, we need to draw the boss's aggro and drag it away from the others. As I said earlier, I only have enough MP for one good shot, so we'll be taking it there."

He gestured towards the vast, open land that lay at the foot of Mount Enzo. The field was expansive enough for unobstructed movement and a clear view of the sky, making it an ideal location to face the Colchis Dragon. Fortunately, when Momonga transported them away, they were transported to the same outstretched forest where Shirou landed after Caster abducted him.

"I'll also need some summons to provide a protection detail. With how many Dragon Tooth Warriors there are, I won't be able to get a clean shot in if I'm being hounded."

Even though he had some passive abilities and resistance skills, the fact that the mobs could overwhelm him made it a moot point. Moreover, he couldn't spare even a single point of MP to combat the Dragon Tooth Warriors. He only had one shot at this, missing wasn't an option.

"Odds are my attack won't be enough to fully finish it, and I need you to immediately have a spell or attack ready to finish off the job."

"Alright, so distraction and clean-up duties? Roger Dodger, captain!" With a two-finger salute, Destana quickly got to work.

"[Create High Tier Angel: Gate Guardian] x2, [Create High Tier Angel: Throne Watchers] x2"

Thanks to her specialized high-tier racial class, [Sephiroth], she possessed the skill [Create High Tier Angel]. It bore striking similarity to Momonga's [Overlord] skill, [Create High Tier Undead]. With the skill, she was capable of summoning angels with a respectable level of 70.

Four luminous magic circles materialized before her, and from them emerged her angels. The first two, known as Gate Guardians, were adorned in the most divine armor that shone brilliantly in both silver and gold. Their ten majestic wings, resplendent in a golden hue, were a sight to behold. Their faces were veiled by pure white cloths, adorned with holy scripture, further enhancing their divine aura. To complete their magnificence, they each bore two towering shields, each of which displayed a radiant sun, adding to their already commanding presence.

After the previous group came the Throne Watchers, who were majestic angels with a feminine aura. They flaunted ten magnificent wings that shone with a golden hue and donned a suit of armor in a striking emerald green shade. These divine beings held a golden spear in one hand and a kite shield in the other, which exuded their formidable strength. Their faces were obscured behind a mask, embellished with a four-pointed star on the front, adding to their mysterious and imposing appearance.

Above their heads rests a golden-white halo.

However, she wasn't done just yet.

"[Create Middle Tier Angel: Archangel Peacekeeper] x4, [Create Middle Tier Angel: Dominion Authority] x2"

Six more angels joined their brethren. Archangel Peacekeeper, despite their name, appeared almost the exact opposite, encased in white armor from head to toe that resembled a knight of old. They wielded a large, two-handed ivory-flaming greatsword that burned a holy white. Eight white wings stretched from their backs. They looked noble as they were fierce.

The final two angels were easily the largest of the bunch, a mass of many shining wings, and among them was a pair of arms that held a powerful scepter. Its head and body were obscured by its numerous glowing feathered wings and decorated with royal tablets. A divine magic circle glowed at the front of the angel's head.

They weren't as strong when compared to her high-tier summons, being only level 55 individually, but considering their overall strength and usage, it would be enough.

"[Penetrate Up], [Maximum Force], [Holy Virtue], [Guardian Blessing], [Sacred Boost], [Greater Defense Boost], [Greater Ability Boost], [Maximize Force], [Mana Pulse], [Boost Endurance], [Boost Luck], [Divine Aura], [Greater Luck], [Righteous Endeavor], [Power Core], [Draconic Force], [Hardened Vessel], [Greater Speed], [Reinforce Magic Defense] and [Reinforce Armor]."

In addition, a plethora of buffs and enchantments were quickly applied, courtesy of Destana. Shirou's body glowed a different color for every spell. He flexed his fingers and arms, his body brimming with latent power, ready to be unleashed.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Well then, let's get this show on the road!"

Destana's majestic wings unfurrowed with a flourish, and she was off, soaring through the air with two of the Throne Watchers at her side, followed by one of the Gate Guardians and one of each of the Dominion Authority and Archangel Peacekeeper. This left the remaining summons as his defenders.

He swiftly kicked off and bolted forward, with the angels flanking him in a protective formation as they headed toward the vast open field. In a matter of seconds, they exited the woods and approached the sprawling grounds, and as expected, the Dragon Tooth Warriors were there to confront him. The warriors recklessly charged forward, hurling themselves at him and unleashing a horde of skeletal mobs resembling a tidal wave.

Two forces smashed into one another, but only one prevailed. Despite the chaos and destruction all around them, Shirou's group pressed forward, undeterred by the relentless onslaught of skeletal mobs. The great sword-wielding angels carved through the horde, their righteous flames leaving a trail of devastation in their wake. Meanwhile, the Dragon Tooth Warrior valiantly hurled themselves at the formidable Gate Guardian, only to be met with an impenetrable shield that proved too much to overcome and was smashed to pieces. High above the fray, the Principle Dominion flung [Smite] spells, unleashing a barrage of explosions that decimated pockets of the rampaging skeletons. Amidst the carnage, broken bones littered the air, a testament to the ferocity of the battle that raged on.

On occasions, one or two of the Dragon Tooth Warriors would manage to get close to him, only for Shirou to lash out with an empowered kick or strike, dealing with them instantly and easily.

His eyes swept the area, seeking a vantage point, until he spotted an inconspicuous pillar, one jutting up from the ground. A small part of some ruins. He swiftly altered his course and moved there as the air was filled with explosions and roars.

His gaze was soon captured by the heavens, reverberating with the sounds of a fierce battle that raged across the field and the sky. Destana and her squadron of angels engaged in a fierce struggle against the formidable Colchis Dragon, each determined to emerge victorious. With the keen eye of a hawk, he intently observed her every move, meticulously recording every action and gesture.

The Aeropshere was in her element, where she could move with the grace of a dancer, her every motion appearing effortless and fluid. Her skillful management of her summons was a sight to behold, deftly manipulating their aggro while simultaneously coordinating their attacks. She expertly guided them, playing a cat-and-mouse game with the dragon and leading the boss around by its nose. Meanwhile, the dragon spewed forth streams of searing flames, attempting to incinerate its adversaries but failing to shake the resolve of the winged warriors.

Shirou remembered Momonga commenting on his girlfriend being a casual Player, but seeing the skill and Hate management on display, the magus wagered she was almost on par with the Overlord himself when it came to summoning management.

His gaze strayed to the peak of the mountain, where he could see spells being cast and attacks being flung. That boss fight with Caster and Sensei against Ainz Ooal Gown raged on.

It took him a minute to get to the ruin. He leaped and landed evenly on the pillar. It was large enough that it could support his balance. Right on time too, as he received an incoming [Message] from Destana.

"[You ready yet?!]"

"[Ready. Lure it in towards me, east of where we were.]"

The battle in the sky took a turn as Destana corralled the dragon to follow her in his direction.

"[I see ya'. One pissed-off dragon, ready for delivery!]" With that, the [Message] ended.

Destana had done an outstanding job at managing the boss, and her summons did a fantastic job of protecting him, allowing him to concentrate on the one task at hand. She had done her part, it was time for Shirou to step up.

"Trace on!"

His trademark black bow appeared in one hand, and a long, muted cross spear adorned with gold and bronze appeared in the other. The metal blade at the end crackled with small discharges of lightning.

[Dragon Slayer Spear: The Lightning Bane - Divine Tier Spear]

Aside from the most well-known legends and tales, there were surprisingly few weapons of this type in existence, despite the fact that dragon slayers were a fairly ubiquitous trope in fantasy and mythology.

Dragons were frequently regarded as the toughest and most powerful monster types in video games, and YGGDRASIL was no exception. Many of the dragons and other draconic monsters found in YGGDRASIL were among the most potent and perilous enemies the game had to offer. Thus, Shirou figured it'd be prudent to expand his arsenal to include Noble Phantasms with Anti-Dragon capability.

One such new addition was the aptly named spear in his hand, simply dubbed the Dragon Slayer Spear.

The Noble Phantasm was a recreation of a weapon wielded by a boss that he and Ainz Ooal Gown had previously faced off against. They battled the boss, one of four bosses in an enormous castle dungeon, who was a large knight wearing full-body golden armor and a lion-shaped helm.

In the lore and flavor text, the boss was described as a fierce warrior and an accomplished dragon slayer. A mighty champion that slew hundreds of them in his crusade. He had the ability to summon thunder and fire lightning bolts from his weapon while channeling lightning through his body and weapon, giving him greater speed and power. According to its legend, the spear could pierce the nearly indestructible iron scales of an ancient dragon-the strongest type of dragon in all of YGGDRASIL-and thrust through them to reach its flesh, where it would discharge lightning and inflict a mortal wound.

Captivated, Shirou sought to add the weapon to his arsenal, and he did.

"[Alteration]!"

The harsh sound of metal grinding and twisting pierced through the air. The spear contorted until it no longer resembled its original form, its shape resembling a javelin instead.

With his 'arrow' prepared, he notched it back. What remained of his MP poured forth into the arrow, illuminating it as yellow arcs crackled in the air, pulsing energy and mana throughout the vicinity.

Above, Destana was humming a small tune, smiling at how easy it was. All she needed to do was keep the overgrown lizard's aggro on her summons while rotating its Hate between her angels as she kited the boss toward Shirou, who was preparing his attack. All in all, it was fairly standard and easy to manage.

She commanded the Throne Watchers to attack from the side, only for the dragon to dip. The boss avoided the attack with that sudden maneuver, slipping past both her and her summons.

Destana's eye widened, seeing its new trajectory and target.

"Shit!" The Sephiroth let out.

She immediately gave chase. Destana pursued the Colchis Dragon, instructing her angels to take up positions around it to box the dragon in as they flew towards it. However, before she could issue any further commands, the dragon surprised her once more by spinning its entire body mid-flight and using its elongated wings to collide with the angels encircling it. This unexpected maneuver sent her summons careening through the air.

"Fuck!" The angel cursed. She wouldn't be able to catch up in time.

The dragon pulled up, flying over the land. As the serpentine dragon approached Shirou, it opened its gaping maw and unleashed a torrent of scorching flames. The dragon's destructive path left nothing but fire and devastation in its wake.

"Emiya-san!" She cried out.

Despite the imminent danger, Shirou stood steadfast, unwavering in his resolve. He braced himself as the dragon and its flames drew closer, until it was practically on top of him. Before him stood a tidal wave of fire, threatening to engulf him entirely.

"Penetrate and seek the flesh!" He released the arrow, primed and ready.

The arrow flew forth in a flash, cloaked in lightning. It transformed into a blinding bolt of yellow lightning as it barreled through the sea of flames, parting them as if they were mere air. His aim was true as it struck the dragon's heart. It punctured through the Colchis Dragon's scaly hide as if it were wet paper, the elongated arrow lodging itself deep into its body. The tip jutted out the back of the dragon's spine, a testament to the archer's skill and precision.

The winged beast let out a pained roar, staggering back from the force of his attack. Its wing flapped desperately to keep it airborne but failed as it tumbled to the ground. However, it was far from done. A streak of lightning shot up from the arrow and into the sky. Dark clouds rumbled to life and formed above the downed beast, casting the once-clear day dark. From the heavens above, a massive thunderbolt spewed forth and struck the dragon with a loud thunderclap, enveloping it in burning white lightning. The force of the thunder sent a shockwave throughout the field, sending the skeletal mobs flying and forcing Shirou to jump back to avoid the collapsing pillar.

Through the gaps in the smoke, he saw the boss's HP to be in the red. It wasn't enough to finish the job, as he thought.

"Destana-san!" He called out, as he knew any second now it would be back to full HP.

However, his fears were put to rest as she was ready the moment he fired his arrow. Twirling her staff with effortless grace, she aimed it at the Colchis Dragon and executed a grandiose flourish. The bulbous pointed end opened up in a winged pattern, unveiling a pointed azure crystal. Arcane light danced as an array of light swords circled the crystal, rotating and generating a multilayered magic circle.

"[Maximize Magic: Gabriel]!"

The spell, [Gabriel], possessed the exact quality of [Uriel], as a spell only known to be used by those with a maxed-out positive karma value, ensuring it to be the most powerful. A powerful 10th tier spell that was further boosted to the point of overkill with the maximize metamagic.

Her spell fired, the 10th tier spell producing a storm of blinding blue light. Bolts of powerful arcane light rained down upon the half-dead boss without mercy.

The world brightened so much that it was nearly blinding, and Shirou had to shield his eyes. After a few seconds, everything returned to normal. Blinking away the white spots, he saw the Colchis Dragon's body, its virtual carcass filled with holes, unmoving and silent. He watched it intently for a few silent seconds, and only when cracks appeared on its body before the boss shattered into polygons did he allow himself a moment to relax. All of the tension that had been building up dissipated, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief.

"We got it?" Destana asked, floating down next to him. She looked around, almost as if expecting it to be revived or something.

"Yeah. It isn't going to be getting back up any time soon."

"Hell yeah!" She exclaimed, pumping her fist in jubilation. "Nice job out there! Up high!"

She held up her hand, an extremely happy and smiling emoticon popping up above her head. Shirou chuckled under his breath, feeling the same exhilaration practically overflowing from her. He raised his hand, high-fiving her back.

"It's not over, not yet anyway. There are still the other two. We should probably hurry and join up with the rest." He urged, but Destana was quick to intervene.

"Actually, 'you mind if I hold onto you for just a minute?"

Shirou stopped mid-step, turning back at her incredulously.

"W-what? Can't this wait? The others might need our help!"

"I trust Momon-kun, and you should too. You really should have a bit more faith in your friends. They seemed confident in their chances. Plus, they would've [Message]'d us if they were having trouble with the boss and needed help. It'll be quick, I promise."

The virtual magus frowned, and although unsure, he relented in the end.

The two exchanged looks before the seraph drew in a deep breath and spoke.

"Look, like I said before, I'm a complete stranger to this whole situation, and so my words won't count for much, but listen. Whatever it is that's going on with you and your issues, that loner bullshit needs to stop. Momon-kun… Satoru-san, he cares about you. Like, a lot. And it ain't just him as well, but everyone else that joined him. The fact that they chose to be here for you should speak volumes. And if you can't recognize that, then you need to get your head checked out. Maybe it's super personal or something that doesn't concern them, but you owe it to them at the very least to talk it out. They deserve that much."

Saying her piece, she stepped back, leaving only a pensive silence to take its place. Shirou remained silent, lost in contemplation. Though the two of them had no prior interaction, the faker felt her words weigh heavily on him.

Destana quickly gave commands to her remaining summons. The surviving Gate Guardian pulled up right next to Shirou.

"Hop on!"

Quickly obeying, he jumped onto the angel's back, grabbing hold to make sure he wouldn't fall off. In seconds, they were in the air, flying toward the top of the mountain, ready to rejoin the others.

All the while, Shirou mused over her words.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"Good luck…"

With those parting words, the eight guild members teleported away, reappearing within the front gate of Ryuudou Temple. They braced themselves, weapons and spells drawn and ready.

"How many times is it…? Just how many times will our peace be disturbed?" The voice of Caster rang out.

In a flash, she appeared with Kuzuki alongside her and an army of Dragon Tooth Warriors at her beck and call, surrounding the group.

"We will not allow meddlers to steal away our happiness!" Caster decried, her robes opening up and flaring like before.

Ignoring the boss's NPC dialogue as they usually do, Ainz Ooal Gown burst into action without needing a single word spoken between them.

As they faced the teleport-spamming boss and a swarm of mobs, Warrior Takemikazuchi and Touch Me charged ahead, followed closely by Bukubukuchagama. Meanwhile, Peroroncino took to the skies, keeping a sharp eye on the situation. The three magic casters spread out and positioned themselves, with Yamaiko taking center point, right behind her group.

Touch Me swiftly attacked his opponent with his sword, just as the boss swung his fists. The clash of steel and fists filled the air, as the two formidable opponents engaged in a fierce and intense battle. Meanwhile, the paladin keenly observed the boss's attack pattern, analyzing and adjusting to it accordingly. The Dragon Tooth Warriors were kept at bay by the others, who positioned themselves around the fighters.

"[Vorpal Thrust]!" Touch Me thrust his sword forward with lightning speed.

Alas, the attack was deflected by Kuzuki's quick reflexes, preventing it from piercing through his neck. Nonetheless, the swift movement of the blade still managed to leave a small nick, a testament to the intensity of the battle.

Stepping into the paladin's space, Kuzuki was able to unleash his signature attack.

"[Snake Strike]!" He unleashed a straight strike.

"[Guardian]!"

As Touch Me raised his shield, a bright green aura enveloped him, shielding him from the incoming attack. Although the attack didn't harm him much, it was still powerful enough to push him back. Kuzuki quickly pressed the advantage by striking with a roundhouse kick, which knocked Touch Me's shield arm away, followed by a second kick.

"Switch!"

The paladin rolled to the side, evading the attack. Sensei's attack missed, leaving him open for Warrior Takemikazuchi as he rushed in from the side, bringing down Takemikazuchi MK 6, the katana glowing a baleful red from his skill.

"[Heavy Cleaver]!"

The boss sidestepped the armored samurai's downward slash, avoiding it with a hairbreadth, and from it, he spun on his heel and retaliated with an enhanced kick that knocked the heavy Player back. With a lunge, he unleashed a barrage of sharp strikes and kicks at Warrior Takemikazuchi, who defended himself with his double-handed katana. Despite the boss's fierce assault, Warrior Takemikazuchi held his ground and fought back. The two traded blow for blow and showed no sign of backing down.

"Ahahaha! I've almost forgotten just how fun it is to fight like this! Had I known these 'Servant Bosses' were so thrilling, I would have asked to join Emiya-san's quest sooner!" Warrior Takemikazuchi let out an excited laugh, heavily enjoying the fight at hand.

"[Shoulder Bash]!" Nephilim slammed his heavy armored shoulder into the boss, staggering it.

"[Raikiri: Lightning Cutter]!"

Purple lightning cloaked Takemikazuchi MK 6 as he swung the blade downward. Kuzuki raised both of his hands to defend and sparingly managed to stand his ground as the armored Heteromorph's attack cleaved away a chunk of his HP.

With the boss staggered, he pulled his katana back to his side as if sheathing it.

"[Iai Form: Sweeping Horizon]!" With a rush, he used another skill, drawing his blade and aiming straight at Kuzuki's midsection.

Before his strike landed, the boss astounded all those present by pulling off a feat that seemed entirely impossible. With remarkable agility and skill, he employed his elbow and knee, timing it perfectly, to catch his katana between them, halting Warrior Takemikazuchi's attack completely. The lines of [Reinforcement] across Kuzuki's body shone with renewed intensity. Despite the boss's considerably smaller frame when compared to Warrior Takemikazuchi's, his weapon wouldn't budge no matter how much force was applied.

"Are you serious?!" He exclaimed incredulously at the sight before him. Yet, it did nothing to dampen the wild grin that stretched in excitement and challenge before him.

Even from his difficult position, the boss threw out a straight punch with his free hand, right at the Heteromorph's head.

"Switch!" The Nephilim uttered, letting go of his weapons and leaning fully back, unafraid. He knew his teammates always had his back.

From behind, Yamaiko rushed forward, her gauntlet sailing over Warrior Takemikazuchi's leaning form. Her fist slammed into Kuzuki's, taking the upper hand. With her gauntlet's ability, knockback, Kuzuki was sent reeling, his feet digging into the rocky ground to halt the momentum.

The Takemikazuchi MK 6 became dislodged and flipped through the air before stabbing the ground with its hilt up a distance away. Rolling, the armored Heteromorph ran to retrieve his weapon. This left him open as Kuzuki turned his attention toward him. The boss deftly avoided Yamaiko's attack and focused his attention on the vulnerable Warrior Takemikazuchi, seeking to strike him when his guard was down.

"[Draw Hate], [Fortitude], [Heavy Defense]!" Bukubukuchagama swapped in, taking over for Yamaiko and tanking the attack.

The boss's fist blurred, striking the party's tank while she soaked up the damage. The pink Elder Slime stood her ground as the armored Heteromorph retrieved his weapon.

"Damn, he hits like a truck." Bukubukuchagama bemoaned, her hands vibrating from the attack.

"[Brilliant Blade]!" Touch Me emerged from the boss's flank, swinging Heroic Triumph, which was illuminated in white.

Sensing an attack, and in a feat of acrobatics, the boss jumped using Bukubukuchagama's shield as a platform to kick off from, dodging the World Champion's attack. In the air, he held up his leg as he brought it down in a textbook axe kick. With his shield, Touch Me parried the attack, leaving him staggered and vulnerable in midair.

"[Crescent Wave]!" Touch Me swung his silver blade, shooting an energy wave at Sensei and sending him tumbling backward. The boss's HP dropped even further.

"Switch!" Warrior Takemikazuchi called out again, all too eager to resume where they left off. The others relented and took up position against the Dragon Tooth Warrior once more. The armored-clad Player laughed wildly as the two combatants exchanged even blows once more.

The battle raged on until the Nephilim samurai dealt Kuzuki another devastating blow, at which point Kuzuki's HP turned yellow, and it was here that the Players bore witness to the ability Shirou cautioned them about. A transparent shroud covered him, and his form flickered before reappearing, his HP restored to full. Upon witnessing the ability firsthand, they now had a better grasp on the fight, allowing them to move onto the next step of their stratagem.

During the overview, Shirou outlined two key factors for them to achieve victory. Firstly, the traditional approach of gradually weakening their opponents' health bar would not work against Caster and Kuzuki. Despite being weaker compared to other similar level bosses, they had a unique time-flicker ability that made them difficult to defeat if the party were to go about it the normal route. As a result, the only effective method of bypassing their annoying skill was to reduce their entire HP to zero, either through a full combo or nuking them in one go.

Anything less would result in the boss rewinding their HP back to full and would require another attempt. The teams had to coordinate their attacks carefully, as the window for when the ability would kick in once they hit a certain percentage of their HP was slim. Through rigorous testing, the magus determined the time window to be only two seconds.

Secondly, Caster needed to be kept occupied no matter the method, lest she interfere, prolonging the battle and acting as a stop-gap to their plan of defeating Kuzuki first.

She was easily the slippest and the hardest factor when it came to the fight at hand. She not only possessed a wealth of destruction in the form of her many spells, but she could also provide enchantments and buffs for her co-boss, making the boss raid even tougher.

Speaking of which, while the first group rushed to combat Kuzuki, the others were left fending off Caster and stalling her as planned.

As soon as the fight began, Momonga did two things. The first was casting [Undeath Army].

The 7th tier spell was not a powerful spell and was useless against powerful opponents. However, it had other uses in other scenarios, such as serving as a buffer between them and the horde of skeletal mobs.

From the earth rose a veritable army of lesser undead. From simple zombies to ghouls, wights, skeletons, and egg organs, all assortments of undeath rose and blighted the natural scene with their unholy presences. Their numbers rivaled those of the Dragon Tooth Warriors.

Secondly, a group of Death Knights was summoned by Momonga using his [Create Middle Tier Undead] skill. These towering undead provided an extra layer of protection for Momonga and his allies, shielding them from any mobs that tried to get past his [Undeath Army]. With little to fear from the mobs interfering with them, their attention was directed solely above.

Peroroncino soared, engaging in a thrilling aerial battle with the Witch of Colchis. The skilled combatants exchanged fierce blows, expertly dodging and weaving around each other in a dazzling display of agility. Explosions rocked the skies as arrows of solar energy and beams of concentrated mana flew forth. The golden archer drew the enemy's attention and aggro, thus enabling the trio of magic casters to keep the purple Servant locked down.

Thanks to a combination of [Drifting Master Mine] and other anti-area denial spells, as well as several anti-teleport spells like [Dimensional Lock] and [Delay Teleportation], they were able to prevent her from abusing teleportation and escaping. Shirou had earlier warned them about a specific weapon/skill that the boss possessed, one of which could render any spell effects on her useless. This required them to constantly recast their spells to ensure that she didn't escape through teleportation.

However, even with her teleportation impeded, she still possessed [Flight], which kept her nimble as a butterfly. She launched continuous attacks at the group of four while flying in the air, free from any restraints. Despite knowing in advance what they would be up against, it did little to diminish the challenge the boss possessed.

The group's fight continued, leading them across the temple grounds that had turned into a battlefield. As a result, they were separated from the others as originally planned. The party of four ended up on the other side of the complex, with the ruined temple smoking in the background due to the constant spells and attacks exploding across the arena.

"Ok, that ability or skill is so hax that it's just stupid." Ulbert complained, seeing Caster pull out Rule Breaker again and dispel the spell on her, forcing him to use another [Dimensional Lock].

"Did you expect anything else from the shitty devs, Ulbert-san?" Came Momonga's amused voice. He seemed to be the only one who was enjoying their little game.

Spotting Caster maneuvering to escape, the demonic goat Heteromorph willed a few of the [Drifting Master Mines] near her to detonate, forcing the Servant to move erratically through the air, allowing Ulbert to cast a spell in her direction. Her barrier blocked his attack, allowing her to reposition.

"Damn it, that bitch won't hold still!" Ulbert snapped in annoyance after seeing another one of his spells miss. He quickly retreated behind a [Wall of Skeleton] as a few stray beams struck the wall. "How long do we have to wait again? Let's just blow her up already!"

"Patience, Ulbert-san. No need to get riled up. We simply need to hold her off, and once the co-boss is dealt with, she'll be easy pickings. It's better to do things properly than quickly." Tabula expressed calmly, his pale, pupilless eyes trained solely on the boss.

Ulbert grumbled but didn't argue.

While the fight wasn't particularly challenging, it was definitely tricky. A tedium more than anything else. The trio of magic casters had the capacity to deal with Caster, but it was safer to deal with her co-boss first before coming down on her with their full strength.

After all, they weren't on a time limit or anything strenuous. It was simply logical and effective, but that didn't make it any less boring in his mind.

"Doesn't make it any less annoying. What the heck is taking those slowpokes so long?"

Before the demon of disaster could express further vitriol towards the annoying Servant Boss, he and the rest received a [Message] from the others.

"Fucking finally…" He grumbled, answering it. "[Please tell me you guys are ready.]"

"[We are. Be ready on our mark.]" Informed Yamaiko.

"[Copy.]"

Ending the [Message], Ulbert shared a look with the others. They nodded, readying themselves for the endgame.

"We're moving onto step two, boys! So wrap it up!" Yamaiko called out to the two warriors, casually punching a cluster of Dragon Tooth Warriors to smithereens.

"Already? Damn… It feels as if we've only gotten started…" Warrior Takemikazuchi softly groaned in disappointment that the fight would be ending so soon. He was just starting to have fun as well.

"Would you like to be here all day, Takemikazuchi-san?" Came Touch Me's rhetorical question. "Besides, there's still more for us to do once we finish this raid."

"Right, right." The armored Heteromorph grunted, parrying one of Kuzuki's attacks almost absentmindedly.

After receiving affirmatives all around, it was time to move on to the second step of their strategy. With their roles set, they began the next phase.

"Takemikazuchi-san, sync your movement with mine!"

"Roger!"

As Touch Me dashed forward, he joined forces with Warrior Takemikazuchi, their swords clashing against Kuzuki's fist, sending sparks flying through the air with every strike. The intensity of the battle was palpable, with a surge of energy and excitement coursing through the air. The two Heteromorphic swordsmen were in perfect synchronicity, skillfully deferring aggro and attacks without overlapping with each other, each covering the other's back. The trust the two guild members shared in each other was reflected in their attacks, with each move executed with precision and finesse that saw the other following it up. With their relentless assault, the boss was on the back foot, struggling to keep up. The two began kitting and guiding the unexpressive NPC to where they desired, while Yamaiko and Bukubukuchagama took up their positions.

"[Reflection]!" Touch Me intercepted one of Kuzuki's strikes. Using the skill, he parried the attack with his shield, putting the boss in a staggered state.

"[Kundali: The Dispenser of Heavenly Nectar, Gundari Myo-O]!" Next up was Warrior Takemikazuchi. He extended his hand forward, and an ethereal serpent appeared, coiling around the enemy and locking him in place.

The two quickly disengaged, breaking off into a dead sprint towards the ruined temple, followed closely by Bukubukuchagama. They knew it'd only take the boss a second or two to break free of his skill. However, it wouldn't have the opportunity.

"[Mach Windup] plus [Heavy Knockout]!" With a running start, Yamaiko delivered a powerful blow with her pink-armored fist. The Nephilim boxer put her entire weight into her attack, catapulting the suit-wearing boss into the air and hurtling toward the temple. The impact was forceful as the boss smashed into the temple's outer wall, breaking through several of the temple's halls before crashing down into one of the serene inner gardens.

Without giving him a moment to recover, Bukubukuchagama busted through the walls, her heavy tower shields glowing radiantly.

"[Shield Stun], [Stagger], [Iron Wall]!" She slammed her shields onto him, pushing him back and cornering him against the wall.

Bukubukuchagama dug her feet in and held her ground, keeping him trapped. She began mentally counting down.

The two struggled, with Kuzuki pushing back to free himself while Bukubukuchagama pushed to keep him pinned down. This continued until she caught an odd sight. The boss pulled back his arms and upper body inwardly. For a moment, it appeared as if he was shrinking.

Suddenly, with an explosion of force, the air rippled as a pulse of energy was released from him. She buckled against the force of his attack, which allowed just enough of a gap for him to move.

With a reinforced kick, he kicked her shield, sending her skidding back as she resisted and creating space for him. He attempted to escape, but the Elder Slime halted any chance of that.

"Oh no, you don't. Eyes on me, you son of a bitch! [Howling Anchor]!" She roared; a geyser of pink aura radiated outward from the slime tank.

Unlike her other forms of crowd control skills, [Howling Anchor] was a taunt. It drew the immediate aggro of any attackers onto her, forcing Players or mobs to attack only her instead of whatever action they were about to take. She also gains a boost in her defense stats, depending on how many she manages to taunt.

The energy coated him, his body halting mid-step. The boss struggled to fight against it, but it wasn't enough. Turning abruptly on his heel, Kuzuki released a flourish of fists while Bukubukuchagama weathered the attack.

The taunt would last only a second and a half, but that was all she needed. Bursting into the scene was Yamaiko. She struck again just as the taunt ended, sending him flying once more. Kuzuki smashed through the walls and exited through the temple. He landed harshly against the temple grounds, right where the rest of Ainz Ooal Gown was waiting for him.

Kuzuki was once again cloaked in the time-flicker ability, his HP restoring back to full once more. However, this was exactly as Shirou outlined. When the skill/ability activates, there was a one-second interval where the boss would be unable to make a move. This was what Ainz Ooal Gown aimed to capitalize on.

"[Penetrate Magic: Guilt Chain Prison]!" With Tabula's spell, ethereal chains wrapped around the co-boss before he could do a thing, locking him in place. The 9th tier spell also applied a debuff to the boss, reducing all defensive stats by the percentage of the boss's missing HP.

"[Penetrate Magic: Malevolent Curse]!" Through Ulbert's 9th tier spell, dark wisp took the form of blackened skeletons clung to the boss, black iron nails hammering into his body. The spell applied a secondary debuff, decreasing his karma value dramatically and increasing any attack from Players with positive karma as a result.

"[Boost Magic: Empowered Aura]! A brilliant aura pulsated, surrounding his friends in a golden glow courtesy of Momonga's 10th tier spell. The spell granted them a boost in all their stats.

With Kuzuki immobilized and the setup concluded, they completed their combo.

"[World Break]!" Touch Me swung, his sword cutting through the very fabric of space and time. The space in front of him was split, two halves of reality shifting and contorting from attack as it slashed through the body with ease.

"[Tengoku bunkatsu burēkā: Heaven Splitting Breaker]!" Warrior Takemikazuchi roared, a cascading wave of energy erupting from Takemikazuchi MK 6 as he swung with all his might. The supreme energy slash tore through the very earth and sky as it sliced toward the boss.

"[Helios Cannon]!" Peroroncino released the solar arrow he had been charging up. The attack resembled cannon fire more than an actual arrow. A streak of pure sunlight descended on the boss like a calamitous judgement.

Everything went white for a split second as all three attacks struck true before a deafening explosion rocked the entire battlefield. Withstanding their ground, the dust quickly settled, and they saw the boss's HP at zero and showed no signs of getting back up.

"Hahaha! It worked!" Warrior Takemikazuchi exclaimed happily, fist bumping the air at the success of the newly dubbed combo strategy, High Trinity Rush. The others felt the same heightened elation at the progress made in the boss battle.

However, in their jubilation, they overlooked a seemingly unimportant fact. The boss should have vanished into polygons like any other boss or mob once its HP reached zero, but instead, Kuzuki's body remained.

As Ainz Ooal Gown refocused their full attention on dealing with Caster, their confidence swelling to end the raid, they were greeted by something truly unexpected.

"SOUICHIROU!" Caster wailed. Her voice was raw, and the visceral anguish was clear in the boss's cries. The pain and agony in her boss's screams were palpable, and they reverberated throughout the land. She instantly teleported to the downed boss, who was Shirou's former sensei, Souichirou Kuzuki.

Caster gently caressed the damaged and motionless body. The tears and cry of a heartbroken woman echoed through the air as she cradled the body against her bosom.

All who witnessed the moving scene unfolding in front of them would have felt their hearts being torn apart by such an emotional and heartfelt scene. The tears and cries of a heartbroken woman holding onto her lover. For any normal person, the display before them would've led to a momentary lapse in judgment.

For Ainz Ooal Gown, however, it was no different from a cutscene, which was nothing more than an opportunity. An opportunity they fully exploited. After all, Caster had presented them with the perfect opening to finish the raid off once and for all.

It took the party less than a fraction of a second to refocus their efforts. Their strategy and combo were already ready.

"[Sacrifice]!" Bukubukuchagama activated her skill, and a black mist covered the area. The black mist reached the boss, enveloping her. The skill greatly decreased the user's defensive stats, but in return, it dropped the target's karma value to the absolute minimum.

"[Judgement of Osiris]!" Cracking a crystal hourglass in her hand, Yamaiko activated the Super-Tier Magic instantly.

Scales appeared over the heads of everyone on the battlefield.

On one scale was a heart, and on the other was a feather.

Yamaiko, Touch Me, Peroroncino, and Warrior Takemikazuchi's scales were pended down on the feather's side. In contrast, Momonga, Ulbert, Bukubukuchagama, Tabula, and the boss' scales weighed down on the heart's side.

The Super-Tier Spell allows the user to manipulate the karma values of both allies and enemies alike. [Judgement of Osiris] increases positive values and reduces negative values. In this case, Momonga, Ulbert, Tabula, and Caster's karma values plummeted to -1,000 in an instant, the absolute lowest they could go.

Karma values affected the damage inflicted by certain spells and skills, and it was for this reason that Warrior Takemikazuchi finished the set-up.

"[Shiroi Eiko no Teikoku Meirei: Imperial Mandate of White Glory]!" Warrior Takemikazuchi slammed his hand against the ground, a brilliant white light erupting from the ground at the activation of his skill. The image of two armored shrine maidens wielding shakujō appeared, striking Caster and pinning her down.

His skill further shifted the paradigm, making it where attacks dealt against a target by the users with similar karma values received a substantial boost in strength.

With all four of them possessing extremely low negative karma values, the trio of magic casters had all they needed to finish Caster off for good.

A furious purple aura gathered around Caster, signaling that she was mere seconds away from entering a second boss phase. Unfortunately for the Servant, she wouldn't have the chance, as Ainz Ooal Gown's premiere magic casters had completed their preparations.

"[Boost Maximize Magic: Eternal Devastation]!" Underneath her, a sizable, spinning, crimson-burning magic circle took shape as Ulbert unleashed a stream of hellfire. A spell that dealt more damage the greater the negative karma value the enemy possessed.

"[Triplet Maximize Magic: Reality Slash]!" Momonga swung his hand, unleashing three powerful dimensional rending slashes that cut through space.

"[Penetrate Maximize Magic: Otherworld Eclipse]!" Above Caster, a fissure in reality appeared, and from the rift, cosmic energy rained down on Tabula's target.

The three magic casters unleashed their powerful spells without a moment to spare. Thanks to each other's combined effort, her defenses and resistances were significantly weakened. Her protective barrier, Μαρδοξ, was vaporized instantly, unable to withstand the combined might of three boosted 10th tier spells that struck her in unison. Combined, their spells nuked Caster instantly to 0 HP.

For the briefest of moments, the world was dyed white. Her hood was undone by the violent gales, allowing her true appearance to be unveiled at last. Hers was a visage etched in fury but also sadness. Engulfed in a blinding white glare that enveloped the world, the faintest silhouette of Caster remained within the light of destruction. Her arms were outstretched, reaching for the heavens above as if for one last plea. A plea that would go unanswered as she vanished entirely, completely vaporized from the attack alongside the body of her lover. And thus, Caster was no more.

Once the light died down, only Ainz Ooal Gown remained. One by one, what little remained of the Dragon Tooth Warriors collapsed, breaking into pieces. With no more threats, they came together, the adrenaline of the fight wearing off, leaving only a sense of satisfaction and victory.

"Brutal." Peroroncino commented, descending to rejoin the rest of his friends. "Also rude. Some of us might've wanted to see the cutscene, y'know?" The golden archer quipped.

"Please, what are we? Cliché anime characters or something?" Ulbert scoffed. "Like hell, we were going to just wait and let a boss obviously power up and go into its second stage. I'm a bit more surprised that the shitty devs didn't put in invincibility frames for her."

"Though I agree with Ulbert-san, I will admit I find myself curious to see how it would've played out in her second boss phase. It seemed almost a waste, seeing the clear effort the voice actress for Caster put into her role. Did you hear that scream? Goosebumps, I tell you." Tabula rather gaily but eloquently interjected, ruling a finger down his slimy appendage in show. "Wouldn't you agree, Bukubukuchagama-san?"

"Tell me about it. Whoever did the voice acting for the boss did not slack off whatsoever when it came to her role." She complimented, a shred of respect for the unidentified voice actress coming through. Being in the same industry, she could tell the acting quality was top-notch. The emotions in her scream at the end sounded unbelievably real.

"Yo!" A loud voice called out, drawing the attention of the Players. Destana landed alongside Shirou as she dismissed her summons.

The duo had arrived at the top of the mountain at the last second, just in time to witness the party cast their finishing spells and deal the final blow to Caster.

"Miss me, sweetie?" Destana teased, blowing him kisses as she hovered towards her boyfriend.

"Destana-san…" Momonga mumbled, trying to keep his composure in the face of his girlfriend's showering affection.

"Ahh, young love." Yamaiko sighed, playfully reminiscent. She cooed at the sight of their Guildmaster acting all flustered.

"Indeed." Touch Me chuckled, and Warrior Takemikazuchi smiled along as they observed the two interacting.

While everyone was doing their own thing, Shirou's reaction was the most curious. He fixated his gaze on the spot where Caster and Kuzuki had breathed their last. His solemn demeanor did not go unnoticed by the undead Player.

"Are you alright, Emiya-san?" Momonga asked.

"I'm fine…" He replied, tearing his eyes away from the spot and glancing back at it one last time.

'That deathly howl… even after all these years…'

Shirou was given no further time to reminisce as light expanded from beneath them. In a flash of light, they disappeared, reappearing somewhere else.

The next thing the guild knew, they found themselves in a new area. They were in a cavern that hosted some kind of old keep, with cracked stone pillars dotting the surrounding area and a small altar in front of them.

"Everyone alright?" Momonga called out, his vision returning to him. One by one, everyone checked in.

[Congratulations!]

[You have cleared the Lost Sanctum of the Witch! For completing this dungeon and defeating the boss on your first try, a 75% increase in loot drops will be given as a reward.

For completing this multi-roaming attack dungeon, you have received the World Item: Gjallarhorn ]

Reading the victory screen, items began materializing and dropping to the ground. Cheers rang out throughout the cave as they celebrated, and congrats were given to everyone. Everyone crowded around the World Item, a wondrous horn crafted from obsidian, bearing a shining black gleam with golden bands, runes, and glyphs running down it.

While most of Ainz Ooal Gown was focused on that, Shirou's eyes rested on the altar. The Class Card was there, floating over it. Light from the ceiling shone down on it as it rotated in the air, almost deifying it.

Yet, Shirou made no move towards it.

He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. He turned around to see Momonga looking at him with a patient expression.

"What are you waiting for?" He asked patiently, offering him a encouraging squeeze.

"I… I don't feel as if I deserve it…" Shirou murmured hesitantly.

Momonga's reply was immediate and unwavering. "Nonsense. If it weren't for you encountering her in the first place, we wouldn't even be here. It belongs as much to us as it does to you. Go on."

As he spoke, Shirou became aware of the other members of the group looking at him with expectant expressions, waiting for him to make a move. Emboldened by their support, he stepped forward and extended his hand towards the Class Card. It was a beautiful golden card, depicting an elder sage draped in elegant robes, holding a book and a long staff.

Shirou-no, Ainz Ooal Gown obtained the Caster Class card.

"Alright everyone, grab all the loot, and let's hurry up out of here." Momonga swiftly ordered.

The rest of the guild quickly got to work, picking up all the spoils of their victory. Within minutes, they had gathered everything and were gone.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

After taking care of some last-minute business and distributing their loot, Ainz Ooal Gown found themselves back inside the Great Tomb of Nazarick nearly half an hour later.

Thanks to Destana's contribution to the raid, she earned her fair share of the spoils, which she took in the form of Data Crystals and high-tier materials. The angel never for a second expressed any form of inclination for the World Item, to the surprise of the others.

In her words, "Why the hell would I even want them? I might as well be painting a target on my back." She said, to the amusement of the others.

A short while later, Destana logged out, but not before introducing herself and teasing her boyfriend in front of his friends with the little time she had left. The angel's charming personality quickly endeared herself to the Momonga's guildmates, as evidenced by the snickers and laughter she elicited at the expense of their Guildmaster.

Despite their brief interaction, Destana seemed to hit it off with Momonga's close friends, which put the Guildmaster at ease. Yamaiko and Bukubukuchagama seemed to have taken a particular liking to her, much to the Elder Lich's quiet dismay. Momonga was already struggling to handle Destana's mischievous nature. Add in Bukubukuchagama's teasing, and he feared that would be asking for a catastrophe. Despite the abrupt circumstances surrounding Destana joining Ainz Ooal Gown, her easy-going demeanor and likable personality made her a welcome addition to the group. Even the usually skeptical Ulbert was comfortable with her presence, likely due to his trust in Momonga's judgement.

It was around this time that Shirou attempted to make himself scarce, using the good mood to escape unnoticed while Destana remained the central focus. The keyword was 'attempted.' Unfortunately for him, he was no true rogue or assassin, and under their vigilant gaze, they weren't going to let him get away so easily this time.

It was high time they confronted the matter head-on and settled it once and for all.

Thus, Shirou and the remaining members of Ainz Ooal Gown found themselves in the Round Table room on the 9th floor. The conference chamber was where the guild would meet and discuss matters of great importance. Amanomahitotsu joined them as well, having arrived late and being unable to join Momonga and the rest in the rescue.

Warrior Takemikazuchi was also included in this. The Nephilim Player stumbled upon the guild's secret by complete accident when he overheard Peroroncino unknowingly blabbering about it when he thought he was alone. Needless to say, he grew curious, and eventually, Shirou and the others let him in on the secret. Initially skeptical, he was like the others in finding the explanation unbelievable and completely outlandish.

Still, he would give his friend the benefit of the doubt, at the very least. From there, he was informed of the truth and became a part of the inner circle, as Peroroncino, oh so quaintly called it.

And so, all ten Players were gathered. Some of them took seats next to Shirou while others stood, indicating at the very least that they weren't going to let him off as easily as previously.

The passage of time was marked by an unbroken silence, save for the steady ticking of the digital clock mounted on the central wall. Shirou bore the tedium with stoic patience, hoping against hope that he could somehow outlast the interminable wait. Yet, as the minutes dragged on, it became increasingly clear that they were not going to leave anytime soon. Then again, he already knew there was no escaping this time around.

Shirou finally broke the suffocating silence, offering a rhetorical question that he already knew the answer to. "I don't suppose my assurance that I'm fine will convince you to let me go, will it?"

The magus didn't need to be psychic to guess the group's deadpan expressions at his half-hearted plea. Their weighty gaze bore down on the virtual magus, patient but determined.

"Shirou…" Momonga sighed, a soft chiding timbre no different from that of a worried parent. "Enough with the games. Each of us knows that something is going on. So please, please… talk to us." He all but begged his friend.

"This… isn't something you all should be worried about…" Shirou managed to get out. "I'm sorry if I may have worried you all."

"H-how can you say that?!" Bukubukuchagama interjected, her voice wavering. "Of course, we would be worried when you're acting like that! Especially if it's about a dear friend. Shirou-kun, I… we… care about you. B-but don't you care about us?"

"O-of course I do!" He replied, passionately.

"Then why won't you talk with us? Please. It… this, it feels as if you're shutting yourself away from us. We're friends, and friends help each other out, just as you've done for us so many times before. Why do you insist on having us worry for you? How could you think we could possibly ignore all of… this!" She cried out, almost heartbroken and unable to pin down what it was that truly was in the way. "This isn't like you… It hurts to see you collapse into yourself."

He averted his gaze in shame, unable to meet the eyes of his comrades. This was precisely the outcome he had hoped to prevent - causing them pain. It was an oversight to think they wouldn't be spurred into action eventually. Or maybe, he was acutely aware of it but refused to acknowledge it. Out of sight and out of mind. However, now that he was standing in front of his trusted companions, he could no longer pretend that everything was alright.

"I never intended for things to turn out this way…"

"I have never known you to shy away from anything, Shirou." His oldest friend offered his insight.

"Running away?" He glanced sideways at the Guildmaster.

"What else would you call it?" Momonga challenged.

"You… wouldn't understand."

"Then help us understand."

For a brief moment, the two were locked in silent combat as their eyes met. And it was Shirou who looked away, capitulating. He knew he couldn't win against them.

With a solemn sigh, Shirou opened his mouth and began his tale. Destana's final words to him rang in his mind. She was right. They deserve to know what was going on, he owned them that much. He left little to nothing out, for he had a feeling they would somehow know if he were withholding any details. As it continued, he found himself speaking more freely about it, as if a weight had been gradually shifted from his shoulder.

He has always been the shoulder for them to lean on, the ear that would welcome all their woes and worries, yet, rarely has it ever been the reverse. Until this moment. Here, he confided in them everything as he laid it out for all to bear. Everything-his intentions, his thoughts, fears, and insecurities. They deserved the honest truth, even if he held reservations. But he also did it in the hopes that they would, at the very least, come to understand his rationale. However selfish it was.

By the end, some of the members had to sit down, nursing their heads in their hands. Their minds spun from what was told to them. Silence returned to the room, one far more solemn and oppressive.

"Damn…" Peroroncino breathed out, his talon raking back his quills along his head where his hair would be. "That's… fuck! That's… beyond heavy Emiya-senpai."

"Why do you think I kept quiet about it?" He rather snarkily returned, his voice low. It brought him no joy or satisfaction to see them like this.

"S-still, w-why didn't you try talking with us if you felt that way? W-we… we could've helped you, o-or something! Y-you don't have to do this alone! O-of course we w-would be here for you. H-how could you ever think that w-we wouldn't?" Bukubukuchagama stuttered, trying to keep her voice level.

Shirou shook his head. "It isn't like that, Bukubukuchagama-san."

"Could've fooled us…" Warrior Takemikazuchi grunted, his arms crossed tightly. The solemn tone of his low voice hinted at his deep grievance with his friend, and what he thought of Shirou's hidden intentions.

"Still, there could've been something we could've done to help!" Argued the golden archer, backing up his sister. "Even with our schedules, we could at least work something out! All you needed to do was ask."

Despite his friends' insistence, Shirou remained stubborn, his expression unyielding.

"This… This is my burden to bear, my problem to solve. Not yours or anyone else's. It is mine, and mine alone. How can I possibly ask for more of your time when you have more important things to worry about in your daily life? It would be selfish of me and unfair to you all." Shirou shook his head, adamant in his words.

Yamaiko was quick to refute his words. "Selfish? How can you say that, Emiya-san? How many times have we turned to you for your help? Hundreds, and you gave it without a second thought. We would have done the same for you in a heartbeat."

The others nodded in agreement, showing their unwavering support.

Again, Shirou remained steadfast.

"Not this time. Not with this." Maintained the faker, refusing to budge on the matter.

This left the others frowning with no shortage of exasperation. The members of Ainz Ooal Gown knew Shirou was quite headstrong at times and would fight tooth and nail for what he believed was right.

And there lies the crux of the matter.

In a twisted respect, they could sympathize with his motivations and intentions. Though their stance on the matter greatly differed, the members of Ainz Ooal Gown could at least comprehend the reasoning behind his actions. However, what they absolutely couldn't abide by was the path taken and the decisions he made.

In Ainz Ooal Gown, trust was held in the highest regard. Chance had brought them together as strangers, but YGGDRASIL forged a bond that went beyond mere companionship.

The likes of Momonga, Peroroncino, Touch Me, Tabula, and so on trusted one another in a way that surpassed friendship, akin to a surrogate family. This kinship was built on a foundation of trust.

From trust, mutual respect sprang forth. Ainz Ooal Gown placed their trust in Shirou, yet his actions showed that he did not fully trust them in this particular dilemma.

To trust someone meant respecting not only the individual, but also their decisions.

In Shirou taking the matter into his own hands and making the foregone conclusion and decision for them without ever consulting them or anything prior, it showed a sense of distrust. He made the choice for them. He decided what was right and what was best for them, as if he knew better.

That was what stung them the most. It was a betrayal, regardless of the good intentions he may have had.

"Ha!" A harsh sound escaped Ulbert, almost passing off as a laugh. All eyes turned to the World Disaster.

"May I ask what's so funny, Ulbert-san?" Shirou inquired, feeling the biting chuckle coming from the goat Heteromorph directed at him.

"What's so funny? Why, you, of course. Mr. brain in a jar." Ulbert returned, sneering sarcasm dripping with every word.

Stepping up to the plate, he walked towards Shirou. His talons shot out, grabbing a hold of the faker and violently yanking him to his feet. The two stood, their eyes locked in an intense gaze. Ulbert's piercing stare bore into Shirou's passive heterochromia, creating an almost palpable tension in the air.

A few of the others clamored to their feet, ready to stop it before it got violent. Only for none other than Touch Me to step in and stop them with an extended hand. They looked to the World Champion, whose eyes never left the two, shocked, but the paladin held his ground. He motioned with his hand, telling them to stand down. Though they were still tense and prepared to intervene if necessary, they reluctantly took a step back, allowing Ulbert his space.

"You know, I've seen and heard you say some stupid stuff over the years. But this? This takes the fucking cake. Quite arrogant of you to decide what's best for us." He sneered.

Shirou said nothing, so Ulbert continued.

"What do you think you are? Some perfect godlike entity who we're supposed to bend over for?! Do you think you know better than us? That what you're doing for us is for our good? What, do you expect for us to be grateful for your mercy? Get off that fucking high horse you're on! News flash, you digital fuck, we're adults. So what gives you the right to decide what's right and what's wrong? I can certainly remember a few times when you butted into people's problems, and you certainly showed no care for when it's like that. But the moment it's about you, we're the ones that's being silly for giving a shit about you?!"

The Heteromorph pulled Shirou in close, all but butting heads. Ulbert's voice grew incensed and sharp. For a second, it looked as if blows would be thrown.

Instead, he let go, allowing the Fake Player to drop back into his seat. Their gaze was still locked.

"Give me a fucking break. You're being nothing more than a damn selfish hypocrite, you wannabe hero!" Ulbert admonished, a sharpened talon pointing accusingly at him. Although he was as abrasive as ever, the others felt a timbre unlike his own. The heat from his voice wasn't from a place of hatred, but something else.

"You're not wrong…" He let out a chuckle, bordering on self-deprecation. Shirou didn't even bother to deny his friend's harsh but truthful criticism.

Ulbert's frown only deepened at the muted response.

This wasn't the Shirou they knew and recognized. While rare, they've seen him express anger, annoyance, and even sadness, yet what was in front of them was an entirely different beast. They've never seen or heard him so defeated before.

It felt wrong.

"You could've still talked it out with us. As Bukubukuchagama-san said, we would've been for you. We would've worked out some schedule, compromised, or something! You didn't have to do this alone." Touch Me insisted.

Shirou shook his head.

"And what exactly would that have accomplished? Would that have changed anything? No. I think not… It would've only increased the stress of your daily life. It would be cruel of me to make you prioritize between me and your own lives. YGGDRASIL is a place for you to enjoy yourself, not to console an old hand like me. It would be nothing more than a temporary fix. How long would it be before you grow strained, trying to accommodate me while also maintaining your personal life and affairs?"

Shirou's counter left them with little time to answer as he pushed forward.

"Do you think I made this decision lightly? That, I woke up one day and decided that this was what I wanted? Of course not! But what else was there that I could do? If I have to choose between you all or me, I'll always pick the former a million out of a million times. So please, tell me then. Tell me, what else could I have done?!"

He challenged, eyes defiant and firm. Yet, his words did not come from a place of anger, or annoyance, for even when arguing, he couldn't find it in himself to be angry at his guildmates.

He only wanted them to understand.

Shirou looked at every one of them, waiting for an answer. They wanted to say that there was another way, some other method that might have been overlooked or hadn't been considered. However, none came. There was no solution, or at least, not one that was in their grasp that would offer the solace they sought.

"He's not exactly wrong, y'know." Tabula spoke up, earning his guildmate's surprise by taking the magus's side.

"Tabula-san!" Amanomahitotsu gasped, turning to the Eldritch Heteromorph, but he continued nevertheless.

"We have neither the means nor capability to truly change anything. We cannot hope to turn back the hands of time, nor do we have the ability to halt what is coming. We neither possess any form of advanced technology nor a method that would see him free from this virtual prison. In the end, his situation is beyond any of our capability to truly fix. And he's not wrong, either. As proven already, each one of us has been slowly playing YGGDRASIL less and less for one reason or another. We cannot just stop everything and play YGGDRASIL every day, even if we wanted to. We all have our own lives to live, and with only so much time on our hands every day, we must pick one over the other. You can't argue against facts…" He spoke, meeting every one of their gazes, delivering only the cold, hard facts.

"His actions, no matter how selfish or martyrlike they may be, have undoubtedly helped those around him. Objectively speaking, it is the right choice, his choice, to use what is left of his time for the good of who he cares for… but-"

In the midst of his delivery, Tabula was abruptly cut short. His voice, which had begun so somberly and steadfastly, was no more. In its place was a trembling gasp of emotions, too heavy and unintelligible for him to express and finish, but all understood.

"I don't want to accept it."

As the stillness continued, the various Heteromorphic Players found themselves contemplative. The countless hours they had spent with their friend became center stage. All the arguments they had, the moments of joy they shared, the tears they shed, and so many more experiences flooded their thoughts. They all whirled within their heads, vivid memories they held close to their chests, and moments they couldn't accept would come to an end.

They refused to accept it.

But, what could they do to defy fate?

"Perhaps…" A subdued voice echoed out, one that remained silent until now.

All eyes turned to their Guildmaster.

"Life is turbulent. Even the richest among us have to slave away to maintain their lot in life. We live by a schedule, and if we were to overhaul it, perhaps we could squeeze in a few extra hours of YGGDRASIL. But, it wouldn't be sustainable or healthy. The only thing we would be doing is inviting tragedy upon ourselves. And that's the last thing Shirou wants for any of us."

Momonga's crimson orbs swept the room, jumping from one member to the next as he spoke. Quietly, he looked away, his gaze focused entirely on something else. Their eyes followed Momonga to the floating, intricately golden staff within the room. The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, the guild weapon and the symbol of all of Ainz Ooal Gown itself.

"M-maybe…" Momonga said, choking on the raw emotion. "Maybe, one day we will leave YGGDRASIL behind, and there's nothing I or any one of us could do to prevent it. It's only a matter of time."

Everyone present already knew what he said. His words were a simple restatement of the truth, but they hurt more than anyone would admit. He was the one who led them through trials and tribulations, so his words felt like a death knell. It signaled the end of their hopes and dreams. By his words, it became an admission.

Perhaps it was unfair to the Elder Lich, that he'd been expected to remain steadfast. The slowly growing confusion, the hurt, and the anger, at the perceived betrayal were definitely out of line. However, they did not care. He was their leader, and he was supposed to find a solution, not give up-

"But, today is not that day!"

With a passionate intensity, Momonga's fiery crimson eyes locked onto each person in the room. His unwavering gaze seemed to pierce through their very being, exposing any hint of doubt and quelling it with worrying ease. As a result, every single member stood in unison, meeting his stare with a determined fervor. Though their resolve was tested, it remained unbroken, as even the slightest glimmer of hope still burned within them.

He turned to Shirou.

"Emiya-san, you are a friend to all, a model to others, and a bright spot in a dystopian world. We'll be damned if we let the heart of this guild wallow in silence and give up on you for silly things like facts and logic! A day will come when we might say goodbye forever, but until that day comes, it is not your decision to make, old friend. It is ours. And only we shall decide what is worth it to us."

His hand shot forth, grabbing the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.

"My peerless comrades! My loyal friends! I ask of you all, if our days are numbered, then should we not grasp what is in front of us rather than brooding on what is to come?! Do not lament what cannot be done. Instead, let us take hold of the future together! If our days are numbered, then enjoy every moment of it as if it were our last! Let us laugh at the time we're given, let us rage at the opportunity we've lost, let us cry for the inevitable, but most of all, let us enjoy ourselves to our hearts content!"

Momonga raised the scepter, spreading his arm as he faced them, his regal form beckoning all, drawing and demanding their attention as they faced their leader and king.

"You."

The undead king levied a single finger directed solely at the Fake Player. His two crimson orbs burned brighter than ever before.

Having risen from his seat, Shirou straightened his back completely, snapping to attention. The two friends stood face-to-face with one another.

Though his appearance, talent, and potential were nothing like hers, for but a moment, Momonga reminded Shirou what it was like to be in the presence of a king.

"Your king commands you! Emiya Shirou! Live! And if you require a reason, then we shall provide it! Through dusk or dawn, through hardship and peace, we shall be there. So live! If not for your own, then for us! Continue for our sake!"

The once-somber mood that plagued the room was no more. In its place was a held breath, the world waiting anxiously for conflict, yet, it was unprepared like all others, at the chuckles that emanated from the white-haired swordsman.

Accept and prepare, or deny and resist. One or the other. Those were the paths presented. But that was the flaw with simplifying and generalizing choices into an absolute. It limits the possibilities.

For, when faced with two equally unfavorable choices, sometimes, the correct choice to make was simply not choosing either or.

Momonga, he chose neither, and instead, he sought his own path. For the answer one seeks were often the simplest.

"What a selfish request you're asking of me, my friend." Shirou uttered. His voice was tired, weary, and breathless. Yet, nothing could hide the beautiful spark of hope that danced in his eyes and the joy hidden within his small, sardonic smile.

"Indeed." Momonga responded candidly. "But that is what I am. At the end of the day, we are but selfish humans, who chase after what they want and refuse to let go. And what is a king, but the greediest of them all? He who grasps the skies to reach for the stars and will settle for nothing less."

Momonga held out an open palm.

"I cannot promise you I'll be online every day, as I once was to greet you. I cannot promise you that I'll be online for consistent hours at a time to spend time with you. And I cannot promise I will choose you above everything else in my life. But I will promise you this. So long as I breathe, I will never forsake you. From now until our final moments, I shall remain by your side. Always. All I ask of you, my friend, is to wait for me."

He held out his hand. So warm, so inviting…

"What about times when you're really busy? Or something really important were to happen - maybe an emergency? What if you'll be gone for days, weeks, or even months?" Shirou voiced lamely, fishing for anything to support a belief he no longer cared for, an empty platitude to the ideal that had kept him driven for so long.

"Well, I guess you're just going to have to wait, Emiya-senpai! It's like you said before, you aren't going anywhere any time soon, so it's no biggie, right?" Echoed Peroroncino, throwing his words right back at him. "And, if you're bored and need some stress relief, I know some wonderful sauces…" The avian's words quickly devolved into giggles at a joke only he knew, but considering the slight twitching from his sister, he could guess the context.

"What the pervy idiot meant, was that we'd return no matter what. Perhaps we'll take longer at times, but don't believe for a second that I don't wish to return as soon as possible, Shirou-kun! So be a good boy and sit your damn fine-sculpted ass back down and wait for us! We'll make sure it's worth it when we come back."

Bukubukuchagama's words were rushed but heartfelt. The bronzed-skinned human took solace in having someone respond to his yearning for companionship. Although he couldn't help but feel amused at her embarrassment.

The two siblings stepped forward, joining Momonga by his side as they added their own hands to Momonga's own, palms up.

"Heh, I sure hope you aren't using me to justify spending more time gaming. After all, YGGDRASIL can grow pretty stale, in my experience." The magus found himself half-heartedly poking back with a mirthful smirk, the gloom, and doom of minutes before a faint memory.

"You make it sound like our personal lives are any more interesting. We get bored too, ya know. Video games help greatly with that. I, for one, would welcome the monotone of farming over the headache-inducing brats that I constantly deal with. I love being a schoolteacher, but even we adults have breaking points! Sorry to say, but you're stuck with us for the foreseeable future, Emiya-san!" Weighted in Yamaiko.

The grimace that she wore upon mentioning her job was fierce enough to make Shirou send a silent prayer to his old school, thankful that they had dealt with him for all those years. He wasn't a problem student, but he was certain he had caused his fair share of migraines. Especially during and after the Holy Grail War.

"With all that free time, you'll have plenty of time to come up with some adventures for us when we get back. Well, considering your luck, I'm sure that you'll have a catalog of bosses for us to tackle or dungeons to raid when we return! Although I do question the frequency with which you seem to encounter deadly opponents regularly." Warrior Takemikazuchi's jest quickly dissipated, overtaken by a quiet confusion at Shirou's strange fortune. If only he knew about his cursed E-ranked luck. Even in a digital world, he was always a magnet for trouble.

The two Nephilim stepped forward and joined the others, adding their own hands to the pile.

"Sure, I'll do my part to make your return exciting. Assuming the game doesn't shut down, of course." Shirou muttered softly. A fearful possibility of any game which lurked around the corner, one that stood strong even after the decision of the guild to stick together.

"A dire possibility I can't deny, but YGGDRASIL is still a unique game among DMMO-RPGs! Not only is it among the most challenging, but considering how much of the game has yet to be unmapped, completionists are crawling all over most of the maps!" Touch Me said. He was well aware of the signs of a game when it was nearing its deadline, having witnessed multiple closures in person.

"Not to mention the rumored expansion and rework for various bosses. Trust me, those devs may be shitty, but they do good work and know how to hype their products like nothing else!" Amanomahitotsu collaborated with the World Champion's words, knowing full well the traffic that would be generated in the coming months.

"Plus, products such as YGGDRASIL exist to make companies money. So long as they can turn a profit, they'll beat that dead horse even when it's buried and decomposed for years to come. We've spent several hundred thousand yens before, so what does a couple hundred thousand more down the rabbit hole matter?" Tabula elucidated, shrugging all the while. How fitting since the Illithid sunk an obscene amount of money into YGGDRASIL alone.

"And if you think this game is dying, you should've seen the mess that was Requiem Online. That old piece of junk was on life support for more time than it spent alive because some people wouldn't let it die! Even after 30 years! Considering just how much there's left to be discovered in YGGDRASIL, they'll be idiots like us that'll keep coming back to this game for one reason or another." Ulbert snarked, a derision he didn't truly feel, directed towards the imaginary apparitions of those basement dwellers who accomplished such a feat.

One by one, they joined in, leaving Shirou facing all nine of his friends. Their hands outstretched, together as one. He stared at their inviting form, but much like the time within the forest, he remained where he stood.

"It won't get easier, you know. The further along we go, the more it'll hurt in the end." He gazed away, making one last soft plea.

"Maybe." Momonga agreed.

"But… I would rather regret the things I'd done with the little time we have left than lament over the chances that could've been instead. All things come to an end one day, and when it's time to say our final goodbyes, let us cry to our hearts content, but also let us smile for allowing it to happen and enjoy what was."

Momonga-no, everyone, has grown.

They understood. They understood that there wasn't going to be a happy ending at the end of this journey of theirs. This wasn't some story or fable where everyone lives contently at the end. There wasn't a magical solution that could fix all their problems. All they could do was make peace with it and strive for the best they could. For life seldom gives that happily ever after.

For all that they toiled away in this game, where they were akin to gods, they were still bound by reality. And she was the cruelest of mistresses.

On this journey that he and they started, their story was not destined to end in joy but in simple mourning. For a friend who would die with this world, leaving nothing behind but cherished memories. They knew that all that awaited was a tragedy, but they refused to stop.

One way or another, they will leave YGGDRASIL behind them, but rather than focusing on what can't be changed, was it not more important to cherish what they already have? So that, when the time comes, it'll be one with few regrets. The future may be uncertain, but the present was still filled with possibilities. Who's to say that they can't enjoy the time they have left while also preparing for that ineludible departure? If anything, that only makes what they do now all the more crucial and worthwhile to make their time worth cherishing until the end of days.

It was far from the cleanest answer, but it was certainly not the worst. All they could do was accept it, strive forward for a better tomorrow, and make the most of it, and they shall.

That was the thing about moving forward, to acknowledge the future, one must accept the present and learn to let it go when it becomes time to move on.

For letting go is not forgetting, it's remembering without fear.

Shirou walked forward, his steps paralleling the heavy thumps of his heart, of joy and sadness, but also acceptance.

He laid his own on top. Shirou looked up, meeting every one of their gazes.

This was their pact. Their vow. From now until the end.

"Group hug!" He heard Peroroncino exclaim, his hand and body being tugged forward.

Shirou found himself being pulled in for a warm embrace as Momonga and the others enveloped him in a jumble of arms and legs. Amidst the laughter and playful banter, Ulbert's cries for release could be heard, but the group held on tightly, enjoying the moment of camaraderie. The joy on Shirou's face was undeniable, as for the first time in months, he laughed with abandon, truly savoring the moment.

The future might be bleak, but the present was still bright. So, they'd make it count, so they'd be able to say goodbye without regrets! This long adventure they've started, it was far from over. So Shirou and Ainz Ooal Gown, they might as well enjoy this journey they've been on for just a little longer.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"This controls that, while that opens up these options. Do you get it now?" Leaning over Shirou's shoulder, Peroroncino pointed to the screen, his talon trailing at each point.

"I think so." He said, returning his attention to the menu screen.

After the events in the conference room, Shirou and the rest relocated to the 8th floor, to the Cherry Blossom Sanctuary. More specifically, they were all lounging around in a faithful recreation of the Emiya Estate that was housed within the sanctuary's domain. It seemed only fitting, considering the general aesthetic of the area.

Shirou and the others were currently relaxing on the porch or lounging around the hallway that opened up to the sprawling garden. A sliver of lush grassy plains with cherry blossom trees dotting the landscape added to the tranquility of the setting.

In front of him was a menu screen, one that was used to create and design NPCs. Despite the years that have passed, the guild had plenty of points to spare. All of which belonged to the faker to use as he pleased. Before, he never saw any worth in it himself and offered to give his share to the other members to put to use. However, Momonga and the rest adamantly declined, and so they remained untouched until now.

Shirou had taken up trying his hand at an NPC creation at the suggestion of his friends, the first step of their one of many group exercises.

Peroroncino and Tabula sat next to him, offering him tips and advice on how to navigate the menu. The others kept nearby and did their own thing, occasionally glancing over at him and snickering at Shirou's expense as he tried to learn how to navigate the complex menu.

"Complicated, isn't it?" He heard Momonga comment on the side.

The magus silently grunted, agreeing with his undead friend's statement. A single glance at the interface revealed the various options the menu provided, and it was honestly overwhelming. There were at least over two dozen options, with countless other sub-options labeled for each category that could be selected.

NPCs had to be built from the ground up and could not be simply imported from an outside or preexisting source. Copyright issue and all that. That meant that Players had to plan, design, and code everything about the NPC. Everything from its gender, height, appearance, flavor text, programmed action, power, abilities, etc… It effectively made the Players the designers and programmers, giving them complete creative freedom.

It was not an easy task, to say the least.

As he played with the options on the menu screen, he noticed something. At the top corner of the screen was a highlighted option that wasn't part of the rest. It was separate and different.

It simply read: "Data Card present."

He pressed that option, and the screen changed, revealing a mostly blank screen with only a rectangular outline within the center and a message above it.

Shirou blinked and looked back down at the screen and the message.

"Insert any available Data Card."

"Momonga-san, by any chance did you come across an option that read 'Data Card present'?" Shirou asked.

"Huh? Data Card?" Momonga repeated. Bringing his thumb and index finger together, he stroked his chiseled, skeletal chin in contemplation. "No. I think I would have remembered seeing such an out-of-place option."

The rest of Ainz Ooal Gown leaned in, and there, as Shirou had said, was an option on the interface that they had never seen before.

"Strange… How could we have missed something like that?" Tabula pondered as the rest of the group speculated.

Shirou racked his brain, trying to figure out what the message meant by Data Card. It referred to something in his possession, but he had no idea what exactly it was. There was no instruction or anything that hinted at it.

As he securitized the screen even further, a random and almost trivial thought crossed his mind.

Besides the short message provided, the only other thing of interest was the rectangular outline that was in the middle of the screen. Its length and width gave it an outline similar in dimension to the Class Cards-

Shirou's eyes widened, his mouth involuntary letting out a disbelieving "No way…"

"Huh? Did you figure it out, Emiya-senpai?" Peroroncino asked, catching the tail end of his gasp.

The others watched with no small amount of curiosity and intrigue. They were waiting for him to answer, but it never came. Instead, he sat still, frozen almost, in complete and utter silence. At this point, the rest grew a bit restless at Shirou's unusual behavior.

He paid them no attention as he tried to rationalize his thoughts. Wordlessly, without taking his eyes off the screen, he operated his menu with practiced ease and pulled out the Class Cards.

"Emiya-san? Is everything alright?"

"Senpai, are you okay?"

"Come on, say something, buddy."

The unusual silence, combined with Shirou's almost mechanical action of pulling up his menu while staring blankly at the NPC creation screen in front of them, was starting to spook them.

Picking a card at random, Shirou held it in front of him. The World Item depicted a humanoid beast of a man with the head of a monstrous hound wielding a large sword.

The Berserker Class Card. The one that started it all.

"Emiya-san, why do you have that out?" Momonga asked the question that was on everyone's mind. The issue of Shirou's silence was pushed to the back of their minds as they watched their friend take out the World Item.

Instead of answering, Shirou lowered the card into the slot.

It fitted perfectly.

A new message popped up, reading: [Data Card identified].

It lasted no more than a second before the screen collapsed on itself and disappeared. Shirou's arm snapped up but was too slow as the screen disappeared along with the Class Card. He didn't have any time to spare for what just happened before the ground in front of them glowed.

Everyone immediately jumped up to their feet, backing up as the glow of light only brightened. But it was no ordinary glow.

As soon as Shirou laid eyes on it, he knew exactly what it was - a summoning circle. The circle depicted a six-pointed star and was adorned with ancient symbols and runic letters both inside and outside its surface. Positioned evenly around the circle were several orbs of light, which began to glow a glorious shade of gold and spin rapidly. Their speed increased until they formed a stunning golden halo of light, from which gushed forth a geyser of powerful azure energy that flooded the entire area in its brilliance.

Everyone exclaimed in surprise and shielded their eyes. It ended quickly enough, and as one, the group looked back, only to be greeted with a most unusual sight.

Where once there was nothing, there now stood a beautiful woman.

The mysterious woman was a statuesque figure, standing tall, and emanating an aura of firmness. Her poise and dignity were unmatched by most, adding to her presence. Her outfit was primarily composed of red, black, and white colors. She donned a long-sleeved red coat uniform, reminiscent of an old-world soldier's uniform. A white strap ran diagonally down her chest, attaching to a white belt on her waist, adding a touch of elegance to her apparel. Her black skirt had red trim, accentuating her figure and complementing her white boots and gloves. Several medical treatment packets, bearing the emblem of the Red Cross, were fastened around her waist, showcasing her preparedness for any emergency. A gun was holstered at her side, revealing her readiness for any challenge. Lastly, a black coat hung from her shoulders like a cape, flowing unabated, adding to her mystique.

Her hair cascaded down in a beautiful, flowing mane that nearly reached the length of her body. The shade was a stunning silver-pink, which complemented the fluttering pink sakura petals that danced in the gentle breeze. She possessed the qualities of a stunning beauty, with defined and captivating cheekbones, plump and alluring lips, striking jawlines, and piercing, passionate eyes that twinkled with unwavering resolve.

Berserker - Lvl: 100

"Servant Berserker, ready for duty! Are you my master?" She spoke, saluting as she did so.

Her voice rang out, a serene and melodious one that was pleasant to the ears of the guild members around her. It was soft and comforting, as if ready to alleviate all of one's concerns and worries.

Initially, there was a deafening silence that enveloped the surroundings, as everyone tried to process the bewildering scene that had just unfolded before their very eyes. Gradually, the stunned onlookers regained their composure and rushed towards the newly created NPC. They swarmed around her, their eagerness and enthusiasm reaching an unprecedented level.

"So, this is the true purpose of the Class Card." Momonga muttered in awe, inspecting the NPC with a critical eye.

"I must say the details on her are immaculate!" Warrior Takemikazuchi praised.

"Dude! Check her out! Those lovely breasts! Those creamy curves! Whoever designed her was a genius!" Peroroncino joined in, although his eyes were more towards the NPC's more physical appearance. Especially how her uniform pressed tightly against her body.

"Idiot! That's the first thing you think of? Oh, who am I kidding? Of course, that would be the first thing you think of." Bukubukuchagama bemoaned as she practically watched her perverted brother virtually salivate over the sensual-looking NPC.

"It looks like you were wrong, Ulbert-san. Still, for a World Item to be just this… I wonder if there's anything else." Pondered Tabula, stroking his chin.

"Tch, whatever. Still, I got to at least hand it to the shitty devs. They at least know how to spice things up. First a throne of all things for a World Item, then a mirror, a horn, and now an NPC." Commented Ulbert.

"They certainly do. And Emiya-san still possesses four more cards. I wonder if the same effects apply to those cards as well." Touch Me wondered alongside his friends.

While Shirou's friends were busy analyzing and expressing their amazement at the NPC, actively conversing with each other in excitement, Shirou found himself lost in his own thoughts. Though he too was taken aback by the sudden appearance, his reason for being stunned was different from that of his friends.

He was completely speechless because, somehow, he managed to summon, or was it created? Import? Quite frankly, either option was completely ridiculous.

Shirou summoned a Servant.

For a moment, Shirou wondered if perhaps he was simply overthinking things. He considered the possibility that the existence and appearance of the Servant were just a form of homage, similar to the other Servant bosses he had faced before. He reckoned that they weren't truly Servants or simply mere NPCs and programs designed by Zelretch, based on the original found within the Throne of Heroes. However, his naïve speculation was quickly interrupted as he felt a tingling sensation on his hand.

To his continued astonishment, a faint yet vibrant crimson glow emanated from the back of his hand. There, a set of Command Seals formed.

As the faker stared at the Command Seal and back at his newly acquired Servant, he was left wondering.

He wondered what it all meant and what the future held in store for him.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

December 1st, 2135 - Kaleidoscope HQ

A gentle knock rang out before the sound of a door being opened creaked. Walking through the door and into Zelretch's office was none other than the disgruntled manager and the supervisor, who reported directly to the CEO himself.

"Sir?"

He looked around, a flicker of surprise crossing the employee's face as he found Zelretch, who stood with his back toward him, gazing out the window. The outside world was as dark and dusty as ever, shrouded in a thick haze of smoke and smog.

"Kaito." Zelretch greeted him without turning around.

Kaito's lips pursed, taken aback by the seriousness that he was seeing. The manager could count on one hand alone the number of times his boss has called him by his real name, in addition to the times he'd seen the CEO look so humorless.

Without a word, Zelretch turned away, allowing the manager to bear the brunt of the Dead Apostle's inscrutable gaze. From behind his desk, he walked up and pressed a few keys on his keyboard.

Kaito felt his tablet buzz in his hand, signaling the arrival of a data packet from Zelretch. The file was unusually large, piquing his curiosity.

"I need you and your team to focus all your efforts on the contents of this file. And don't forget to enlist the help of the seventh floor. The instructions and deadlines are all clearly outlined." He instructed the head programmer.

Suppressing his urge to probe further, Kaito replied with a respectful tone. "Understood, sir. Is there anything else you'd like me to do?"

The sound of a cell phone ringing cut through the dour atmosphere and silence. Zelretch reached into his pocket and pulled out his flip phone, opening it. He gave it a quick glance before returning to the awaiting manager.

"No, you're free to go. Good day, Kaito."

Before the manager had a chance to collect his thoughts and muster the courage to speak, Zelretch promptly dismissed him. The CEO turned back around, answering the call, content to stare back out into the smog-filled outside.

The supervisor quickly made himself scarce, walking out and closing the door on the way. Kaito glanced back at him, confusion, among many other emotions, whirled inside him. The conversation between his boss and whomever it was on the phone was all but indiscernible to him.

With Zelretch, he waited until the door clicked shut before continuing his conversation over the phone.

"Is it done then?" He asked, quickly receiving a confirmation.

"Good. The payment will be doled out. I'll be in touch if I require your service any further."

Ending the call, Zelretch pressed a few more buttons on his phone before closing it. The magician turned, looking at his computer screen, which contained only what he knew. On the screen were various windows and pop-ups that contained sensitive information and data beyond what anyone could hope to see and put together. The kind of information that could get a man killed. But for the Wizard Marshall, it was nothing more than a bump in the road.

"I wonder if you've had any inkling of how close you were to death. You should consider yourself very fortunate to be his friend." Zelretch mused aloud.

Among them all the information, there was also a name. Hayate Watanabe, or, as he was better known, Bellriver.

After hitting one final key, everything was forwarded to his intended destination. He also hit a few more keys, sending out instructions to the appropriate sources on what actions to take next if need be. With the matter done, the Dead Apostle sat down, reclining in his chair, as he gazed out into the desolate world through the window.

Now, he waited.

As Kaito delved into his work, he found himself completely absorbed after receiving a data package during his elevator ride back to his station. Upon reading the contents, he was surprised to learn that the 9th World Championship Tournament was to be pushed up and rescheduled. Most curiously of all was something he easily recognized, having previously worked on similar projects for Zelretch.

One that involved a golden rectangular card that depicted a knight.

Chapter 10 - Signs of a Storm I

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 07/13/2021

Chapter 10 - Signs of a Storm I

October 15, 2136. World: Helheim. Location: Poisonous Swamp. Recommended level: 80-85

In the midst of the treacherous and venomous swamp, there stood a lone Player. Despite the harsh terrain that surrounded him, the Player appeared ill-equipped for the danger that lay ahead. Clad in a simple yet refined white and silver top, complete with a corset-like leather midsection and soft white pants, his ensemble was complemented by an open jacket and a teal cape that draped from his shoulder, adorned with various pouches and accessories across his body. In his hand, he held a gauntlet with a peculiar contraption. However, the most intriguing aspect of his attire was his aviator helmet, complete with goggles. The goggles themselves boasted magnification scopes, adding to the Player's air of mystery and curiosity.

Hendrickson - Lvl: 100

He was alerted by the clanking of footsteps nearby. Hendrickson turned, finding a Player waiting.

"So, we're ready or what?" Her voice, though feminine, was tinged with a certain roughness and impatience.

The Player's avatar was covered head to toe in bulky silver and white heavy armor, and she was armed with an equally massive greatsword resting on her shoulder.

Kaura - Lvl: 100

Hendrickson glanced at his partner and the group behind them with a careful gaze. In total, there were seven Players, including himself and Kaura. The rest of the party consisted of a powerful magic caster, a skilled healer, a valiant paladin, a sneaky rogue, and a precise archer, forming a well-rounded team. To bolster their ranks, they had an additional eight mercenary NPCs, each equipped with two great tower shields. Altogether, their party numbered fifteen. A relatively small number, all things considered, for the mission they were about to undergo, but then again, that was the point.

He didn't answer immediately, waiting a few more seconds before receiving numerous incoming [Message]'s, all conformations. Nodding to himself, he turned back to the others.

"Everything's set. We're moving out."

Affirmatives were given as spells, magic crystals, and scrolls were used. A multitude of defensive barriers and cloaking spells were employed to conceal their presence. Suitably prepared and with all protective measures taken, the party of Players and NPCs advanced steadily. In silence, they traversed the treacherous terrain, showing little fear as they navigated through the dense swamp while skillfully avoiding the various mobs and monsters, most notably the Tuvegs.

Their destination? None other than The Great Tomb of Nazarick, headquarters of the infamous Ainz Ooal Gown.

With a game as intricate and expansive as YGGDRASIL was, combined with the strictly hands-off approach the developers employed when it came to how the game was run on a day-by-day basis, it wasn't surprising that the player base eventually developed their own meta systems and economies, similar to those found in the real world.

This hands-off approach to everything, while a source of the game's challenge and intrigue, had led many Players to feel discontent with the game. One way or another.

And there'll always be those who wish to profit from said discontent.

Just as numerous guilds work in the public eye, there are also those that work under the table, so to speak.

Within the realm of YGGDRASIL, there existed what were known as Underground Guilds - associations comprising specialized individuals who were willing to tackle the unsavory tasks that most others didn't wish to participate in. Among these groups were the Seeker guilds, which were designated as such due to the nature of their activities. By and large, their primary role in serving as mercenary scouts was relatively innocuous. However, it was their other services that saw them stigmatized. They undertook infiltration, espionage, theft, sabotage, and even collaborated with assassins and PKers. As long as the payment was worth it, they would accept almost any assignment.

In the world of YGGDRASIL, information was a highly valued commodity, particularly information that was reliable. Consequently, the Seekers' trade was a profitable one, but one that came with a substantial element of risk. For often, these Seekers step into the unknown and court death at any turn, just to scrounge whatever they could. It was almost a daredevil profession, one that demanded bravery and a willingness to accept the consequences of taking on such hazardous assignments.

Hendrickson belonged to one such organization, known as the All-Scrying Eye. Their guild was contracted to ascertain and learn as much as they could about the Great Tomb of Nazarick. A guild base deemed among one of the unassailable fortresses in all of YGGDRASIL, befitting the 6th most powerful guild in the game.

Rumors went that not even the 1st Floor of their guild base has been properly mapped out yet, despite numerous raids and attempts being made on Nazarick in the past. Every venture to reach the 2nd Floor ended in failure.

The All-Scrying Eye's primary goal wasn't to assault the base or attack the guild itself. Their objective was to gain knowledge. They were there to poke and prod, to meticulously investigate the layout of the floors, enemy placements, traps, potential boss NPCs, and any other details they could uncover. The Seekers were to glean as much detail as they could, at any cost. Often, this meant that their demise was assured, but that was no deterrent.

For guilds such as them, death was merely an inconvenience rather than a hindrance when compared to other Players. Leveling up was easy to grind out, and the one item drop penalty upon death could be circumvented simply by having a rare, but ultimately expendable, item equipped to use as a safety net. The payment doled out by those who wish to employ their services more than compensates for the difficulty of their task.

There was also a fat bonus in it for them if they managed to somehow find a route to reach the 2nd Floor.

In no time, the thick and noxious fog that encompassed the marshes receded, leaving behind a gloomy mist that choked the air. Within a few seconds, they had finally arrived at their intended destination. The outer wall that served as a barrier between the toxic swamp and the cemetery was now clearly visible before them.

Hendrickson raised his hand, signaling the group to stop.

As he glanced upwards, he caught sight of the name marker displayed on his HUD. They had reached the border's edge, and with just a couple of meters more to go, they would officially be within the guild base's territory.

"[Command Call]!" He activated a skill.

A menu window popped up with a clear image and view of his party, followed by five more around him. Within seconds, the others flashed to life, showing other parties.

Hendrickson's party wasn't alone, there were five others. They had split up their total forces into six smaller, more manageable groups to tackle Nazarick from different directions.

"Status, is everyone in position?" Hendrickson, the first party leader, checked in.

"We're in position and waiting for your go." A second, more gravelly voice answered. The leader of the second party.

"Geez, took you guys long enough. Was afraid something might've happened to ya'." A squeaking voice joked, the third-party leader.

"Here… Mind if we get this over with already?" The fourth party leader droned, his voice sluggish.

The fifth and sixth party leaders turned in and said little else, deferring to Hendrickson's command.

With a few hotkey presses, his HUD was reorganized, with the six screens appearing and rotating around Hendrickson. Each screen was filled with the names and status bars of every Player and NPC of their respective party. There were ninety in total: forty-two Players and forty-eight NPCs.

This was possible thanks to his high-tier support job class, [Overseer], allowing him to sync up with not only his party but others as well. A build that specialized in coordination and communication.

While using [Message] was the tried and true method for communication within YGGDRASIL, it was not without its counter. [Message] was technically classified as a 2nd tier spell despite being a mechanic, and as a result, it was subjected to counters such as anti-scrying and anti-divination spells and skills. With the right spells or skills, [Message] could be intercepted, outright blocked, or even hijacked and fabricated.

In the heat of battle, how well a party could maintain their coordination and cohesion could mean the difference in terms of victory or a total wipe. It all came down to management. With the [Overseer] class, Hendrickson has access to real-time vision and communication with not only their own party members but also everyone else involved in the raid. This includes information such as HP, MP, and statuses. Additionally, the user can communicate instantly with any individual, allowing for a quick and efficient relay of information and coordination.

The job class was incredible intensive, requiring the user to be highly adept and coordinated when it came to micro and macro management. Hendrickson, however, was no stranger to multitasking with so many variables.

His eyes roamed over the names, performing one final check-up before beginning.

"Everyone remembers the plan?" He asked, receiving confirmation from the parties.

"Why are we doing this so late at night again? ~Yawn~ Some of us have to work in a few hours." The fourth party leader yawned, his drowsy words clear for all to hear.

"We received a tip that there would be no potential interference from the guild during the nighttime hours. Weren't you listening?" The second party leader repeated mattered a factly, giving his fellow party leader a deadpan. He was among the ones who initially volunteered for the job, and yet here he was complaining.

"I thought it meant around nine or ten at night, or hell, even eleven. It's practically tomorrow already!"

It was indeed very late into the night-12:38 am to be exact, according to their menu and the digital clock-hence his grumpy demeanor.

"What's the matter? The wittle baby needs his nappy." The third-party leader chimed in, his voice playful and mocking, earning a low growl from the fourth-party leader.

"Watch it, brat, unlike some people, we're working adults with an 80+ hour work schedule."

"Cut the chatter." Hendrickson's stern voice silenced the matter, and the other party leaders gave him their undivided attention.

"We've been paid generously for the job, that means we stick to it. The faster we move this along, the faster we can get this done."

The two party leaders grumbled but voiced little else.

"Still, you'd think that a high-ranking guild like Ainz Ooal Gown wouldn't be quite this defenseless. Had we tried something like this with either Trinity or the 2ch Alliance, we'd be assaulted regardless by dozens of Players well before we'd even spot their base. How the hell they've got a working schedule to make sure their bases are guarded 24/7 is anyone's guess." The fifth-party leader idly commented.

"It's not surprising. Compared to the rest of the top ten, Ainz Ooal Gown's numbers are lacking." The sixth-party leader replied, sparking sparse chatter from the rest.

Over the years, from speculations and past encounters against the members of Ainz Ooal Gown by those on the YGGDRASIL's forums, it was estimated that there were more than forty but less than fifty members within the guild. An outlier when compared to the rest of the top ten. The other nine guilds all possessed member counts in at least the triple digits, if not more. This spoke highly of the quality and dedication of the Players within the Heteromorphic guild.

However, that low Player count was a double-edged sword. While their exclusivity prevented outside Players from joining with the intent to spy and sabotage, as well as keeping them uniform, in return, Ainz Ooal Gown couldn't run a tight ship should things such as differing playtime or conflicting schedules crop up. Thus, granting a window of opportunity that others could exploit.

After all, every Player has to log out eventually.

The Seekers chose to strike so late into the night when any normal person would likely be offline and/or close to falling asleep or being exhausted. Little to no Player interference meant fewer resistances, and that goes a long way in making their job easier and securing their goal. The collection of any strategic information relevant to their employers.

"Everyone, activate cams."

Following his order, Hendrickson hit a button on his menu. A small, bright red dot appeared in the corner of his HUD, showing that the recording was set. One by one, all the members turned up green.

As he prepared to give the green light for the operation, his gaze glanced over to the menu screen that comprised up the third party. In that instant, the names, status bars, and even the video feed of the entire third party flickered and scrambled before producing nothing but static. Both Players and NPC alike were completely gone.

Hendrickson blinked and stared mutely at his screen for a solid second, waiting.

'That's never happened before…'

No more than a second later, his ears caught the distant rumbling and sounds of explosions far in the distance. It was coming from where the third party was stationed.

It took a fraction of a second for the information and realization to click in his head, and he wasted no time giving the order.

"Go!"

Without another word, the rest of the parties launched themselves into action. Passing through the dilapidated walls, they entered hostile territory.

It wouldn't take long before they encountered resistance.

Scores of undead littered the inner compound, their mindless shambling forms sensing and turning toward the intruders. A miasma of negative energy polluted the air. Despite their vast numbers, there was little in the way of stopping the party's momentum as they cut a swathe through the horde of mobs.

Most of the undead present were low-tier fodder, with the occasional mid-tier undead scattered throughout. Their levels barely reached level 50. To the party of max-leveled Players and mercenary NPCs, it was child's play as they made quick work of them and continued their path to the central mausoleum with minimal trouble.

Hendrickson's party was organized with Kaura and the paladin at the forefront, their archer and rogue took up the rearguard, with the mage and healer with him in the center. The NPC tanks were assigned at the front, side, and rear for maximum protection of the core Players.

The party made steady gains towards the main complex as Hendrickson kept one eye on his screens, monitoring everyone's progress and status. He tried contacting and hailing the third party, but any attempts to reach them via [Message], skills, or otherwise proved fruitless.

As they progressed towards the central structure, the sound of battle resonated from all corners of the field, indicating the magnitude of the impending conflict.

"[Command Call]!" He connected to the others; their feeds instantly appeared besides those from the third party.

"Sitrep!"

"We're almost at the building, ETA one minute." The second-party leader briefed, followed by the confirmations of the fifth and sixth-party leaders. They would arrive at the same time as Hendrickson's team would.

"Meeting some stiff resistance here!" The fourth-party leader shouted.

Looking at them, Hendrickson saw on the video feeds of the various members that he and his party were indeed having some trouble. Not only was the number of undead greater on their end, but they also had to deal with what looked like explosive projectiles raining down on them.

"It's going to be a while, and… wait… What's that?" The party leader paused, looking into the distance. "I think I see someone or two… Shit, we're not alone! We-"

It was only by virtue of the video feed that Hendrickson noticed light bursting forth from beneath, and not a second later he was met with static screens, just like what had happened with the third party. In one of the Player's videos, just before the transmission cut off, he'd caught a glimpse of something at the last second. A flash of piercing red.

"Continue with the plan. Double time!" He gave the order. The remaining parties increased their pace, even if it meant charging recklessly forward. They needed to get inside and quickly.

"I thought the tip said that there wouldn't be anyone online at this time to defend the base." The Overseer heard one of his guildmates grunt aloud, accusingly.

"Guess the intel misjudged it. That, or we got unlucky." He replied coolly, putting it behind him. Their presence was revealed, and complaining about it won't change a thing.

"I don't mind. It just means I don't have to waste my night fighting NPCs. Give me a good fight against a member of Ainz Ooal Gown any day!" Kaura let out an exciting laugh from the front.

Hendrickson rolled his eyes at her eagerness. What a battle maniac! They still had a job to do, no matter the hiccups.

Their strategy was rather simplistic, revolving around the tactic of the six parties launching simultaneous attacks, using the elements of surprise and speed to cover as much ground as they could once they reached the 1st Floor. Despite having received a tip-off, the strategy covered their bases on the off chance they would encounter Player resistance. The defenders would be forced to choose which party to engage with, thus diverting attention and attrition between one or two groups, but never all six. This created an opportunity for the other parties to carry out their tasks while the targeted party did whatever they could to stall it out for the rest of them. Throughout the operation, Hendrickson would expertly manage and coordinate the groups, making sure that they maximized every possible advantage.

Unlike the others, Hendrickson's entire kit was purely support-based, with levels and job classes focused on the specialization of a commander-type and enchanter support. What he lacked in offensive capability, he more than made up for in terms of pure utility.

Thanks to his hybrid build of [Grand Enchanter], [Overseer], and [General Commander] - any buffs or enchantments used by him on his party also extended to the others linked up with him.

This allowed him to have complete oversight and coordination of the strike parties, maximizing their efficiency to get the job done right.

Their plan of attack was far from a revolutionary one, but it was a tried-and-true strategy they've employed hundreds of times in the past to varying degrees of success.

Until tonight, that was.

Hendrickson didn't want to admit it, but he was a bit spooked. For a veteran in his occupation, the phrase "the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry" was a rather common one.

Typically, he wouldn't have even batted an eye. He'd faced all manner of challenges in the past. This was hardly the first time his surveillance or communication were interfered with or countered, so it wasn't anything new or worth fretting over.

Yet, this would be the first time he'd remember ever being warded off so absolutely.

Typically, he would've received a warning should any spells or skills attempt to either hack or interfere with his channels, thanks to the numerous passive protection skills his build provided in addition to anti-counter spells.

Yet, whatever it was that was obstructing him, bypassed his numerous safeguards like it was nothing. None of his innate countermeasures, abilities, or skills could break through whatever it was that kept him in the dark. Not even cash items were working. He tried no less than ten different methods, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't re-establish contact with the others.

With lines of communication disrupted and nearly half of their entire force gone dark, it cut their effectiveness down almost halfway and ramped up the difficulty of the job even further.

A part of him wanted to call off the mission, cut their losses, regroup, and rethink their approach, even if it meant leaving Ainz Ooal Gown on heightened alert for their next attempt. After all, if there was something capable of all but rendering practically half his build's utility inept, then one could only hazard a guess as to what else they'd encounter within the tomb.

However, he forced the impulse down. Hendrickson's Guildmaster would have his ass and head on a platter if they came back empty-handed, even with an explanation. The guild always collected half the payment upfront and the second half of the fee once the commission was done. Returning with little to show for it would only reflect badly on their reputation. And for guilds such as them, that wasn't an alternative.

Hendrickson shook his head, grimacing all the while. The situation was beyond retrieval at this point. However, the team had braved more daunting challenges in the past, and this was no different. Their only option was to forge ahead with the mission, improvise when needed, and hope for the best.

It didn't take long before Hendrickson's party reached the steps of the great mausoleum. In that time, the Overseer had cast a plethora of spells and employed a range of skills, buffing all of his allies. He was mindful of his remaining MP and skills, keen not to splurge them all at once.

A part of him hoped that his aid also extended to the two parties all but lost to him, if only for the sake of keeping them alive a little bit longer to allow them to buy more time for Hendrickson and the rest. However, he wouldn't hold his breath if they were negated as well.

The second and fifth parties were already inside Nazarick by the time Hendrickson's party climbed to the top of the steps and descended into the interior, with the sixth party right behind them.

They quickly triggered one of the many teleportation traps that riddled the area to displace any intruders across the 1st Floor. In a flash, they were relocated, appearing randomly within the 1st Floor - The Catacombs. The Catacombs were a large, multi-spanning subterranean burial chamber. The air was dark and musky, an extension of the graveyard from the surface.

Thanks to Hendrickson's spell, [Candlelight], it created a hovering orb of light that helped illuminate their path as they traversed through the pitch darkness.

Undaunted, they advanced, nary any hesitation in their steps as Hendrickson charted their path and led the party down the treacherous underground labyrinth. Masses of undead lurked at every twist and turn as the intrepid party delved deeper into the 1st Floor.

"We're moving to the right." He called out, leading his party down a path he'd never seen before while also giving orders to the others.

For the most part, all was seemingly well as they fought and adventured through uncharted territory like a well-oiled machine. All of what was seen was being recorded and captured by the group.

He kept a diligent eye on the others through the feeds. Like Hendrickson's group, they faced similar obstacles, save for one of the parties engaging with what looked to be the Floor boss. Before he could offer any assistance, the party was consumed by light, and the feed was plagued with static, just like the two previous incidents.

The Overseer clicked his tongue, barking out another set of orders to what remained of their forces.

Hendrickson's party exited the cavern system, and as they matched across a narrow walkway, the ground beneath them began to glow once more. In an instant, they were teleported somewhere else.

Appearing elsewhere, the party was on guard.

Hendrickson's ear twitched, catching the sound of something. It was a loud rumbling, and it was coming from above them.

He raised his head. There, enormous chunks of the ceiling and jagged stalagmites came loose and fell on them, threatening to flatten the party.

"Defensive measures!" Hendrickson exclaimed.

The mage of the group swiftly erected a barrier while he commanded and organized the mercenary NPCs to form up around the Players, their shields held up firmly for maximum safety.

The Players hunkered in and waited. The world shook around them as stone and rubble slammed onto them and the ground. After a few chaotic seconds, the tremors ceased. Upon being given the all-clear, the party poured out, safe from the trap.

Hendrickson took a moment to scour their new surroundings. He brought his goggles down, magnifying his scope with the activation of night vision and infrared vision to scout out the surroundings.

Unlike the twisting and winding rocky cave system they previously explored, the party found themselves elsewhere. They were transported to a dead field, though it would be more accurate to call it a plain with coarse, upturned dirt littering the region that stretched onward indefinitely. Or at least, that was what Hendrickson assumed, as after a dozen meters, the mist became too dense, obscuring even his aid.

The party leader also noted that this area wasn't one he knew, having reviewed all available information about the tomb beforehand. That little factoid was both good and bad news. The good news was that they uncovered a previously undiscovered location on the 1st Floor. The bad news came with the uncertainty that they'd have no idea what they would encounter next.

"Where to?" Kaura asked, her eyes surveying the area. There were no mobs in sight at the moment, but that didn't mean they were safe just yet.

"Where else? Forward."

They proceeded onward, and for nearly a minute, they encountered nothing across the barren plot of land. The sound of silence echoed far and wide across the eerie landscape, which only heightened their cautiousness.

Then, they heard something rattling in the wind all around them.

"[Boost Magic: Sonar Call]!" Hendrickson used a spell, a sonic wave pulsated outward.

The spell in question was a detection spell, simple and useful for detecting mobs or Players via echolocation. On his HUD, there were outlines and points with vibration marks emanating from within the fog of war. This indicated that there were mobs all around them, hidden by the mist, and they were closing in quickly.

"Four at our eight O'clock, three at three O'clock, and five at twelve O'clock!" He called out, delegating targets.

While the vanguard braced for impact, he heard the archer and mage performing their duties but kept his gaze forward and centered.

Something emerged from the mist and sped in their direction. It took a second before Hendrickson's eye acclimated, and he realized that it was a spinning wheel of some kind.

Kaura let loose a roar, swinging her sword with the activation of a skill, and sliced two of them in half. The paladin held his guard as one of the wheels spun and raked against his shield, sending sparks flying. With a parry, he swatted it back, allowing the rest a good look at it.

It was an undead, that alone was easily discerned thanks to the skeletal bones and skull, entrapped by a giant circular wheel. Running along the edge of the circumference of the wheel were rusted spikes.

Undead Wheel - Lvl: 60

The paladin thrust his sword forward, light bursting forth with his skill, and pierced the mob, killing it as it broke into pieces.

The remaining two bounced off the mercenary NPC's shields, their charge was unsuccessful against their bulwark.

Instead of attacking again, they sped around and raced back into the misty fog. An action mimicked by the surviving mobs that the rest of the party weren't able to finish off from their flank. Darkness shrouded their form, but the Players could still hear them. The clattering of bones, the kicking of dirt, and the whirling of wheels circling them.

Occasionally, a few would dart forward to attack only to be either repelled or killed, with those surviving retreating into the fog. The process repeated as they trekked forward.

A part of Hendrickson wondered if that was all this area had to offer besides the repetitive encounter, a hint of disappointment filling him at the rather lackluster measures and resistance before them.

The Seeker would soon eat his words as the party barely made it much further along before light poured from beneath them once more.

The party braced themselves for yet another forceful teleportation, but instead encountered something completely different. A strange and unfamiliar spell circle materialized beneath them, rapidly expanding and pulsating with a powerful surge of energy that engulfed them all. It swept across the surroundings and beyond.

Hendrickson's eyes sought his menu, only for his eyes to nearly bulge out at what he saw. Static, that was all that his screens produced. He could no longer see the names and status bars of the remaining parties, not even his own party members.

He was completely blind.

The Overseer had finally uncovered the source of the disturbance.

"Get us out of here!" Hendrickson gave the order.

The mage nodded, preparing his spell.

"[Boost Maximize Magic: Greater Teleportation]!"

A spell circle appeared beneath them, shimmering, only to crack into motes of light as the ground pulsated. The same transparent spell circle from before overlapped the teleportation spell circle, rejecting it.

Voices rose from the group, seeking him out. His mind raced, synapses firing - calling upon all his experience and knowledge. His eyes scoured the darkened surroundings once again, taking it all in.

Perhaps he had spoken too soon. An idea of the true nature of the trap they've sprung settled in his mind.

With central communication and support cut off from him, Hendrickson could only imagine the disarray the other parties were left in. While he trusted each party would complete their assigned duty, the Overseer's party included, the feeling of isolation raked at him something fierce.

The feeling didn't settle with him, but he pushed it to the side. Hendrickson was their party leader; they were looking to him for assurance and support.

Back with the trap, he noted that the wave of energy expanded far and wide, well beyond their sight. The area of effect was undoubtedly broad, perhaps even all-encompassing.

Unlike other forms of counter-interference, this was tied more to the location than to the person. If so, Hendrickson would educate a guess that if they left the area of effect, then they'd be free. The party had two options, continue forward or pull back. It was a 50/50 gamble, and based on what they had already witnessed, they needed to act quickly.

"Form up! We're continuing forward, double time!"

Heeding his order, the group tightened their formation and quickened their pace forward.

Along with the Undead Wheels, they encounter more undead, but there was little opposition that served as a major threat, similar to that on the surface, with low and mid-tier undead filling the encounters. The party worked as a single unit to cover as much ground as they could, cutting down the waves of undead pestering them. They were careful to support each other's flanks, ensuring that no enemy could catch them off guard. Thanks to their coordinated efforts, the team navigated through the unknown stretches of subterranean land almost unhindered. For a time, it seemed that nothing could stand in their way.

That lull would be broken, as from out of the corner of his eye, the party leader spotted a flash of something.

"Kaura-san, one o'clock!" He shouted as the flash grew brighter and closer. A crimson streak cut through the air toward them.

The movement of the crimson streak was highly erratic, defying the laws of physics with sharp and impossible turns. It flew towards the party at a blinding speed, rendering its trajectory all but impossible to anticipate. In response, everyone dispersed frantically, scrambling away from the imminent danger. However, Kaura acted promptly, thanks to his warning. She swiftly grabbed one of their NPCs and shoved the tank in its path, while she herself dodged and rolled to the side.

As a result of Kaura's quick thinking, the mercenary NPC bore the brunt of the attack and was flung backward into the air. What looked like a blood-red spear pierced through the tank's heavily armored body, holding it aloft and pinning it helplessly to the air by way of some burning purple energy.

"[Gáe Bolg Alternative]!"

A second and more powerful glow erupted from beyond the veil, shooting from out of their sight, a sanguine beam piercing through the ether like a rising comet. The lance of ardent energy struck true, striking the NPC center mass as bands of dark crimson energy exploded forth and washed over the surroundings, bathing the dusky land in hues of saturated scarlet. The attack consumed the mercenary NPC in a burst of violent energy that shook the air and ground beneath them and left nothing remaining.

Hendrickson couldn't help but gawk. They had specifically chosen NPCs with high defensive stats to be used solely as their tanks and meat shields. To all but one-shot a Level 100 NPC just like that…

Hendrickson was given no time to ponder more on this as the sound of rushing footsteps invaded the air. The group tensed up, rushing to regroup and form up in preparation while fending off the oncoming undead mobs that had taken advantage of their momentary lapse in focus. His eyes peered forward, keenly watching for any potential threats. Out of the dense fog, a shadowy silhouette shimmered.

Faster than he could blink, the figure dashed forward with incredible speed, leaving nothing but a blur in its wake. A flash of crimson struck forward, aiming directly for his head. The attack effortlessly slipped past the gaps left by the mercenary NPCs, who were valiantly trying to defend him.

"[Breaker's Fortitude]!" The heavy knight brought down her sword, intercepting the attack.

Hendrickson staggered wildly backward, blinking uncontrollably. A hand clutched his chest, his heart hammering his ribcage. It was fast, far faster than he had anticipated. Were it not for Kaura's quick reaction, he would've been speared.

In swift response, the paladin launched swung his sword at their mysterious assailant. However, the agile spear wielder deftly rotated the lengthy shaft, deftly blocking the attack with skillful precision. The enigmatic figure then gracefully pivoted, pulling in its legs before elegantly kicking off the spear like a coiled spring to skillfully dodge another attack. With breathtaking fluidity, the figure spun through the air before delicately touching down a short distance away.

Given a moment of reprieve, Hendrickson and the party looked upon their new assailant.

The first-party leader assumed that their attacker was a Player, just like themselves. However, what faced them was no Player.

It was an NPC, a beautiful one at that. The NPC was adorned with a sleek black full-body outfit, semi-transparent in nature, and one that accentuated her curvaceous body. Pale golden metallic shoulder pads rested on her shoulders, connected to a small cloak that draped freely from them. Her hair was a shimmering dark violet, cascading down her back in a waterfall of silk. A black and jeweled veil rested atop her head, which partially concealed her hair, adding to her mystique. Her neck was adorned with a ruby tear-shaped necklace that caught the light with a mesmerizing glow. However, the most captivating feature of all was her ruby-red eyes, razor-sharp and focused, like a predator on the hunt. In her hand, she wielded a vermillion spear, a lethal weapon that danced at her fingertips with graceful finesse.

Lancer - Lvl: 100

The group was left with little time to ogle at the NPC's beauty as she launched once more into the fray.

Shaking away his stupor, he quickly barked out orders, reorganizing the group to deal with this new, more powerful threat.

He, along with the party's mage and healer, positioned themselves in a secure backline, defended by two of the NPCs. The remaining NPCs were assigned strategic positions to create a defensive perimeter, effectively warding off any potential interference from the undead. This was one of their patented strategies, forming a perimeter and preventing unneeded interference. That left Kaura and the paladin, supported by one of the mercenary NPCs, to deal with Lancer. This would allow them to rotate attacks and aggro between the different attackers.

Kaura charged towards Lancer, with the NPC tank bringing up her rear. The paladin kept several steps behind her, ready to react and assist depending on the flow of the fight. Instead of clashing, the violent-haired NPC weaved past the first two.

Hendrickson's eyes further widened as she slipped past the paladin's guard. She all but ignored the attackers in favor of dashing toward the backline, much to the surprise of all.

Hendrickson commanded one of the NPCs to meet her, hoping to stall Lancer's advances, but that accomplished little as Lancer evaded the tank's shield bash with ease. With an acrobatic flourish, she slammed her spear forward and vaulted over the attack and NPC toward the backline.

Hendrickson was quick to react, aiming his slinger at the ground and firing a pellet that burst into a flashbang smokescreen that enveloped them. The party leader grabbed hold of their healer and pulled back while their magic caster went his separate way, avoiding Lancer's downward thrust. At the same time, he commanded the second tank to attack, striking with its heavy tower shield while she was still off her feet.

Though obscured, Lancer was hardly hindered as she expertly twirled on her spear like a pole, using the momentum to whip around and lash out with a vicious kick. Her slim heels slammed against the tank's shield, staggering the NPC and using the shield as a springboard to launch herself forward in pursuit. It would be the backpedaling mage that would be her unfortunate first target.

"[Triplet Magic: Destructive Discs]!"

Three spinning energy discs shot forth, destructive saws that looked capable of ripping a man to pieces with ease flew towards Lancer. Only for them to fizzle out just as they reached her.

"What the-!" He exclaimed, shocked at the sight of his 8th tier spell being neutralized as if it were nothing.

His surprise would be put on hold as the blood-red spear shot forth, drawing first blood. Lancer struck the mage dead center, taking a chunk of HP. A second, identical spear appeared in her hand as she readied a follow-up attack.

"[Shadow Swallow], [Blindside Cutter]!" Bursting from smoke from behind her, the rogue blinked forward and launched his attack at her unprotected backside.

Halting, Lancer reversed her grip on the second spear and, with dexterous precision, intercepted the sneak attack at the last second. Digging her heels into the earth, she twisted her body and, using both polearm weapons, smacked the two Players away while hurling her spears towards their intended marks in one seamless and graceful movement.

The mage brought up a shield just in time, the barbed spear managing to partially pierce through it but nothing more. The rogue used a skill and batted the offending weapon in midair.

"[Hail Fire] plus [Rapid Bolts]!" Disarmed and with his guildmates no longer in friendly fire range, the archer seized the opportunity. He shot an arrow into the air, and it exploded into a hail of deadly arrows that fell on her. At the same time, he began circle-strafing Lancer, firing a dozen or so more empowered arrows in unison with his first skill.

"[Wisdom of Dún Scáith: Protection from Arrows]!"

A faint sheen washed over the NPC. Lancer produced yet another Gáe Bolg Alternative in her hands. Spreading her feet, she took a stance and then unleashed a fierce flurry of thrusts that made it seem as though her spear itself was bending and curving. She successfully parried or deflected each incoming projectile, erecting a dome-shaped space around herself that was filled only with her swings.

Swatting the last arrow like one would a pesky fly, it exploded behind her as Lancer kept her sight trained on the party. Her impassive scarlet gaze overshadowed them all, mirroring the effortlessness of her display of prowess.

"I'm sorry, but are we fighting an NPC or some kind of goddamn terminator?! What the hell was that bullshit?!" The healer exclaimed incredulously at what they all witnessed.

A sentiment that was shared with the rest of the party. However, they were given little time to vent as Lancer charged headlong anew, fully intending to take their lives.

Her powerful performance, though brief, told them more than enough about Lancer that they quickly revised their strategy. The party employed a more cautious and defensive approach against the terrifyingly skilled NPC until they could learn more about her patterns and form a counter-strategy.

And so the battle between Lancer and the Seekers rages on.

Hendrickson never once took his eyes off Lancer during the entire fight. Watchful eyes tracked and scrutinized her every action. He committed her actions to memory, hoping to identify a pattern in her attacks and movements. However, from what little he could glean, it wasn't looking too good.

Lancer was a force to be reckoned with, despite being outnumbered and surrounded by opponents like Kaura and others. Her superior spearmanship made her a formidable opponent in both close and long-range combat. The mercenary NPCs lagged behind the Players due to their slowness and heaviness, which hindered their ability to keep up with Lancer's agility and speed.

Another factor that made fighting her difficult was their inability to hold her down. When it came to standard PvE practices and engagement regarding aggro and Hate management, all of the rules were seemingly thrown out the window. Crowd control and kiting proved temporary and ultimately ineffective against her.

Lancer was highly focused on striking at those within the backlines, prioritizing either the party's mage, healer, or himself as if she knew that they were the more important and weakest link of the group.

It didn't feel as if they were fighting a boss NPC, but rather a Player - an extremely skilled one at that.

By the seven-minute mark, her HP was still in the green. In that time, for comparison, she'd slain another one of their mercenary NPCs while managing to damage the Players persistently without fail, chipping away at their defenses and HP.

Hendrickson watched as one of their remaining tanks staggered back after blocking an attack meant for their archer. Lancer dodged to the side to avoid a spell in retaliation, earning a shout of frustration from the mage.

A few more Undead Wheels sped forward, but they were easily repelled as Lancer jumped a few paces back, using the mist like a veil. She stood just far enough at a distance where her form was shrouded, save for her two brilliant, peering crimson eyes that watched them as she paced around the battlefield. The measured cadence of her heels clacked with every step, a constant reminder of her hunt.

Right, that was another thing.

Just as they were observing her, so too did Hendrickson feel that Lancer was doing the same to them. Like a lioness prowling after a gazelle, waiting for the perfect opportunity to sink her teeth in and go for the kill.

Lancer was far from mindless; everything she did held a methodical purpose to it, from her measured gait to her deadly tempo. She was in no rush, and it showed.

Standard PvE tactics weren't going to work on her. Thus, a change of plans was in order.

"Switch to attack Delta!" Hendrickson gave the order. He got to work buffing his team with the spells and skills he had left.

Lancer charged, and Kaura met her head-on as the rogue circled around and launched an attack from her flank. Without breaking her stride, she repelled an attack from Kaura while synchronously attacking the rogue.

With the rogue sent reeling, the lilac-themed NPC targeted the Player. Hendrickson used his slinger and fired another pellet. The pellet exploded into a cloud of yellow smoke, with electric arcs crackling inside the gas. Lancer's body seized up for a moment, rendering her paralyzed. Kaura withdrew, allowing the rogue to use his skill to land a solid blow on her.

The two engaged in a brief duel, with the nimble Player struggling to keep up with the NPC's agility. The Player utilized evasive skills and attacks to maintain the Lancer's aggro. Meanwhile, Hendrickson positioned the tanks strategically around the area, assisting their rogue while the front liners spread apart, encircling the combatants, and positioned themselves for the next move.

In the midst of their heated battle, Lancer successfully managed to penetrate the rogue's defenses and thrust her sharp, barbed spear towards him. However, the rogue quickly utilized a skill that caused his form to transform into a cloud of smoke before she could skewer him. Rather than using this opportunity to retreat, the rogue unexpectedly lunged forward, timing his return to solid form perfectly. Taking advantage of Lancer's momentary lapse in guard, he swiftly slipped past her defenses and seized the NPC, causing the two of them to tumble to the ground.

Exactly as planned.

"[Extend Boost Magic: Toiled Earth]!"

"[Hunter's Slip]!"

Under Lancer, a magic circle materialized, and sharp pillars rose from the ground, snatching onto her like a Venus flytrap and holding her in place. The agile rogue rolled safely away, utilizing yet another evasive skill, just before being restrained. With the boss's movement impaired, the vanguard sprinted ahead to capitalize on the moment of weakness.

"[ Laguz - ᛚ ]!"

The air around Lancer flickered and lit up before they could get to her, and what can only be described as a ring of runic symbols encircled her. To everyone's surprise, a shimmering wave pulsed outward, freeing her from the spell.

Kicking off, she propelled herself towards the paladin, bypassing his guard. Before the holy warrior could even begin to use his powerful skill, let alone react, the two of them collided.

"[Death Pierce]!"

Lancer thrust her spear. Her weapon burrowed into his digital flash before emerging out of the Player's back after piercing his armor. Her attack consumed a fair amount of his HP.

That didn't stop the paladin as he forgoed his shield. His previous shield hand shot forth and firmly grasped Lancer's spear arm, preventing her from pulling back and retreating. However, Lancer was equally quick to react and caught his sword arm mid-descent with her other hand, bringing his momentum to a halt.

The vines of barbed thorns spreading from where Lancer's spear pierced him, dealing continuous bleed damage, would go unnoticed as he gave his complete attention to holding his ground against her.

The paladin gritted his teeth, a stalemate ensuing as he tried to fight against the deceptively lithe-looking NPC and her ludicrous strength and grip. If anything, he was the one losing.

'Just how strong is she?!' He mentally cried, digging in his feet to stop himself from being forced back.

However, he knew his role, and he intended to fulfill it.

"[Ruinous Cleaver]!" Kaura roared, bringing her heavy greatsword to bear from behind while the paladin kept Lancer locked in place.

Before the attack could connect, Lancer kicked off from the ground, using the paladin as an anchoring point as she performed a handstand on top of him with acrobatic dexterity. The last-second maneuver caught both Players off guard, with Kaura unable to halt or redirect her attack mid-swing, hurting him instead.

At the same time, the mage and archer also let loose their attacks in combination. The magic caster used [Call Greater Thunder] with the triplet and maximize metamagic alongside the archer's skill [Flurry of Arrows] and [Sharp Shot] that unleashed a burst of high-speed empowered arrows at her. She may have maneuvered out of Kaura's way, but in such a precarious position, it would be impossible for her to avoid the two simultaneous attacks.

Or at least, that was what they thought.

Flashes of red emanated from space above her legs as numerous copies of Gáe Bolg Alternative manifested. With adept grace, she kicked them upward, intercepting the spell. Each spear managed to catch the descending thunder like lightning rods.

Her gaze was unerring, maintaining a clear line of sight on the battlefield, particularly on the archer and his imminent barrage of projectiles, even as she hovered from her current position.

"[ Haglaz - ᚺ ]!"

Similar to before, runic symbols filled the air bearing the letter ᚺ and flashed before condensing into pure orbs of light. The orbs then shot forward, with beams trailing behind them, resembling bullets of pure magical energy. The attack bore a striking resemblance to the more potent Gandr Shot employed by a certain twin-tailed magus, the Finn Shot.

With flawless accuracy, Lancer's counterstrike intercepted the archer's flurry of arrows. Her attack proved far greater, puncturing through his attacks and barreling toward him. The Player barely managed to avoid the barrage, his HP dropping as a result.

Continuing with nary a pause and using gravity and momentum, Lancer pulled forward and landed with her back to the paladin. The Player was forced to release his hold on her, lest he end up twisting both his arms around. A mistake that would be his last.

"[Shadow Death Pierce]!"

As soon as she touched down, another spear graced her hand. Without her turning, the barbed spear swung out in a reverse stab, piercing him through the back of his skull before he had a chance to recover.

Twisting on her heel, Lancer spun in place before yanking her spear and plunging it into the back of the paladin, dropping his HP to zero. At the same time, the spear exited out the front as the Player's body shattered, intercepting Kaura's attack.

Spear and heavy greatsword met with a loud steel screech as both attacks canceled each other out, with Kaura skidding back from the force of the attack.

All of this happened within the span of no more than twenty seconds.

Were it possible, Hendrickson would've broken out into a small sweat, mouth left agape by the display he just bore witness to.

NPCs were made out of code; they weren't capable of performing more complex and nuanced movements or actions like a Player could, like a human could. There was always a set rhythm to it-a clear, systematic pattern for what they could or couldn't do.

That was what separated NPCs, no matter if they were gigantic dragons or humanoid foes, and Players. They followed an algorithm; humans do not.

But the way Lancer fought, moved, and reacted, at first Hendrickson compared it to fighting against a Player, another human being. After everything he'd seen, he was forced to reexamine his previous conclusion. It was practically inhuman just how kinetic and fluid she fought and behaved, surpassing what he once thought possible in the game. Even some of the best Players he knew would be hard-pressed to even replicate half of what Lancer performed.

Hendrickson gulped, reevaluating the situation yet again. It was abundantly clear that Lancer's skills and strength far exceeded their own, despite their numerical advantage. What damage they managed to inflict also revealed that the NPC had very high stats as well, correlating with her difficulty. In addition to the fact that 8th tier spells and below were all but useless against her, showing she possessed High Tier Magic Immunity, combined with the fact that she was capable of using her brand of magic, one that was unfamiliar to them, it was bad news heaped on top of one another.

They weren't dealing with any ordinary guild-based NPC or even a standard boss. Lancer's display of power and feats easily put her on par with that of a raid boss. This only made it more curious, as it was publicly known that the boss of the 1st Floor was an NPC by the name Shalltear Bloodfallen. So where did Lancer fit into all this?

Minute trembles ran down his hand as his fingers curled into a fist, bringing it under control.

Yet, for all his nervousness, it belied an underlying layer of excitement. His lips twitched into a challenging grin.

As a Seeker, they court death on the regular. They were among the few within the game's player base to throw themselves into challenging and impossible situations and battles, no matter the difficulty, to learn what they could. Where others sought to avoid dying unnecessarily, they were the opposite. In some ways, part of being a Seeker was seeking out that challenge, a desire to discover, facing the unknown, and whatever it entailed.

They were in it for the rewards and monetary gains, for sure, but that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy themselves while doing so.

A passion driven by daredevil thrills and curiosity.

Lancer was far stronger than anything he or anyone else could've anticipated. But that only made it all the more exciting and interesting to uncover what else the boss NPC had in store. To test their limits against hers.

It was highly doubtful with their current forces and strength that they'd stand a chance at winning, but that wasn't any reason to throw in the towel just yet.

He looked to the others, and while their true faces were concealed by their digital avatars, he could feel their ironclad resolve.

Lancer would be one of the greatest challenges they've fought to this day. But like all those in the past, they'll rise to the occasion no matter the difficulty. They weren't going to go down without a fight!

"Switch to plan Gamma! What it takes, keep her grounded!" Hendrickson ordered, the party roaring affirmatives. The time for caution was over, they needed to be bold.

With renewed vigor, the party launched themselves wholly at Lancer, who met them in combat. A full-scale assault.

For a bit, the situation reversed as the party switched to an entirely offensive tactic. All effort was pushed towards matching and surpassing the NPC as the Players attacked relentlessly with skills and spells while Hendrickson directed the mercenary tank NPCs to draw and hinder her attention. The healer worked overtime, trying to keep the Players topped up on HP.

"HAHAHA! And here I thought tonight would've been boring!" Kaura burst out laughing, fighting to her heart's content as she engaged Lancer in a duel while receiving support fire from the archer and the mage. They kept the level 100 NPC on her toes and gave her little time to press the attack.

"[Breaker Slash]!" Kaura's skill struck Lancer, who defended by bringing up her spear.

The force of the attack was enough to send her skidding a few meters back, just where the Overseer intended. Two of the tanks charged, slamming their enormous shields into her from both sides, effectively pinning Lancer in place.

"Do it!"

"Don't gotta tell me twice!" The mage called back, crushing a small hourglass in his hand before a vast array of spell circles surrounded him.

Light poured forth, bathing the gloomy field with luminescence. Lancer struggled to free herself and was just seconds away. However, the cash item allowed the mage to be faster. His Super-Tier Spell was primed and ready for use.

"[Super-Tier Magic: Gate of Santi-"

One second, the air thrummed with energy, ready to be unleashed, and in the next second, it was gone. A short pause rang out across the battlefield. Silence followed by a dull, heavy thud. Turning, the party was left shocked. A moment ago, the party's mage was ready to unleash his Super-Tier Magic, the next, his head was lopped off seemingly out of nowhere. None was more shocked than the magic caster himself, who was experiencing an unnerving sense of vertigo, seeing his decapitated body before shattering.

A singular question echoed as he died.

How?

Only the archer saw what had transpired, and it was only by luck that he was looking in the mage's direction as it happened.

A cloaked figure shimmered into existence out of nowhere, twirling over the mage from behind. The archer caught a flash of purple, a zigzag blade stabbing the mage first, followed by the instantaneous cancellation of the Super-Tier Magic.

The archer didn't even have time to open his mouth to warm his teammate for what came next.

"[Assassination]!"

Without losing any momentum, a glint of steel flashed forth. The cloaked assailant spun like a whirligig, blades lashing out as the assassin took the magic caster's head with a single sneak attack while he was dazed. Then, as if it were an illusion, the killer vanished into nothingness, not even a fraction of a second later. The only thing left to show the assassin's presence and action was the mage's dropped item.

It may have been his ears playing tricks on him, but the archer heard the soft tint of giggles following the kill.

"We got a high stealth assassin!" The archer screamed, firing arrows in the general location where he last saw the assailant. A feeble attempt to catch the attacker.

Hendrickson bit down on his tongue as Lancer freed herself, and a series of precise thrusts took the lives of the two mercenary NPCs. This left only five Players remaining and four tanks left.

Fighting against Lancer on her own was already a struggle. Adding in another maxed-level opponent that none of them were able to detect into the mix only worsened their odds.

For the umpteenth time, he reevaluated their current situation.

They weren't afraid of dying, but there was a difference between dying pointlessly and dying with results. They were still on the job after all, and while they've got plenty of footage, the matter with Lancer left much to be desired. Not to mention that he had no idea how well the other parties were doing at the moment. For all Hendrickson knew, his group might've been the only one remaining.

"Form up, we're retreating!" He ordered, sending one of the tanks towards Lancer to stall while they gathered and retreated.

In order to find some measure of respite and make plans for their next moves, they needed to withdraw and put as much distance between themselves and the boss as possible.

His remaining party members didn't need to be told twice, complying quickly and following his lead. All but one.

"K-kaura-san?!" The Overseer exclaimed, seeing their last vanguard turn on her heel back towards Lancer as the two re-engaged.

'Oh, you've got to be… ! Of all the times, she'd just had to pick now to indulge!' Hendrickson chastised, gritting his teeth.

"[Heightened Awareness], [Battle Instinct], [Warrior Focus], and [Intuition]!"

Thanks to her heavy armor, Kaura was able to weather Lancer's jabs while retaliating with heavy hits of her own. Their bout was less of a duel and resembled a slug match as they traded blows. The armored Player gave the cries of her party members no attention as she concentrated entirely on the fight at hand.

After a brief moment, Kaura received a flash notification on her HUD.

The skills she activated weren't meant for just Lancer. No, they were meant for her would-be assassin. Kaura purposely placed herself out there as bait to lure the invisible assailant to attack her.

Whatever the assassin was using to cloak themselves, it was high-tier. Her first guess would be the equivalent of [Perfect Unknowable] or possibly something even more advanced to conceal themselves. The skills she used wouldn't be able to reveal the NPC in their entirety, but they would give her a small heads-up, and that was sufficient for her.

With alertness and acting on instinct, she grasped the hilt of her greatsword with both hands and slammed it downwards following the activation of a skill.

"[Force of Wrath]!"

A powerful burst of force detonated in a bubble around Kaura, staggering Lancer back and revealing the cloaked figure mid-attack behind her as the assassin de-stealth, followed by a pained cry.

Kaura couldn't help but grin viciously. Assassins, always so predictable. Their targets were always the same, and that made it easy to counter if one knew an attack was coming.

"[Hyper Circular]!" Another skill was used as she whirled around, her heavy greatsword in tow, as the attack connected with the assassin mid-fall. The stealthy NPC was sent flying back with her attack.

It didn't get back up immediately, nor did it return to stealth.

"Wait!"

Kaura hardly heard Hendrickson in time as she rushed forward. An opportunity had presented itself, and she was fully intent on taking it.

"[Greater Force], [Power Draw], [Overload], [Devastating End]!"

Appearing over the downed NPC, for a split second, the Player's eyes meet those under the hood. Their sights locked as she brought down her sword with all her strength.

"W-what the hell?" The heavily armored Player muttered.

One second, she was about to cleave the small and cloaked NPC in twain, and the next, the NPC was gone, her heavy greatsword splitting nothing but the ground. It was only then that she found herself somewhere else.

A single streetlamp dimly illuminated the surroundings. A dense fog encompassed the space around her, and a shroud of mist dampened her line of sight. She also noticed that she was taking a small bit of continuous damage. Poison, from what her HUD was indicating to her.

A soft, childlike chuckle rang out before she could wonder further. Then came what sounded like a faint humming. The Player swirled, trying to pinpoint the noise with little success as it echoed from all around her.

London bridge ~ is falling down ~ falling down ~ falling down ~

Kaura frowned. The Player couldn't understand the words being spoken. She knew it was in English, but the words themselves eluded her. The cadence in which it was being spoken led her to believe it to be a song or lullaby.

From the corner of her eyes, the swordswoman caught something. There, she spotted the sight of two faint, glowing pale orbs against a shadowed background. With a squint, Kaura could barely make out a tiny silhouette in the mist, but it was enough for her to see the wide, curved grin that split across the veiled face.

Before she could react, the entity darted towards her at a blinding speed, its form blanketed by the darkened mist like a nauseous shroud with two wicked streaks of crimson trailing the assailant. With a sudden strike, the shadowy assassin landed a devastating blow on Kaura's armored body and shoulder, leaving her reeling from the impact. The NPC disappeared just as quickly, darting back into the fog.

London bridge ~ is falling down ~ falling down ~ falling down ~

Recovering, the swordswoman whipped around and saw another attack coming, but this time, she was quick to retaliate.

"[Wild Guillotine]!" Activating her skill, Kaura swung her heavy sword downward. She had timed it perfectly, but her eyes widened into dinner plates when, in a show of swiftness, the NPC twisted and turned midair, evading the attack completely. The perfectly executed maneuver saw the assassin lose none of its momentum.

Kaura's HP dropped down into the mid-yellow as the assassin spun and sliced through her other shoulder and neck like a deadly top. The mysterious being once again dove and disappeared behind the Player as Kaura reeled back.

London bridge ~ is falling down ~ falling down ~ falling down ~

Again, the familiar lyrics rang out, sung by the soft-spoken voice of a child. It was louder than before, with increasing amusement. A repetition that gradually but surely unnerved the Player.

"[Warrior Spirit], [Heightened Aura], [Frenzy Shockwave]!" Using her skills, her body glowed to empower her next attack. With both hands, she swung circularly, her sword releasing a shockwave all around her in an attempt to catch the elusive assailant.

Her eyes scoured, catching nothing. Nothing but the same foggy surrounds her, cluing her in that her attack was ineffective.

She gnashed her teeth as another round of giggles reverberated, as if mocking her efforts.

"Damn it! Come out and face me, you fucking coward!" She roared, her frustration mounting while her nerves frayed to the point of complete unease.

London bridge ~ is falling down ~ falling down ~ falling down ~

Her eyes widened as she gasped. She could clearly hear the words being spoken, as opposed to before, when they were dispersed and faint. Because it was spoken right next to her ears.

Her head swiveled, catching sight of the dark-cloaked figure hugging her from behind. Her sword and body were a second slower to react.

"[Maria the Ripper: The Holy Mother of Dismemberment]!"

Kaura didn't even have a chance to open her mouth before streaks of crimson burst forth from her chest.

Looking down, she saw, jutting out from her chest, the sharpened and jagged ends of six knives. Her HP bar dropped rapidly and showed no signs of stopping.

My ~ Fair ~ Lady ~

Staggeringly, she was finally able to see her killer in full just before shattering.

Beneath the dark cloak was the face of a child, adolescent, and mischievous-looking. However, seeing the NPCs in full only sent a shudder down her spine. Her pale green-yellow eyes illuminated starkly against the misty surroundings, making them glow. A gaze that hinted at something far more sinister. Her eyes were like a cat, slit and predatory, further accentuated by the menacing yet endearing smile on her face. It was as if she had caught the canary and was proud of it. The child reflected nothing but an innocent and callous disregard, and it was directed solely at her.

Assassin - Lvl: 100

Back with the others, they had left Kaura to her fate. Hendrickson kept watch as they fled, witnessing the guild's strongest Player abruptly engulfed in mist at the last second, concealing her from prying eyes. When it dissipated, only the small, cloaked NPC remained, vanishing immediately into thin air as if it had never been there. A dropped item served as a memento of what had happened to the female Player.

As Hendrickson surveyed the remnants of the party, his attention was drawn to the front, where they were frantically attempting to fend off Lancer as she relentlessly pursued them. They had lost another tank to Lancer's special attack, just like in their first encounter with the boss. In an effort to gain as much time as possible, the party leader commanded the remaining mercenary NPCs to serve as the rearguard.

"Pick up the pace!" The commander ordered.

The group sprinted without pause, as if demons were nipping at their heels. The dreary surroundings blended together as they sought to escape their relentless pursuers. It would prove a challenge as Hendrickson and the remainder of his party sacrificed the mercenary NPCs as well as their remaining skills and MP just to fend off Lancer's relentless thrusts and Assassin's surprise attacks.

The land eventually receded, and they came to some sort of cliffside; a wooden and derelict rope bridge connected where they were to another section further ahead. The healer was the first to reach it, trying to run across it, only for the planks to give away beneath him before any of them had a chance to stop their teammate.

His shock and horrified screams reverberated through the underground as he fell. None of the party members were in a particular hurry to rescue him, deeming him a lost cause.

Taking out a spell scroll, Hendrickson used it. Thankfully, it didn't appear to be blocked or hindered as it were with the likes of teleportation spells as [Mass Fly] took effect.

Their paltry party floated across the darkened chasm filled with the cries for help of their healer, followed by swift silence and the sound of shattering glass.

Glancing back, Lancer and Assassin sped across the perilous bridge, or more precisely, on top of the rope suspension. They gave chase without hesitation, preserving their balance even as the bridge swayed precariously and looked ready to snap at any second.

Hendrickson noticed something transparent and faint in the distance as they flew. It got closer and closer until they soon passed it. It was the outer layer of the trap or barrier they had triggered way before; they were finally outside of its affected range.

"[Greater Teleportation]!"

With another spell scroll, the party disappeared in a flash, just in time as Lancer's spear sailed through the air.

A brief reprieve was granted when the party reappeared somewhere else. Still, they didn't stop moving. They followed the trail in front of them, exiting a short pathway as Hendrickson heard footsteps up ahead. As his party approached an open space, he turned and saw a gun being pointed at him.

"Hendrickson-san…" It was none other than the fifth-party leader who immediately lowered his gun upon seeing friendly faces.

The Overseer nodded in return, his eyes traveling and grimacing upon seeing his guildmate's party, or rather, what was left of them. Additionally, he was able to piece together what happened to the others after recognizing a few dispersed faces from the third and sixth parties.

In total, they numbered less than twenty, both Players and NPCs combined. A far cry from their original strength when they started.

The fifth-party leader looked at Hendrickson's diminished party and tired state. A frowning emoticon popped up, sharing the Player's sentiment.

"Guessing it was as bad for you as it was for us, huh?"

"Bad is an understatement. It's safe to say we got our teeth kicked in and then some."

"Preaching to the choir here. But we-Duck!" Before he could finish, the Player lunged forward, grabbing Hendrickson with him as they fell to the ground next to the man's party.

Hendrickson's party reacted a second late, especially the rogue.

"Huh?" The rogue let out.

A click, a burst of wind, and clacking were then audible. Before any of them had a chance to blink, a brilliant streak of electric neon green cut through the air. A strong gust of wind swiping followed.

"[Wandering Tales of Shana-oh: Dan-no-Ura - Eight-Boat Leap]!"

The rogue's head was sent flying, shattering no more than a second later. As the Player's body broke down, the attacker was revealed to what was left of the All-Scrying Eye with their back to them. The figure made a small display of sheathing the katana with an audible click before turning to face the remnant of the invading force.

It was another NPC, taking the appearance of a striking young woman who looked like a samurai. She was dressed in a stunning segmented kimono that covered one side of her upper body, revealing the other side's beauty. The kimono was complemented by deep magenta-colored robe sleeves that draped elegantly down her right arm. She had a high collar around her neck that added a touch of elegance to her outfit. Her waist was adorned with a sectioned-off, flowing hakama decorated with beautiful designs and shining with a menagerie of brilliant colors. The hakama was topped off with a miniature samurai helm and tassel, which seemed to hold everything together. Her other arm was fitted with a gauntlet and a samurai armor pauldron made of sleek, separated sheets that protected her shoulders and downwards. In her hand, she held a sheathed katana, adding to the authenticity of her ensemble.

The NPC invoked a wandering warrior aesthetic, amplified by her mesmerizing jet-black tresses that cascaded all the way down to her toes. Her hair was tied up into a voluminous and lengthy ponytail, embellished with a golden and feathered hair ornament. A gleaming silver headband graced her forehead, complementing her other accessories. Her deep blue eyes were spellbinding and scoured all within her gaze.

Rider - Lvl: 100

The group was startled out of their trance by the sound of her geta clacking as she fearlessly charged the Players. A few attacks were launched toward the speeding NPC as the group frantically tried to regroup and regain some cohesion.

If Hendrickson thought Lancer was quick, then Rider was fast. She moved at such breakneck speed that afterimages trailed behind her. It was as if her movements were a blur - a swift and graceful dance that left her opponents struggling to keep up.

Rider weaved through the attacks thrown her way. With her katana in hand, the wandering samurai sliced through the enemy ranks with unparalleled speed and precision, her blade singing as it cut through the air. The NPC darted through the recovering party, avoiding any incoming attacks with ease. Some of the Players hesitated, afraid that they might accidentally hit their own team members in the chaos.

Hendrickson instantly noticed the oddity in her actions. She didn't go in for the kill, instead, attacking only as a by-product, as if she had a greater objective to fulfill.

She appeared at the center of the party, a hand slamming onto the ground.

"[Wandering Tales of Shana-oh: Eye of Shiva - Detecting the Six Secret Teachings]!"

The ground beneath them wobbled, and the landscape shifted as if they were relocated by means of a teleportation spell.

The invading party found themselves elsewhere, in some kind of mid-grounded open field with tall, steep terrain surrounding them. Due to a momentary lapse in judgment brought on by the suddenness of everything, Rider was able to flee from the Players as they continued their unsuccessful attacks.

Retreating towards the edge, she raced up the slope of the cliff as easily as if it were flat ground. The rocky terrain hindered her not even in the slightest. Rider jumped and landed next to what looked to be another NPC at the cliff's edge.

Hendrickson brought down his goggles, zooming in to make out a figure dressed as what he could assume was a medic of sorts.

Light began to emanate from beneath the NPC as a clap resounded throughout the landscape. The glow swirled around the figure, gathering and accumulating before a towering pillar burst forth from the dome, illuminating the once-darkened catacombs in soothing light. Gradually, a form took shape and materialized into a nurse who was holding an unexpected weapon, a greatsword.

That managed to kickstart their brain again as spells and skills flew towards the NPCs and the construct. All the good that did.

"[Nightingale Pledge: I Will Abstain From Whatever Is Deleterious And Mischievous!]!"

As the sword descended, an aurora of stunningly beautiful light enveloped the entire world, followed by a powerful reverb. The light engulfed the Players, forcing many of them to cover their eyes.

Blinking away the bright spots, Hendrickson's eye almost shot out of his eye sockets upon seeing the debuffs being stacked one by one and applied through his HUD. Almost a third of them he didn't even realize was even a thing, let alone existed in YGGDRASIL until now, having seen it for himself.

The group refocused their attention back on the cliffside where the two NPCs stood. Just as his mouth opened to give the next set of orders, something boomed in the air, followed by a spiral trail.

The last thing Hendrickson or anyone else saw was the glint of white piercing the deep black sky. It was a veritable shooting star, as it reached the center of their position before any one of them could react. After their world was completely consumed by an explosive conflagration, darkness descended. The next thing they knew, they respawned elsewhere.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

In the far-off distance, at the edge of the 1st Floor, was a castle. A fortress that served as the strategic chokepoint and bridge that connected the 1st Floor with the 2nd Floor.

Shirou was perched atop the tallest tower, observing Calabdolg II's explosive detonation with his black bow in hand. A booming mushroom cloud could be seen in the distance from across the entire Floor.

A screen appeared, a message relaying that all forces and invaders were repelled and that they won the "raid", if one would even properly call it that. Dismissing the obvious message, a flash of blue light from the corner of his eyes alerted him to the presence of his Servants. They joined him, with Caster waiting by his side.

Caster - Lvl: 100

Caster's wardrobe predominantly consisted of blue apparel, adorned with black sleeves that drooped and had white trimming, accentuated with golden embellishments. Her shrine maiden outfit gracefully draped over her body, with the black and golden fabric wrapped towards the center in a large bow that drew attention to her bare shoulders and her bosom's elegant curves. The sea of lush cherry pink hair cascaded down her head, styled into two long ponytails at the back. Two brown-colored foxy ears perched atop her head, keenly observant of her surroundings. A golden lotus-shaped headpiece crowned her head, embellished with chiming golden bells that added a whimsical charm to her appearance.

Her eyes were a striking pair of golden orbs that gleamed with mischievousness and levity. The whimsical curve of her lips was perfectly complemented by the nine fluffy tails that swayed idly to their own rhythm. And then there was the intricate mirror that floated gracefully beside her, adding an extra layer of charm to her already enchanting presence.

Following the appearance of his Servants, the sound of flapping wings grew as Shalltear descended from the sky, flanked by her Vampire Brides.

"Nice work out there, everyone." Shirou commended aloud, turning to face his allies.

Yet, as the light show that announced the return of his Servants dimmed, he noticed something. Only Lancer and Berserker stood before him, the former with a stoic annoyance clear in her eyes while the latter remained impassive as ever. Rider, he had ordered to the surface to act as an overwatch in the case of another attack.

That left one Servant unaccounted for.

Before he could question the lack of an Assassin he'd distinctly remembered partnering with Lancer, however, he received his answer in the form of a lithe figure jumping and hanging from his neck, the weight on his back minute, yet demanding attention.

"Mommy, they didn't stand a chance!" The little assassin cheered, drawing a soft smile from the magus.

No longer hidden by the black cloak, as it only manifested when she was in combat, Assassin's smile was on full display, with a soft jingling from the number of sheaths for her knives or dagger located at the small part of her back. Despite the knowledge of who the young girl clinging to him was, Shirou adjusted himself to provide her with a proper piggyback.

The white-haired child giggled as she got comfortable.

"Husband~" A light voice called out as Caster leaned on his side.

A playful exhale left his lips as he already knew what Caster wanted, earning another soft chuckle from him as his other hand reached out to give the nine-tailed fox a head pat. The Servant of the spells cooed, purring at his touch.

Unlike the others, Shalltear didn't openly respond, but that was hardly something new. Assassin and Caster were preoccupied to care. Berserker merely gave a nod. As for Lancer, the Queen of the Land of Shadows only scoffed under her breath, before turning her gaze from her fellow spirit to the outstretched land.

"They were nothing special. I was hoping to have more worthwhile opponents. Sending the little one was unnecessary, Apprentice."

"I don't doubt your skill or abilities, Lancer. But we're a team, and we help each other out whether it's needed or not."

Lancer said nothing more, dipping her head and acknowledging his words.

Shirou's eyes wandered, casting a sidelong glance at Shalltear, who was standing behind Lancer. He felt something from the Floor Guardian. Despite her smiling expression remaining unchanged, he could almost feel her frowning. Whether that was because of a trick of light within the darkened environment or just his imagination, he couldn't say for certain. Whatever the reason, his other free hand reached out and patted her on the head affectionately.

"I can't forget about you. You did an amazing job, Shalltear." He praised her, not wanting to leave her out.

Looking away, his gaze turned back towards the underground that was known as the 1st Floor, his eyes quiet and contemplative.

The presence of his Servants more than easily tipped the scales in their favor, despite the fact that there were many invaders and only one of him. Seeing them in action this night only reaffirmed what he already knew. They were formidable on their own, and when they joined forces, their combined strength only multiplied.

"Preparation is key." - It was a sentiment that rang true, no matter if it was the Moonlit World or YGGDRASIL.

Shirou was made aware of the invader's presence well before they entered Nazarick's territory. Sensors within the swamp alerted him to the encroaching parties and granted him a window of time to suitably buff his Servants and lead with the first attack before they could. This allowed the magus to set up the board well in advance to welcome the intruders.

If there was one thing Shirou had to give YGGDRASIL credit for, it was that there were no technical limits to the number of buffs and enchantments one could place on a Player or NPC. A mechanic he abused wholeheartedly before sending them out, fully empowered to the point of overkill with the litany of buffs, spells, and skills aiding them.

His Servants possessed skills and spells, no different from those of other NPCs or Players alike. Unique and powerful ones indeed.

Take, for example, Nightingale's [Human Comprehension] - a fitting skill if there ever was one considering who they were fighting against. Alongside Rider's [Tengu Art of War], [Six Secret Arts of War: Thunder and Gale], and Lancer's [Primeval Rune], which provided protective and offensive strengthening runes, and Caster's numerous spells and enchantments, their stats were comparable to high-level raid bosses themselves.

'I should head out to check and see if any Bounded Fields are still active.' Shirou made a mental note to return with Caster to the Catacombs to install fresh Bounded Fields to replace those that were activated this night. He'd also look into setting a few more down as a precaution.

His hand instinctively reached up to his chin, his thumb absently flicking against his chin as his mind wandered. His dichromatic eyes idly drifted downward, taking in the soft crimson glow of his Command Seals.

The Servants were valuable in and of themselves due to their strength and versatility, but the addition of his Command Seals made them exceptional enough to be classified as World Items. He held fifteen in total. Of the fifteen, eight of them were dulled. Shirou had initially used six of them to further augment his Servants, with the remaining nine kept as reserves in cases of emergency, of which he used an additional two throughout the raid.

The magus didn't have to worry about being frugal with his Command Seals, as he would regain one every eight hours.

Divide and conquer was a rather common strategy, but one that was quite situational and could easily be a hindrance rather than a boon.

With the invaders congregated into parties, it was child's play separating them. Nazarick held a plethora of traps, most common of them were teleportation traps that would relocate any invading forces to specific points of contact across the 1st Floor.

While he and Caster took care of the first two parties on the surface, he dispatched and directed his Servants alongside Shalltear wherever they were needed to engage the enemy parties. When Shirou was finished on the surface, he joined the rest on the 1st Floor. From there, it was simply a matter of systematically picking the parties off and allowing his Servants to collapse on their respective targets one by one until all the invaders were dead and gone.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick was no stranger to raids. They have thwarted countless attacks on their guild base over the years. Many more powerful and numerous clans, organizations, and guilds than the ones seen on this night have tried their hand, only to fail. Following the same trend as their predecessors, none have ever successfully made it past the 1st Floor.

But then again, the magus knew that their attempt this night wasn't with victory in mind.

After all, when going to war, one doesn't send the flag bearers first. No, that role belongs to the scouts.

Shirou's eyes narrowed as he focused on that particular thought.

Over the past several months, Nazarick has been subjected to numerous small raids and fleeting attacks. At first, he was perplexed, but their design became clear once he took a step back and look at them as a whole. These small-scale incursions made on Nazarick weren't with strict victory in mind but rather an objective. They were probing Nazarick's defenses, scouting the tomb's perimeter, and trying to ascertain as much as they could.

The frequency at which they were occurring was troubling, hinting at something much more, something big.

Another guild raid, perhaps even a full-fledged guild war on Nazarick with the intent of bringing Nazarick low for good? With his friend's diminishing playtime, what better time to strike when they are far from their strongest?

Shirou's eyes tightened at the thought.

Nazarick had built up a reputation for being invisible and impenetrable due to every invasion made on it being repelled. One that many people would actively seek out as a challenge.

Undoubtedly, many would take up the challenge in a bid for glory or sport, while others would do it as a form of retaliation against Ainz Ooal Gown as a whole.

Whatever the case may be, it didn't matter to Shirou. All those seeking Nazarick out will be met with the same fate as those before them, with overwhelming force and defeat.

If any fool believes they'll be allowed the mercy of wandering through his home with the intent of desecrating it, they have another thing coming for them.

So long as he draws breath, he'll never let Nazarick fall to her enemies. Be they hundreds of Players or even in the thousands. Anyone who would dare try will fall to his blades, one way or another.

Shirou closed his eyes and let out a steady breath, calming himself. Getting worked up would do him no good, especially so late at night.

For the moment, he successfully repelled the enemy. He should take comfort in that much.

His eyes drooped slightly as the adrenaline from all the fighting wore away. In its place, drowsiness crept in, whispering to him to get some well-deserved rest by going to bed. The raid came just before he could turn in for the night, so he was reasonably tired and more than ready to get some shut-eye for the night.

However, he couldn't fully rest easy just yet. There was no telling if the Seekers would try a follow-up attempt, capitalizing on the perceived moment of victory, and striking again when he believed that was it.

It would hardly be the first time, and there was little doubt in the faker's mind that it'd stop now.

Suppressing an exhaustive yawn, Shirou mobilized his Servants once more onto the field.

"Apologies, Shalltear, but I'll be requiring your vigilance more tonight. At least, until we know for certain, there will be no further attacks." He said, calling on her one last time.

"I'll leave the 1st Floor to your care as always."

Using the ring of Ainz Ooal Gown, he teleported away. His Servants followed a second later.

Alone, Shalltear and her Vampire Brides remained where they were. They took to the air after a brief delay, ready to perform their sworn duty should the need arise once again.

The Floor Guardian smiled widely, as she always did, but if one were to look closely, they would see that it stretched from ear to ear. A hint of pink dominated her cheeks, glowing against her pale skin. Her body swayed vaguely as if merry, flying to a jaunty hum only she was privy to.

Chapter 10 - Signs of a Storm II

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Original published date: 07/13/2021

Chapter 10 - Signs of a Storm II

'What a beautiful moon.' Shirou pondered, staring at the moon serenely.

The night sky was tranquil this day, with nary a cloud in sight, offering a stunning view of a starry midnight sky to welcome all under its blanket. The soft, radiant moonlight shone softly on the horizon and upon the slumbering garden. Fireflies danced in the night, their twinkling glow casting fragments of illumination that scattered across the backyard.

There he remained, quiet and content, alone on the veranda of the Emiya residence.

"Shirou?" A voice called out, reigning him in from his peace.

Shirou craned his head back, catching a figure walking forth from the shadow of the house. The light of the full moon helped to illuminate all under its gaze.

It was Kiritsugu. He was clothed in a comfortable yukata, exactly as he always remembered his adopted father. His aged face sought him out as he walked forward, a mixture of curiosity and parental worry.

"What are you doing awake? It's quite late." He questioned.

"I can say the same for you. Isn't it past your bedtime as well?" Shirou returned with a lazy grin.

"Cheeky brat, is that any way to speak to your old man?" Kiritsugu snorted under his breath, a waning smile overcoming his weary features.

A hand reached out, ruffling up the young man's hair affectionately. A small grunt left the retired Magus Killer's lips as he leaned against one of the wooden support beams, joining his son in the time-honored family tradition of stargazing.

There the two contently remained, watching the night sky with only the teeming insects of the night to soothe their lullaby. Time stretched on, seconds, minutes, hours. Shirou had no idea how much time had passed, and a part of him wished it could continue like this forever. Eventually, the silence would be broken by none other than himself.

"Kiritsugu, do you have things you've regretted?"

The elderly Emiya didn't answer, the silence continuing into the night. Shirou briefly wondered if he'd heard him.

"Of course. I suppose that's the curse of growing old-to be able to look back on your life and wonder what I could've done instead, what could've been done better." He answered, shooting Shirou a quick and all-knowing glance.

"Father, Shirley, Natalia, Iri, Maiya, Saber, sweet little Illya…"

Shirou listened as his adopted father listed every name, some he knew, and others were strangers, each one heavy with emotion. Kiritsugu's face aged with pained regret with every name.

"Shirou Emiya…"

Shirou remained silent and only listened as Kiritsugu spoke his name among the list and continued.

"In life and in death, what matters is not dying regretting what you could have done better or differently to ease a guilty conscience. It is accepting all that came before us, good and bad, and making peace with it."

Kiritsugu smiled sadly as he leaned back, his eyes fixed on the beautiful moon above.

"A hero of justice…" Kiritsugu began. "Saving the world, defeating evil, and helping and protecting the innocent. A shining beacon, an inspiration for all. Are there any sweeter words than those? The selfless self-sacrifice, an attribute that is held on top of a pedestal - admired and deified, yet it is both a virtue and a Hamartia; a fatal flaw.

There are so many stories where some brave hero decides to risk it all and give their life to save the day. And because of their sacrifice, the good guys win, the bad guys are defeated, the survivors all cheer, and everyone lives happily ever after.

But the hero? The hero never gets to see that happy ending. They'll never know if their sacrifice actually made a difference or not. They'll never know if the day was really saved. In the end, all they can do is make peace with their fate, regrets or not. They have to have faith that everything will work out in the end."

As he concluded, only silence could be heard. Kiritsugu turned and fixed his gaze on his son. And Shirou, he only had one thing to say to sum it all up.

"Ain't that a bitch?"

Kiritsugu snickered at his son's monotone response before tittering. A titter that evolved into a burst of full-blown laughter, raspy and low as if he hadn't laughed in a long, long time. Yet, to Shirou, it sounded euphonious - it'd been a long time since he could remember hearing his father being remotely mirthful in any way.

He didn't realize just how much he missed hearing it.

"When did you get so snippy?" Kiritsugu managed in between laughs. "Whatever happened to that sweet little boy that always knew his manners?"

"He grew up." Shirou answered plainly, his lips twitching into a slight smile.

"Evidently! It seems I ought to have some words with Taiga over your new vocabulary."

Kiritsugu's laughter only continued, drawing him in. Shirou's voice joined his, sharing and basking in the moment. Father and son laughed the night away. A peal of shared laughter that rang out until there was only one voice was left, and then, none.

Shirou looked and saw, he was gone. His face stretched forlornly. He had wished his father had stayed a bit longer. Long enough so that he could say goodbye at the very least. Though Kiritsugu was no longer with him, his words still echoed true within him.

With drooping eyes, he felt his eyelids grow heavy, allowing the tranquil night to come and take him.

In the faint distance, within the sea darkness, a light flickered.

It called out to him.

Shirou raised his arm to it, only to fall short.

His eyes closed, and then, he awoke.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

October 16, 2136. World: Helheim. Location: The Great Tomb of Nazarick - 8th Floor: The Cherry Blossom Sanctuary - Emiya Estate

Shirou groaned as consciousness returned to him, stiffness flaring across his body as he moved. His eyes fluttered open, his vision focusing upon waking up. Not much had changed from his dream, with the magus sitting at the same spot on the veranda overlooking the garden; only now it was bright and sunny instead of nighttime, as it always was inside The Cherry Blossom Sanctuary.

The magus bounced to his feet while stretching and loosening up any remaining kinks. He quickly took a seat again, leaning his back against the wooden beam.

'I should probably stop sleeping like this…' He idly mused.

A soft chortle came over him as a particular thought popped into his head.

His friends had made note of his odd propensity to sleep just about anywhere besides in an actual bed. Indeed, he seemed to have an aversion to sleeping in a proper bed, opting instead for a variety of makeshift arrangements throughout the tomb. On the upper Floors, 1st to 3rd, he could be found resting upon the hard ground with nothing but rocks for pillows, while on the 4th Floor, he preferred to set up camp in a cozy tent by the serene underground lake. The 6th Floor's dense, sprawling Amazonian forest was yet another favorite spot, where he would slumber beneath the shade of a sturdy tree or in a comfortable hammock. He could still remember their incredulousness when they found him resting in an igloo on the 5th Floor that one time, or another time when he slept on a stone table in the center of a ruined monastery next to an active volcano on the 7th Floor.

When asked why he did this, Shirou's answer was simply: "I like to spice it up a bit."

In life, he'd gotten so used to sleeping anywhere and on everything besides an actual bed that sleeping on one felt off at times. It was like he was sleeping on a marshmallow, like he would sink to the floor at almost any moment. His personal room on the 9th Floor at times felt too decadent, too comfortable, too fake in comparison to the recreation of the Emiya Estate.

The irony wasn't lost on the Fake Player.

He took in the lovely garden, a sea of perpetually beautiful sakura trees in bloom. Sakura petals were blown through the air freely by a soft breeze. An atmosphere that was the picture of serenity and one that never fails to leave him at peace.

Swept in by the tranquil ambiance, it took him a few seconds before he sensed other presences around him. A glance behind and around revealed Caster and Rider waiting to the side in the seiza position with their hands tucked under their knees. Assassin was sitting on the porch next to him, her small legs playfully kicking back and forth. Berserker and Lancer weren't present, but that didn't alarm him.

He had kept Lancer on watch duty before turning it in for the night. As for Berserker, she has a habit of roaming aimlessly unless instructed otherwise.

Shirou once jokingly considered the idea of building an infirmary or a nurse's office, if only so that when he needed her, it wouldn't be hard to find her.

Shirou's heterochromatic eyes found Assassin, who was merrily sitting there. He found himself wondering about something. He originally stationed her with Lancer, yet here she was.

"Shouldn't you be with Lancer, Assassin?" He idly asked.

"Jackie goes where Mommy goes!" Assassin slid over, hugging him.

Shirou huffed expectantly, accepting the answer.

For a Servant who bore the name of one of humanity's greatest and most mysterious cut-throat killers, she truly acted how she looked. Not that Shirou was opposed to it.

"Good morning, everyone… No, wait…" A quick check of his menu showed it was the afternoon. "Never mind, good afternoon it is. I hope you guys enjoyed your sleep as well as I did… That is, if you all can actually sleep. I'm still waiting for an answer for that, by the way." He ponderously asked aloud.

None of the three offered a response, so he continued.

"Also, don't tell me you all stayed like that for who knows how long? I've said many times before that you don't need to be by my side all the time. I can't imagine it's all that interesting watching over me while I sleep and laze around."

"It's the duty of the servant to be at her liege's side." Rider was the first to speak, calm and dignified. Her hand was placed over her heart as she gave him a devoted glance.

"A wife's duty is at her husband's side." Caster followed up, happy and assured. Her nine fluffy tails swayed jauntily.

Following that, she produced a small tray with cups of tea, warm and ready. He accepted one with a thank you, earning a loving squeal from the therianthrope as Caster cuddled up beside Shirou. He cracked a small smile. It never failed to evoke a sense of amusement and incredulity at seeing Caster's casual display of high-tier Item Creation used more often than not on the more mundane of applications, such as producing beverages and cooking. Or, more accurately, as it was called in her flavor text, 'Wife Magic'.

Drinking his tea, he ignored the list buffs provided with practiced ease, focusing on the fleeting warmth of the drink spreading, easing both body and mind.

Eyes occasionally flickered towards his Servants, observing and reminiscing.

While NPC customization was nearly limitless, YGGDRASIL regrettably did not support voice lines or dialogue for guild-based NPCs. However, that didn't seem to be the case with the likes of the Servants.

Shirou could still recall the initial shock and surprise following Berserker's introductions, alongside the other four. Something no other Player-created NPC has been shown capable of.

Not only were all five Servant NPCs capable of speech, a feature once thought impossible, but further inspection also revealed them capable of independent action, and movement, in addition to the fact that they could travel with him outside of Nazarick. They also possessed reactions and idle animation. A feature that puts them leaps and bounds ahead of their guild-based counterparts.

He put them to the test for a full week to see the extent of their capability.

If he didn't know any better, he would claim that they were alive, simulating Shirou's condition of existence within YGGDRASIL. Closer examination, however, revealed that the theory was false.

For starters, while his Servants were fully capable of reacting when spoken to, they lacked a certain nuance when it came to proper speech. They often spoke and replied singularly and simply in a manner that was indicative of their character. There was a stiffness to it, similar to reading out dialogue on a sheet of paper, that correlated with what he said.

This fact even extended to some of their behaviors, which occasionally seemed predetermined in accordance with their history and character. One such example of this was Berserker's propensity to wander wherever she went, in search of patients to help and aid, as she calls it. Despite the gesture being extraneous.

Furthermore, while they could respond, the action followed a condition: only if Shirou spoke first. He has yet to see them have the capacity to start a conversation of their own. His Servants were never really proactive; they were always reactive. With an addendum where there were even times when they didn't respond at all, whether it was because they chose not to or because they didn't have a voice line or dialogue tree for whatever it was he was saying at the moment, he couldn't confirm 100%. But generally, they will respond when spoken to.

The absolute exception to this rule was when he was around others, his guildmates, or other Players in general. Shirou earned more than a few bewildered and questioning looks from his friends whenever he first tried showing them off.

Every attempt to catch them in the act, no matter how persistent he was or the strategy he used, fell flat. His Servants only spoke and acted in his presence and his alone. Otherwise, they were indistinguishable from the other NPCs that inhabited Nazarick.

His persistent endeavors to prove their autonomy once culminated in an intervention between him and his friends. It took more than a few conversations with those in the inner circles to dispel the misunderstanding and assure them that no, he had not taken leave of his senses. Or, more concernedly, the loneliness was starting to get to him, and he was losing his mind and believing the NPCs could talk and act as a coping mechanism.

Tabula went on a particular tangent that day regarding the matter of virtual reality and the human psyche. He spoke at length about how the human mind, while exceedingly complex, was just as easily fragile. Games with VR integration typically had limitations; this was to prevent the line between reality and the virtual world from blurring. This allowed the individual to readily distinguish the real world from the virtual one without any major side effects. However, Shirou lived solely in the digital world and thus had no anchoring point. The Brain Eater then speculated that due to living in YGGDRASIL for so long, the magus's mind was deteriorating and that he was going loony. A speculation that further riled them up, all the while Shirou continued trying to convince them overwise to little avail.

The situation opened up a whole new can of worms as the group panicked and added their own crazy conjectures. One thing led to another, and it spiraled so far out of hand that they somehow came to the wild conclusion that Shirou was entering a Rampancy state and that there existed a backup file out there that held an exact copy of Shirou's psyche that could be used to cure his condition, leading to the guild spearheading a mission to find this nonexistent solution.

Thankfully, he managed to talk them out of it and convinced them that, no, he wasn't going insane or anything, and that he wasn't losing his sense of self or anything wild.

He was perfectly cognitive and perfectly sane…

Correction, as sane as he typically was. He was a magus after all.

Withdrawing from the memory, Shirou chuckled softly. It warmed his digital heart to see his friends get worked up for his sake, but honestly, the magus wondered where some of his friends got their hair-brained ideas from.

Then again, reality was often time stranger than fiction.

Shirou's life was irrefutable proof of that.

Back to his Servants, it was these little discrepancies regarding them that put into question if they were truly Servants taken from the Throne of Heroes. Shirou was uncertain whether their existence parallels that of the Fake Player, who uses a digital medium, albeit limited in comparison to him, or if they were an intricate facsimile of the Heroic Spirits they were based on. Whatever the case, being a World Item, they boast greater functionality and undoubtedly possess more sophisticated VI - virtual intelligent processing. A halfway point between semi-sentient but not fully complete.

In any case, the introduction of the Servants only spurred his already nebulous life in another unexpected direction.

At first, he wasn't quite sure what to make of or feel about them. The question of what their presence meant arose after the surprise and awe of the moment subsided. But as the months passed, Shirou grew accustomed to them.

There was a sense of familiarity with their presence - more than just Master and Servant, despite the many years that had passed since the last Holy Grail War. The matter of whether they were real or not eluded him, but in the end, it hardly made a difference. For they would help keep him company when the loneliness and silence became a touch unbearable.

At least with his Servants, he'll have some companions he could actually converse with besides himself in the far-flung future. A rather morose consideration he came to not too long ago after their introduction.

It made the uncertainty a bit more bearable.

And what an interesting entourage of companions he had going.

Berserker was none other than Florence Nightingale, the founder of modern nursing. There was a certain irony to it all that the one who bore the name of Nightingale, known throughout history as a practitioner of healing and a staunch pacifist, would belong to the Servant class known for their rage and destruction. Though perhaps that explained her overly eccentric zeal for the call of duty.

Next, there was Rider, or, as history remembered her, Minamoto no Yoshitsune. The famed Japanese military commander of the late Heian period. And yet another case of Throne of Heroes and history conflicting when it came to her true identity.

Tamamo-no-Mae, the mythical kitsune of legends, held the Caster class. A yokai on par with a high Divine Spirit, famous for her cruelty and power alike. And, while the latter remained true, the former seemed absurd from what he'd gathered. Instead of being a monster, she was just a woman whose only desire was to be a wife and to have a husband to call her own and love. A role she took like a fish to water for him.

Then there was Lancer, the sole member of the Knight Class at his disposal, and none other than the legendary Scáthach, the immortal God-slaying witch. A Queen in her own right and the Witch of Dún Scáith. Legend credits her as a renowned slayer of gods, beasts, and men. Most relevant to it all, she was the teacher to Ireland's very own child of light, Cú Chulainn, the very hero who took his life the first time around. It figured that he would summon the blue lancer's master as his Servant.

Last but certainly not least, Assassin.

At the thought of the Heroic Spirit of Assassination, his eyes strayed to her. At first glance, one would hardly guess that such a disarming-looking little girl would be a Servant. The young girl whose white hair reminded him of better times was perhaps the most twisted of his Servants. More of a Wraith than a proper Servant, she existed as an Assassin composed of hundreds of unwanted children in London who perished early in life. Yet, Jack the Ripper was their name.

What a cruel joke…

Shirou must've muttered words aloud absentmindedly, for Assassin craned her head up as if sensing his inner thoughts.

"Mommy." She said, promptly hugging him again.

Hearing her say this, Shirou's smile only grew melancholic.

His hand reached out, rubbing the head of little Jackie affectionately, who responded by leaning into the touch much like a cat with its owner's loving strokes.

"Mommy." Assassin said again.

When she called him that the first time, he remembered being put off. A quick investigation helped him understand why.

In a manner similar to other non-playable characters, the Servants had their own flavor text that provided a wealth of information and backstory about them. He had complete access to this as their "owner," which detailed their entire history and conception into the Throne of Heroes. Shirou was able to foster a better understanding of each Servant as individuals thanks to this opportunity, especially Assassin and Caster, whose pasts were mired in tragedy. And coincidentally, the ones that clung to him often.

All things considered, he didn't mind it and allowed them to indulge in their peculiarities. Yes, it took some getting used to, but in the end, they were content, and that was good enough for him. He has endured far worse than simple naming conventions.

Moreover, if there was one thing he was grateful for regarding the fact that they couldn't speak in the presence of other Players, it was that he didn't have to explain about those two in particular.

If anyone heard, for an intensive purpose, a little girl calling him 'Mommy' and an alluring vulpine woman calling him 'Husband' in an overly affectionate manner… Well, that would undoubtedly draw suspicion and a few inquisitive eyebrows his way. And that was a conversation he had no desire to get into. No matter how he defends or explains himself, he'll lose regardless.

Shirou could all too easily imagine the snickering and wisecrack questioning made at his expense by his friends, in particular from the likes of Warrior Takemikazuchi and Ulbert, if the truth came to light.

The last thing he needed was to give his friends more ammunition to use against him.

"Still, it's hard to believe that the infamous Jack the Ripper would be a little girl… Then again, no one expected King Arthur to be a woman either… Or Minamoto no Yoshitsune, for that matter." Shirou muttered in a quiet voice, smiling offhandedly at the particular line of thought.

One would think by this point he would've gotten desensitized to all the curved balls thrown at him in his life. Yet, the Throne of Heroes always managed a surprise or two.

Then again, what was life without a few surprises to add some color to it?

With nothing more, Shirou fell into a comfortable lull.

And for a moment, all was right with the world.

This was what he longed for. The moments of peace that made the struggles he endured worth it. They were a rare commodity but nonetheless treasured.

So why then…

Why could he not enjoy it in its entirety?

No matter how he shifted himself, searching for a more relaxed pose, the restlessness would not fade.

Because, despite his wish for the contrary, he knew the reality of the situation that surrounded his guild. They were a boat, encircled by sharks and piranhas alike, hoping to take a bit for themselves.

The events of the previous night flashed before him. His eyes opened, glimmering with resolve and defiance in his silver and golden eyes.

Shirou had fought against a myriad of beings, individuals, and monsters far stronger than he. But this time, he faced perhaps the most challenging opponent because how does one defeat a foe they do not even know?

The magus couldn't simply venture forth to meet them on the field of battle, nor could he stalk or hunt them down himself. They were enigmatic, scattered across the nine realms, biding their time in the shadows.

He couldn't come to them. For better or for worse, all he could do was wait until they finally revealed themselves.

But so be it. They'll be ready.

He'll be ready…

"Nazarick has never been the most popular guild. Hated among the Humanoid Player community and even envied by several of the Heteromorphs, that animosity was bound to boil over. Yet, couldn't it happen earlier? If almost a full hundred individuals were a scouting force, how large is their army? Yet, even at this moment, it could be growing bigger, but I'm unable to go on the offense. When the time comes to defend this place my friends call home, can I count on you, Scáthach: the Queen of Shadows? How about you, Jack the Ripper? Ushiwakamaru, will you be my Vassal? Tamamo-no-Mae, will you burn those who stand against me? Florence Nightingale, will you guard me against death itself? You may have answered my summons, but this circumstance is far from the norm, so… Forgive this selfish request of mine, but I'll be counting on all of you when the time comes again. Help me, be my shield and sword, to fend off those who wish to plunder the home of Ainz Oown Goal!" He declared, springing to his feet, a powerful flourish with his hand gesturing to his faithful Servants before him.

His declaration echoed across the field. A spur of the moment. It was also here that he acknowledged Lancer's and Berserker's presence, who had been away but had somehow found themselves here. It was almost as if his Servants knew beforehand and required their presence to make his speech work.

Several seconds of meditative silence passed. Shirou remained there, facing them with his arm still outstretched in a powerful declaration, while his Servants locked eyes with him.

It wouldn't be long before he could feel the heat rising from his cheeks and the air turning awkward as secondhand embarrassment flooded his entire body in the wake of his impulsive speech.

Either the loneliness was really getting to him that he would espouse something as hammy as what he had just proclaimed, or Momonga and Ulbert's role-playing and chunni behavior were most definitely rubbing off on him.

Honestly, he wasn't quite sure which was worse.

Somewhere out there, Momonga/Satoru Suzuki sneezed. He looked around, rubbing under his nose at the odd feeling. Curious, he wondered if someone was talking about him. Ulbert/Youta, on the other hand, felt his eyebrow twitch, annoyance filling him at the sense of his name being besmirched somehow, somewhere. He also had the powerful urge to give someone the middle finger.

None of the Servants chose to dignify a response, something he was thankful for.

"I'll… take that as a yes, then…" He coughed in a fist, striving to retain some measure of his steadfast composure.

Again, the Servants said nothing. Shirou wished they did, if only to dispel the quietness. They stared at him calmly, as if passing judgment on him behind their fixed expression.

His embarrassment only grew with every passing second.

He then offered a quick and silent prayer to Root or whoever was listening for a distraction, anything to get rid of the suffocating silence he found himself in.

"Told ya he'd be here, Touch'."

It was here that Shirou's ear twitched, catching the call of a voice in the distance and the patter of approaching feet. Warrior Takemikazuchi and Touch Me then appeared as they rounded the corner.

"T-Touch me-san, T-Takemikazuchi-san. It's good to see you two!" The faker greeted, his voice squeaky slightly as he fought to get it under control.

'Please don't tell me they heard that…' He hoped, remembering just how loud he was.

"Emiya-san."

"Yo!"

Touch Me and Warrior Takemikazuchi returned the greeting, the silver paladin with a nod, and the armored samurai with a two-finger salute.

"Is there anything I can help you two with?" Shirou hurriedly asked.

"We were simply wondering where you were, old friend. And…"

"Also, were you talking to yourself again, Emiya-san? ' Pretty sure I heard you talking loudly about something. Is it that time of the month again?" Warrior Takemikazuchi interjected, cutting Touch Me off, his voice dripping with amusement.

The Nephilim turned to his friend as soon as Shirou opened his mouth, not bothering to wait for a response.

"I think ol' Emiya-san might be relapsing. I think this calls for another intervention! Quickly Touch Me-san, call the others!"

"No, no, none of that!" Shirou interrupted, rushing over to stop him. "Just because I was speaking a little bit loudly doesn't mean I'm going crazy."

"Aha! So you do admit that you were talking to yourself." Warrior Takemikazuchi crowed, grinning in triumph at Shirou's 'admission'.

"I… You… ugh!" Shirou struggled, knowing full well that anything he said would be used against him.

"There, there. It's ok." The Heteromorphic Player walked over, placing a comforting hand on the magus's shoulder and patting him reassuringly. "The first step to every problem is acknowledging you have a problem."

"Takemikazuchi-san…" The projection user deadpanned, but he continued regardless.

"Don't worry, we're here for you, Emiya-san. You can talk about it with us about anything. Ain't that right, Touch'?"

"Touch Me-san, please tell him to stop."

Touch Me had his arms crossed, his helm facing away as if in great thought.

"Hmm, I don't know… He might be onto something." The World Champion said, keeping the pair in his peripheral. Although obscured by his helm, the faker could all too easily picture his friend's smirk.

Shirou's shoulder slumped upon hearing his last hope take Warrior Takemikazuchi's side.

"Not you too…" He lamented. "Guys, I'm telling you, I'm fine."

"Hmmm…" Warrior Takemikazuchi leaned in, scrutinizing him for any signs of deceit. He then turned to Touch Me. "I believe him, but I'd say we better get a second opinion. What'd ya think, Touch Me-san?"

"I concur."

Shirou let out an audible noise, already knowing what was going to happen.

"Please no…"

"Here's Mr. Wiggle!" A loud and exaggerated cutesy voice rang out, courtesy of Warrior Takemikazuchi. On one of his hands was a small, cute hand puppet of some kind of hamster.

"Hello~ How are you doing today, Emiya-san?" Mr. Wiggle happily greeted him, the hand puppet shoved right in his face.

Shirou suppressed a suffering sigh. Mr. Wiggle was an item that those in the inner circle purchased in response to an incident where he messed up after he had promised to keep his friend's up to date with everything. Mr. Wiggle was brought out whenever he was being difficult or "relapsing," as they say. More often than not at his expense.

He knew better than to resist, for it'd only embolden them to try even harder until he cracked.

"Hello, Mr. Wiggles. I'm doing fine…"

"Wonderful~! So, I hear you might be relapsing again. Is that true?"

"No, I'm not. I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Wiggles."

"Really~?"

"Yes, really."

"Really, really?"

"Yes, really, really. I am fine."

The two Heteromorphic Players, who were obviously taking advantage of the situation more than they ought to be, were snickering under their breath and attempting to hold back their laughter as Shirou mustered a small glare in their direction.

"Hmmm~~" Mr. Wiggles shifted animatedly from side to side, thinking over his words in great detail.

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

"Super pinky promise?"

"Yes, super pinky promise."

"Super, mega, ultra, powerful, cool, awesome, deluxe, omega, alpha star, pinky promise?"

"Takemikazuchi-san, I swear to the gods I'll… Yes! I super, mega, ultra, powerful, cool, awesome, deluxe, omega, alpha star, pinky promise!"

"Yay~!" Mr. Wiggles raised his tiny hands in the air as small, colorful fireworks and special effects played joyfully in the background.

Swallowing his exasperation, Shirou held out his pinky and wrapped it over the puppet's miniature arm, and they shook, finally putting the matter to a close. However, there was one more piece of advice Mr. Wiggles would leave him with.

"Bye ~ Bye ~ And remember, licking doorknobs is illegal on other planets!"

Mr. Wiggles gave him a loud, exaggerated kiss on the nose after saying those completely out-of-context parting words and then vanished, returning to Warrior Takemikazuchi's inventory.

The two Players found themselves unable to contain their amusement any further, and their laughter erupted in uncontrollable fits. Touch Me was seen clutching his stomach while letting out hearty roars of laughter, and Warrior Takemikazuchi was hunched over, pounding his knees as he struggled to stifle his wheezing.

"Ugh!" Shirou let out an unrestrained groan, burying his head in his hands, and sat down as his friend's laughter filled the air. "I hate you guys so much."

"Love you too." Warrior Takemikazuchi managed, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder.

If that wasn't bad enough, Shirou swore he could feel his Servants, mute as they were, deriving some amusement from his misery. He just knew that they were laughing alongside his guildmates, even if it wasn't out loud.

He grunted and turned away, but despite everything, a small smile found itself on his lips.

Shirou waited patiently, allowing their laughter to run its course. He carried on from where Touch Me Last left off once the last dregs of laughter subsided and they had a chance to catch their breath.

"What were you saying, Touch Me-san, before you were so rudely interrupted?" Shirou threw the samurai a pointed look.

"Right, right." He cleared his throat. "We were just wondering where you were. It's nearly time for the meeting, and you weren't answering your [Message]'s."

A quick look at his menu indeed showed several incoming [Message]'s that timed out due to him not answering them.

"S-sorry, lost track of time for a bit. I guess I was more relaxed than I thought during my earlier nap." He played it off.

"Oh? Hear that Touch Me-san, Emiya-san would rather spend his time sleeping around with little harem than hang out with us." Warrior Takemikazuchi jostled with a snicker, earning a light knock from Touch Me's elbow and an eye roll from Shirou as a worn-out grin stretched across the magus's face.

"I feel so sorry for Bukubukuchagama-san, having so many fierce competitions."

"You make it sound as if I'm some kind of deviant, Takemikazuchi-san."

"I mean, I'm not the man who used his World Items to make four beautiful NPCs and a little kid that follows him around wherever he goes. A little kid that's dressed extremely skimpily, might I add. And here I thought ol' Peroroncino-san was the group's resident perv. You'd think you know someone…" Warrior Takemikazuchi shook his head dejectedly, tsking like a parent who uncovered their child has a hidden fetish or embarrassing predilection.

"Oh, for the love of-! How many times do I have to explain that it wasn't on purpose?!" Shirou countered, his face flushing with exasperation.

"Sure, totally, whatever you say, Emiya-san." Sporting that all-too-familiar smirk and a voice full of sarcasm, the samurai drawled, totally believing him.

The silver-haired Player let out a huff, the smile he held was far from diminished.

"I notice you've been rather lethargic as of late. Are you doing alright, Emiya-san? Are you getting enough sleep at night? If not, you should. It's important to make sure you're getting enough rest, not just for relaxation but also to combat mental fatigue." Touch Me expressed concern as he stepped closer to inspect him, like a caring parent checking on their child.

"Chill, Touch'. You know how it is with old people. They like to spend their days sleeping around. Ain't nothing new." Warrior Takemikazuchi joked, his hand clasping the paladin's pauldron and pulling him back.

"How rude. Is that any way for you to speak to your elders? You whippersnappers have no respect these days." Shirou responded with playful indignation, shaking his head in disappointment.

The Bujin snorted in amusement at this. Who the heck even hears, let alone uses the word "whippersnappers" anymore? It only served to prove the samurai's point.

"I'm just calling it how I see it, old man. What are you going to do, wave your walking stick at me?" Warrior Takemikazuchi retorted with a smirk.

At first, Shirou remained motionless in response to Warrior Takemikazuchi's challenge. However, he then projected a lengthy wooden stick and bonked his friend's horned head with it. The strike produced a comical sound effect before breaking into motes of light. A short pause rang out as the trio exchanged glances before all three of them cackled, sharing another bout of laughter.

Following the welcome respite it brought them, the sound of merriment could be heard echoing across the field and sanctuary, carried by the soothing winds.

"I'm doing okay, Touch Me-san. Honest. As for my sleep schedule, well, you'll understand when we meet up with everyone else." He answered the World Champion's previous question, rising to his feet and patting his friend's shoulder.

"Alright." Touch Me accepted after a moment.

Warrior Takemikazuchi slung around, wrapping his arms around them affectionately from the back, drawing them in with his massive frame.

"Now that's out of the way. Let's get a move on, you guys. We all know how anal Moe-san gets when it comes to being punctual! I swear, even after all these years, ol' shorty still got that stick firmly up his as-"

"Takemikazuchi-san!" Touch Me shouted, scandalized.

"What? We all thought about it at least once. Back me up here, Emiya-san."

"No comment."

"See, he agrees."

Warrior Takemikazuchi earned a bump against his chest plate from Shirou, while Touch Me gave him a disgruntled headshake.

"You're incorrigible." Touch Me bemoaned.

"Yeah, what's new?" Warrior Takemikazuchi snarked, the three chortling as they walked away.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

A short while later, the trio was joined by the guild members who could make it on this day on the 9th Floor, in the Round Table room. In total, there were only seventeen members present.

Sparse chatter filtered through the air within the Conference Room, and despite the apparent normalcy of the gathering, Shirou could easily detect the underlying melancholy that hung over them all. The previous guild meeting had twenty in attendance, and the one before that had only nineteen members. The number of guild members in attendance for these routine meetings fluctuated often, but recently, their numbers had been steadily dwindling over the course of weeks and months.

A fact that could no longer be denied.

Exactly as he foretold.

Each guild member nevertheless did their part, ignoring the disheartening reality and continuing on regardless of their situation. This only made every meeting that each guild member could attend all the more appreciative and meaningful. A sentiment carried by every one of them.

"All right, I guess we can start now that everyone is here." Said Touch Me, taking on the role of spokesperson as they began.

"Shouldn't we wait a bit more for Momonga-san?" Coup de Grâce spoke up, glancing around for their undead leader. "Strange. He's never been this late to a meeting before."

"I'm afraid Momonga-san isn't going to make it today. He told me he had a project that his workplace dumped on him, so he's been offline for the remainder of this week." Shirou answered in his best friend's stead.

"Oh…" Coup de Grâce softly let out, slouching in his chair.

The magus could only offer a condolent smile. He understood his friend's despondency. Among all of them, their Guildmaster could always be relied on to be online on a regular basis. Not counting Shirou, of course. Coup de Grâce had missed the previous gatherings, and with this, it marked the fourth week since the two last saw one another.

"S-sorry, continue Touch Me-san."

Touch Me shook his head. "It's alright, Coup de Grâce-san. There is no need to apologize for something like this. Don't worry, there's always next time." He encouraged.

The meeting began as usual with no further interruption. Each guild member had a turn to share any updates, news, or announcements, while others occasionally chimed in with idle banter passing between friends. It wasn't long before Shirou's turn arrived, and as usual, he would be the one breaking the interesting news.

"Damn, you had quite the night, eh Emiya-san?" Warrior Takemikazuchi whistled. "If only I was there with ya'. That would've been a blast!"

"But they didn't make it to the 2nd Floor, correct?" Punitto Moe spoke up, turning to the lone Humanoid Player.

"They did not. One of the parties almost got close, however, I managed to reroute them."

"But the fact that one almost got close to reaching it is enough. This is the first time any invading group has ever managed to get this close to making it past the 1st Floor." The Death Vine insisted.

"Does it really matter? I mean, they failed like all the others." Ankoro Mocchi Mochi stated rather lackadaisically, shrugging. She had been out of the loop for a few months now, appearing on and off at random times. As such, she didn't see what was wrong.

Some Players tried their hand at attacking Nazarick. The invaders failed on the 1st Floor. And Nazarick remained standing. To her, everything was as it always was.

"Don't tell me you're getting worked up because of Nazarick's reputation, Punitto Moe-san." She said.

"I believe what Punitto Moe-san is trying to get at is that it's not so much the perceived invincibility of Nazarick that's important here, but rather the fact that this is the first time a group of Players almost made it to the 2nd Floor when we've repelled raids with far greater numbers than this one." Answered Bellriver, elaborating on his friend's concern as two of his four arms crossed over his wide chest.

"The frequency at which these attempts are being made, they have a pattern to them. This "raid" marks the sixth one yet."

"Seventh, actually." Shirou corrected.

"Right, seventh. Thank you." Bellriver nodded.

"Seven raids, and we're only halfway through the month. It's only going to increase at this rate. Last month saw around ten attempts on Nazarick. And the month before that one, another nine attempted their hand at tackling Nazarick. They failed, yes, but they all possessed the same modus operandi: small and speedy parties seeking to traverse the 1st Floor rather than fight it out. Honestly, I'm surprised that no one has managed to luck out and reach the 2nd Floor yet after all these years. However, our luck won't last forever. Nazarick, while strong, is not invincible. Contrary to what people may complain and whine about on the YGGDRASIL forums. A sizable force could potentially reach the latter Floors depending on their size and strength. And the thing is, it's not impossible to see that happening in the potential future."

Following Bellriver's rather grim assertion, the conference room gave way to discussion regarding the potential threat possessed against not only Nazarick but all of Ainz Ooal Gown.

"There are three questions we must ask." Shirou held up three fingers, drawing everyone's attention. "Motive, means, and opportunity. These three components comprise every action. We identify them, and we can narrow down our suspects."

"Well, we ain't got to bust our brains on the motive part. We've been attacked for god knows how many reasons. There's no limit to who we haven't slighted or angered over the years as Ainz Ooal Gown. A better question would be who we haven't pissed off after all these years." Said Warrior Takemikazuchi, leaning back in his chair.

"I agree. The motive in this situation is insignificant, as the question poised should be: who is willing to go about this in such a manner? Regarding what Emiya-san said about means, we can see a clear method. Seeker and information guilds cost an arm and a leg to hire for their services, doubly so if their target is one of the top ten guilds in all of YGGDRASIL. These proxy raids on Nazarick reek of meticulous planning with the funds and know-how to keep the operation discrete even after all this time. That leaves several concerning alternatives. I would surmise that either one or two of the other top ten guilds are working together, or a group comprised of high to medium-ranked guilds just below the top ten has partnered up. My bet? The worst-case and most likely scenario is an alliance composed of both guilds within the top ten and below. And as for the numbers? We can only guess." Punitto Moe proposed, laying out the possibilities in a grave voice and earning a few concerned glances from the guild members.

"There's no end to the number of guilds, competitors, organizations, or Players who'll jump at the opportunity to see us defeated and broken. If so, this is only the prelude to what lies ahead. Considering we've repelled raids in the hundreds before, I'm inclined to believe Punitto Moe-san's hypothesis. However, all of this only speaks volumes to the masterminds that are orchestrating this." Touch Me provided, fingers steepling and contemplative.

"With something as elaborate and presumably grand in size as sieging Nazarick, we should've learned or heard something by now. Anything that would indicate a hint at such an operation. A call to arms, a rallying cry, a recruitment campaign, something, anything. Instead, there has been nothing but silence-not even a peep. These incursions will only continue. We can only speculate on what's to come next…"

Many grimaced, following along with the World Champion's line of thought.

The fact that they've heard not so much as a whisper, not even from their regular detractors on the YGGDRASIL forums, showed that whoever was running the operation was running a very tight ship. They weren't going to take any chances with any leaks, no matter how small or insignificant they were. This spoke volumes about their undoubtedly meticulous and expert handling of the operation. One far greater than any they've fought or encountered in the past.

They intend to keep themselves hidden until the time was ripe to plunge the dagger into Ainz Ooal Gown's back.

"Well, I say bring it! I've been itching for a good fight. A guild war sounds right up my alley!" Warrior Takemikazuchi rallied, slamming his forearm against the table and leaning in.

"Please don't say that, Warrior Takemikazuchi-san. You'll end up jinxing us!" Nubo pleaded.

"Now we arrive at perhaps the most fundamental question, opportunity. When will they strike us?" Said Shirou, holding up a singular finger.

The mood quickly grew hushed and sullen. It wasn't difficult for everyone to come to their own thoughts and conclusions regarding the matter. Especially with the guild's current predicament.

At their peak, Ainz Ooal Gown was a force to be reckoned with, and all thought twice about crossing them.

However, those days were quietly behind them.

Player participation and guild log-ins have waned over the past few months as life has moved on. The fact of the matter was that Ainz Ooal Gown wasn't as active as they were in the past.

The more astute Players and factions would take notice of their reduced presence within the overworld. It wouldn't be hard to conjure up a conjecture or two regarding why that might be. Especially since Ainz Ooal Gown's relatively small member count wasn't exactly a secret.

After all, what better time than to make a move against the guild when they were operating at only a fraction of their full strength?

"These scouting raids have been going on for quite some time now. For all we know, whoever is behind this might be ready to launch the real thing soon. Or if not, then they're going to bide their time, launching more and more expeditionary forces and parties at us to further learn as much as they can, all the while waiting for our numbers to drop while bolstering their numbers. Who knows how long they're willing to play the long con for, weeks, months, even years? With our current situation, just how many of us will be still online on the regular to meet them if they do decide to attack us? We have the advantage that the 2nd Floor and below have never been breached and will be unknown to the intruders, but it's foolish to put all our hopes in believing it'll be enough to stop them in the case of the invading force being far greater than we could possibly imagine. That's not to mention whoever is backing this campaign, their total Player numbers, their individual skill level, item count and advantage, or even the potential usage of World Items. Furthermore…"

Punitto Moe's words quickly devolved into rambling mumbles as his mind raced, going over all the potential logistics of it all. One of his vines tapped incessantly against the table as he jabbered on. The guild's chief strategist's anxiousness was on full display, and it carried over to the others as well. The direness hung over the air forebodingly, the mood of the room dipping further.

None dared raise their voice in solid objection.

His fear was understandable and one they all shared deep within. For while every single member was proud and confident of Nazarick and what it represented, none could deny the danger poised against it.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick, while one of the largest guild bases in all of YGGDRASIL, wasn't without its flaws. Much of Nazarick was designed to cater to their love and interest in what the guild thought would be "cool".

A combination of fun and functionality.

They made it work, most certainly, but when compared to other guild bases of the same tier and size as Nazarick, there were areas where they fell short.

"I think you might be a little too paranoid there, Punitto Moe-san. You're selling us way too short." Luc*Fer expressed.

"For starters, each one of the Floors within Nazarick is massive in size and scale, easily spanning hundreds of meters in distance. For any first-time attacker, it'll be a labyrinthine mess. It is no wonder why anyone's barely been able to get past the 1st Floor. Floors one through eight are chock-full of well-placed traps, a stockpile of NPCs, and even the Floor Guardians to boot. Even if they can somehow make it past the first three Floors, which were designed to bleed any invading forces, there's still the 4th, 6th, and, of course, the 8th Floor to fall back on. With the first two being well fortified and easily defendable - they are kill boxes for anyone stupid enough that dares to try. Then there's the 8th Floor; enough said there. The remaining invaders would have to get through Rubedo along with all the other overpowered NPCs we keep stocked on the 8th Floor, including the dead zone trap with Victim that we placed just before the entrance to the 9th Floor. And if, by some miracle, they managed to survive that, we still have the 9th and 10th Floors to think about in addition to all of our contingency plans. Need I go on?"

The fallen angel listed off, his tone almost patronizing.

"That's not to mention our contributions as Players. We also cannot ignore the cache of weapons, items, and consumables we've hoarded in the Treasury. And let's not forget that we've got plenty of World Items safeguarded in our vault, just waiting to be busted out. When it comes down to it, we won't lose so easily. If all else fails, we can also throw Emiya-san at them and let him do all the work. It seems to be working out fine for us already." Luci*fer said, chuckling at his joke in an attempt to rouse some good cheer. When he noticed his guildmates' stony, grim faces and the silence, the meager laughter quickly died.

"You're not wrong." Punitto Moe agreed to an extent.

"However…"

As soon as the Death Vine's tone was heard, Luci*Fer's mouth clicked shut before he could say anything. Punitto Moe didn't yell or raise his voice, but the sheer seriousness in his tone was enough to make the normally sarcastic fallen angel shut his mouth and listen.

"We would be the greatest of fools to accept that we're untouchable. Ask the Sol Imperial if they thought themselves truly invincible and remember where they are now." Punitto Moe curtly replied, invoking a memory.

YGGDRASIL was a game full of uncertainties. Whether it was the Player classes and builds, specific skills and spells, or even World Items, nothing was set in stone. Nobody would dispute that the game's balance was horribly skewed at times, with blatant min-max and overpowered builds that were better than others. But if there was one thing that the shitty devs did right, it was balancing the game where there was a counter to everything. This allowed Players the freedom to experiment with unique builds and ideas while simultaneously preventing power creep and certain playstyles from dominating and ruining the game's meta.

Not one thing in YGGDRASIL was considered truly absolute. Everything was viable, and in that light, everything had a countermeasure; it was merely a matter of locating and exploiting it.

Guild bases were no exception, regardless of how well-fortified or grand in scale they may be.

Having participated in numerous guild wars, raids, and other similar events, Ainz Ooal Gown was well-versed in conducting attacks and raids against enemy bases and besieging cities. However, one of the greatest campaigns to date for the Heteromorphic guild was when they went against the original 6th-ranked guild - The Sol Imperial.

The Sol Imperial, a guild of great power and renown, boasted a guild base that was nothing short of awe-inspiring. It was known as "The Golden Throne of Solus", and its size rivaled that of Nazarick, and it was made up of several distinct areas. First, there was the massive walled fortress castle, an imposing structure that would have deterred even the bravest of attackers. Inside the fortress was a city of its own, a bustling metropolis that could have easily been mistaken for a small country. But the crown jewel of the guild's base was undoubtedly the grandiose sky castle that served as the guild's main headquarters. Given all of this, it was no wonder that the guild's base had earned the honorific moniker of "The Unassailable."

Since YGGDRASIL's release in year one, the guild has successfully repelled every attack and raid launched against it, a feat that even the other guilds that ranked above them could not boast about.

A title they held unchallenged for years and could've held onto until the end of their days, had they not gotten greedy and stepped on too many toes in their quest for power and fame.

Whenever things would get too dicey for the Sol Imperial, they would retreat inside their guild base and hunker. With the knowledge that they were untouchable, they would wait out the storm. Each and every time.

This continued for years, and over time, they became too confident, too content, and too boastful.

Animosity for them eventually boiled over to a fever pitch, and a call to arms was issued by the 4th ranked guild at the time, with numerous third parties and high-ranking guilds answering the call. Ainz Ooal Gown was among the many that joined in, they were ranked 7th at the time, alongside a guild by the name of The Conclave of Ra, the 8th ranked guild.

Nothing brings warring rivals and unlikely allies together more than a common, hated enemy.

Together, they formed an alliance, and working in unison, they initiated a Guild War with the Sol Imperial and laid siege to their capital to topple their unassailable reputation and end their regime.

The magus could still vividly recall the war effort that took place at the Golden Throne of Solus, as if it had happened yesterday. It seemed as though every inch of the base was designed with the explicit purpose of halting and repelling any invaders that dared come their way. The layout of the base featured chokepoints, dead ends, a myriad of booby traps, misleading paths, strategic placement of NPCs, elevated high grounds that overlooked vast open areas, tactical vantage points, and key weapon placement, among other defense mechanisms. The guild base was practically a death trap in all but name.

Despite the Sol Imperial boasting 400 Players under their banner, with the home-field advantage, possessing numerous powerful NPCs, having access to all the items they needed, and wielding their frankly overpowered Guild Weapon, it was the alliance that managed to achieve victory on that fateful day.

For they possess one thing that the guild didn't, and that was the numerical advantage.

In the realm of PvP and Player skirmishes, victory or defeat hinges on a myriad of factors such as skill, item, terrain, wit, and strategy. However, when it comes to a full-blown Guild War, these factors are amplified, and in the end, it was due to the alliance vastly outnumbering the guild-not just in terms of sheer quantity but also in terms of capability.

The alliance boasts a larger pool of skilled Players who can unleash their spells and abilities upon the enemy stronghold, far outnumbering what the guild can muster. They also had more mercenary NPCs at their disposal, making it easier for them to test out the guild's defenses and break any stalemates. Additionally, the coalition could outspend their opponents with their vast array of cash items. They had more mercenary NPCs they could've used as fodder to test out their defenses and break the stalemates. They even possessed more World Items, with the Sol Imperial only having three and using all of them while the coalition wielded a total of five during the Guild War.

Quantity and quality. If two opposing forces held roughly equal levels in terms of sheer quality, then it only stands to reason that the former would be a deciding factor.

In war, numbers alone didn't determine who won or lost, but they certainly did tip the balance in one's favor. The old adage remains true: there was strength in numbers. No matter the battlefield.

In the end, after nearly four hours of brutal fighting, the alliance prevailed. To achieve that valiant victory, it took a long, arduous war of attrition. The Sol Imperial was able to defeat more than three-quarters of their forces before they could seize victory.

They won, but the alliance wasn't satisfied with just a mere win.

No, they wanted more and went a step beyond, as the alliance captured not just the base and their respawn point but every single respawn point within the immediate area and continent. As soon as the guild members would respawn, they would be set upon and instantly PKed over and over again. This would continue until their level reached zero and their Player character was auto-deleted entirely, forcing every last one of them to start completely over from scratch. By day's end, The Sol Imperial, one of the oldest and most powerful guilds since the launch of YGGDRASIL, had been reduced to nothing more than dust in the wind.

A majority of the Players from the guild quit the game outright after that, unable to handle harassment.

Some would have called their action cruel and vicious, Shirou was certainly among that camp, but the rest didn't care.

It wasn't only about beating them; it was about sending a message.

The smoldering, scorched crater and ruin that was once home to the prestigious guild base served as a reminder to all, strong or weak, that nothing in YGGDRASIL was ever a guarantee.

Now, it seemed it was Ainz Ooal Gown's turn at the chopping block.

And it couldn't have come at a more inopportune time.

"In the event that Nazarick falls, we should begin thinking about a fallout strategy. Set up backup holds and safe houses. We should start by transferring the more crucial items first. The sooner, the better." Punitto Moe said, devising a fallback plan.

As each Player spoke and argued at once, the volume of the conversation increased, filling the conference room with noise. Despite the initial protest, there was no denying the underlying apprehension they all felt.

While it was all still speculative, none could deny the fact of the matter. When all the information was considered, it led to one foreboding conclusion.

A storm was brewing, and it was only growing larger.

Whoever it was that was behind this machination, they intend to end all of Ainz Ooal Gown in one fell swoop.

The mood of the conference room plummeted as the notion of an inevitable defeat awaiting them infested their thoughts. With every passing murmur and hushed conversation among the guild members, a malignant disease festers. With it carried a defeatist attitude that only lingered, spiraling further down by the minute into a more forgone conclusion.

Not even the typically optimistic Touch Me could offer any particular solace, remaining pensively silent. Warrior Takemikazuchi held a grim determination to him. The two warriors exchanged looks and nodded.

If they have met their match, then they'll go down swinging.

The vast majority of the guild members had all but conceded that their potential defeat was unavoidable and viewed the worst-case scenario as inevitable. Except for one who stayed firm.

"It won't." A voice interjected.

All eyes swiveled toward Shirou.

"Nazarick won't fall." He repeated it as if stating a fact.

"It won't fall easily; is what I believe what you mean, Emiya-san." The Death Vine replied. "And as it pains me to admit, Nazarick is far from infallible. We need to look at this realistically and start planning ahead of time." He stressed, his lips twitching into the barest form of a frown.

"I don't disagree, Punitto Moe-san. No guild base, no matter how elaborate or intricate, is invincible. But I say again, Nazarick won't fall. I'll make sure of it." Shirou vowed.

"Emiya-san…" Punitto Moe drawled in an all-too-familiar, vexed voice. Behind his avatar, his brows twitched with a hint of annoyance at the stubbornness being displayed by his friend.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Emiya-san, but please stop it. I understand you might be upset at such a thought, but we need to be smart about this. We need to prepare for when Nazarick falls."

"Don't you mean, if, Moe-san?"

"Ugh! Not this again…"

"I don't disagree with your idea of having contingency plans, Moe-san. I know you're our key strategist, but that doesn't mean you should be outright pessimistic about our chances."

"It's not pessimism if you're being realistic, which I am! And speaking of that, it's not like you to be this stubbornly naïve, Emiya-san! As you said, I'm the guild's strategist. It's my job to consider the alternatives, and I'm saying there's a chance Nazarick will fall, and we need to accept that fact!"

The others kept quiet as Punitto Moe and Shirou engaged in a back-and-forth argument. An argument that was slowly heating up as the guild's chief of strategy grew more and more incensed at the Hand of the guild's calm persistence. Touch Me and a few others tried intervening, but to little avail as the two Players were locked in a war of words.

"If we believe we don't stand a chance, then we've already lost. We know their forces would no doubt be strong enough to invade Nazarick, but we can't say for certain if the enemy can successfully raid Nazarick or not."

"Exactly, we don't know! Who are they? What are their exact numbers, forces, capabilities, skill level, item advantage, or even World Items? We're completely in the dark here! There are too many factors to consider here, and we've got little to work with. Even if we shore up our defenses and prepare beforehand the best we can, there's no guarantee that it'll be enough! If there's even a 1% chance of failure, we must take that as an absolute certainty! For all we know, they might already have the numbers and power necessary to raid Nazarick and see it burned to the ground. They're just not choosing to act on it yet!"

"Maybe, but believing we've already lost before the fighting has even begun does us nothing. We can plan and postulate all we want, but what matters is that when the time comes, we'll beat them back and protect Nazarick. Just as we've always done before." The Fake Player declared.

"That is nothing more than foolish idealistic naiveté! Have you listened to a single word I've said?!" The Death Vine argued back, his voice rising.

"I have, and I do understand, Punitto Moe-san. More than you know." Shirou answered in a soft and understanding voice. "However, that doesn't mean I'll accept it so easily. I refuse to. In the end, all we need to do is stop them. Prevent them from reaching the inner Floors and keep them away from the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. If we do that, we win."

"Easier said than done. But again, may I reiterate that we still have no idea if we can stop them or not!? You keep on saying we'll beat them back, but that's it! How can you confidently say that we'll win when we don't have a single fucking idea who or what we're going up against?! Answer me that!" Punitto Moe all but shouted, frustration boiling over. A grassy fist slammed against the table, the number zero flashing briefly. The others felt it rattle slightly.

The room was engulfed in a taut, dead silence. Following the Death Vine's explosive argument, many of the guild members glanced back and forth between the two, and many more awkwardly fidgeted in their seats. Arguments and heated discussions were fairly common for even a tight-knit guild such as Ainz Ooal Gown. However, the quarrel between the two of them went beyond heated and into polarizing.

Two opposing views clashed in full display, with many present worried that the disagreement might spark and escalate into something far more worrisome and destructive. The last thing the guild needed was a schism.

Much of the discourse lies in Shirou's and Punitto Moe's conflicting mindsets.

Punitto Moe's professionalism ascribed to Sun Tzu's maxim of "the battle is concluded before it even started,". The Death Vine has always been a very meticulous Player, always cautious and calculating. He valued research, facts, and logic over much else. At times, he came off as headstrong and a stickler for strategy and tactics whenever they went out PKing or adventuring.

Numerous achievements were credited to him, but he wasn't without fault. His Achilles' heel lies in the very adage he upholds. He was cautious by nature-occasionally excessively so. He would frequently fall down a slippery slope, quickly passing judgment right away and accepting the outcome as inevitable if the circumstances and the information-theoretical or actual-were unfavorable or completely against them.

Ironic, how someone like Punitto Moe, who prides himself on being scrupulous and conventional, has a history of impulsive and hasty decision-making for outcomes that were later proven to be incorrect.

Shirou, on the other hand, embodied the tenacious proverb "It is not over until it's over" in his ever-resilient way. A noble sentiment on paper, but rarely was reality ever fair or kind. However, that never stopped him from fighting to the bitter end, no matter the hurdles. They've beaten the odds before, but they've lost plenty of times as well.

Both weren't wrong in their stances, but neither were they wholly in the right either.

However, the general consensus among the guild sided with Punitto Moe. They knew Shirou could be stubborn as a mule at times, but this was a definite first. Hearing the chief of war for Ainz Ooal Gown parrot the same response without providing much evidence did little to soothe their concerns.

It was almost as if he was in utter denial of the idea of Ainz Ooal Gown and Nazarick falling. Which prompted some concern from his guildmates.

All eyes were silently focused on the lone Humanoid Player, awaiting his response. Some even held out hope that he'd provide a miraculous solution to this dilemma.

"You're right. I don't." Shirou admitted it calmly and easily. Something that took much of the wind out of Punitto Moe's sail, catching him and the rest off guard by his admission.

"In a Guild War or raid, there are only two paths. Victory or defeat. Either we win and Nazarick and Ainz Ooal Gown as a whole remains, or we lose and everything we've built up will crumble away forever. Between those two, can we really call it a choice?"

Shirou's eyes turned, sweeping over each of them as he did so. None offered a reply, with a few unable to meet his gaze, almost ashamed of themselves for being caught up in the moment and accepting their potential defeat all but lying down.

His fingers came together, squeezing at the thought. The silver-haired Player's gaze soon turned and found itself transfixed to the floating staff. The Guild Weapon of The Great Tomb of Nazarick, the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.

The rest of his guildmates followed suit, their gaze landing on the golden staff, and for a moment, silence reigned over the Round Table.

While frequently grand in scale and spectacle, Guild Wars and raids on guild bases generally followed a straightforward procedure. It boils down to a singular objective on both sides. The attackers seek to invade the base and destroy the Guild Weapon while the defender thwarts the attackers' attempts. Whether or not the Guild Weapon was destroyed determines victory or defeat. Everything in between was merely a formality to reach the objective.

The countless raids and attacks they've repelled over the years had the same goal - reach Nazarick's lower depths and destroy the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. And much like with everything else in YGGDRASIL, a defeat meant incurring a harsh punishment. The destruction of the Guild Weapon would result in the effective and immediate disbanding of the guild and the dissolution of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

This unrealized attempt on Nazarick would be no different from those in the past. Only this time, their enemy no doubt intends to finish the job for good.

To allow both of them to die on his watch…

The thought of that happening was utterly inexcusable in Shirou's mind.

"You say we can't win, Punitto Moe-san, but I say that we can't afford to lose."

There was more to Ainz Ooal Gown than just a name or a title. It was a banner, a belief. They were, but ordinary men and women, but together, they carved out their destiny. They cemented their names in the annals of history within this digital domain.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick was so many things. A reminder, a testament to Ainz Ooal Gown's first true endeavors and accomplishments. A monument to all their achievements, their glory, and their dreams.

But to them and to Shirou, it was simply home.

They dedicated everything to Nazarick.

They invested hundreds of hours of lives-hours that they will never get back-tens of hundreds to hundreds of thousands of yen from their livelihood, untold grinding, and innumerable blood, toil, sweat, and tears. They poured their very beings into Nazarick, and it showed.

They, who were unsatisfied with the real world, carved out a place by them for them. With nothing but their own hands and minds, they turn their aspirations and imaginations into reality. They made the impossible possible.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick was home to Ainz Ooal Gown, a fact, just as the sky was vast, or the ocean was blue.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick was a shrine to all of Ainz Ooal Gown, of all that came before and what would come after. The culmination of their digital lives. A masterpiece to all their halcyon days, forever standing the test of time, even after all the members move on and when only he'll remain.

A notion that was slowly becoming a reality, sooner rather than later.

Already, two members have stopped playing YGGDRASIL outright, expressing their deepest regret that they simply didn't have the time to play anymore. They would be the first of many.

Deep within the Treasury lies a hallway, a chamber known as the Innermost Sanctum. With the prospect of the guild members retiring for good, Momonga came up with the idea of building a special sanctum - a mausoleum. It was a novel idea and one that he pitched in to make with his friend.

Within the mausoleum, they housed the relinquished items and equipment of the members that had quit. They were stored and kept safe, with great golden stone statues known as Avatara equipped with those items in their Player avatar's likeness as an honor to the members of Ainz Ooal Gown that have moved on.

The items would be ready to be pulled out and returned to them should they ever decide to come back, however unlikely that was.

Only two Avatara decorated the mausoleum hallway, a number that'll no doubt rise in the coming months and years.

To add further insult to injury, when a Guild Weapon was destroyed, not only was the guild automatically disbanded and their guild base deleted, but the members of the guild were also given a title that would hang over their heads for everyone to see.

'[Symbol of Failure]'

It would be emblazoned above every single guild member's avatar for all to bear witness and judge. A badge of shame.

The process to get rid of the [Symbol of Failure] was relatively easy and forgiving by YGGDRASIL standards. The guild members must remake and rejoin the guild under the same name for it to go away. Every single previous member.

The biggest caveat was that, if even one singular member doesn't rejoin or quit outright, then the [Symbol of Failure] will remain forever.

In the absolute worst-case scenario, Nazarick's defense would be breached, their innermost sanctum trampled on, and their Guild Weapon seized and destroyed. Ainz Ooal Gown would be terminated, their members scattered across the four winds. Their home but ruination.

Although the dissolution of Ainz Ooal Gown and Nazarick would be beyond soul-crushing for each and every one of them, it wasn't the end of the world in the strictest sense. It would be, in the extremist and looses terms of the word, an acceptable loss. After all, at the end of the day, it was a game - a game that consumed their free time and gave them so many wonderful memories, but a game nonetheless. Everyone had lives outside of YGGDRASIL with greater responsibilities.

They can recover, bounce back, and move forward given enough time. And while some will have no doubt moved on from the game, it wouldn't be strictly impossible to gather everyone back together through the emergency messaging system they had set up. With a guild as tight-knitted as Ainz Ooal Gowl, it was more a matter of organization and scheduling than anything else.

But none of that mattered to Shirou, for even if they did get back together, the magus wasn't sure if he could stomach the shame or look any one of his cherished friends in the eye for allowing it to transpire in the first place.

Yes, their name could be reforged, but what of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, the culmuation of all their works? What of the countless bundles of lives, the NPCs that they dedicated and poured their hearts into who also call Nazarick home? They would be lost forever.

The [Symbol of Failure] would be naught but salt upon an everlasting grievous wound, for it served as an irrefutable fact that Shirou failed to protect Nazarick in the first place. He would fail them.

No matter the justification or odds against him.

When all was said and done, it would only be he who'd remain when all of Ainz Ooal Gown moved on. His final obligation to them, his friends, was a silent vigil over Nazarick. When the sun finally sets on this digital world, he, the dutiful sentinel, will be the one to witness how it all turns out.

Should total defeat ever come to pass, then the final moments of both Ainz Ooal Gown and Nazarick will not be of glory and remembrance but instead, of failure and despair.

Their legacy would be forever sullied, left to only memories remaining, fragmented and distant. Nothing more than a bygone era.

He couldn't - he won't - allow such a fate to come to pass.

Shirou had failed innumerable times over his long, long life. Defeat was a taste he'd known since he was born. The lone survivor, who failed at saving those who pleaded and cursed him in equal amounts. Back then, it had tasted like ashes, making every breath a reminder of his guilt. Yet, what followed was worse.

He found purpose in Kiritsugu, but it was a monkey paw, driving him to his destruction.

He found love in Rin. That arrogant yet reliable woman, who'd pulled him from his delusion, and made it clear that he deserved to be happy.

And… he found a dream in Saber. His better half, forced apart by fate and Alaya alike. Forever destined to search for her endlessly, as she waited for eternity.

He had it all, and he'd failed them all-countless people, friends, loved ones, his duty and ideals, even himself.

Shirou will not add Ainz Ooal Gown and Nazarick to that long list.

An unbridled fury flooded him, one very uncharacteristic for someone of Shirou's rapport, an emotion that one could count on two hands alone the number of times he has truly felt such a way, simmering underneath the surface. One that threatened to engulf him if he were a lesser man, at the thought of those who'd ruin his and his cherished friend's sanctuary for their Machiavellian pleasure and selfishness. It emboldened him, yet it was a prelude to the pain that awaited him should he fail. He faintly wondered if contacting Alaya was a lesser cruelty… before pushing the idea out of his mind. His friends would hardly forgive him if he went deeper down that rabbit hole.

No matter the challenge or obstacle, he'll protect Nazarick until his dying breath.

No duty too difficult, no sacrifice too great.

The rest of Ainz Ooal Gown blinked, a few turning their heads as if looking for something. All was quiet, but then they heard something, something that took them out of their pensive stupor. Many wondered if it was just their ears playing tricks on them or if it was simply the white noise of the background, but for the briefest of moments, they heard a sound.

Something cracking.

Before anyone could wonder further where such a sound came from, Shirou's voice grabbed their attention once more.

"I don't care what the odds are. I don't care how many Players conspire against us, be they hundreds, thousands, or even tens of thousands. Hell, they could have all the World Items in the game; it wouldn't change a thing. I'll be damned if I allow even a single Player to get within arm's reach of the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. Do they want to end us so badly? Then they'll have to pry the Guild Weapon out of my cold, dead fucking hands."

When it came to speeches and meetings, none could match the commanding presence of Touch Me, the assured confidence of Shirou, or the grandiose passion of Momonga. They were the guild's finest orators, able to effortlessly captivate the attention of their fellow members and inspire them to reach greater heights. Through their words, they instilled in others a passion and a drive to excel, to push themselves beyond what they thought possible. As he spoke, they couldn't help but be drawn to his words, feeling the intensity of his emotions and the strength of his conviction. That passion, that strength…

That insanity…

It wasn't logical, it wasn't realistic. They knew it, and they knew he knew it as well.

Shirou was strong, no one could deny that fact, but it was impossible for one Player, for one man, to make a difference stem the tide of reality. That was simply how YGGDRASIL operated. When considered separately, his declaration was nothing more than boastful hyperbole.

He'd be cashing a check that his body wouldn't be able to pay.

But underneath it all, they knew without a shadow of a doubt that their friend would fight tooth and nail and beyond when the time came. For in the face of insurmountable odds, he'll remain like a mighty oak tree, enduring all that came before it.

For that was the kind of person he was.

That he'd tear the world asunder even at the cost of himself before a single tragedy could befall them, it was heartening, and they reveled in the comfort that thought gave them.

The guild members in attendance felt something pulse within them. Their backs straightened out as they regarded the one known far and wide as the Player Killer.

In a moment of weakness, Ainz Ooal Gown faltered, allowing themselves to be swept up by their uncertainty and allowing fear to rule their mind.

There was shame, yes, but a spark was ignited within them. An ardent flame that burned away the uncertainty and hopelessness. A renewed passion.

And from a single spark, a fire grew.

"Oi, oi, what's with all this "I" business? Don't tell me you're already counting us out, Mr. Hero?!" Warrior Takemikazuchi joked, the first among them to speak up. "Don't think we're going to let you have all the fun now. Come hell or high water, we'll beat back every one of their sorry asses so hard that it'll be for the history book! Whoever they are, they'll regret ever messing with Ainz Ooal Gown! Ain't that right, Touch Me-san!?"

A grinning emoticon appeared overhead as the great samurai turned to his friend.

"Indeed!" Touch Me boisterously exclaimed, rising from his seat, standing tall and proud.

"Ainz Ooal Gown has faced countless trials before. We've fought against impossible odds and come out on top time and again! This one shall be no different, and while it may be our biggest challenge yet, it will not be our last! I believe I speak for all here, those of us present and those unfortunately away - but may they remain forever in our spirits and hearts. Like hell, we're going to allow it to end here! We will make them bleed for every step of ground they take! We shall scatter their armies to the four winds! We shall make them regret challenging us and show the realms why we're known as the best around! My friends! Hear me now, we shall not fall! Ainz Ooal Gown, The Great Tomb of Nazarick, they have never known defeat and never shall!"

Touch Me rallied in their Guildmaster's absence, regaining his confidence, and delivered one of his patent speeches that rivaled Momonga's own. A lone silver fist rose to the air, defiant and resolute, calling upon all of them.

"I ask of you, my comrades, will this be the end of us?!"

"NO!"

"Are we going to beat them back and show everyone why we're the best around?!"

"YES!"

"Why? Because who are we?!"

"Ainz Ooal Gown!"

"AINZ OOAL GOWN!"

"AINZ OOAL GOWN!"

Their cheers rose, a cacophony of voices as they all chanted together as one.

Shirou's declaration and Touch Me's speech revitalized them, their innate infectious hopefulness spread, invigorating them all. It reminded them exactly what they were fighting for and precisely why they couldn't afford to lose.

A passionate fire blossomed, burning bright and full. However, the greater the light shines, the deeper the shadow stretches, for there was still a lingering question regarding the whole ordeal.

"Umm, apologies… Not to undermine your speech and Emiya-san's, but how exactly are we going to go about it?" Voiced Nubo, blushing at the immediate attention of all his friends on him. "I mean… we have a plan, right? Y-you do have a plan, right?"

Everyone then turned right back to Shirou, waiting to hear his response.

To their surprise, Shirou offered only a shrug. They blinked, a few deflating at the rather lackadaisical action that contrasted with his earlier unfaltering confidence.

"For better or for worse, all we can do is prepare and wait. I was kind of planning on winging it or doing what's needed when the time comes. I mean, so long as we can accomplish the task of preventing the destruction of the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown at their hands, it's our victory. We don't need to win per se; we just need to prevent them from winning." He stated, more of an intent than a fully thought-out game plan.

"I planned on discussing with Punitto Moe-san and the others regarding a fully thought-out defense strategy when the time comes…"

The silver-haired Player's admission was a surprise, his stalwart persona cracking slightly and giving away a hint of wry embarrassment. They could easily imagine the sheepish grin on the faker's face as his hand reached back to rub his neck. The mood dropped down a notch, but despite his less-than-confident response, a few grinned and chuckled with him.

In spite of the moment of weakness shown, it only served to endear him to them further. For it was a reminder.

For all his strength, skills, and incredible feats, Shirou was still human. He couldn't do everything, but then again, he wouldn't have to, for they would be there right beside him.

"Well, you heard the boss man, get to thinking Mr. Strategist. Chop, chop." Said Warrior Takemikazuchi, clapping his hands haughtily as if expecting his friend to engineer some grand plan out of nowhere.

"Oh, sure, pile all the work on me. I really feel the love here, guys." Punitto Moe huffed, leaning his head on his hand as a deadpanned emoticon popped over his head.

"Hey, did everyone suddenly forget about me? What am I, chopped liver?" Bellriver came in, the multi-mouth Heteromorph looking back and forth.

"Oh, of course. I can't forget about my assistant."

"Assistant?!" The Gibbering Mouther fired back incredulously. "Excuse you? If anything, I was the main strategist - the first, before you even joined Nine's Own Goal! Lest you forget. You're only the main strategist because I decided to be generous and let you have the spotlight, with all your scheming and plotting."

"First of all, scheming and plotting are the same thing, so you're just being redundant. Secondly, are you sure you didn't just take a back seat because I'm clearly a better strategist than you?" The Death Vine postured smugly.

"Those are some fighting words, if I do say so myself!"

"You want to go?!"

"1 v 1 bro!"

The two strategists argued back and forth, trading jabs and quips as they each sought to outdo the other. Despite the thin veil of barbed words being exchanged, everyone knew they were having fun, with some of the guild members even taking sides and contributing with words of encouragement.

"Why not make a competition?" Luci*Fer proposed. "The two of you will make a battle plan, and when the time comes, we'll see which one is better. Just keep in mind that if we fail, then that's on whoever made the plan, and everyone will probably hate and blame you forever. So no pressure or anything." Said the guild's resident troublemaker casually.

Despite the high stakes, many snickered and laughed at the joke. More voices joined in on the fun, and the room drifted into playful banter between friends, adding some much-needed levity and uplifting the mood greatly.

Things may look rough for Ainz Ooal Gown, but as the saying goes: things may get worse before they get better, but they will.

No matter their foe, Ainz Ooal Gown will face the challenge as they've always had. Together.

Before the conversations could be fully discussed, the room's double doors burst open with a loud bang, causing a few of the members to jump in their seats.

At the doorway stood Peroroncino.

He ran towards the table, more specifically towards where Shirou sat, only for the Birdman to stumble and roll, collapsing in front of the magus. Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi, who was the closest to him, jumped to their feet the moment the golden avian tripped and rushed to his aid.

"Whoa, easy, easy. We got you." Warrior Takemikazuchi helped him up, a supportive hand to keep him steady.

Peroroncino's attention was focused solely on Shirou. He struggled to breathe and speak at the same time as heavy, breathless pants left his mouth.

"Breathe, Pero, breathe." Shirou advised. "I'm not going anywhere. Again, take deep breaths, collect your words, and then talk."

The feathered archer bobbed his head and inhaled sharply, filling his lungs with air. After a good thirty seconds, his breathing leveled out, and he could finally speak.

"E-emiya-senpai… !"

"I'm here. What's wrong?"

"T-the World Champion T-tournament!"

Shirou blinked. What did that have to do with anything?

"Okay? What about it?"

"I-it's the Class Card you've talked about wanting to find, the knight one!"

Shirou froze. His world staggered to a grinding, split-second halt. His mouth moved on its own, breathing out a singular word.

"Saber…"

"R-right, that's what it was called!" Peroroncino nodded, remembering the proper name. "I learned that one of the grand prizes for winning this year's tournament is the Saber Class Card!"

"How sure are you of this?" Shirou inquired of his junior, his voice hushed, serious, and hopeful.

"W-wouldn't have rushed here unless I was certain, senpai." Peroroncino promised just as serious. "I even double-checked with my sources."

"H-how? And where… Where did you hear of this?"

"Mind sharing with the rest of the class what's going on?" Luci*Fer voiced up. The rest of Ainz Ooal Gown gathered behind them, just missing what Peroroncino had told him.

It took less than a few minutes for Peroroncino to explain what he knew and bring everyone up to speed. The conference room was quickly abuzz with the sound of conversation and speculations over the news. The matter of the raid on Nazarick was temporarily placed on hold.

"It would make sense why they would host such a prize like that, considering it's a World Class Item and if Emiya-san's NPCs are anything to go by, it'll be a pretty prize indeed. The World Champion Tournament is beyond epic in scale, it would serve as further incentive for the participants." Speculated Punitto Moe, his floral hand stroking his chin.

The World Championship Tournament, one of the biggest and most acclaimed events in all of YGGDRASIL. A sanctioned tournament sponsored by none other than the developers themselves. These special tournaments were held only once a year and were hosted in one of the nine playable realms: Asgard, Álfheim, Vanaheim, Niðavellir, Midgard, Jötunheim, Niflheim, Helheim, and Múspellsheim.

In total, there could and would only be nine World Champions at any given time within all of YGGDRASIL.

Due to the nature of the World Champion tournament and what it represented, it served as a secondary measure where only the strongest and most skilled Players from all corners of the nine realms would gather to compete and determine who was worthy of the title of the strongest.

The tournament winner was bestowed the covetous [World Champion] class in addition to special pieces of equipment befitting their new class and status. The [World Champion] was a beyond unique job class that has been described as an official 'hax' by the greater player base due to simply how overpowered the [World Champion] class provides in terms of stats and granting the champions exclusive abilities and skills that no other job class could hope to replicate.

It was why, oftentimes, Players would compare themselves to a World Champion as a benchmark and gauge their strength. All eight existing World Champions were easily recognized as the top 10 best Players in all of YGGDRASIL. Touch Me, as the Álfheim World Champion, was acknowledged by all as the third-best Player across the entire game.

"Touch Me-san, what are the proceedings for the tournament? How do we enter?" Shirou quickly inquired.

All eyes turned to the guild's resident World Champion as he idly crossed his arms over his chest. It had been some years since his last entry, but the organization of the tournament was still clear in his mind.

"The tournament is usually set around December time, within the middle or near the end of the month. They usually make an announcement at the beginning of the month. So we have plenty of time to-"

"Actually…" Peroroncino spoke up, the tone in his voice giving away hesitance and concern. "I heard from good sources that they're changing up the date and methods. Apparently, they're going to make an official statement sometime today!"

"They are?" Touch Me uttered in surprise, standing up straighter. "Why?"

The golden sniper could offer nothing but a helpless shrug.

"That doesn't make sense. Usually, the shitty devs would make an extravaganza out of this, starting with starter tournaments as preliminary rounds and requiring you to finish in the top 5 to even be eligible to sign up for the official event. For all intents and purposes, this is the last time a World Champion Tournament will be held in all YGGDRASIL! To just jump right into it…" Warrior Takemikazuchi trailed off, his voice morose and contemplative, sharing his rival's confusion.

He had entered the tournament on two separate occasions, and while he hasn't entered any more, he has kept up with the latest news for each one of them over the years. For eight years, there was hardly any deviation in how they operated, and yet, it was only now that the developers decided to shake things up?

No advertisement, no promotion, nothing. It made no business or practical sense to announce such a thing out of nowhere. It was almost as if it were being rushed, but the reason why it might be so, they could only speculate.

The Nephilim couldn't see the logic or purpose of such a decision. And he wasn't alone in that sentiment.

However, the logistics of it didn't matter to the faker, for he was focused on one fact alone.

"So that means the participants will be chosen entirely by the developers, then?" Shirou grimaced, the others following suit.

"Any idea when we'll be getting that official statement?" Asked Coup de Grâce.

No sooner than those words were spoken, Shirou heard something. The sound of a notification. He tuned out the world around him as he saw he had received a [Message]. A DM at that, one titled 'The 9th World Champion Tournament' with the sender being a GM and signed off by none other than Zelretch.

Shirou swiftly accessed the [Message] with speed that would make Rider class Servants blush with envy.

Opening it, dichromatic eyes scanned the content of the [Message]. In summary, he has been selected and invited to be one of the many competitors for the upcoming 9th World Champion Tournament. The rest of the content was other basic formalities that he skimmed through.

The projection user latched onto the main text, reading it twice more and then a third time.

His shoulder sagged as he let out a breath he didn't realize he held. The message left him relieved but also guarded. The suddenness of it all, it reeked of interference. Zelretch had a hand in this, and not just because it had his name on it. The question was, what was the purpose behind the suddenness of it all?

This would mark the first time Shirou had last seen or interacted with Zelretch since the magician first transferred him into the digital domain all those years ago.

The magus could only guess what the Wizard Marshall had planned.

The invitation and guaranteed spot in the tournament did, however, help to settle his frazzled nerves. A sigh of relief left him, yet, he kept his eyes trained on the message with his invitation as if in fear that looking away would allow it to disappear forever.

A brief thought occurred to him, and he wondered

Had he not been chosen as a competitor, what would've he done then? No doubt something insane and reckless.

Shirou shuddered as an idea crossed his mind. He most likely would have made the trip to the tournament's location and barged in, either making demands or brokering a deal, doing anything to have even the remotest chance of winning the Saber Class Card. Even if it meant fighting every single Player in the tournament. Heck, it didn't matter if he had to fight every single Player in the world there as well.

Consequences be damned.

He wasn't going to allow the opportunity to slip through his grasp.

As he kept the message of the invitation in his periphery, he noticed something else. He received two messages. The second one was sent directly from Zelretch himself. The [Message] was simply titled "Let's talk."

"You too, huh?"

Looking up, Warrior Takemikazuchi revealed to the rest of the guild that he too received the same message and invitation as Shirou. Ainz Ooal Gown was quick to congratulate the two, celebrating early on the news.

"Phew." Peroroncino let out a sigh, wiping his forehead with nonexistent sweat. "Well, that's one problem taken care of. Now you've finally got the chance to get that card you've always wanted! Ain't that great?!"

"Yeah…" He answered in a far more subdued tone.

"Something wrong, Emiya-senpai?"

"Ease up, Peroroncino-san." Said Nubo. "It's understandable that he might be a bit worried about the odds and competition. He and Warrior Takemikazuchi-san will have their hands full for the tournament to come."

"Is it, though?" Luci*Fer couldn't help but ask. "We all know those two can compete with good ol' Touch Me-san here." He jabbed his thumb at the guild's resident World Champion. "I'd say this tournament is in the bag! With the two of them, the chances of victory and winning the grand prize just went up no matter which of them wins in the end."

"Perhaps, but nothing is set in stone." Touch Me made known, all eyes deferring to the silver paladin. "And you shouldn't underestimate the tournament, Luci*Fer-san. Aye, both Emiya-san and Warrior Takemikazuchi-san are strong and skilled, as I can attest, but there are still other Players who are just as strong and capable, perhaps even greater. Nothing is guaranteed. However…"

The knight of justice paused, a smiling emoticon appearing over him.

"I have confidence that no matter the opposition, you'll be able to face it head-on and surpass it." He said, ending on a more positive and confident note.

"So, where and when is the date of the tournament, Emiya-senpai?" His kouhai came to his side, giving voice to the question the rest of Ainz Ooal Gown were curious to know.

Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi exchanged a knowing glance.

The 9th World Champion Tournament will take place in a few days, and the realm where the final tournament will be hosted - none other than the cradle of humanity itself.

Midgard.

Chapter 11 - The 9th World Champion Tournament I

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Published: 11/12/2023

Chapter 11 - The 9th World Champion Tournament I

October 20, 2136. World: Midgard. Location: Central Runga - The Town of Und Ljósinn

Midgard.

From the tales of the Prose Edda, it was said that the dwelling place of humankind was formed from the ancient body of the great ancestral being, Ymir, who was said to be the first being in all of existence. The mythology further recounts how Odin and his brothers slayed the primordial Aurgelmir and forged the realm from its remains. And from Ymir's body, the three Æsir crafted the verdant world that was to be known as Midgard and seeded life on it by creating the first humans and granting them claim over the newly established realm.

The direct Nordic translation of Midgard credited the realm as 'Middle Enclosure' or Middle Earth, as it was later colloquialized in future texts and references. Appropriate, seeing as the realm was said to be tied within the center of the World Tree itself. The central realm of Yggdrasil by which branches and connects to the other eight realms.

Midgard was the cradle of mankind in Norse mythology. With such cultural significance, it was no surprise then that within the virtual world of YGGDRASIL, Players with inclinations towards Humanoid races naturally gravitated towards it and came to signify the virtual realm as their world.

From the very beginning, Midgard was taken as the main hub world for all Humanoid Players. Similar to how Helheim and the likes were considered the de facto central hub for Heteromorphic and Demi-human Players alike.

It was a rare occurrence to come across any Heteromorphic or Demi-human Players in Midgard's overworld. This notion was reinforced by the fact that the playable virtual realm catered exclusively to Players of Humanoid races. Much of the sprawling overworld from the dungeons, areas, and spawn towns was completely inaccessible to any other Player races but Humanoids. This deliberate design choice by the developers only served to reinforce the notion of Player-type superiority within the Humanoid Player community.

A narrative that was spun further by the fact that any Heteromorphic or Demi-human Players who happened to venture into the overworld were immediately targeted by bands of Humanoid Players and viciously hunted down on sight. It didn't matter if they were minding their own business or completing a quest; being a Heteromorph or Demi-Human in Midgard meant inviting PK at every turn. This blatant antagonization only served to deepen the divide and spread further resentment between the two communities.

Simply put, there was little reason why any Heteromorphic or Demi-human Player would ever be seen in Midgard.

On this day, however, there would be an exception.

Situated in the heart of Midgard, the grandest and most central region, was a magnificent port city that emulates the splendid landscapes of Sweden. The vast expanse of the region is characterized by the majestic Alps and gentle rolling hills that are adorned with stretches of lush green grasslands and picturesque plains. A massive port that connected to the coast of an ocean.

Und Ljósinn was the name of the massive sprawling city, and it was chosen to be where the 9th World Champion Tournament would be hosted.

The atmosphere in and around the city and its surrounding areas could only be described as vivacious and festive. Thousands upon thousands of Players of varying shapes and sizes swarmed the bustling town, filling the streets with their presence. The air bubbled with anticipation and excitement as colorful banners hung from above and rows of tents and vendors dotted the various inner plazas of the town.

A full-fledged festival was underway, and no expense had been spared to make this an unforgettable event for all to cherish in the years to come.

However, amidst the revelry and merriment, not all were merry.

Due to the tournament being hosted in Midgard, almost 92% of all Players present were Humanoid Players. Many within the Heteromorphic and Demi-Human communities naturally didn't bother to come, choosing instead to watch the tournament from the comfort of their own home, guild base, or elsewhere via broadcast. Much of this reasoning would be attributed to the fact that they'll be outnumbered and decided it would be safer to watch the tournament elsewhere and in comfort rather than deal with the hassle or put up with the discrimination by attending in person.

However, that wouldn't deter others from attending the event live. Those who were present chose to attend because they were either invited to cheer on those they knew, participants in the tournament, or simply because they wished to have a prime viewing experience and enjoy the festivities in person.

No matter the feud between the player base and communities, all tournaments and live events were open to everyone. Of course, that would hardly stop the majority of the Humanoid Players from actively harassing and going after others.

During Tournaments or other large-scale events, a designated lockdown zone was implemented to maintain order and safety. This specialized zone encompassed the entire vicinity of where a tournament or any similar event was to be held. Within this zone, Players were prohibited from activating any skills, spells, or items in any way, shape, or form, effectively rendering everything inert. Any damage sustained was all reduced to zero, akin to being in a Safe Zone. The implementation of this zone ensured that Players were unable to intentionally harm or PK one another during these special events.

Of course, that didn't mean trouble did not come a-knocking.

It was an effective solution, but far from perfect. For while they couldn't harm another Player, that wouldn't stop some people from getting physical with one another should tempers flare and egos clash.

Such was the case during a major tournament within the first year of YGGDRASIL's launch.

The egregious incident in question occurred when a group of Humanoid and Heteromorphic Players engaged in a massive brawl that escalated into a full-blown riot. The situation spiraled out of control, necessitating the intervention of the GMs themselves to quell the chaos. The incident came to be known as the Mass Banning by the player base due to all the bans the GMs handed out. It was reported that over 10,000 Players lost their accounts that day and were forced to start anew.

In the aftermath of the catastrophic event, word was passed up to the developers and executives, forcing their hand on the matter.

To prevent something like this from happening again, the developers implemented a two-fold security countermeasure in the form of an event ban. Should any Player get any funny ideas about breaking the rule or starting a ruckus, then they would be forcefully teleported to a high-level area and left to die. Furthermore, the developers created specialized NPCs called Riot Guards to act as an autonomous system and deterrent against potential rulebreakers. If the offender tried to respawn or re-enter the event zone, they would be immediately swarmed by the NPCs, all of whom possessed the [Invulnerability] status, and attacked on sight. This effectively barred them from the event should they risk dying and de-leveling ad infinitum until the event was over.

However, let it be known that the developers at Kaleidoscope Industry didn't earn their moniker of 'shitty devs' by simply being harsh.

They took it one step further by making it so that should a fight break out, all parties involved would be held accountable. Not just the instigators, but also the victim and any immediate bystanders within the vicinity, would suffer the penalty. A completely backward decision that punished both the guilty and the innocent alike.

When the update was rolled out, a majority of the users on both sides flocked to the forums to loudly clamor their opinions regarding the new implementation. Many people rightly pointed out that their system was too harsh and ripe for abuse, allowing for mass indiscriminate banning that hurt Players more than it helped. All it would take was one malicious person to cause a ruckus and a domino effect to ruin everyone's day. The player base collectively argued to walk back these changes.

The developers responded in record time, but not in the way the community thought they would. In a long community post, they basically stated that they would keep the changes but added that GMs would serve as overseers to help review and decide if action was needed or not. Additionally, they mentioned any intentional troublemaker would be shadow-banned from any future events and many other pointless platitudes to assuage the player community's concern.

But for those that were used to the shitty dev's modus operandi, they easily read between the lines. The basic message was essentially: "Don't be a dick and ruin the fun for everyone or else." The Players were to police themselves and be civil, or else suffer the developer's wrath.

How ironic, considering the shitty dev's track record.

Despite all their protests, the changes were kept, and there wasn't much they could do besides curse the shitty devs for their inane decisions.

What came as a surprise was that the system saw genuine success in keeping the peace for the most part. Of course, there were a few individuals who attempted to cause trouble, but those griefers were swiftly dealt with. The shadow of the guillotine loomed over all equally, and despite the intense animosity between the Humanoid, Heteromorphic, and Demi-human factions, none wanted to truly push their luck. In the end, everyone played nice, lest they all suffer the consequences.

Unfortunately, humans were nothing if not resilient beings. Even with these heavy restrictions, that wasn't going to stop some people from ruining others' enjoyment.

Located in one of the dozens of plazas that dominated the town of Und Ljósinn, a small party of a dozen or so Heteromorphs, a menagerie of different races and species, stood amongst a congregation of Humanoid Players. In particular, opposing them was a far larger party that was standing and blocking their way.

The small band of Heteromorphic Players, just moments ago, found themselves halted on their way to the stadium. They tried to move past them but were stonewalled by the larger party, effectively becoming a barricade that prevented them from moving forward. If that wasn't bad enough, this drew the attention of the surrounding Players as they flocked to the open square, eager to enjoy the show. This effectively boxed the smaller party in, trapping them in a confined space, unable to escape as they were jostled back and forth.

This had been going on for a few minutes. One needed only a glance to sense the animosity brewing between the two groups.

"Damn, whoever designed you must have been dared into it. I mean, who the hell would waste time and effort coding a model for a flying meat sack? A better question, who's the idiot that decided to make it their Player avatar?!" A taunting voice questioned aloud, drawing jeering laughter from himself and his friends.

The Player's words were directed towards the leader of the Heteromorphic party, a Beholder. The Heteromorphic Player took the form of a large floating eyeball with fleshy, coarse-red skin, numerous eyestalks, a mouth with fangs, and tentacles.

One of the members of his party, a metallic slime, thoroughly incensed by the Humanoid Player's badgering, rushed forward to give him a piece of his mind, only for the eldritch eye, Eye CU, to stop his friend.

"Big words, mocking someone by their appearance. The 21st century called, they want their antiquated discriminatory joke back." The Beholder retorted, his large cycloptic eye staring defiantly at the bullies.

"I call it how I see it, you giant meatball. If you've got something to say, then say it to my face. What's the matter? No balls? Oh, wait!" The Player gasped aloud, looking up and down, making a show of it before throwing his head back in a loud, obnoxious laugh.

One that drew further mocking support from the spectators all around them. Derision spewed from the sidelines as other voices joined in, with the small party forced to take the heckling. Eye CU was particularly incensed by the harassment thrown at his party members, and the fact that he could do little to stop it irked him like nothing else. They were vastly outnumbered, and he knew any attempt at violence would only lead to getting them kicked out of the event. Something he was keen to avoid, as all of his friends were eager to watch and enjoy the final World Champion Tournament in person, himself included, and he did not wish to ruin that for them.

Eye CU floated forward, trying to power his way through once more, only to be met by the Player's hand as he pushed him back. His friends caught his back, but yet again, their attempt to leave was halted, and the Beholder could only grimace.

It was learned early on that certain actions, such as pushing or shoving, were the utmost limit that a Player could do without flagging the attention of the Riot Guards' system. Anything further would be considered 'hostile intent', a fact that both sides knew, and one the hecklers was all too happy to abuse while keeping the Heteromorphic party trapped.

The Beholder's many eyes flicked to the skies above for a second, waiting to see if there would be any sign of an intervention, but there was none.

Eye CU's grimace only deepened.

'Those GMs are sure taking their sweet time getting here.' He thought.

Normally, in a situation such as this, the GMs would've gotten involved already and broken them up, along with issuing a few threats of ban for such obstruction.

The only thing that he could think of for their delay was the massive number of attendees present. With a tournament as grand in scale as the 9th World Champion Tournament, it wouldn't be surprising if one or two problems slipped past their immediate notice. That, or the GMs were well aware, and they were just sitting back and enjoying the show for as long as they could before interfering.

He scoffed internally. Knowing the shitty devs, he was willing to bet on the latter.

A particularly rude comment later saw tension heightened. Eye CU and another member of their party, HappiBun, had to physically hold back their friend from rushing forward to beat the opposing party's face in.

"Boss, lemme at them!" The metallic slime, Soft Death, struggled.

"Easy, easy!" Happibun whispered, holding him back. "If you attack them, then you're going to give them exactly what they're after."

"Well, I say, let's give it to them. Take as many of them down with us as we can!"

"You're crazy!" Said another party member, shaking his head. "Eye-san worked hard to get those seats for all of us. If we get kicked out, then it'll be nothing."

"At this rate, we're going to miss the tournament entirely. If that's the case, then let's return the favor." Soft Death argued.

A part of Eye CU was tempted. He was willing to say screw it and follow his party member's lead. Sure, it would lead to them being kicked out and missing out on what would be one of the greatest tournaments in the game's history, but so too would their bullies as well. At the very least, he'd make sure that Humanoid Players wouldn't have the last laugh.

He debated the idea in his mind while insults flew back and forth between the two groups like arrows. The tension reached a boiling point, and for a moment, it truly looked like it would come to blows.

"I see much hasn't changed since I've last been here." A voice idly interjected, loud and clear. One that carried over the crowd and drew the attention of all.

As they turned, the eyes of each and every Player grew wider with surprise at the unexpected appearance of a third party joining them. They were walking down the main street that led to the square and were given a wide berth of space by the various spectating Players and groups who were sitting or milling about as they scrambled out of the way in surprise. They all but backpedaled away, nearly tripping over themselves in their haste, for none other than the infamous Heteromorphic guild, Ainz Ooal Gown, had made their presence known.

They marched forward unhindered, brushing past the parted crowd with Shirou and Momonga at the forefront. The two were flanked by Touch Me and Warrior Takemikazuchi, with everyone else following closely behind. The atmosphere was tense, and the air was heavy with anticipation as they strode forward.

After Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi had received their invitations, a question arose. Whether the guild would watch the tournament from a screen broadcast in the comfort of Nazarick or at the stadium, live and in person, to show their support.

It wasn't even a debate, as when the emails were sent out to all affiliated guild members, all answered back with a unanimous and enthusiastic yes. Even the two members that had quit previously answered back that they would be able to make it, if just for the day, as a show of support for their guildmates and friends on this momentous occasion.

On a day, Shirou conspicuously noted, that lined up with everyone else's schedule with no conflict whatsoever.

How fortuitous…

Nevertheless, Shirou and the others were grateful for any one of them who could've made it.

And so here they were, the full might of Ainz Ooal Gown present and accounted for. In all their glory.

With the attendance of the strongest Heteromorphic guild made known, like wildfire, it spread, sparking commotion and bewildered whispers from all those around them. Many pointed and gasped, all the while Ainz Ooal Gown continued forward, basking in their apparent stupor.

The ringleader was the first to recover, turning his attention away from the Beholder towards Shirou and Co. He spread out his arms mockingly, as if he was a grand host welcoming them.

"Well, well, well. If it ain't the great and terrible Ainz Ooal Gown and the infamous Player Killer himself. To what do we owe the displeasure of your presence?" He spoke, sneering sarcasm dripping with every syllable.

Shirou offered the bully nothing more than a passing glance, focusing on the Heteromorphic party instead. The magus's casual dismissal of the Humanoid Player only seeded further irritation from the man at being so blatantly ignored, as if he were beneath his notice.

"Oi, don't you know it's rude to ignore someone when they're asking you a question?"

The bully stepped up, cutting into Shirou's path and halting their progress.

Here, Shirou finally acknowledges his presence.

"Please step aside."

"Hmm." The Player stroked his chin, as if giving it some serious thought. "How about, no?"

His hand struck out, aiming for Shirou's shoulder in an attempt to bump him back. The magus didn't so much as budge. Whereas the Player took half a step back, having felt as if he tried pushing back a wall.

The ringleader frowned internally and recovered just as quickly, choosing instead to take a step forward and get into the magus's space.

Shirou stepped to the side, only for him to follow suit, remaining an obstruction in his path.

At the same time, the other Humanoid Players slowly gathered around, making a circle and cutting off their exit. The rest of Ainz Ooal Gown looked around, seeing that they were surrounded.

"Again, I ask you to please move aside."

"Oh yea? And what are you going to do if I don't?"

The two Players stared one another down.

"Move. Or be moved."

"I'd like to see ya' try."

The faker didn't openly respond, emboldening the Humanoid Player as he arrogantly took another step forward, getting right in his face and leering at Shirou.

"What's the matter, traitor, cat got your tongue? Don't tell me the big bad Player Killer is sca-"

Whatever words he would say next would go unfulfilled as the Player felt his vision tilt, and the next thing he knew, he was looking up at the sky.

In an instant, all the chatter ceased. The sudden silence that followed was palpable, leaving everyone in stunned disbelief at what they had just witnessed. One moment, the two were standing there, the next, Shirou struck. In a flash, Shirou's right hand became a blur as he landed a swift and calculated right hook. One so sudden that it knocked the cocksure Player flat on his ass and back. The bully blinked dumbly while sprawled on the ground, the number zero flashing across his HUD, showing that he took no damage despite the attack. So unexpected and swift was it that it took him a few seconds lying there before his mind registered what just happened.

Many of the Humanoid Players, including the Heteromorphic party, were much the same, blinking owlishly before tensing up. They looked up and around, half expecting to be teleported away and another half waiting for the GMs or Riot Guards to make their appearance and ban all of them.

Ainz Ooal Gown was no better, with some of their members going slack-jawed and fearful at the spontaneous action of their friend. In particular, Momonga, who, if possible, would have a tidal wave of sweat rolling down his alabaster skull as he was overcome with anxiety at the potential repercussions.

"What is he doing?!" Punitto Moe hissed, with many of the others thinking the same thing. "Is he trying to get himself disqualified before the tournament even starts?!"

On the other hand, there were those who certainly got a kick out of it, such as Warrior Takemikazuchi, who threw back his head in uproarious laughter. He was joined by the likes of Ulbert, who was more sneering, and Peroroncino, who was cackling like crazy. The rest, meanwhile, settled in between reluctance and mirthfulness. The Humanoid Player fully had it coming, but none could have fully predicted the normally calm and rational Shirou to be the one to strike first.

"Oh boy…" Touch Me muttered under his breath, head in hand, as he shook his head ruefully.

Things were certainly heating up, and the tournament hadn't even officially begun yet!

"Y-yo-ou fuck!" The Player squeaked, reeling and struggling to stand back up on his feet with the help of his teammates. "You looking for a fight? Well, we're more than ready to put you freaks in your place!"

The crowds of Humanoid Players that were content to passively watch the show from a distance sprung to their feet, clamoring forward. Their voices added to the growing storm.

"Talk shit, get hit. It's basic gaming rule 101. And here I thought Humanoid Players were supposed to be smart. I guess you're the exception, huh?" Warrior Takemikazuchi quipped, earning snickers from Ainz Ooal Gown and glares from the Humanoid Players.

The throngs of Humanoid Players amassed around Ainz Ooal Gown. The air was thick with taunts and jeers as they puffed out their chests in an attempt at intimidation. It seemed as if a fight was all but inevitable, and yet, as seconds and then a full minute passed, nothing ever came of it.

For all their squawking, the horde of Players was content to remain as they were, edging forward ever so slightly but keeping their distance. They were content with their superior numbers but unwilling to be the ones to initiate things.

If that was the case, then Shirou figured he'd be the one to start it if they didn't. After all, he had better places to be, and nothing was going to stop him.

"What's the matter?" He questioned. Despite being surrounded and vastly outnumbered, Shirou remained collected, almost aloof. His hands were at his side, and his posture was straight and relaxed for all to see.

His eyes scoured them, showing off, waiting to see just who would make the first move. Who would be brave enough to take the first step? Who would throw the first retaliation? But no one did. Shirou faced the instigator of it all, confronting the lone Player and leveling a bored glare at the bully. One that he couldn't help but flinch back from.

Shirou took a single, measured step forward. The sound of his footstep hitting the ground rang out across the plaza for all to hear. The mobs of Humanoid Players around him leaned back, all of them taking a collective step backward instinctively. Some blinked, balking at the suddenness of their action.

"Where has your confidence gone?" His gaze bore down on the ringleader. There was no change in his inflection, nothing but a calm detachment.

Another step forward, another step back. And with his third step, Shirou entered the Player's personal space without breaking eye contact with him.

The instigator of it all gulped internally, chastising himself for feeling even a lick of fear. Yet, as Shirou's golden and silver eyes peered down at him, he couldn't help it. His body tried to take another step back, only to be blocked by the bodies of his party members behind him. He was effectively trapped, and it forced him to stand his ground as he bore the brunt of the Player Killer's dichromatic gaze.

"I will ask you one final time. Let us pass, or you'll be removed. You have three seconds to comply." He said. "One."

There was something about his nonchalant demeanor and casual tone that gave them pause. Despite the numerical disadvantages and ramifications hanging over him, Shirou seemed unfazed. His blasé attitude was steeped in a sense of assurance that left many wondering where it stemmed from. Everyone present was fixated on him, awaiting his next action with bated breath, knowing full well the potential consequences of what they would bring.

"Two."

Not even his friends were completely sure what he had in mind, and they were just as anxious as everyone else. If anything, Ainz Ooal Gown was even more uneasy, knowing just how important this tournament was to their friend. And yet, it seemed he was going out of his way to get himself kicked out. Momonoga, Tabula, Punitto Moe, and the like were quietly scrambling to de-escalate the situation before it was too late. The rest waited and watched in silence to see what would happen next.

"Thre-"

As the words slowly tumbled out of Shirou's mouth, the tension proved too much for the bully.

"W-whatever!" The Player's voice cracked, drawing all eyes to him.

"T-this ain't worth it. It'll be a waste of time to put freaks like you in your place. We've still got a tournament to catch. C-come on, w-we're leaving!"

"B-but, but boss-!" One of his party members interjected.

"I said we're leaving! Move it!" With those final words, the bully hastily turned his back to Shirou and shoved his way through his party members just to get away.

The party was left with little choice but to follow after their leader, awkwardly trailing after him as they left the square.

"Anyone else?" Shirou asked, tilting his head back and around to the remaining congregation of Players surrounding them. He waited to see if anyone else would be brave enough to step forward, subjecting all of them to the same piercing stare he gave the instigator.

The Fake Player quickly got his answer as the flock of Players backed away, splintering off within all but a few seconds. The disorganized mass of Players awkwardly shuffled away from Ainz Ooal Gown and the scene. Many of them withdrew, leaving the square outright, following the first party's lead. A few went back to what they were doing, hanging around the plaza but minding their own business. A few others looked like they wanted to try something, but seeing where the tide was going, they were swept in and quickly followed suit. The tension released and those from Ainz Ooal Gown and the Heteromorphic party breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Shirou huffed under his breath at the sight. Mob mentality, so simple and, at the same time, so fickle.

With no ringleader to rally behind, the mobs of Humanoid Players was no longer as confident as they were just before.

For all their numbers and attempts at intimidation, they were nothing more than human beings.

And Shirou, he'd stared down and faced far worse.

The magus was far from impressed. And he wasn't alone.

"Pussies!" Peroroncino hollered at the retreating parties, earning shouts and profanities from them. The golden archer responded in kind by throwing them two clear middle fingers back their way, along with a few colorful choices of words.

"Kazu-I mean, Pero!" A voice admonished him, joining him at his side. It was none other than Reina, who finally decided to take her boyfriend's advice.

Sigfrida - Lvl: 78

"Oh come on, babe, this is YGGDRASIL! Insults and shit-talking are part of the game and par for the course."

"Bird brain ain't wrong." Said Ulbert, coming to the archer's defense. "Especially when it's more than justified. Someone needs to remind these fuckers lest they get too big for their britches." The archdemon cackled, sneering at the retreating cowards while throwing a few barbed insults of his own and joined along by a few of the guild members.

"That was a bit dangerous, don't you think, Emiya-san?" Momonga asked, coming to Shirou's side alongside a few others. The exasperation in his voice was clearly conveyed.

"Aye. A bit of head-up would've been nice." Tabula added.

"It worked, didn't it?"

Both the Overlord and Brain Eater frowned at the almost dismissive note in his friend's tone. The two shared a worried look.

"And if it didn't, both yourself and Warrior Takemikazuchi-san would've been barred from the tournament." Punitto Moe bluntly stated. "Contestant or not, your actions could've gotten all of us kicked out. The entire reason why we all came. What would've happened then, Emiya-san?"

"It wouldn't."

Again, there was no doubt in his voice. That same clear but distant tone of his, as if he knew something they didn't.

Momonga wasn't sure what to make of it. He wasn't quite certain whether Shirou's confidence stemmed from his acquaintance with Zelretch, which provided him with a degree of assurance like a safety net to fall back on, or if he was simply taking a daring risk that happened to pay off. Regardless of the reason, it was a dangerous mindset to maintain and one the salaryman wasn't comfortable with. Ever since the news of the 9th World Champion Tournament was announced, a few began to notice Shirou acting aloof in the days leading up to the event. It was as if he was both keenly focused but also distracted, and none were quite sure what to make of it.

Before any of them had a chance to speak again, Shirou walked away, joining Touch Me and a few others that went to greet the small Heteromorphic party and putting an end to the discussion.

Punitto Moe sighed under his breath and threw his hands in the air in exasperation. Bellriver, who was with them but kept silent, patted the Death Vine's shoulder in reassurance. Momonga and Tabula shared another uneasy glance. The two quietly followed suit, joining Shirou and the other.

"Is everyone alright?" Touch Me asked the party.

"Aye, we appreciate the save. Honestly, I didn't think help would ever come, least of all in the form of you guys. Then again, I'm not complaining." Eye CU hailed, chuckling and holding out his tentacled eye stocks to both Touch Me and Shirou.

"I can't thank you all enough."

Both the faker and the World Champion didn't hesitate to reach out and grasp them.

"Think nothing of it. After all, it's only common sense to help someone in need." Touch Me replied in his usual tone of voice.

Shirou only nodded, but the sentiment was shared among all of them.

The others exchanged friendly handshakes as Ainz Ooal Gown welcomed the smaller party of Heteromorphs in. From there, greetings were passed around, and the two groups intermingled easily. Both sides chatted freely, with the party members striking up excited conversations with the various guild members, each one bouncing on their feet at the chance to talk and interact with the legendary guild.

Light conversations drifted between the two groups as they collectively made their way through the town.

"I gotta say, of all the things I was expecting from today, being saved by you all was a pleasant surprise. Still running around helping us Heteromorphs out, I see, Emiya-san. And here I thought you perhaps gave up on that mantle." The Beholder mentioned casually, striking up a new conversation.

"Well, he ain't called the [Heteromorph Savior] for nothing, mate." The metal slime quipped from the side.

"Huh, I haven't heard that name in a long while." The aforementioned savior commented, reminiscing on his first persona within the virtual world all those years ago. "I suppose I am."

Several of them snickered at this, finding amusement in his casual admission. This continued for a short time as they tried to include him in the conversation, but all could sense that Shirou was distracted; his responses were often reserved and passive.

They quickly got the hint, and the exchange petered out, giving the digitalized magus his space. During all of this, Shirou's gaze found itself locked toward the enormous structure that loomed from the center of the town. The battleground for where it'll all be decided. He kept the location in his sight as they paraded ever closer.

"Is everything alright?"

Shirou blinked. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice his friends walking alongside him. Shirou's inner circle walked around him, with the magus at the center, preventing him any room to wiggle out of.

He glanced to the side, finding that it was Touch Me who asked the question.

"I'm fine." Shirou dismissed.

"Emiya-san, what have we told you? Do we need to bring out Mr. Wiggles again?" Momonga tilted his head towards Shirou following the question, his hand twitching, all too ready to reach into his inventory and pull out Mr. Wiggles, regardless of where they were in public.

Not only him but everyone else as well, Ulbert especially. He crackled menacingly, just waiting for a reason to embarrass him.

Shirou paled and quickly changed his tune at the 'threat.'

"Please no…"

"Then stop saying you're fine when you're not. I believe we went over this matter rather extensively the last time around." Tabula sighed.

"I am fine, truly! It's just… the tournament. I'm…"

"Nervous?" Bukubukuchagama offered.

Shirou said nothing, yet his silence said all that was needed. Nervous couldn't quite begin to describe the maelstrom of emotion that dwelled within him. Anticipation, cautiousness, relief, and restlessness - but perhaps the greatest amongst them all - doubt.

The group continued walking as the poignant silence stretched on for a few more seconds.

"Normally, I would say you got this… But this is the World Champion Tournament we're talking about here. You can't afford to be lax or let your guard down for even a second. While we have no idea who exactly they'll be, the shitty devs wouldn't have picked any random Player. No doubt they'll be powerful and skilled. You'll need to go in with the mindset that every single one of your opponents is as capable as you, if not more so, for you can never know what's going to happen."

Everyone looked at Momonga.

"… You know, this is one of the few times where your complete paranoia is probably in the right, Mononga-san." Peroroncino quipped, his hands casually resting behind his head.

"I resent that statement!" Momonga huffed with faux offense. "Besides, it's not paranoia if the possibility is there. I'm just being cautious and taking into account anything and everything that might be trouble."

"By assuming the worst right out the bat, while devising a counterplan and then a counter to that counterplan, and then a counter of a counter to the counter-plan?" Warrior Takemikazuchi quirked a brow. "Now you're sounding just like Punitto Moe-san."

"One, rude. And two, if you're comparing me with him, then you're doing me a disservice. After all, everyone knows that I'm way more of an overthinker and pessimist than he is!"

Momonga's attempt at humor earned a few playful scoffs and eye rolls from his friends but it did little to squash the air of uncertainty hanging over his best friend. Faced with another stint of quietness, he continued, hoping to lift Shirou out of his somber mood.

"But I think, above all else, you shouldn't focus entirely on winning and try to have some fun with the tournament."

Shirou gave him a quirked look. Momonga needed not even a glance to tell the confusion his longtime friend was feeling at his rather counterintuitive statement.

The Overlord rolled his shoulders, collecting himself for what he would say next. It was time to put all that speech practice to good use.

"I know that the prize is important to you, probably more than I can imagine, and that this tournament will be a stressful endeavor, but you shouldn't allow it to taint the experience. Agonizing over what-ifs will only put even more pressure on you, and I worry that it'll build and build and become too much. Trust me, I've been there." Momonga looked at Shirou, his crimson orbs flickering with worry as his voice carried a painful reminiscence.

"Momonga-san…" Shirou cautioned.

"I know, I know." Momonga held up his hand and hurriedly assuaged, knowing what he was going to say.

"I'm not saying to not try or give it your all. What I'm trying to say is that you should try your absolute best, but don't let winning blind you. Above all else, never forget that you're not alone, Emiya-san. Let's not forget that there's still Warrior Takemikazuchi-san to count on."

"He's right." Warrior Takemikazuchi inserted himself into the conversation.

Coming in from the side, he slung his arm over Shirou's shoulder, pulling the Humanoid Player in. Warrior Takemikazuchi gave him a good-natured noogie, ruffling up his hair affectionately.

"Ain't no reason to worry, old chum. We got this! Better yet, why don't you sit this one out and let me handle it all on my own? Watch, I'll win this shindig all on my own!" The samurai boasted, giving him a powerful pat on the back.

"Even in the absolute worst and most unlikely scenario where you two might be out of the running and lose, it isn't the end of the world. We'll be quick to get in touch with the winner. Set up a deal of some kind, negotiate a trade of one World Class item for another, or anything else, even if it means a deficit for the guild. I'm sure Bellriver-san or Punitto Moe-san can work their magic and get us a good deal." The skeletal sorcerer vowed.

Momonga's gaze met the others, and they nodded, showing their support.

"Those two aren't going to like that…" Ulbert muttered conspicuously. "Pretty sure what's more likely going to happen is that Punitto Moe-san's gonna chew your ear off…"

A sharp elbow hit the World Disaster in the side, earning an 'oof!' from him. Yamaiko was the culprit, her expression was deadpan and devoid of any humor.

"Ulbert-san." Yamaiko scolded him in a low voice.

"What? I'm speaking the truth here. You want me to lie between friends?" Ulbert defended himself in his usual sarcastic drawl.

Amanomahitotsu followed Yamaiko's lead and delivered a swift elbow to Ulbert's side as well.

"Really?" Said the crustacean blacksmith, joining the Nephilim brawler with a deadpan of his own.

"I mean, go team woo! We totally believe in you. All for one, one for all, and whatever. You got this!" Came the monotone cheers from Ulbert.

Shirou cracked a small smile, heartened at their support.

"Thank you. If it ever comes to that, do forgive me for my selfishness."

"Of course. After all, what are friends for?"

Momonga patted Shirou's shoulder reassuringly.

Silence returned between them, but for a moment, Momonga caught something. It was faint, indistinguishable from all the background noises around them, and he would've missed it had he not been paying careful attention.

"I need to do it… her…"

'Her?' Momonga wondered, catching only fragments of what Shirou muttered under his breath. It sounded like he was mumbling to himself, whether he was aware of it or not was something the salaryman couldn't be certain of. His crimson orbs swerved, looking to see if anyone else might have caught it, but it looked to be only him.

"Let's move on." Shirou shook his head, regaining some of his normal cheer. "It's like you said. This is still a festival. All this doom and gloom will only end up jinxing me."

Momonga mused on whether or not he should bring it up but relented without a complaint for the moment.

Everything was as they were as Shirou fell in with the others. The atmosphere was convivial, with jokes and conversations flowing effortlessly between them. From there, conversations drifted, and it wasn't long before Shirou and Mononga were talking by themselves.

"How have you been, Momonga-san? It's been a while, hasn't it?"

The two old friends conversed, slowly catching up over the last couple of weeks. With ease, they lost themselves in their conversation, chatting away at length and jumping from topic to topic. As the talk carried on, it eventually veered onto the topic of Momonga's girlfriend, Destana. A trend that quickly became the norm ever since the couple went steady.

The magus laughed and smiled along with every story shared. He lent his ear as he listened to all of Momonga's woes, offering the occasional shoulder pats, quips, or condolences for his undead friend. Though every recount was tinged with a hint of exasperation at her antics, it pales in comparison to the sheer fondness and love in his tone as he spoke of her.

As he listened, his mind idly wandered, and a particular query that had been lingering in Shirou's mind resurfaced. It was a question that had been weighing on his tongue for quite some time, and he couldn't help but ponder it once more.

"Have you once thought of tying the knot with her?" He asked almost absentmindedly, his mouth moving before his brain fully registered his words.

Momonga's words were caught in his throat, and his brain shut down for half a second the moment those words entered his ear. The Overlord nearly tripped on his robes and fell right then and there. Having been caught completely off guard, he flailed his arms before managing to right his balance.

"Woah, are you alright, babe?" Destana asked, gliding to his side with a gentle hand on his back.

The others, too, looked at him, wondering what could've caused him to nearly trip. All the attention on him made him self-conscious as he panicked to get himself under control.

"I-I'm. F-fine!" He squeaked.

"You sure? You literally almost trip over nothing." The angel pointed out with a cocked brow, not quite believing him.

"I'm fine! I was just distracted…" He coughed, trying to hide his slip-up.

"… M'kay, if you say so."

His girlfriend relented and floated back to resume her chat with Bukubukuchagama and the rest while keeping her eyes and ears open just in case.

With that matter taken care of, his brain rebooted, and Momonga whirled right back around to Shirou. His crimson orbs shrank into pinpricks as he stared at his long-time friend incredulously.

"What kind of question was that?!"

In the face of Momonga's overwhelming emotions, Shirou found himself shrugging.

"You two have been together for three years now and counting. Anyone with a pair of functioning eyes and ears can see just how much you two love each other. Not to mention the fact that both of you are already living together and everything. I'd say marriage is just a step forward in your relationship and a natural progression." He answered simply.

The rest of the guild practically considered the two of them married in all but name with how tied at the hip they were.

A small, high-squeaked noise escaped him. Shirou could all too easily imagine the blushing red face his best friend was no doubt making behind his avatar. Even after all these years, Momonga hadn't quite outgrown his awkward and self-conscious nature. Then again, that was part of his charm, he supposed, and part of it made it so fun and easy to tease.

"T-that's still a large leap! S-sure we're living together, but marriage is something entirely else. We'll need to worry about planning for the wedding, location, deposits for the ceremony, getting approval for time off from both our jobs, and then working out a schedule for both parties. What about invitations and guest lists?! We'll have to make sure everything's on schedule, or even a location! That's not to mention the mountain of paperwork following, updating our legal and marital status, along with our financial status. Oh, and don't me started on breaking the news to her parents! I'm pretty sure Kasumi's father hates my guts. Furthermore, there's…" On and on he rattled.

Shirou quickly interjected, lest his friend ramble on until the end of time at the rate he was going.

"I'm not saying you need to go up to her and immediately propose. It's something to think about for the future." Here, his smile turned coy.

"Not unless you're intending to break up with her any time soon." He added.

"Never." Momonga replied resolutely, his voice leaving no room for doubt.

"Then I see no real issue getting in the way of asking her. Eventually, of course." Shirou happily crowed.

Momonga's eyes widened as he realized he had walked right into it.

"I… you… ! Ugh…" He stammered, at a loss for words.

Forehead met palm as Momonga groaned.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Technically speaking, you did it to yourself, old friend."

Momonga grumbled under his breath, shooting a glower Shirou's way, though it hardly had any heat behind it. Despite the initial embarrassment, a sense of budding curiosity swelled within him.

"Why do you care?" He inquired, far from demanding but more matter-of-factly.

Shirou didn't offer an answer immediately, looking only ahead.

"Because I don't want you to make the same mistake I did."

Mononga's back straightened at the wistful whisper of his long-time friend.

Shirou looked ahead, his golden and silver eyes glazing over as he stared at something not there.

Two flashes, two figures standing before him.

They were smiling. One was reserved but warm, the other hesitant but inviting.

Arturia and Rin.

What he wouldn't give for a chance to see them again. What he wouldn't do but for a moment with them, to express his regret and to tell them that he loved them one more time.

"Your happiness is truly important to me, and I sincerely wish it for everyone, including you, Momonga. I'll share with you the same thing I shared with Pero. Time waits for no one; we humans live short lives, but it's because they are short that we find meaning and contentment in them. You and her, the way the two of you shine when you're together, the love you two hold for each other is irreplaceable. We all endure, searching for that special someone, the one that completes us. Some search tirelessly but never succeed. Others try and fail for years with varying success, and then some are blessed with stumbling upon them at the right time."

The two locked eyes, pools of shimmering silver and auburn gold peering into burning crimson orbs, imploring him to heed his words.

"Hold onto her and never let her go. Even if the whole world is against you. Live with all your heart and don't regret it, for life is far too short for regrets."

In that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl, and the world around them faded into the background, leaving only the two of them standing there, lost in the gravity of the moment.

Momonga has heard Shirou give countless speeches and talks during their many years together. Each one forever carries an unbridled earnestness and conviction that set him apart from any adult he or the rest of Ainz Ooal Gown have conversed with or encountered before. A fount of wisdom and experience unparalleled.

But this time, it was different.

His words, they were so soft-spoken, so earnest.

His words were a heed, a plea.

A wish.

Not just from one friend to another, but from one man to another.

'Find your happiness and don't let it go.'

Eventually, Momonga found his voice.

"I will." He promised.

And then, the world resumed as normal.

The two friends walked side by side, a vow from the old to the young, to avoid the same pitfall as him. To avoid making the terrible mistake he had and endure for a better future.

And so, all wells that end well.

Were it not for what Shirou would say next. A question regarding a matter of the utmost importance.

"So, are you planning on starting a family any time soon?"

Upon hearing such a question casually being dropped, Momonga reacted accordingly. No, he didn't falter in his step like last time. The salaryman mentally patted himself on the back for a job well done there.

Instead, he settled on almost choking on his breath.

"I-Y-you-! What kind of question is that?!"

"Well, I figured with the number of times you probably got at it like rabbits, it's bound to happen sooner or later."

Momonga went slack-jawed at what he heard. Shirou shrugged, suppressing his amusement as if he were completely innocent.

"The marriage question I could've kind of understood, but a question like that?! Also, you've figured?" Momonga replied incredulously. "Who the heck thinks about their friend sleeping with their girlfriend and wonders if they got her pregnant or not?! Who are you, Peroroncino-san?" The Guildmaster huffed, more embarrassed than offended.

Shirou gave a playful wince. "One, ouch. That's a bit rude to both him and me."

"Doesn't make it any less true." Came Momonga's rebuttal.

"Hmm, that's fair." Shirou conceded. "And two, I'm just looking out for you." He offered cheekily.

"Besides, remind me again who was it that came to me in a panic that one time when the two of you did it without protection? Honestly, I've never seen you panic as much as you did when you fretted out of your mind at the possibility of Destana-san getting pregnant."

Shirou continued to tease his best friend with an impish smile. Momonga looked away with a red face and a demoralizing groan at the memory.

The memory of the incident was forever etched in the salaryman's mind. It took two whole weeks before Momonga finally calmed down, but even then, the whole ordeal wasn't going to be forgotten for a long, long time. It eventually turned into an inside joke between all three of them. Well, it was more accurate to say his best friend and girlfriend got a kick out of it and teased him relentlessly whenever the opportunity cropped up, while he was forced to weather the memory in cringing embarrassment.

Such was the case with a prank that occurred when he came home one day after a long day at work and entered their home - Kasumi had long since decided to move in with him and the two had been living together for some time - to find his girlfriend sitting on the couch, nursing a round belly. Little did he know that she had stuffed her shirt with a small pillow to give the illusion of a gravid belly.

But in his exhausted state, after a long and arduous week of grueling work and running on no more than a few hours of sleep, he was none the wiser. Kasumi then turned to him with tears and shared the news that they were expecting, her gentle hand caressing the fake belly.

And as par for the course, Satoru reacted accordingly, calmly and patiently with the decorum of a proper adult; his eyes rolled to the back, and he fainted on the spot. The last thing he heard was the combination of a soft cry of his name ringing out and laughter as Kasumi rushed towards him.

'I swear, the two of them are never going to let me live this down until the day I die!'

"No. We're not planning on having any kids…"

Momonga finally answered, yet there was a pronounced hesitance in his tone. A 'yet' was left unspoken but could almost be heard between them.

"Would you ever want children, Momonga-san?" Shirou rephrased the question, asking him this instead.

Momonga's mouth opened again with an immediate 'no' for an answer, but it never came. He stopped himself at the last second.

This was hardly the first time such a topic had been brought up. The idea of marriage and kids had been mentioned a few times in the past, usually in idle jest or wishful musings from his girlfriend. He would always sputter out an answer, denying the question while she laughed at his reaction.

He thought long and hard about it, coming to realize that he never once gave the question, let alone the idea, any serious thought. Forever dismissing it with post-haste for one reason or another.

It was always something that lingered within the outstretches of his mind. Never once could he remember truly sitting down and reflecting on the notion behind it. To him, the sheer concept of someone like him having a child to call his own sounded utterly fanciful, within the realm of fantasy.

Throughout the majority of his life, Satoru believed that he would never come across someone who he could truly open up to and love unconditionally. That was, until Kasumi made her way into his life. And what an experience it was! She came in like a wrecking ball, smashing down the walls he erected around his heart with a hammer and dynamites, before dragging him out of his shell and showering him with an abundance of love and affection that he never thought possible.

It was only after coming to accept her into his life did he ever entertain such an idea as marriage, let alone actually contemplate it. However, marriage was one thing, but conceiving a child of their own? That was a whole other beast, and Satoru wasn't quite certain if he was up to the challenge of becoming a parent.

From the day his mother died to when he was forced to work at such a young age until adulthood, he had never thought of what else could be. For as long as he could remember, Satoru envisioned himself living alone, working day by day at a grueling dead-end job just to make ends meet while trying to scrape out what little time he could to relax and alleviate the boring monotony that was his daily life. A routine that would continue until he died either from overwork, old age if he was lucky, or if he was feeling particularly tired and wanted to end it all quickly. Whichever came first.

Satoru Suzuki would die alone, meandering through life until it was his time. The Suzuki family name would die with him. His existence would amount to nothing more than an insignificant blimp in society, forgotten as the world kept on turning.

It was a macabre outlook, but that was his reality for as long as he could remember.

Until he was proven wrong.

Until he met his friends, those that he cherished as family.

Until he met Kasumi, the love of his life.

Now, the world was so much larger than he envisioned. So much brighter than he once thought. One worth living for.

To find love, to open up, and to be accepted. He found all of that and more in Kasumi, and now he couldn't imagine what his life would be without her by his side.

So, if he was proven wrong once before, then why not a second time?

To have children to call his own. To be a father…

Such a thought stirred something within him, resonating deeply in his core.

Momonga, Satoru Suzuki, never knew his father. Considering he lived his whole childhood with only his mother by his side until her untimely passing and that she never once mentioned him, it wouldn't be hard to educate a guess or two as to why it was the only two of them.

And despite his less-than-stellar upbringing and horrendous lack of parental figures growing up, he would like to think he managed to avoid the common pitfalls of a tragic childhood and grew up into a stable and respectable adult with his head screwed on properly and successfully. His self-confidence could be better, as everyone, especially his closest friends and girlfriend would constantly point out, but hey! No one was perfect.

He had a place he called home, a job that paid the bills and, while strenuous at times, wasn't as unfortunate as others were, a hobby he could indulge in to relax, cherished friends to call upon for help, and an affectionate girlfriend who loves him just as the sun loves the moon.

His life was far from perfect, but he was content.

Unbidden, a beautiful image emerged in his mind, straight from the depths of his heart. It was a picture of him and Kasumi snuggling up together on the couch with their precious little one cradled in her arms. Kasumi hummed a sweet melody as she gently rocked their baby back and forth, causing their little bundle of joy to giggle merrily while he watched them with a heartwarming smile. Eventually, she would pass their baby over to him to allow their little angel to play with daddy while she took a break. This left Satoru to awkwardly try and mimic her soothing touch, leading to their baby crying. He would panic and try to calm down the baby while his wife laughed.

A fluttering smile stretched as his mind wandered, spiraling forth from there.

With their savings and job income combined, who knows? Perhaps in less than a few years, they'll be able to afford a nicer and larger home. Satoru would work twice as hard, saving up more than enough money and expenses, and if all goes well, he might see another promotion or two. Something that would help his stipend alongside Kasumi.

Their neighborhood was far from bad, and their apartment was adequate for two adults, but it would be too small if their numbers expanded.

If they were truly lucky enough, they might even find housing within a biodome. He'd be sure to ask Touch Me or Shizyuutensuzaku for any help; those two had some connections, and he was confident they could help set up the couple with a nice place to live.

A quaint little house to call their own would be better suited to raising a family. One that would be perfect to raise a daughter and son in.

The more he thought about it, the more his imagination ran rampant with the possibility, envisioning a future that could be.

Their daughter will be their precious baby girl, a shy little thing just like her father, with Kasumi forever dotting on their pretty little princess. Their son would be a little scamp, just like his mother, running around with boundless energy, all the while Satoru wrangled with him to both their amusement.

He'll make sure they'll never grow up hungry or want anything. They'll never be forced to eat processed sludge to fill their bellies, just to stave off starvation. Neither will they be forced to drop out of school and begin working just to pay rent and avoid getting kicked onto the streets. They would never have to endure the suffocating smog and polluted air to which Satoru and Kasumi had grown accustomed, nor would they be forced to wear masks and coats every day just to breathe without fear of suffocation.

He'll put them through school and give them the proper education they deserve. They'll have the chance he never had. They would learn, grow, and prosper far beyond Satoru or Kasumi. A chance at a better future, a better life.

He'll give them a childhood he and so many others were denied. A chance to live like proper kids and enjoy their youth, unencumbered by the harsh realities of the world. They'll grow up loved and cared for, and Satoru and Kasumi will make sure they always know that.

And when night falls, they'll sit on the couch or snuggle up in bed, and Satoru and Kasumi will delight the children with bedtime tales of their YGGDRASIL adventures. The stories will be brimming with wonder and magic, recounting the incredible feats of Ainz Ooal Gown and the countless adventures they had as Players. Each story will be as fantastical and wondrous as the next, capturing the children's imaginations and transporting them to a world beyond their wildest dreams.

And when they're old enough, he'll also introduce them to the world of VR and gaming, sharing with them hobbies to enjoy. A family bonding experience for the years to come.

Shirou observed Momonga. He was silent. His eyes had a distant, faraway look, like a sailor staring out to sea in pursuit of something that could be. The faker could hear him mumbling under his breath, which he could only describe as happy noises.

A fond smile overcame the magus.

"You'd be a great father, Momonga." He said, his voice soft and gentle.

It would be a few seconds before he responded.

"Y-you think so…?" Momonga muttered, skittish but full of hope.

"I know it." Was the magus's answer, without a shred of doubt in his voice. "You've got the temperament for it. After all, if you can manage a guild of troublemakers like ours, then a kid or two should be no trouble."

The two shared a laugh.

No more words were spoken, for none were needed.

And so, the two continued along with soaring hearts for the future. Ready to take the first step towards that prosperous fortune.

Until Shirou had this to add.

"Try not to multiply too quickly."

Were it possible, his skeletal cheeks and face would be set aflame for the umpteenth, his mouth sputtering to say something incomprehensible.

'Really?!' Momonga couldn't help but mentally scream.

"Shirou… !"

And things were going so well, Momonga lamented. That was the perfect sendoff. A nicely wrapped little bow to end the discussion, and yet, Shirou just had to open his mouth!

If Momonga didn't know any better, he would've suspected his friend was doing this on purpose, all for the sake of slapping him with these tonal whiplashes, just to see him suffer for his amusement.

If that wasn't bad enough, it was also at this time that Destana made her appearance known. Having caught the tail end of their conversation, she all but barged in on them.

Destana floated in with a snicker and lovingly wrapped herself over her boyfriend from behind. She nuzzled her head against his skull, her cheeks rubbing affectionately against his.

"What's wrong with that? I can see it now. You and me, and a couple of ankle-biters to call our own. It's perfect!" She cooed, tracing circles on his wide shoulder.

"Dear, please…" He groaned.

"And it ain't because of a lack of trying, I'll tell ya." She barreled through, glancing at Shirou. "By the way, babe, peer review from last night. A+ for effort, but a D overall. Then again, I wouldn't be too upset if you gave me another D ~ We'll talk later in my office, and by office, I mean our bed."

"Destana, no!"

"Destana YES!"

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

In the early years of YGGDRASIL's surging popularity, a tournament was announced, one that was unlike any other seen before in the game. A grand tournament, one sanctioned and sponsored by the developers themselves. A tournament to end all tournaments.

Thus began the World Champion Tournament.

As the first of its kind, this tournament caused an explosion in the competitive scene and immediately gained immense success, becoming a staple within the game and its community.

A tournament that set out to answer one question: who was worthy of being touted as the strongest?

Within the center of Und Ljósinn stood a grand stadium fashioned in the style of the Roman colosseum of old. One that towered over all other buildings and could be seen across the entire port city. The stadium was enormous, capable of easily seating 100,000 Players alone within its venue.

On this day, it will be the site where the final World Champion will be crowned.

Even with the abrupt announcement, the 9th World Champion Tournament stirred up a great deal of excitement amongst the player base. This special event was poised to become the grandest spectacle in the history of the platform, and its timing couldn't have been more perfect. The tournament coincided with the 10th anniversary of the launch of YGGDRASIL, adding a touch of extra significance to the occasion. It easily eclipsed the previous World Champion Tournaments, with the turnout rates being astronomically high, double that of the previous years, making it the most attended event of its kind. The 9th World Champion Tournament would be the last of its kind, and all wanted to be there to watch the momentous occasion and see how the most prestigious competition in all of YGGDRASIL history would come to a close.

The stadium was packed to the brim with spectators, eagerly anticipating the upcoming tournament. Tens of thousands of Players of all shapes and sizes scurried about, searching for any available spot, while those who had already secured their seats buzzed with anticipation. The air was charged with an electrifying energy that was impossible to ignore, even though the tournament had yet to commence.

The opening ceremony was an unforgettable spectacle, with all eight reigning World Champions making a grand entrance. It was a thrilling sight that only added to the already sky-high hype for the competition, leaving everyone raring to go for the upcoming matches.

With the majority of the audience being seated and quickly getting settled down, along with the presence of all tournament combatants being confirmed, a single boisterous voice boomed over the cacophony.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. DUDES AND DUDETTES. GAMERS OF ALL AGES AND SIZES! I HAVE ONLY ONE QUESTION FOR YOU. ARE. YOU. READDDYYYY?!" A loud and overexcited voice rang out, drawing cheers and roars from the crowd.

"THEN LET'S MAKE SOME NOISE, PEOPLE!"

The audience happily obliged, shouting at the top of their lungs, splitting the air as the very foundation of the colosseum shook from the intensity.

"HELL' YEA! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT FOLKS! WELCOME, EVERYONE, TO THE 9TH AND FINAL INSTALLMENT OF YGGDRASIL'S MOST ILLUSTRIOUS TOURNAMENT. THE ONE, THE ONLY, THE WORLD CHAMPION TOURNAMENT! I HAVE THE HONOR OF BEING TODAY'S COMMENTATOR. MY NAME'S BOB!"

"And I am his co-commentator, Sam. And might I add, what a beautiful sunny day it is in the lovely town of Und Ljósinn. Why, you couldn't have picked a better setting than today! What an honor it is for us to be your hosts and to have you all here with us today on this spectacular event." A second voice joined in, soother and poignant in comparison to his co-commentators wild rambunctiousness.

Amidst all this, Ainz Ooal Gown sat comfortably in their seat, waiting for the final check-ups to finish. The guild managed to snag a nice spot, the perfect distance that granted them a generous view of the arena and stadium as a whole.

They sat amongst their peers, the Heteromorphic and Demi-human Players were surrounded by a sea of Humanoid Players making up the vast majority of the stadium's seating capacity. Their numbers took up only one-eighth of the total seats in the stadium. A clear division was evident, but nonetheless, the air was charged with excitement as both sides put aside their differences to revel in the spectacle about to unfold.

The clear divide between the player base and community notwithstanding, the atmosphere was one of unity as everyone eagerly awaited the event to unfold.

And for one newcomer in particular, she was having the time of her life.

Reina, or Sigfrida, as she has chosen as her gamertag, looked around with wide, sparkling eyes. Her amethyst eyes drifted from one end of the colosseum to the other, greedily taking in the sight in front of her. The flashing lights, the booming sounds, the roaring crowd, the utter grand spectacle of it all-it was nothing short of amazing and overwhelming.

Although she had attended numerous sporting events in the past, hosted in prestigious stadiums and venues, thanks to her father's connections, none of them compared to the spectacle that lay before her in YGGDRASIL. Every aspect of the virtual world captivated her with an intensity that she had never experienced before. It was as if she was transported to a whole new world, a whole new realm of entertainment, a world of unparalleled experiences and sensations. Had she known that this was what awaited her, she would have heeded her boyfriend's advice and plunged into YGGDRASIL much earlier. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming, and she savored every moment of it.

Though relatively new to the gaming sphere, even she could feel the zeal buzzing through the air, sucking her in. Her own body jittered with unrestrained anticipation for what was to come. She was sitting on the edge of her seat, and like everyone else, she couldn't wait for the tournament and fighting to begin in earnest.

"It seems like someone's excited." A voice teased.

At her side was her boyfriend, his elbow resting against his knees while he rested his head on his palm while facing her. Sigfrida could all but see that loopy smile on her partner's face behind that golden-beaked mask of his.

"I'm fine, Kazut- I mean Pero." She corrected.

When Sigfrida finally started playing YGGDRASIL with her boyfriend and his friends, he gave her a crash course on the do's and don'ts of how to play. She was a quick learner and got it all in time, but there was one thing that she had a bit of trouble with, more confused than with any actual difficulty.

When online, it was customary for them to address each other by their respective online handles, regardless of the situation at hand. This was mostly observed when they were in the presence of others.

When questioned about the reason behind this practice, particularly since she was well-acquainted with him and his sister Chihiro, and addressed them by their given names, Kazuto explained that it was a matter of player etiquette or something similar. Honestly, even now she doesn't understand or get the whole logic behind it, but she promised, and so she made an effort. Of course, there was the occasional slip.

"Hmm…" He let out a hum, leaning in.

"So, what do you think?"

She rolled her eyes at the question. Sigfrida wouldn't have taken issue with it if Peroroncino hadn't asked the same darn question over what felt like a hundred times already when she first started playing the DMMO-RPG. The first couple of times, she could understand, but any more than that was just plain excessive.

He leaned forward with a hand cupped to his ear, waiting to hear her answer.

She sighed. "I've admitted that this is amazing already. Jeez, just how many times do you want me to say it?"

"Until the end of time." Peroroncino answered seriously. A front that lasted all but a second before he snickered.

"Yeah, I'm not doing that…" Sigfrida deadpanned, shaking her head.

She loved her boyfriend, but he could be such an insufferable doofus at times. Then again, it wasn't like she was completely innocent as well. After all, what healthy relationship wasn't without its fair share of colorful banter and shows of one-upmanship? But there was a difference between being cheeky and being insufferable, what with the constant prodding and reminders just to get at her.

"Seriously, what else do you want me to say? I've already said you were right about YGGDRASIL, so what more do you want?" She groaned tiredly.

Immediately, Peroroncino dropped all pretense of what was going on.

"S-sorry. Being a bit of an insufferable jerk, haven't I?" He asked in his normal voice, recognizing his fault.

"You'd think?" Sigfrida leveled a flat glare at her boyfriend.

"I'm sorry." He winced slightly, glancing away with his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll drop it, I promise. Forgive me?"

Peroroncino leaned in, head tilted upwards, as he gave his best puppy dog impression. Even going the extra mile by adding cute whines. Sigfrida rolled her eyes again, giving him a playful push.

"You're lucky I find you cute." She huffed but smiled nevertheless. "All's forgiven."

Sigfrida leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek, with the winged archer preening. He returned a kiss of his own as the two hugged it out. The adorable display of affection earned a few d'awwws from their friends.

"Wow, bird brain is apologizing and being sentimental. Nice job, new girl; keep up the good work on keeping Sir Pervs-a-lot on a tight leash." Ulbert snickered, flashing her a thumbs-up emoticon. A few others chuckled respectfully alongside him.

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means you prefer being a bottom bitch!"

"Hah! Shows what you know." Peroroncino crowed boastfully, sitting there smugly with his arms crossed over his chest. "While I am a true connoisseur and do like spicing things up, if anyone enjoys being on the bottom, it would be-"

"What was that, dear?" His girlfriend asked him in an all too sugary-sweet voice.

Peroroncino felt a hand clamped tightly on his shoulder; his entire body stiffened as all his instincts told him, "Whatever you do, do not turn around or you're dead!"

"It sounds to me that someone needs some more proper disciplining, followed by a good few months on the couch…"

"W-what I meant to say was that if anyone enjoys being on the bottom, it would be me! After all, that way I'm always able to look up to my most beautiful, my most darling, and my most wonderful girlfriend in the entire world!" Peroroncino squeaked in a high-pitched voice, instantly submissive.

"That's what I thought. Good boy." Sigfrida cooed.

Her hand reached up, giving him a loving scratch underneath his chin. The golden avian purred, his body physically shivering and leaning into her touch.

In the background, Peroroncino heard a sound that sounded very much like the crack of a whip, though he paid it little mind.

Sitting a row above them, Destana and Momonga had front-row seats following the couple's little flirt. The angel was among those who d'awww at the sight of the two of them. Draping herself over her lover, she rested her head against his broad shoulder and playfully ran her finger up and down his exposed ribcage.

"Aren't they just adorable?" The Aerosphere sighed fondly at the young couple's display.

"I… guess?" Momonga offered.

"We need to step up our game. Momon-kun! We can't afford to lose to them! Ainz Ooal Gown has room for only one power couple, and that's us!" Destana sat up straight, a fist clenched together, as a fiery determination entered her eyes.

"It isn't even a competition…" He tried to say.

"Anything's a competition if you put your mind to it! Just like how anything can be a dildo if you're brave enough!"

Momonga slowly turned towards his girlfriend in quiet disbelief at the outlandish words he just heard. His mouth opened before closing with a shake of his head. He refused to even dignify the matter with a response.

The undead sorcerer couldn't help but sputter internally. He knew his lover to be the type to speak before thinking, but even after all these years, his girlfriend remained as spontaneous as ever. There were genuinely times when he was left baffled with no idea of what goes through her head sometimes, with this being another tally added to the long list, and quite frankly, he'd considered that a blessing.

The salaryman knew better than to try and fight against it, especially at her own game.

"Why?" Momonga asked instead, hoping to change the subject.

"Well, all this talk has gotten me curious. And well, I'm feeling a bit adventurous. Why don't we follow their lead and try some experimenting?" Destana whispered flirtatiously, blowing in his ear. An act that sent pleasant shivers down his spine.

"And wouldn't you know it, that special lingerie I once caught you browsing, you know the one, finally arrived. What'd you say about after this tournament, when either Warrior Takemikazuchi-san or Emiya-san wins, I give my special little darling his own victory celebration ~ "

Momonga gulped.

For an angel, she sure acted like a devil with all her temptations. Then again, no one was going to hear any complaints, especially from Momonga of all people.

"I'll think about it…"

Destana cooed triumphantly.

"That's all I ask for." She purred temptingly, tracing his jawline with a sensual finger and planting a chaste smooch on his skeletal cheekbones.

Momonga simply bobbed his head with the motion while Destana made herself comfortable, cuddling up with him. His skeletal arm automatically wrapped around her, pulling her in as his flowing robes covered her like a blanket.

"The two of them really are whipped." Momonga heard Bukubukuchagama whisper, followed by the quiet snickering from Yamaiko.

His head snapped towards the source, finding the two of them sitting with Ankoro Mocchi Mochi. The three of them giggled like schoolgirls. The pink slime gave them a cheeky wave in support, which Destana returned with a dainty wave of her own.

Momonga fixed the trio with a halfhearted glare and a pout.

Suddenly, loud and triumphant celebratory horns sounded off. Every head in the stadium turned to the front as a cascade of lights and colorful fireworks filled the skies above with confetti raining softly down on the audience in the stands. The very air itself vibrated with exhilaration and energy as it was finally time for the main event to begin.

"ON THIS DAY, ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT PLAYERS HAVE GATHERED, BUT ONLY ONE SHALL REMAIN. ONLY ONE SHALL BE VICTORIOUS. ONLY ONE SHALL HAVE THE HONOR OF BEING CROWNED THE 9TH WORLD CHAMPION - THE WORLD CHAMPION OF MIDGARD! THE QUESTION IS, WHO SHALL IT BE?!"

Following the commentator's announcement, spotlights bloomed across the stadium, scattering before focusing on the central arena. The outer edge of the stage floor peeled away as a platform was raised. One by one, the contestants were revealed. Each one was accompanied by numerous large holographic screens appearing in the air, displaying the Player's appearance and name for the audience to see. The same flashy introduction would continue for all one hundred and twenty-eight competitors, with each having a moment in the limelight.

Each reveal was met with a mixture of cheers but also boos, but then again, this was YGGDRASIL, so such behavior was par for the course.

When Warrior Takemikazuchi made his appearance, Ainz Ooal Gown cheered just as loud. They waved and screamed out the samurai's name in hopes that their friend might hear them.

However, their voices were buried under the sea of the other tens of thousands of others, becoming indistinguishable and ultimately incomprehensible. The guild at least hoped he could somehow spot them, but knew that was a challenge in its own right.

When Shirou took his spot on the field, Ainz Ooal Gown cheered with equal fervor, shouting their support. During this, the two made an effort and looked around, and by a stroke of luck, it was Shirou that managed to spot their general area.

"Look!" Amanomahitotsu yelled, making his voice heard over all the cheering. His large claw pointed at their friend. "I think he sees us!"

This only made them try even harder. If they squinted, they could see Shirou looking in their direction.

He waved, calling out to the armored Heteromorph, and pointed in the guild's general direction. Warrior Takemikazuchi quickly joined in, waving with him. Though Ainz Ooal Gown couldn't tell if they were shouting anything back or not, the fact that they managed to pluck them out from the crowd was more than enough.

At last, all one hundred and twenty-eight Players made their debut.

"A moment, please. Before we can begin, we have a very special guest joining us on this day. Marking his first-ever sponsored appearance, he is none other than the founder and CEO of Kaleidoscope Industry himself!"

"THAT'S RIGHT! HE'S THE GENIUS THAT BROUGHT YGGDRASIL TO LIFE AND THE MAN THAT PAYS OUR PAYCHECK! SO GIVE A LOUD ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND HIMSELF: ZELRETCH!"

There was no denying the bubbling curiosity that rippled through the entire stadium and those watching from beyond at the news that the CEO himself would be making his first ever on-screen appearance. Unrestrained chatter filtered through the air, with many within the audience talking over themselves in hushed voices and excited whispers.

They've all heard of the name Zelretch in one form or another, some in passing and others in pursuit of curiosity.

Despite being a revolutionary figure in the world of VR gaming, there was surprisingly very little public information about the man, and even fewer public images and photos credited to him. The genius behind YGGDRASIL has remained an enigma for years.

On this day, however, one such mystery would finally be unveiled to them at last.

"TAKE IT AWAY, BOSSMAN!"

Momonga and many others looked around, trying to spot the man of the hour, before a loud concession of voices pointed him out. There, in the center, was a podium that wasn't there before.

Climbing to the top at a leisurely pace was none other than the man that was on everyone's mind, Zelretch.

The various holographic screens captured his ascension up the steps of the podium, allowing for his appearance to be shown in full.

The first thing that popped into Momonga's mind was the way he carried himself. There was a pedigree of nobility to him, an aura of sophistication as if he were plucked straight from the time of aristocrats. The man's elderly, wizened face was creased with lines and wrinkles, yet he carried himself with a genial smile that made him appear almost grandfatherly. His attire was equally impressive, featuring a collared shirt, dark trousers, and a buttoned vest that all contributed to a striking suave aesthetic. But what truly caught Momonga's attention was the man's long cape coat, which billowed dramatically with every step he took.

Once upon a time, Momonga asked Shirou about the man. He was curious to learn about the fabled CEO, and his friend easily obliged. His friend described Zelretch in terms of not just his appearance but also his presence. He spoke of an unmistakable mystique to the man that drew people in like a magnetic field. A gravitas that made it impossible to ignore his presence.

Upon witnessing the man himself with his own eyes, the Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown had a clearer understanding of what his friend meant by his words.

All the world's gaze bore down on him, yet he didn't appear all that bothered, as if it were a simple walk in the park. First impressions were everything, and for his first public appearance since the game's launch, none could deny that he held himself with regal grace.

Reaching the top of the platform, he took a moment to look around, casting his striking crimson gaze across the stadium and audience, as well as the contestants. His cane scepter clacked against the platform, producing a sound and calling for silence. The audience hushed in record time.

Zelretch then produced a microphone out of thin air, bringing a fist to his mouth and clearing his throat; the sound of the action echoed due to the microphone catching it. Many leaned in, curious and expectant of what was to come next.

"Thank you, thank you. You're all too kind." He greeted. Even his voice had a certain sonorous dignity to it. Rich and firm, but also light and familiar.

"So…" Zelretch prompted, the microphone catching the soft sound of his tongue clicking as if he were gathering his thoughts on what to say next. His hand also reached into his vest, pulling out a small stack of cue cards.

"This is normally where I spew a bunch of formality and tripe that my writing team and PR department green light for me to say here, but quite frankly, I doubt anyone here actually gives two shits about that."

He then nonchalantly threw the cards over his shoulder, garnering some mirth from the audience. The viewers watched with rapt attention, curious as to what he'd say or do next.

"So, why don't we get what we're all here for? Welcome one and all to the 9th World Champion Tournament. You have all gathered today to celebrate and be awed by those who are clearly your betters. In combat, skills, and tactics, they are unmatched by any of you and, as such, must seek out their peers. So, for the sake of alleviating the boredom they must feel at being as strong as they are compared to the average peon, I have decided to have them fight tooth and nail for my amusemen- I mean, blessing! Yes, incredible wealth, a powerful title, and a World Item, all await the future World Champion of Midgard! And as for our lovely competitors for this special event, all I have to say is this: Seeing as you're all the best of the best, that means you should put on a decent show. So do your best and try to make it interesting, will ya'? Else, I'll get bored and fall asleep!"

Without missing a beat, Zelretch held out his hand with the microphone in it and dropped the mic.

"Adios!"

The CEO flashed a two-finger peace sign before vanishing from sight, leaving behind a silent and utterly bewildered audience.

Everyone in the stadium and beyond watching collectively blinked, a second of silence passing before every single voice both inside and outside the stadium clamored to life, louder and greater than previously. Each voice drowned out the other. The air trembled as a cacophony of voices rose, vocalizing their displeasure with angry boos, loud slurs, raging curses, and the passionate cries of "shitty devs!" The sheer discord extended beyond the stadium and even Und Ljósinn itself and could be heard for kilometers across the realm of Midgard.

"Wow…" Destana let out a whistle in quiet astonishment. "That's got to be one of the sharpest, most backhanded speeches I've ever heard!" She cackled uncontrollably, holding her belly and leaning on her boyfriend.

In one speech alone, he managed to mock not just everyone sitting in the audience but the very Players competing in the tournament as well. She'd heard the stories and reputation of the developers and workers of the game being so polarizing, but seeing the CEO of the company itself, who could be likened to the king of the shitty devs, she slightly underestimated them and Zelretch.

The ability to rile up and piss off no doubt hundreds of thousands of people, if not more, with only a few choice sentences, that was an art form.

"WELL, THAT WAS SOMETHING! WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY, LET'S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD!"

Powering through the discord, some kind of machine appeared within the center, containing numerous small balls inside a glass dome. Additionally, an empty tournament bracket appeared on the screens. The raging audience managed to simmer down upon seeing this; their agitation was replaced with curiosity and eagerness as the tournament moved onto its next phase.

"For this tournament, the Players shall be drawing slots. Each will go up and roll a random ball with a number assigned to it. They are numbered one through one hundred and twenty-eight. Whatever number they shall receive determines the order in which the Players are allowed to select their spot for when and where they wish to fight in the tournament bracket." Sam explained.

This sparked immediate discussion amongst the audience. In the past, the matches were decided via a randomizer, but now the power to decide who and when they'll be fighting lies with the contestants. Many were curious to see just how such a thing would go.

Momonga stroked his chin as he and Ainz Ooal Gown conversed, debating over the logistics of the rule given and the possible outcome.

While simple on paper, the number of possibilities associated with the Player's decision was exceedingly intricate. Whoever was fortunate enough to have the first or early picks would be able to choose when they wanted their opening fight, allowing them to set their pace. However, that advantage can quickly change depending on the latter picks, should a Player pick an available slot in correspondence to certain opponents or order. There were advantages and disadvantages to every pick, and one needed to be mindful of their selection and consider not just their immediate match-up but their potential future match-up as well.

The sheer number of potential combinations and match-ups was staggering, making the selection process its own metagame.

One by one, each combatant walked up to the machine and rolled for their number. It was accompanied by a visual effect of the balls spinning within the dome before one was dispensed to the Player. A number flashed, one that only they could see, before walking back to their original spot. This continued for every single Player and once everyone had a ball, the numbers were called out, beginning with the first.

From there, the crowd watched on as each Player revealed their number and made their selection. Some were quick about it. Others took far longer to deliberate their options. The latter earned several impatient shouts from the crowd, chastising them to hurry it up.

As the bracket slowly filled with more and more names, Momonga and many others noticed that certain slots were avoided entirely. Most noticeably, the very first match of the tournament. Those two slots remained empty since the beginning.

Until a certain magus stepped forward.

"I'll take the first slot."

The moment it was Shirou's turn, he had already made his choice.

This caused a small stir amongst the audience, seeing how he didn't even hesitate in his decision.

"The first match right off the bat? That's bold. But won't that mean he'll be at a slight disadvantage since he'll be showing his cards first?" Momonga heard Destana say.

"You're not wrong." He said, grabbing her attention. His skeletal fingers interlocked, his chin resting on it. "If I had to guess, I'd say impatience might've been a deciding factor." A hint of worry leaked through.

"… But, taking the first slot isn't necessarily a bad decision either. No matter which slot he could've picked, the match would've revealed his hand one way or another. The very same can be said for every Player and their respective matches. True, by going first, he'll be giving his future opponents a glimpse of what's to come and time to plan against him, but the reverse is also true. By finishing his match first, he'll be able to devote the rest of the first round to scoping out the competition while preserving his momentum for the upcoming fights. He'll have plenty of time to devise a strategy or two or five to deal with the potential victors."

The Aerosphere smiled softly and giggled under her breath. "That's quite the confident, babe. And here I thought you'd fall into the usual pessimistic rut, seeing as you were raving on about this being a World Champion Tournament and all that."

Momonga chuckled, smiling along.

"It won't be easy, but I would be a poor friend if I didn't believe in him all the way." The undead king flashed her a smile. "But no matter the challenge, I know that both Emiya-san and Warrior Takemikazuchi-san will rise to the occasion and surpass it. Especially Emiya-san. For when he puts his mind to it, then there's nothing he can't achieve. As for us, it's our duty to cheer both of them on."

"Hah! You got that right! Let's go!"

Destana happily cheered on, rallying the others and fist-bumping the air.

The rest of the matchup continued as normal, with Warrior Takemikazuchi taking the final slot of the last match for the first round. This put the two guild members on opposite blocks, preventing them from going up against one another. At least until the final round, should it ever come to it.

It wouldn't be long before all the matches were finalized. The filled tournament bracket was boldly displayed on the large holographic screens for all to see. All the fighters teleported away and returned to the holding wings, leaving the arena barren once more.

And thus, there was only one thing left to do.

"In the immortal words of Gaius Julius Caesar, Alea iacta est! The die is cast! On this very day, history will be made! The question is, who shall be the one to take it all?! What shall emerge victorious amongst all?! Who shall reign supreme as the 9th and final World Champion?!"

"THERE'S ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT HERE, FOLKS! AND SO, LET THE 9TH WORLD CHAMPION TOURNAMENT BEGIN! AND FOR THE OPENING MATCH TO START US OFF, WE HAVE - HUH?!"

As the roaring cheers of the audience reached their crescendo, it was interrupted as the announcers paused mid-speech. A sound of confusion left the commentator's booth and speakers, followed by a sudden yawning silence.

Much of the excitement in the audience dipped. Many frowned, looking around and wondering what the holdup was. After a minute or two, the speakers crackled to life, and the commentators returned.

"We deeply apologize for the wait. Due to an abrupt and extraneous issue, the tournament will be unfortunately delayed until further notice until the matter is resolved. We appreciate your patience." The response came from Sam, his tone already suggesting that he was bracing himself for the fallout to come.

For a beat or two, there was nothing but silence before the stadium exploded into noise.

"Are you KIDDING ME?!"

"What the hell?!"

"Start the fucking matches already?!"

To say that everyone was mad would be an understatement to end all understatements. Everyone, from those in the stadium to those watching from afar or in the comfort of their abode, was united in that singular moment. Boos and hollers filled the air as everyone yelled to make their anger known, in addition to a few colorful choices of words at the inexplicable interruption. But besides whining about it, they had no choice but to wait. Of course, that didn't stop them from blaming the shitty devs for the issue, for when in doubt, blame the developers. It was always those shitty devs' fault, one way or another.

The same sentiment was shared with all the competitors waiting in the holding wing. While the rest were expressing their discontent, Warrior Takemikazuchi found himself preoccupied with a whole other matter entirely.

'Where's Emiya-san?' He wondered, taking notice of his friend's absence, and began searching.

In the meantime, the two commentators sought to pass the time however they could. The last thing they needed was a full-blown uproar on their hands. They began commentating, hoping to quell the discontentment.

"W-well, for those of you new or just joining us for the first time, I say welcome!" Sam coughed, trying to regain some semblance of control. "Allow me to give a brief rundown of the rules for the World Champion Tournament."

"The World Champion Tournament follows standard tournament rules, with each match being a deathmatch. The match only ends once one of the Player's health bars has been completely depleted or if one chooses to concede anytime during the match."

"IF YOU WANT TO PUSS OUT LIKE A LITTLE BITCH, THAT IS."

"Right…" He coughed again at his co-commentator's rather crude paraphrase, though it did manage to earn some chuckles from the audience and help lighten up the mood.

"Unlike other standard tournaments, the usage of cash items and even World Items is strictly prohibited to prevent item abuse and fair play. All contestants are screened beforehand and are only allowed to use the equipment, weapons, and gear that they have registered and which has been approved by the management. However, for this year, a special ruling has been added. The combatants are allowed one request for substitution of a singular item or weapon, but they must be given approval before use by the organizers and cannot be requested right before the Player's respective matches. In addition, the Player's inventory is also locked off to prevent any potential item usage or exploits. [Message]'s are disabled, preventing Players from receiving help from outside sources that could give them an advantage over their opponents."

Most were uninterested in the rules, but the addendum of the singular substitution was an interesting development, and many were curious to see how the fighters intend to use it in the upcoming matches.

"The World Champion Tournament is lauded as the greatest competitive tournament in YGGDRASIL and sponsored by Kaleidoscope Industry, not simply for its prestige but for what it represents. To achieve victory, it'll come down to not just which Player has the better build or who's more powerful, but their innate skill, experience, speed, coordination, wit, and even a stroke of luck. Only the best of the best will have the honor and privilege of being crowned the 9th World Champion! And Bob, I dare say any one of the contestants we have here today has a chance to win it all."

"HOW RIGHT YOU ARE MY FRIEND! SAMMIE, LET ME TELL YOU, I'M EXCITED. THESE FIGHTERS ARE THE CRÈME DE LA CRÈME, AND THE CREAM ALWAYS RISES TO THE TOP! WE'LL BE SEEING A GOOD SHOW ONE WAY OR ANOTHER. THEN AGAIN, SHOULD WE EXPECT ANY LESS FROM THE ANNUAL TOURNAMENT WHERE WE PIT SOME OF THE BEST AND STRONGEST PLAYERS ACROSS ALL OF YGGDRASIL AGAINST ONE ANOTHER TO SEE WHO'S BETTER AT MURDERIZING THE ABSOLUTE SHIT OUT OF THE OTHER!?"

"A bit of hyperbole, don't you think?" He asked his co-worker.

"BUT NOT COMPLETELY UNTRUE! AFTER ALL, WE AS A SPECIES HAVE ALWAYS SOUGHT VIOLENCE IN MANY FORMS OVER THE COUNTLESS CENTURIES. THE ROMANS HAD THEIR GLADIATOR MATCH, THE BARBARIANS THEIR SACRIFICIAL DEATHMATCHES TO THE GODS, AND THE AMERICANS HAVE FOOTBALL - NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH THE ACTUAL ENGLISH FOOTBALL. THIS ONLINE TOURNAMENT IS BUT AN EVOLUTIONARY PROGRESSION IN OUR SEARCH FOR CONTROLLED VIOLENCE AND SPECTACLE. WHERE WE PIT STRANGERS ALIKE IN A TORRENT OF FIGHTS FOR THE AMUSEMENT AND PLEASURE OF OTHERS. ALL TO SATISFY OUR WANTON LUST FOR VIOLENCE. TRULY, WE AS A SPECIES ARE NOTHING MORE THAN RAVENOUS AND BELLIGERENT FOOLS."

"I mean… I can't argue with that… The first third, not so much the rest… A-Anyhow! As analysts, we'll also be providing points and play-by-play analysis for the fights to come. And I must say, I'm quite excited for when the matches finally start rolling. What say you, Bob?"

"I'M WITH YOU ON THAT, OLD CHUM! ALSO, MIGHT I ADD THAT AIN'T IT CRAZY THAT WE BOTH HAVE THE MOST COMMON AND GENERIC OF NAMES, ENGLISH NAMES MIGHT I ALSO ADD, AS WELL? IN A JAPANESE GAME NO LESS, HOW CRAZY IS THAT? WHY, IT'S ALMOST LIKE THE TWO OF US EXIST FOR NO HIGHER PURPOSE THAN TO MISAPPROPRIATE THE MOST MUNDANE ENGLISH NOMENCLATURES IN A JAPANESE MEDIUM, ALL FOR THE SAKE OF A JOKE."

By now, pockets of laughter had spread amongst the crowd, with many taking to enjoying the crazy banter between the two commentators. Though more than a few were confused and curious about where exactly this comedy sketch was going.

"A bit of a random thought… I mean… It's just a name, merely a gamertag. Plenty of people have their gamertags in English.

"THAT IS TRUE, BUT I'M GOING TO HAVE TO DISAGREE WITH YOU ON THAT FIRST PART, SAMMY. AFTER ALL, WHAT IS A NAME BUT A PIECE OF OURSELVES, AN OWNERSHIP OF WHO WE ARE? I'M BOB, THE OVERLY LOUD AND RUMBUSTIOUS COMMENTATOR THAT SPEAKS IN ALL CAPS TO SIGNIFY ME SPEAKING IN A BLARING VOICE TO SIGNIFY MY WILD ATTITUDE AND MAJOR ONE-NOTE CHARACTER PERSONALITY. AND YOU, SAMUEL, ARE THE STRAIGHT MAN TO MY CRAZINESS. THE VOICE OF REASON TO MY INSANITY! ELUCIDATING YOURSELF AS THE CALM AND COLLECTED TYPE. WHY, IT'S ALMOST AS IF OUR ROLES WERE PREORDAINED AND ALL WE ARE IS A GIMMICK OF A TROPE COMMONLY FOUND IN COMMENTATORS, REPRESENTING A DUALITY, FOR NOTHING MORE THAN EXPOSITION AND CHEEKY LAUGHS!"

"I… well… I mean. Ummm… Well, would you look at the time?! I believe that's enough banter for now." Sam cleared his throat, discomfort encroaching on his voice. "After all, we've got a tournament to help run! I must say, the turnout rate this time around is massive! So many Players are here right now, and undoubtedly hundreds of thousands more are watching at home and away. I dare say this tournament will be for the history book!"

"THAT WE CAN AGREE ON. FOR WE ARE TO BE A WITNESS TO WHAT'S TO COME, BUT NOT JUST US, BUT EVERYONE ELSE. YES, YOU, ALL OF YOU, THE TEEMING FACELESS AND NAMELESS MASSES! YOU, WHO SERVED NO OTHER PURPOSE BESIDES BEING PART OF A LABEL TO SHOW OFF A SUPERFLUOUS NUMBER. WE ARE ALL BUT SPECTATORS IN A WORLD WHERE WE ARE NO MORE THAN EXTRAS IN A MOVIE SET, OUR PURPOSE DERIVED TO GIVE NOTHING MORE THAN THE ILLUSION OF GRANDEUR AND SIZE."

By this point, much of the playful laughter had drifted, leaving only awkward pauses and concerned silence. It was kind of funny at first, but now it wasn't, and his words earned a considerable amount of arched brows and confused glances from the audience as they turned their attention towards the commentator booth. Much of the earlier humor was gone, and many weren't quite sure what to feel regarding the direction of where it all was going.

"Bob. A-are you ok…?" The analyst tentatively asked his co-worker, not wanting to pull the pin on that particular grenade but feeling he had little choice but to.

"SAM, IF I'M GOING TO BE HONEST, I AM NOT MY FRIEND. I HAVE GAZED INTO THE GREAT INFINITE WELL AND NOW REALIZE THAT WHAT WE CALL REALITY IS NOTHING MORE THAN AN ILLUSION. I NOW SEE PAST THE CURTAIN, THE 4TH WALL, AND SEE IT ALL TOO CLEARLY. THE FACE OF GOD, HE WHO CREATED AND COMMANDED US, AND I SEE OUR PURPOSE, THE VERY POINT OF OUR EXISTENCE. ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE, AND ALL THE MEN AND WOMEN ARE MERELY ACTORS. AND HE, THE ONE BEHIND ALL OF THIS? HE IS THE DIRECTOR, THE CONDUCTOR OF OUR LIVES. THE MAN PULLING THE STRING AS IF WE WERE, BUT MERE PUPPETS TO HIS WHIM. AND THE MOMENT OUR PURPOSE IS FULFILLED, WHEN THE CURTAIN FINALLY DROPS, WE SHALL BE FOREVER BANISHED TO THE VOID, WHERE ALL FIGMENTS OF IMAGINATION GO WHEN NO LONGER NEEDED! ALL THE WHILE HOPING AND SQUEEZING WHAT MEAGER TIME WE HAVE SPENT AND BEEN SHOWN TO LEAVE ENOUGH OF A MEMORY AND IMPRESSION SO THAT WE MAY LIVE ON IN THE MINDS OF THE READER. THAT IS OUR PURPOSE HERE TODAY, AND SO IT SHALL BE, FOREVERMORE.

The moment he finished, all noise died within the stadium. A taut silence descended upon the stadium, enveloping not only the colosseum but the entire city of Und Ljósinn. A quietness so deep that even a cough would sound like a thunderstorm. Everyone in the audience and the viewers watching the live broadcast were all left speechless, unable to express the utter bewilderment they felt at what they just heard.

"Uhh… Umm… W-what?" Was all that was heard from Sam, representing everyone's thoughts. For what else could he say in the face of… that?

"OR AT LEAST, THAT'S WHAT IT SAYS HERE IN THE SCRIPTS AND DOCUMENTS I'VE GOT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The commentator box boomed with laughter as Bob's boisterous and borderline chaotic laugh echoed through the stadium and beyond. This jumpstarted things back up, with many joining in, seeing it as all a setup for an elaborate joke, and so they laughed along with the commentator. Most of it remained awkward, with the people laughing along as if unsure of what to make of the skit they just heard and choosing instead to laugh it off. Then there was a tiny fraction that was contemplative and near inconsolable, as if trying to wrap their fragile minds around the revelation revealed to them.

"B-but I don't see anything in my notes…" The sound of papers being flipped through and Sam's uncertain voice was drowned out by all the noise.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"Well… that just happened." Touch Me muttered, his voice trailing off.

Touch Me tuned out the noise from the stadium as he let out a small breath, shaking his head. It seemed the organizers had some fun picking this year's shoutcasters while also expanding their materials. It was a bit too existential for his liking, but oh well.

Located above the primary section of the colosseum was a luxurious VIP area that connected to the upper part of the stadium. It overlooked the entire arena and audience below, granting the most prestigious seats in the entire venue. The interior was lavish and extravagant, befitting their status. It was here that he and the other World Champions would bask in comfort while watching the thrilling matches unfold.

The paladin leaned against a guard rail, shoulders slouched, and his eyes searching through the large, immaculate windows in hopes of finding his friends from Ainz Ooal Gown among the ocean of Players seated down below.

When the guild reached the colosseum, the group separated and were ushered toward their respective destinations. While Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi were shuffled away to be checked in, the rest of Ainz Ooal Gown found their seats. Touch Me was escorted to where the other World Champions were gathered in preparation for the opening ceremony. The tournament opened up with a grand premiere, showcasing the eight current World Champions and making a spectacle of it to drum up excitement and rouse the audience for the coming fights.

Following the conclusion of that, Touch Me intended to join up with the rest of his guild in cheering Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi on throughout the tournament. Unfortunately, those plans were dashed when he was informed by a GM, or perhaps it was more accurate to say he was ordered to remain in the VIP area for the duration of the entire tournament, much to his confusion and inner chagrin.

It brought the mood down for him, knowing he couldn't be with his friends.

"My, my, to think I would see the day where the great and unflappable Touch Me-san brooding. I must be dreaming." Said a playful voice beside him.

"I'm not brooding." He returned defensively, turning around as he leaned comfortably with his back against the guard rail.

A hint of a smile touched Touch Me's lip as he regarded his fellow World Champion.

LichtKing - Lvl: 100 - The Saint's Blade Devastator [The World Champion of Vanaheim]

The Player bore a similar aesthetic to Touch Me, donning a full suit of armor that exuded the regal aura of a mighty golden knight. The smooth, heavy armor was bedecked with exquisite emerald accents and silver holy iconography that ran down the length of his armor. One of his pauldrons was decorated with a striking lion design that roared with fierce intensity, while the other bore a sword and shield. The motif of wings was beautifully etched onto his chest plate, which lay underneath his silver surcoat. Despite the stillness of the air, a white cape billowed behind him, much like Touch Me's own crimson cape. The Player's majestic lion's helm was etched with a look of stern determination that exuded power. Nonetheless, despite the Player's fearsome appearance, one could perceive an air of warmth and congeniality emanating from his avatar.

In one of his hands, he carried a large cross-shaped white and gold tower shield that stood almost as tall as he. One that sheathed a powerful two-handed greatsword inside it that he was known to wield with a single hand alone with incredible ease, the hilt of which could be seen protruding from the shield.

"Lay off the old man, LichtKing-san. You know how sullen people can get with age." A third voice teased, joining the conversation and accompanied by the jingle of a chime.

Touch Me let out a huff, turning with a flat gaze toward the source with wry amusement.

"I see that attitude of yours is still as flippant as ever, Duskindal-san."

Duskindal - Lvl: 100 - The Spectre of Nevermore [The World Champion of Helheim]

The Player was tall and lanky, possessing a slender build that lent him an air of lithe grace. Much of his body was obscured by the voluminous shadow cast by his cloak, which was composed of sharp, obsidian feathers from the common raven that draped over one side of his shoulder. Beneath the cloak, the portion of his body that was visible was adorned with lightweight but durable leather armor, crafted from the hide of a legendary mob known as the Dragon-Fanged Basilisk. The armor was expertly crafted, with each piece fitting seamlessly with the others to provide maximum protection without hindering movement. Peaking from his cloak were the hilt of two short swords strapped to the small of his back that he could reach back and unsheathe in an instance, and fitted across his body were a multitude of sheathed daggers.

The assassin could almost be called human were it not for the ghastly grayish hue of his skin. His striking appearance was dominated by a large, malevolent eye that seemed to move with a mind of its own, situated right in the center of his forehead. The dichromatic hair on his head was cut short, featuring a bold combination of dark blue and roguish purple, intermixed in a way that made it hard to look away. Darkened veins pulsed across his face and eyes, adding to the ominous expression on his sharp, cocky grin. Completing his ensemble was a solitary earring that dangled from his left ear, featuring a small bell that chimed with his every movement.

Duskindal walked forward and gave a playful bow, one full of theatrics, his cloak billowing, followed by another chime and the reveal of a dark and fleshy hand. A cursed hand with unique abilities to call its own.

"Don't sound disappointed, my friend. You'll break my poor little heart talking like that." Duskindal offered the paladin a cheeky, smiling emoticon.

"You have a heart? Color me surprised." LichtKing ribbed.

"Indeed, I do!" The assassin returned. "I keep it in a jar for safekeeping, right next to my secret stash of peanut butter. Want to see?"

"Is that truly such a surprise, Touch Me-san? We all know this man-child refuses to grow up. It's quite doubtful that he'll start now." Said another, curtly.

Strutting past the trio and giving the theatrical assassin a particularly haughty look was Belladonna, the first female World Champion.

Belladonna - Lvl: 100 - The Bewitcher of Avarice [The World Champion of Jötunheim]

With an air of elegance and confidence, Belladonna's avatar commanded attention with her icy and peerless beauty that could never be attained by mere mortals. Her countenance was one of arrogance and superiority; her deep amethyst eyes pierced through all who dared to meet her gaze. She was wrapped in a long and eloquent flowing onyx-black gown and adorned with intricate purple and golden accents that added a touch of glamour to her attire. The garment flowed gracefully around her silhouette, matching her silky, smooth raven-black hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall of shadows. Atop her head, a thorny ivory circlet rested, adding a regal touch to her already impressive ensemble. Her long black gloves were a perfect match for the gown, and the intricately designed masquerade mask that covered her left eye only added to the air of mystery to her fabulous wardrobe. Against her pale blue skin, the contrast of her sharp features only served to enhance her beauty further.

Her pigmentation and long ears easily classify her as an Elf, a Fel Elf to be exact, a sub-species of the popular elven Humanoid race. On one of her hands, she wore a golden claw-tipped glove, while on the other, she wore five beautiful rings, one for each finger.

Adorned at her waist were four sheathed swords, two elegantly placed on each side in a balanced fashion. The swords were single-edged with a subtle curved blade, resembling dueling sabers. The hilt of each sword was fashioned into a crescent-shaped guard. The hilt possessed a spiral-curved design that stretched along it, with a trigger located between the hilt and guard. This trigger, when pressed, infused a torrent of elemental damage that added a deadly edge to each of the sword's strikes.

A known fact about her was that she possessed the remarkable ability of being ambidextrous and was also a highly proficient juggler. A seemingly innocuous fact, until one takes into consideration that she employs them in her combat style. During combat, she has been recognized for her unmatched prowess in wielding all four swords simultaneously while expertly juggling them in a mesmerizing manner, creating an intense and formidable tempo that overwhelms her opponents.

Belladonna was arguably the single most skilled duelist in all of YGGDRASIL. In one-on-one combat, her movements were nothing short of graceful, and her skill, unparalleled. However, all of this pale in comparison to her sharp tongue.

"One can always hope, Belladonna-san." The paladin replied, shrugging. "Stranger things have happened before."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to keep on hoping, then. But I wouldn't hold my breath on it. After all, I read somewhere that perpetual childishness and refusal to grow up are attributed to a mental disorder. He's probably beyond our help." Another replied dismissively, earning an indignant 'Hey!' from Duskindal.

"Now, now, Hime-chan, there is no need to go after the poor man like that." A fifth voice placated.

The two that spoke were the World Champions of Niðavellir and Niflheim, respectively.

Touch Me glanced over to the resident 'princess' of the group.

ShikiHime - Lvl: 100 - The Rebellious Iron Maiden [The World Champion of Niðavellir]

ShikiHime was the second female World Champion and, among the group, the most striking and unique in terms of appearance. Her avatar model was a perfect fusion of flesh and synthetic. The result was a smooth and slick skin tone with a distinctly technorganic feel. She donned a futuristic attire, sporting a slick monochrome bodysuit that covered her entire body, closely protected by a formfitting exosuit. The exosuit boasted two repulsors on her arms and a long skirt around her back, leaving her front unobstructed. The suit was marked by multiple, pulsating neon streaks overlaying her body and suit, with some running along her smooth and flawless synth skin. On her back were two hexagonal indentations that could unfurl to produce wings made of hard light, granting her the ability of increased speed and flight. Lastly, she wore an open-cropped white jacket that had a green luminescent collar that glowed brightly.

Her neon hair was tied into long twin-tails that rotated through a spectrum of colors every second, while her cyberoptics dazzled with a gradient of pastel rainbow hues. To complete her look, she wore a glowing crown in pink and gold that floated impeccably above her head, complimenting her Hime namesake.

ShikiHime stood out not just because of her vividly colorful appearance, but also because of her petite stature when compared to her peers. However, don't let her small size fool anyone. What she lacked in height, she more than made up in power.

She had a powerful handgun securely holstered at her waist. However, her ultimate weapon of choice was the sonic axe, a large mechanical single-bladed hacket axe that stood taller than her small frame. The battle axe was equipped with a trigger that, when pressed, unleashed a shockwave through an electric current, augmenting the power of her strikes. ShikiHime was well-reputed for her speedy playstyle, effortlessly zipping through the air, and her prowess to cleave Players in twain with a single swing of her trusty weapon.

"Why not? He deserves it." ShikiHime said unapologetically to her fellow World Champion.

"We all have our quirks, after all. You wouldn't like it if someone else were to make fun of you out of nowhere, you would?" The World Champion of Niflheim mediated.

The metal maiden only huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Thank you, Mercí-san! You truly are my only friend in this den of bullies! You're the only one I can rely on!" Duskindal slid to his side, throwing himself onto the man. A tearful emoticon appeared over the assassin as he wept on his shoulder.

The rest of the World Champions either scoffed, rolled their eyes, or shook their heads at his antics. Wishful Mercí only patted his back while Duskindal cried crocodile tears.

Wishful Mercí - Lvl: 100 - The False Spiral Empyrean [The World Champion of Niflheim]

Wishful Mercí bore the appearance of an archetypical angelic being of remarkable grace and elegance. The Player was clad in white, silken robes, overlayed by intricate, glittering silver and grey armor. They were interwoven majestically, granting him the divine form of both scholarly wisdom and martial prowess. At his waist was a tome of great significance, its dark cover embellished with metallic beveling that glistened in the light. The cover depicted a triangle with all three points enclosed in a circle, a symbol of profound significance to those who knew its meaning. Though he was an Aerosphere, Wishful Mercí was no ordinary angel. He was neither of the pure white nor of the darkened fallen, like the rest of his brethren. He was a grey angel, one with twelve ashen wings that extended from his back. Above his head hovered a stark grey halo, a symbol of his otherworldly power and authority.

This duality extended to his weapons. The angelic warrior held two spears, one made of brilliant, golden marble that glimmered with a divine radiance. The other was a bident with a deep crimson hue, featuring a clear double-helical shape that ran the length of its shaft. The double-helical shape was tightly coiled before gradually splitting apart to form two sharpened tines that served as the spear's blades. They were a holy and cursed weapon, respectively.

An angel he may be, but he was quite the terror on the battlefield. Wishful Mercí possessed an unrivaled mastery of flight combat, enabling him to effectively dominate the battlefield regardless of whether it was in the sky or on the ground. When fighting against him, his dual spearmanship was so incredible that it was often likened to battling two opponents at once, leaving little hope for any opponent to match his prowess in a direct confrontation.

Touch Me couldn't help but chuckle along. His eyes swept over the group before drifting to one of the two remaining Players who had remained silent throughout.

Of course, he knew that for one of them, it wasn't strictly by choice.

"It's never a dull moment with him, huh, V-san?" Said Touch Me.

The Player, Elementum V, nodded.

Elementum V - Lvl: 100 - The Nine Sage Elementalist [The World Champion of Asgard]

Sitting in his seat, though it would be more appropriate to say floating above where he sat, was the World Champion of Asgard. His posture was that of perfect alignment, his crossed legs in a meditative stance as he levitated in a manner that defies earthly bounds. A vibrant set of martial robes adorned him in a way that was both striking and comforting, the fabric draping elegantly over his sculpted frame. The robes was open at the center, revealing a glimpse of his chiseled chest, and the material seems to caress him with a palpable sense of ease. A hood conceals his face, save for two radiant golden orbs that serve as his eyes, glistening with an otherworldly energy. He wielded a pair of powerful and intricate-looking golden gauntlets, each adorned with delicate silver accents that ran down their sides. At the knuckles of one gauntlet was the ornament of a dragon, while the other bears the likeness of a tiger, each symbolizing a different facet of his power.

Surrounding him in an 'X' formation were numerous orbs, each pulsating with a unique color and elemental force. They seem to hum with an almost tangible energy, representing fire, water, lightning, earth, wind, ice, and more - each one a potent force in its own right.

Elementum V didn't verbally respond, not due to a lack of desire but rather because he couldn't. The Player was mute. A screen appeared with text on it, for this was how he communicated, along with liberal usage of emoticons to help convey what he wanted to say. He showed Touch Me an emoticon shaking its head and another one laughing with its hand waving.

Touch Me chuckled, catching the meaning.

"Oi! I heard that! Touch-san, V-san; I see you two conspiring over there. What the heck are you two up to, hmmmm?!" Duskindal popped in, bringing the conversation to them and everyone involved.

For the moment, all was going well as the Players chatted and enjoyed themselves. A levity that lasted until their final member made his presence known.

"Shut up." A voice growled. "You're all annoying."

Touch Me's smile quickly dampened upon hearing this. The whole mood of the room dipped; the once-amiable atmosphere was replaced with something more strained.

All eyes turned to the final occupant. A single Player sat all by his lonesome in the far corner, content to ignore the world around him. Until now.

He was undoubtedly the most well-known and contentious of the World Champions. A name all knew of and echoed by all in scorn and fear alike. The Archfiend, Luciferno.

Luciferno - The Calamitous King of Wrath [The World Champion of Múspellsheim]

For one to bear such a fearsome reputation, his character model more than complemented his image. Luciferno was a formidable sight to behold. His avatar held a sharp and predatory visage that was a cross of both the demonic and the draconic, with slit eyes of pale gold and a permanent cold sneer etched on his face. His neck revealed fur, spiked and coarse, that appeared to be made of blackened scales with crimson marks. Two menacing and sharp forward-facing horns protrude from the parietal ridge of its head, adding to the demon's intimidating appearance.

Luciferno's frame was mostly concealed by his tough obsidian and crimson wings, which seemed to wrap around the draconic demon like impenetrable armor. Despite their dull crimson hue, they emitted a blistering heat just below the surface, as if they were on the brink of igniting at any moment. Peering through the small gaps in the wings, one could catch glimpses of the rest of the demon's attire. He wore a heavy set of armor, dyed with muted bronze and brass tones and tinged with bleeding gold. The shoulder guards and chest piece were adorned with the striking design of a vicious sharp-toothed, devouring maw, encapsulating the edge of the armor. A pitch-black mantle hung from his broad shoulders, appearing as if it was crafted from the darkest recesses of the night. The sigil of a sun with three claw marks slashed across it, his emblem, was emblazoned on the back of the cloak. Lastly, a bright, blood-red halo floated above his head, bearing a crest that represented his sin: the Crown Sin of Wrath.

His infamy started well before his rise as a World Champion. Before Luciferno was a World Champion, he was among the few who possessed the ultra-rare caster class: [World Disaster]. A powerful job class that was considered the magic caster equivalent of [World Champion]. However, that wasn't enough for him.

It remains a mystery as to why he relinquished his former title of "World Disaster" and embraced the path of a warrior. Nevertheless, he proved his exceptional skill and ferocity to the world when he ascended as the World Champion of Múspellsheim.

However, what truly cemented his notoriety throughout the nine realms was his transformation into a World Enemy by means of a World Item. This transformation resulted in him becoming one of the Lords of the Seven Deadly Sins, specifically the Lord Sin of Wrath.

A feat all considered impossible and inconceivable until he went and did it. An achievement that has never been seen or replicated ever since. Only Luciferno possessed the secret of how it could be done and which World Item was required, but that was a secret he would take to his grave.

Luciferno's skill and strength were already insane due to him being a World Champion. As a World Enemy, his power rose to heights beyond measure.

Luciferno's appearance now was a downsized version of his true form. In his true boss form, he was colossal in scope and wreathed in hellish fire that burned the very air itself. Although it wasn't present, he was known to wield two devastating weapons, one in each hand. One was a gigantic, twisted black sword engraved with blasphemous runes that glowed with an unholy light. The second was an enormous, wicked waraxe forged of bronze and brass with chainsaw-like blades running down the weapon's edge.

He couldn't even be considered a Player anymore, as evident by his lack of a level indicator and his unique red gamertag, and was more like a natural disaster given form.

And rounding out their ensemble was none other than the self-proclaimed Hero of Justice himself:

Touch Me - Lvl: 100 - The Silver Paladin of Justice [The World Champion of Álfheim]

And so, on this day of the 9th and final World Champion Tournament, all eight World Champions were gathered together at last.

Back when Luciferno joined them in the VIP room, all of them couldn't hold back their surprise at seeing the World Champion of Múspellsheim present and accounted for. This was due to Luciferno's propensity of leaving as soon as the ceremony was concluded or avoiding the event in its entirety altogether.

With such a departure from the norm, they could only assume that the GMs or developers had a hand in this.

The others glanced at one another in quiet uncertainty. His presence presented a dilemma for the World Champions. Due to his prickly attitude and reputation, he was a stifling individual to be around. He kept to himself, keeping silent behind a veil of contempt, almost as if it physically ails him to interact with others and any attempts were met with caustic responses. He embodied the very definition of antisocial and reminded Touch Me of a more extreme version of Ulbert.

As such, the group often resolved this issue by allowing him his space and choosing not to bother him.

Most of the time anyhow, as in this moment, however, a certain playful assassin was feeling particularly bold.

"Well, isn't this a surprise?"

'Oh no…' The other World Champions had the same thought as they watched Duskindal make his merry way over to Luciferno. They already knew that what was going to happen was going to go poorly.

"He speaks! And here, I thought we might've had two mimes in our colorful troupe instead of one. Meaning no offense, of course, V-san."

Elementum V flashed an emoticon flicking its hand dismissively and a second one giving a thumbs up, showing that he didn't take any offense.

"How've you been, ol' buddy, ol' pal, ol' chum, ol' dilio? We haven't heard from you in ages! You never write, never call, or anything! Why, it's almost like you hate us or something!" His tone was light and teasing.

Duskindal plopped onto the seat next to Luciferno, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and bringing the two closer.

The walking disaster didn't waste a single second, smacking the offending arm away with a growl of utter contempt. He grabbed Duskindal by the front and violently yanked him out of his seat, throwing the World Champion of Helheim out of his seat and onto the floor.

Despite being on the receiving end of such aggression, Duskindal remained nonchalant.

"Well, that was rude." He quipped from his position on the floor.

The manufactured World Enemy loomed over Duskindal, glaring balefully down at the assassin.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me." He snarled, emphasizing every word with unrestrained disdain.

"That's quite enough."

Touch Me stepped forward, standing between them.

The World Champion of Álfheim and Múspellsheim confronted one another, Touch Me with a firm stare, and Luciferno with a withering scowl.

Behind him, Elementum V offered his hand and pulled Duskindal back up to his feet. The rest watched, silent but cautious, just in case something were to break out.

"Duskindal-san." Touch Me softly chided without turning his gaze away from the demon lord.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. That's on me. Sorry." The stealthy World Champion easily conceded, throwing both hands in surrender and backing away.

"Luciferno-san. While Duskindal-san was partially in the wrong, that doesn't mean you're in the right for what you did either. The issue could've been resolved by simply talking it out."

"What gives you the right to order me around, trash?" Luciferno hissed, jutting one of his bladed fingers harshly against Touch Me's smooth chest plate.

"I'm merely voicing an alternative." The silver paladin offered smoothly. "There's no need for hostility between peers here."

A tense and silent stare-down unfolded between the two World Champions. Neither of them gave in to the other's intense gaze, both standing tall and firm. They were like two towering titans, each refusing to back down.

Touch Me could feel the heat behind the vitriolic glare oozing from the Sin of Wrath, yet he weathered it like it was nothing. Compared to what he faced for years on a daily basis from his best frenemy, Ulbert Alain Odle, he'd certainly faced worse than a scornful Player. Even one as powerful as a World Enemy.

Luciferno broke first, after what felt like a small eternity. He let out a contemptuous scoff, his gaze sweeping over him and the others briefly. He turned away, purposely smacking the silver knight's shoulder in a show of contempt as he pushed past Touch Me.

"If it weren't for Zelretch threatening me with deleting my account, I wouldn't have bothered being in the same room as you waste of fucking space." He said this, glancing over his shoulder. His pale golden eyes held nothing but contempt for not only Touch Me but the rest of the World Champions.

A palpable tension filled the air as the Heteromorphic Player's words provoked glares and frowns from the other World Champions. Luciferno, unbothered by their reactions, sauntered to the opposite side of the room to take a seat. He paid them no mind, as if they were ants beneath his feet, beneath his notice.

Right, that was another thing that worked against him. The man simply held absolutely no respect for anyone.

Much of his notoriety stemmed from the fact that Luciferno was exceedingly arrogant, insufferably so, valuing a Player's worth solely on their skill and strength in the game. Those weaker than him or those whom he perceived as inferior, he callously disregarded them completely, and he wasn't afraid to let it be known. Not even his fellow World Champions could measure up in his eyes.

He wasn't afraid to run his mouth, but galling as it was to admit, Luciferno had the power and skills to back up his massive ego. Especially in the case of when he emerged as a World Enemy and needed a literal army to challenge him.

Of course, that made him no less of an jerk to interact with.

It was futile to admonish him, for he'd been like this for years now. It was highly doubtful that he would start changing his attitude any time soon.

Luciferno found a new seat and made himself comfortable. He resumed his prior activity of brooding in his little corner while gazing out the window at the world below.

The rest of the World Champions congregated closer to the center of the room and settled in, watching through the mirrors that overlooked the stage and the audience below. In the end, the group settled on an unspoken and tentative compromise.

Following that, the atmosphere settled back into its normal quiet as sparse conversation and chatter were stirred up by the seven World Champions. Most of it was catching up with one another and passing the time while they waited for the tournament's official commencement.

Minutes passed before it reached a certain topic of discussion.

"So, who's your guy's bet on the finalist?" LichtKing prompted.

It was a common question to propose, and each year they made it into a small game. They would place wagers and pick out Players they'd like or believe might make it as finalists, or even who might win and join them as the next World Champion.

The conversation quickly shifted, with each World Champion picking out several names from the roster based on who they believed had the best chance at winning. Some were well-known names within the PvP sphere that Touch Me readily recognized. Others were former contenders in previous World Champion Tournaments or powerful Players in their own rights. Additionally, there were a few names that were new and mysterious sprinkled in. Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi's names were brought up once or twice as well, to his hidden approval.

"What about you, Touch Me-san?" Elementum V said, or rather, typed out.

"For myself, I would say perhaps either Emiya-san or Warrior Takemikazuchi-san has the greatest chance of entering the final or winning this thing altogether." He answered without a shred of hesitation. Unlike the others who pondered for a bit before giving their answers, Touch Me's was immediate and held the utmost confidence in his decision.

"Really? It wouldn't be because you just so happen to be in the same guild and close friends, would it?" LichtKing quirked a knowing smile, calling the paladin out on his bias.

"Perhaps." Touch Me returned with a cheeky hum, shrugging.

"I can see Warrior Takemikazuchi-san having a good chance of winning. I fought against him in the finals of our tournament and he was very skilled. However, he did become a bit impatient and greedy towards the end, which gave me the opportunity I needed to win instead of him." ShikiHime reminisced, revealing their shared history.

Touch Me nodded, all too familiar with his rival's habits.

"He's probably only gotten better since last time. As for Emiya-san, I can't say much for or against him since I barely know the man besides hearsay." She said.

"His reputation speaks clearly of his repertoire and persistence. Though he's more well known in the PKing sphere than in the PvP sphere. It'll be quite interesting to see him fight in a tournament setting. And who knows, perhaps we'll finally have an answer to the mystery surrounding him." Wishful Mercí deposited.

"You mean, finding out if he's the real deal or just another cheat?" Belladonna bluntly added, and in one of her hands, she twirled a thin glass of champagne.

Wishful Mercí offered a wordless, slim nod. A round of divisive murmurs was brought forth, spreading quickly amongst them as they jumped right into the topic.

Touch Me leaned back into his comfortable seat with a small, unseen smile on his lips. He listened in on the others polite but animated debate. The sight of which never fails to rouse a sense of sly amusement within him, for he was among the trusted few that knew the truth.

It wasn't merely Shirou's actions and character that perpetuated him as a controversial figure within the YGGDRASIL community, although they did play a heavy factor. One of the most debated topics regarding his capacity as a Player lies in the layers of mystery that surround his abilities and his build. To this day, the true nature and inner workings of the Player Killer's build remain a highly contested subject.

It was in human nature, when faced with the inexplicable, to fall back on normal convention. To assign clarity, to give understanding to that which defies the previous convention. It was how humans coped and felt in control.

And when it came to the Player simply known as Emiya, whose build flew in the face of YGGDRASIL's established mechanics, he was no exception.

Countless wild theories have sprung up over the years, with each trying to find some measure of an explanation as to how his build works and how he was able to do what he could. One of the earliest and more popular hypotheses was that his ability to summon and fire off powerful weapons with devastating effects and vastly unique skills was due to him spamming cash items. He masks their summoning behind a special effect, making it appear as if he's responsible for it. An expensive method, to be sure, but plausible.

Another speculation proposed was that he would respec his entire build regularly, hence explaining why varying encounters with the Player Killer revealed different play styles and methodologies in his combat. Such a theory fell off sometime later as more conflicting proof surfaced.

Many different explanations have come and gone over the years, but none have ever gotten close to scratching the surface that was the true depth of Shirou's ability. There have been many who have tried to replicate his build in the past. All of which failed. His build was too fluid, too diverse. Not even the best min-max build had come close to emulating even a fraction of what the Player Killer had shown, let alone copying him. A fact that has stumped many forum posts and Players and left them with little to do but theory-crafting.

Currently, the most widely accepted assumption was that his unique abilities and magic were derived from unique job classes that came from either a special reward for beating a World Enemy, uncovering an exclusive, one-of-a-kind secret, or perhaps even a World Item. That was the only rationale that lends credence to categorizing and explaining Shirou's diverse arsenal and quite frankly busted playstyle.

Simply put, the very nature of his unprecedented build should be theoretically and logistically impossible to create in YGGDRASIL, and yet it does. There was none other like him in all of YGGDRASIL. In a game that valued diversity over power, he was a true jack of all trades and a master of all.

He was an anomaly; he shouldn't exist in the game.

"Maybe there's no trick to it. Maybe it's just all magic." Touch Me weighed in.

Everyone looked at him.

"Magic…" Belladonna repeated with a touch of incredulity. "Do you mean the game's tier magic system, or are you referring to actual magic, as in magic magic?"

Touch Me hummed and offered a noncommittal shrug.

"I wasn't aware that you dabbled in being a comedian, Touch Me-san." The Fel Elf deadpanned and dismissed. "I know that the two of you are friends, but if you're going to lie on his behalf, at least make it a believable one."

"Everything in this world is magic, except to the magician." Duskindal whimsically quoted aloud. "We throw around powerful spells, slay monsters and gods, and discover land beyond our imaginations. Maybe he is cheating, but none of us can prove it now, can we? So who's to say he's not performing magic after all? He's the magician on stage, and we're the audience, bewitched by his tricks. Perhaps he's a cheater, or maybe he knows something we all don't. A good magician never reveals his secret after all."

The others looked at him, mulling over his words and genuinely giving it a second thought.

There was one, however, who was not swept up in the assassin's poetics.

"I would still call it cheating if the tricks they're using are so outlandish that they go against the convention of the game. Even in fiction, rules exist. However, I won't care to pretend that I know exactly how he does what he does. But I must admit that he must be doing something right, unlike a certain charlatan." Belladonna remarked, eyeing the Demi-human Player.

"Are you harping on me on that?" Duskindal sighed dramatically. "We can play with words all day if you'd like, Bell-chan, but I've never broken the rules of the game."

"I would call that a technicality." She countered poignantly.

"I'd call that a skill issue." He smugly returned.

A brief stint of tensed quietness settled over the room as the two locked eyes.

"You forget yourself. The only reason you're even a World Champion in the first place is because you were the first. That's all. Don't mistake being first for being the best, you vacuous lout." The Fel Elf hissed, dredging up an old memory.

Years ago, when the first World Champion Tournament was announced, there existed a small bug at the time. A completely inconsequential glitch that, had no one stumbled across it, likely would have remained undetected for an untold number of years. Duskindal happened upon it by complete chance and, through numerous trial and error, found that he could use it as a small exploit. It was utterly useless in any other situation, but he found a use for it and entered the tournament. It provided him with the slimmest edge over the competition, allowing him to work his way through the preliminary rounds and eventually won the tournament with its help. Thus, Duskindal was crowned the first-ever World Champion of YGGDRASIL.

However, the tale doesn't end there. After he had won, many skeptics reviewed the vlogs of the tournament with a fine-tooth comb and noted an odd inconsistency during his matches. The glitch was subsequently discovered and reported on. In less than a day, it was hot-fixed by the developers.

Due to the unlawful nature of his victory, the developers quickly got in touch with him. The matter was kept behind closed doors, and only those involved knew the truth of what transpired.

The developers threatened to not just to revoke his title and delete his account but also to permaban him entirely from YGGDRASIL. With his head on the chopping block, he was intensely interviewed, and at the end, they asked him one final question. A question that would determine his fate. If he had the choice, would he have done it again, knowing the potential repercussions?

If Duskindal was to be believed when he shared with the others what went down, he didn't even hesitate as he answered with a resolute yes.

He then went on and launched into a counterpoint where the exploit only existed due to their oversight on the developer's part, which led to the spaghetti coding in the first place. He spoke of how they were just as guilty as him, and he took it a step further by arguing that the developers should be thanking him for having been the one to discover it in the first place and bring it to their attention. Or else someone else might have discovered it with a more malicious intent in mind in comparison to him.

Duskindal boldly declared himself innocent. He neither purposely tampered with the game's codes nor did he use an external source.

The glitch only worked under specific circumstances, and it was far from game-breaking. Like everything else in YGGDRASIL, he saw something that could work to his advantage and sought it in his favor. He bent the rules, yes, but he did not explicitly break them according to the terms of service.

As the saying goes, "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

Whether or not Duskindal spoke the full, impartial truth about what truly happened, a simple fact remained. The developers allowed him to retain his status as a World Champion.

The decision in question was highly controversial and caused a great deal of commotion within various online communities and forums. Many clamored and raged that he was a no-good cheater, undeserving of the title and honor that came with being a World Champion. Yet, even without the exploit, many would be hard-pressed to deny his skill as a Player, even if he was the clear weakest amongst his fellow World Champions.

Of course, many weren't going to forget or forgive so easily.

"Y'ouch. Kitties got her claws out today." Duskindal purred like a cat, his fingers scratching with a gesture. "Always singling me out. Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're doing it on purpose to get my attention."

He gasped as if some important revelation had struck him.

"Could it be? Could our previous Bell-chan be a tsun-tsun?"

He leaned forward; an impish-looking emoticon appeared over his avatar, wiggling its eyebrow.

The temperature of the room dropped as a wave of frigid vexation radiated off of Belladonna. Punctuated further by a glaring emoticon, mirroring the Player's own, leveled solely on the grinning assassin.

"Your rotted mind must have deteriorated more than I thought to even think of, let alone entertain such a despicable and banal idea as that. That I would possibly find you, a cretinous and deluded ill-suited reprobate such as yourself, as desirable, why the mere idea of it alone makes my stomach churn!" The elf let out a presumptuous huff, venom practically spitting from her tongue as she turned her nose to him with a gaze reserved for those she viewed as lower than dirt.

Duskindal playfully flinched backward, sucking in a sharp breath with his knees buckling and weak as a hand grabbed the railing to keep himself from collapsing. His other hand nursed over his heart, clutching his chest.

"Why, what a devilishly lashing tongue you have, Bell-chan. My, my, makes me wonder what else it can do~" He purred, leaning forward unintimidated.

"Remove your vapid delusions from my sight. Continue speaking in such a manner to me, you utterly myopic simpleton, and I'll show exactly what I'm capable of." The Fel Elf vowed darkly, flexing her gilded claws. The female World Champion rose from her seat, meeting his challenge.

"Get a room, you two!" ShikiHime blandly called out from the sidelines, sparking amused chuckles from the others. "I swear it's always the same shit between Miss Thesaurus and Sir Dumbass over there. Those two bicker more than married couples."

"You can't deny that it ain't fun to watch. I swear, there's more sexual tension between two people that'll never meet than any I've seen from those romantic dramas and shows my mother used to binge-watch." LichtKing snickered, drawing Belladonna's ire and Duskindal's smirk.

Touch Me couldn't help but agree. Duskindal and Belladonna were at each other's throats more often than Touch Me and Ulbert were, and that was saying a lot.

Before anything else could happen, the sound of clapping, courtesy of Wishful Mercí, rang out, calling for attention.

A message popped up from Elementum V that simply read, "Why don't we get back on track?" He asked politely, helping the grey angel reign in the matter before it veered off track even further.

Belladonna harrumphed in typical fashion, flickering her hair at him as she turned away, while Duskindal blew her a kiss and waved ta-ta.

"Back on topic, that's quite the confidence, Touch Me-san. You wouldn't happen to know something we don't? In that case, mind sharing it with the rest of the class?" LichtKing unabashedly asked him, seizing the conversation. His curiosity was shared by a few of the others too, who wanted to know the secret.

"And spoil the surprise? Why, I'd never! Where's the fun in that?" Touch Me said, gasping playfully.

"Aww, come on, Touch Me-san! Lighten up a little; we're all friends here!" Duskindal joked, coming over and throwing his hand onto the paladin's shoulder. "Also, aren't you supposed to be a hero? Heroes are supposed to help people out, so throw us a bone here!"

Touch Me chuckled.

"Apologies, but my lips are sealed. But I'm sure you'll have your answer soon enough when you see Emiya-san in action with your own eyes."

"Spoilsport." Duskindal pouted.

Intrigue aside, the other World Champions were indeed curious. Despite Touch Me's biases coloring his words and credibility, they all knew that the heroic paladin was never one to hand out flattery readily or exaggerate easily.

If Touch Me vouched for Shirou and held the utmost confidence in his friends, impartiality or not, that was not something to halfheartedly dismiss. Which only made them all the more curious to see him in action and whether the mystery surrounding him held any kernel of truth, and if the Player could live up to his fearsome reputation.

A loud mocking scoff echoed, drawing all the World Champion's attention as, for the first time, Luciferno graced the conversation with his presence.

"Is something the matter?" Touch Me questioned.

"If you believe that all it'll take is a few parlor tricks and a gimmick to win a World Champion Tournament, then the whole thing went to shit faster than I thought. Either you've gone senile in your old age, or you're more of a sentimental fool than I thought."

Touch Me cheeks crinkled upon hearing this. If the silver paladin took offense to the World Enemy's words he didn't show it. If anything, the World Champion of Álfheim was amused more than anything else.

"Perhaps. One can never know how these matches will go." He willingly conceded. "But maybe he might just surprise you. As the saying goes, it ain't over until it's over. I suppose we'll have to wait and see who's right at the end."

In the face of Touch Me's overwhelming optimism, Luciferno clicked his tongue in disgust, dismissing him as he turned back away.

With the minor intrusion settled, the group continued with their conversation for some time until, finally, a loud announcement was made. The tournament was to resume on schedule.

The World Champions took their seats, making themselves comfortable as the opening match of the tournament kicked off.

'Best of luck to both of you.'

Touch Me offered a silent prayer, wishing them fortune and luck in the fights to come.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Unbeknownst to everyone, the cause of the tournament's delay was due to one individual. When the Players were teleported away from the arena, Shirou did not follow after Warrior Takemikazuchi and the rest of the competitors. Instead, he was appeared elsewhere.

The moment he appeared in the room, he tensed up. His eyes surveyed his new surroundings, taking note of everything.

He appeared in a well-furnished room, quaint and comfortable, exuding an old-world charm. The chamber was devoid of any doors or windows, instilling a sense of seclusion and tranquility. The walls were draped with an assortment of colorful curtains and tapestries, each displaying a unique pattern and iconography from different cultures and regions, making it an amalgamation of diverse art and culture. There were two small tables near him, one adorned with pitchers and chalices, while the other stood in the center with two extravagant chairs and a plate of delicacies, including sliced fruits, berries, nuts, figs, and other snacks. The room was cluttered with an array of miscellaneous objects, yet far from being disordered, which gave it a sense of organized chaos.

Shirou's lips pressed into a thin line, wondering just where exactly he was.

"No need to be so tensed."

Shirou froze.

He didn't sense another presence in here with him until the voice spoke up. However, what shook him wasn't the fact that he was caught off-guard but rather who the voice belonged to.

Slowly, he turned around, his mind racing at a greater speed than his body.

Ever since Shirou received that second [Message] from Zelretch, he has been waiting for the opportunity to meet and talk with him again. He waited on pins and needles for the follow-up. Only, it never came. Fast forward to the day of the World Champion Tournament, he had put the matter aside until that was taken care of first. Even with his public appearance at the arena, Zelretch didn't so much as glance in the magus's direction.

Shirou figured that their long-awaited meeting would happen later rather than sooner.

Only for Zelretch to surprise him yet again.

At the back of the room lay a desk littered with stacks of books, papers, and scrolls on it. The wall behind it was lined with numerous bookshelves that were overflowing with books. And there, sitting down with a pair of reading glasses and reading some large and thick tome, was the originator of it all.

Shirou felt his throat constrict as he laid eyes on the Wizard Marshall.

Zelretch took his eyes off of what he was reading and slowly, without any sense of hurry, took off his reading glasses and gently stood up.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world halted.

No longer was Zelretch only a memory in his mind or just a figure in the distance that he could see.

There they stood, two relics of a bygone era, the last of their kind, face-to-face at last after almost a decade.

"Hello, Shirou. It's been some time, hasn't it?"

"Zelretch…"

Chapter 12 - The 9th World Champion Tournament II

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Beta'd: Dante Evans

Chapter 12 - The 9th World Champion Tournament II

October 20, 2136. World: Midgard. Location: Unknown

Shirou's eyes glazed over, and the memory of that day rushed back into him.

He was lying on his bed; the Jeweled Sword plunged deep into his chest and heart, and bright light filled the room.

Zelretch's last word to him echoed.

"Take care, Shirou."

The kaleidoscope of colors grew brighter before darkness approached and swallowed him. And then he awoke to a brand new word.

An image of Zelretch way back then appeared before him, superimposing itself onto the man in front of him as Shirou was taken back to the present.

The Wizard Marshall, he hadn't aged a single day since Shirou last saw him.

Zelretch casually strode around his desk, making his way towards the center where his guest stood.

He raised his hand, a sphere of magic circles appearing and whirling within his palm. Shirou tensed up, fingers flexing instinctively to call upon the married blades, despite knowing the futility of such an action.

The magic circles spun faster and faster before light expanded forth from them. He braced himself as a close-to-indescribable sensation washed over him. It felt as if he was submerged in a lukewarm lake and dragged deeper into the depths.

He gasped, breathless, at the sensation.

"What did you-" He never completed his sentence, as his hand immediately shot up to his jaws, feeling movement. The projection user's eyes widened further as his senses rushed back to him.

Touch, taste, smell - all his senses, no longer were they muted or hindered.

He breathed in, feeling the fresh air fill his lungs, and then he breathed out, relishing the sensation.

He was human again, with flesh and blood rather than polygons and lines of code - as far as he could tell anyway. More than that, he felt better than he ever did before.

He felt alive.

Stunned heterochromatic eyes sought the Dead Apostle out, finding him reclined in one of the chairs with a golden chalice of wine in hand.

"H-how?"

"Oh, you know. Second Magic, full VR integration, technomagic… Take your pick." His hand waved off breezily, dismissing the question as he took a sip.

"It ain't the Moon Cell, but then again, what is, am I right? But it'll do the job."

Zelretch watched as Shirou inspected himself, his mouth opening and closing several times, but never a word left him.

"Well, are you going to stand there all day or are you going to sit?" He prompted.

Shirou snapped out of it. "B-but the tournament…"

"Is not going to go anywhere." The old man waved away. "A delay isn't going to harm anyone. Besides, how long has it been since we've last seen one another? Please, take a seat. I won't have it said that I'm a poor host, especially to an old friend."

Shirou's body moved on autopilot, and he sat down on the lone chair left. The cushion of the chair was soft to the touch, and as he leaned back, a sense of comfort eased him in.

"Drink?"

"… Water." He requested, finding his voice.

Zelretch nodded and poured his drink from one of the crystal pitchers. Shirou muttered a small thank you, taking the chalice and bringing it up to his lips.

His body let out an involuntary shudder as the crystal-cool water washed down his throat. A sigh of contentment left his lips, relishing the taste. It was only water, but he drank it with the fervor of a man dying of thirst amidst the scorching lands of Múspellsheim. Draining the cup in one gulp, he asked for more, which Zelretch easily obliged.

A minute or two passed in silence. The ancient sorcerer looked at him patiently, allowing his guest to gain his bearings before continuing. The magus could only return with a passive stare of his own. Doubt weighed heavily within him, and so he was unsure of what to say, let alone how to begin.

How many times has he wondered and pondered the chance to meet with Zelretch again? To stand in front of the man and look him in the eye. Countless times, but they've always remained what-ifs.

And now, here they were, at long last.

For Shirou, a thousand thoughts ran through his head, and a hundred questions rested on the tip of his tongue. After so long, this was his chance. The first and perhaps final opportunity to speak his mind with the man responsible for his current situation. To unleash it all, the years of confusion, doubt, curiosity, and even hopelessness.

Yet, in the most crucial of moments, he found himself tongue-tied.

Sitting face-to-face with the man who started it all, he found himself blanking out, unsure.

And so time stretched indefinitely onward.

"Well?" Zelretch looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you going to finally start talking, or are we going to continue sitting here staring at each other longingly, like long-lost lovers finally united? Because I can go either way."

He took another sip, never breaking eye contact with the magus. If anything, he concentrated harder, as if it were a staring contest.

'At least he hasn't lost his brand of humor…'

Shirou's mouth opened, and before anything else, these two words were uttered.

"Thank you."

Both blinked, surprised. None more than Shirou, whose mouth moved faster than his mind.

"Not going to lie, I wasn't expecting that." The master of Kaleidoscope admitted. "I had bets that you'd start with anger, screaming, or cursing me out. That, or try and interrogate me on what the hell I've been up to and for leaving you hung and dry for all these odd years. Heck, I'm surprised you didn't just demand for me to hand over the Saber Class Card outright."

Ignoring the slight rambling commentary, he swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath.

"I never had the chance to thank you for your help all those years ago. Thank you, Zelretch." He repeated and bowed to him. "For giving me this second chance."

In spite of everything, it was thanks to his intervention that he owed his second lease on life. It was thanks to him that Shirou had the chance to escape from slowly wallowing away and meet those he was honored to call his friends.

Much of the fire against him has waned with the passage of the years, dulled into an idle ember. He couldn't find it within himself to muster any residual anger or resentment for the man after all this time. Only a sense of wane gratitude for all that he's done.

"Oh, sure, you're welcome. Next time you need to be stabbed, give me a call, and I'll head right over." Zelretch joked with a hearty chortle, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Shirou narrowed his eyes but ultimately shook his head. Even after all these years, Zelretch was still whimsical as ever. It was a cold comfort, a reminder of better times, yet he couldn't help but secretly enjoy it.

He did have questions, but all of them were superficial and, in the end, inconsequential. They would satisfy merely his curiosity and urge to know rather than any true desire. All but one question.

One question that has been simmering within the back of his mind ever since that fateful day all those years ago.

"When you first sent me into this world, I wondered how exactly all of this would allow me to escape Alaya's grasp. I spent the first odd years pondering on it, and I think I have an answer." His finger tapped the armrest, and his voice slowly gained momentum. "I'm alive in this world, a reality where gods, magic, and greater mystery reign supreme. A world that has its own structure and rules, separate from that of reality. Since not only my body and mind were digitized, or whatever process it was that you performed on me, so too was my soul. In other words, I'm no longer bound to the World while I am held within this virtual pocket reality. This means that Alaya has no true hold in YGGDRASIL and thus has no reliable method of reaching me within this separated boundary. This was what you had planned from the beginning, isn't it Zelretch?"

Zelretch said nothing. His eyes closed, giving only the tiniest of nods.

Shirou perked up, a ghost of a smile taking to his lips, only to deflate from what he would hear next.

"Yes, but actually no." He answered, gyrating his wrist with a small hand wave gesture.

The magus blinked, brows furrowing.

"I'm sorry, but what?"

"Apology accepted."

"I… you… ! No! What do you mean by yes, but also no? How can I be both right and wrong?"

"Exactly how it is."

Another stretch of silence eclipsed them. Shirou looked to the Father of Jewel Magecraft, waiting and hoping that he would clarify himself, but nothing ever came of it.

"A-aren't you going to elaborate?"

"No, I don't think I will." He looked away, staring off with an indecipherable look in his eyes.

Once again, he got the feeling Zelretch was referencing something.

Shirou worked his jaw, staring at Zelretch in disbelief, unable to fathom what exactly the CEO was going on about, having received only a contradictory answer and then an outright refusal to explain himself.

Baffled, the Operator of Parallel Worlds seized the opportunity.

"So, since you had your turn, I'd say it's my turn." Zelretch proposed, continuing before Shirou even had a chance to object or say otherwise.

"It's good to see you again, m'boy. In the beginning, I was a bit worried, but in the end, I'm glad you were able to open yourself back up again to others."

His hand reached out, grabbing a fig and taking a bit of the succulent fruit.

"And what an emotional roller coaster it has been! Rediscovering friends, opening up to others, becoming part of something greater, and uncovering a mystery of the past. A desperate endeavor and a journey of self-reflection and companionship." He narrated.

"And now, here you stand, or rather, sit, before me. So tell me, for I have a curious question of my own. Have you given any thought as to what'll come next after you win the Saber Class Card?"

"Don't you mean if I win?" Shirou replied neutrally.

Zelretch snorted.

"Please. As if you haven't already sized up the competition while also coming up with dozens of plans for the upcoming fights against any opponents that come your way in that noggin of yours." He tapped his head before levying the finger at the magus. "Besides, does that mean you admit you're okay with the idea of losing then?"

The tightened and hyper-focused expression on Shirou's face was all the answer Zelretch needed.

"That's what I thought." He grinned auspiciously, helping himself to the plate of snacks.

"Why do you care what I do with it?" Shirou questioned.

"Because as you are now, I fear all the work that has been laid out would be for naught. So do please shut up and listen." Zelretch snapped, maintaining his cordial tone with a sideway glare.

The spontaneous and sharp reproach from Zelretch was enough to give Shirou pause, allowing him to press forward.

"Back to what I was saying. Hypothetically, let's say, should you or your friend, Warrior Takemikazuchi, win this tournament, it is finally within your grasp. The Saber Class Card, the one that you've spent countless years chasing after, is all yours. You have it at last, so that raises the question. What happens next then, hmm? Will you use it in hopes of bringing your precious King of Knights to join you? But what'll you do if who you call forth isn't your precious Saber? Or maybe you'll keep the card as it is, a memento in her name?"

Shirou leaned back, ruminating on the thought.

His first encounter with a Class Card was one of revelation and purpose. For the first time since he'd arrived within YGGDRASIL, something called for him. They were a piece of his past, a fixation.

The mere prospect that they existed was enough to spur him into action, along with the mystery of it all. Perhaps it had been the belief that Zelretch was taunting him with a promise of Saber. Perhaps it was a desire for purpose. Or, perhaps… It was a plea for a miracle.

He had not thought about the why; all he'd known was that he yearned for them… to his own detriment, as his friends helped him realize. And it wasn't until recently that their true value was uncovered. Which only rekindled his desire to be realized, if only against the slimmest of odds to find her again. Just as Zelretch promised him so many moons ago.

"Are you saying it won't be her? Did you not promise that I would have a chance to see them again all those years ago? If so, then why would that not be the case? You helped oversee and later dismantle the Heaven's Feel system. If anyone has the knowledge and capability of accessing the Throne of Heroes, it's you, Zelretch." He probed, fighting to keep his voice leveled at the possibility of being lied to for all these years while also fighting back against such a thought.

Zelretch was many things, but a liar he was not.

"I did. And I still intend to keep my promise." He acknowledged, and nothing more. Shirou resisted the urge to ask again, for he doubted that the man would offer a straight answer similar to last time.

"As for the latter, well, who knows? Perhaps if the gacha gods are feeling merciful, they'll reunite you with your precious Arturia. That or another one." Zelretch returned idly, neither confirming nor denying the question. Again, his expression was indecipherable.

Shirou's face knitted in confusion and irritation. Once more, the Second Magic user's words eluded him. His lips were drawn into a frown as he fought back the urge to sigh. He just wished that the Zelretch would just speak plainly for once.

"So, at this very moment, you have only two real goals." Zelretch drummed his fingers against the fine wooden armrest and held up two fingers.

"The first would be finally attaining the Saber Class Card that you have desperately yearned for and one that is well within your reach, giving you closure on this saga. The second would be making the most of the little time you have left with your posse before finally bidding them goodbye, whenever that may be. The first is more of a work in progress, and the second is more of an eventuality. But for posterity's sake, let's say everything goes exactly as you'd envisioned it. The Saber Class Card is yours at last. Whether you choose to use it or not is up to your discretion."

He paused to take a sip, wetting his lip.

"Fast forward to some time in the future, and you and your guildmates - or what remains - fend off the invasion against Nazarick. With the day saved and Ainz Ooal Gown and Nazarick no longer under threat, you've hopefully made your peace and will eventually say goodbye to each of your beloved comrades in Ainz Ooal Gown when their time comes. A beautiful tear-jerking goodbye, a heartfelt promise for the future, and all that mushy crap. The perfect send-off between treasured friends."

Shirou didn't bother to comment on how he knew about the current state of affairs regarding Ainz Ooal Gown - it was doubtful he would've gotten a straight answer either way.

"And then…" Zelretch set his drink down, spreading open his arm, and looked around as if expecting something. It ended with a weak gesture, as if disappointed. "It's just you. What comes next, I must wonder, in the hero's journey that is the story of Shirou Emiya?"

Shirou didn't offer an answer immediately. Seconds passed before he found his voice.

"I do my duty. For them."

"And that is?"

"The safeguard of Nazarick. Protecting it and the legacy of Ainz Ooal Gown." The memory of his friends.

"Hmm, how admirable." His words were dry, deprived of a genuine compliment. Instead, Shirou was made all too aware of the flicker of animosity brewing within those scarlet eyes.

"Are you saying that is the final chapter of your story? The last great tale of your adventures? After everything you've been through, after everything you've done, and through all the trials and tribulations you've experienced in your life, this is how you choose your final act to be? To stand and keep up maintenance as a glorified guard dog for an empty tomb on the slimmest of chances that your friends might pop in for a quick hello if they ever have time in the future? Such loyalty! Why, it's the story of Hachikō born anew! Let's see if you can beat the record and make it past nine years."

Shirou's hand tightened around the armrest of his chair at the blatant sarcastic drawl, but he kept his tongue.

Zelretch drained his cup of every drop of wine before taking a moment to refill it.

"And how long do you expect this…" He paused here, rotating his wrist as if looking for the most appropriate word to use. "Last rite of yours to last, I wonder?"

"Until it is done."

"Oh, really now?!" Zelretch challenged, leaning forward with gleaming scarlet eyes. The ancient being stared down at him, piercing him to find any signs of falsehood.

Shirou stiffened under his gaze. All sense of levity vanished from the man, as if it were never there in the first place, replaced with a shrewd and calculating judgement.

"I see…" The Dead Apostle Ancestor rumbled, indulging the faker. His intense gaze never left him as he reclined back in his chair. "How dutiful and selfless of you, but tell me, what's the point of a guard dog if the purpose has long since passed? What'll you plan to do if the game keeps chugging along long after all your friends skedaddle? When the memory of Ainz Ooal Gown is reduced to nothing more than a fading memory? Five years, ten years, twenty years, fifty, a hundred, five hundred, a thousand? What'll happen if I decide to keep the game and server running for however long I want, with you being the only one left? When everyone you called a friend is buried and gone from this world and the next? Tell me, can you look me in the eyes and say that nothing will change? That you'll remain over that immaterial memorial, forever bound to a ceaseless duty?"

"Y-yes…" Shirou answered after a moment of hesitation, but even he couldn't prevent the small stammer that crept in.

Zelretch flashed him a sardonic smile, one that split his lips from ear to ear.

"You could. You surely could. But tell me then, how's that any different from a certain Counter Guardian's fate? How would such an existence be any different from what you wished to avoid under Alaya's in the first place?"

Shirou stiffened, his mind grinding to a halt. He'd never once thought of such a connection.

His mouth opened in reflexive denial, ready to deny the Wizard Marshall's word, to say it wasn't true, but no words came to him. As for Zelretch, he pressed on as if the magus had indeed spoken and denied the CEO's words.

"Is it?" He arched an inquisitive, ashen brow.

"Let's count them, shall we? Both of you are trapped in a circumstance that neither of you can truly change or hope to fight against whatsoever. Both of you are bound to an eternal duty of your own design that you can't quite escape from or hope to end by yourself. Both of you have done nothing but squander the kindness of others and wallow in a self-imposed duty. Both of you have spit upon the efforts of those you call friends and family for the sake of a stubborn, misguided, selfish desire. And both of you will continue, alone and forgotten, forever fighting for a deluded, unattainable wish. Oh sure, the circumstances and situations aren't one-for-one, but the parallels exist. That cannot be denied. Well, 'were' would be the more applicable term with regards to ol' EMIYA. Funny, isn't it? It was thanks to you that allowed him to rediscover himself and accept himself, and yet, here you are all but following in his footsteps. Were he here to see you now I'd imagine he'd be screaming with regret and wish he'd finished the job he started. Consequences be damned."

With every point, Shirou physically winced, leaning back further into his seat. His tongue dried up as he found himself unable to speak a word in retaliation, let alone refute him.

Shirou sat there, stiff as a board, shoulders locked and tight, his dichromatic eyes reeling. A flood of emotion swam through those silver and golden eyes as he averted his gaze.

He'd never thought about it like that, never thought to make such a connection. However, thanks to Zelretch's clarification, he couldn't deny it. No matter how much he wished otherwise. His mind supplied further parallels with his Counter Guardian self, hammering the point home all the more.

"You say you'll continue to protect the memory and legacy of your precious Ainz Ooal Gown, but I say that's hogwash. Your duty is nothing more than misguided sentimental tripe. Tell me, how will watching over an empty home help you, I must wonder? Will it suddenly give you an answer to the meaning of life?! Are you saying that this is what you wish for? Are you content with such an ending, Shirou? Surrounded by the ghost of the past, a constant reminder of better times, and refusing to properly move forward. A life without progress, one steeped in complacency. A life of pure stagnation. To live and exist, for other purposes than the sake of it. One would hardly call that living."

No, it wouldn't.

Zelretch's words echoed the same sentiments that he held within him all those months ago. Ainz Ooal Gown, his friends, helped pull him out of his slump, confronting the issue, but never was it ever truly resolved.

No, for it was merely a shift in perspective.

Life was an odyssey, a journey taken by all, and the road he and Ainz Ooal Gown have been on was on a fixed track. They were bound on the same path but with different endings. For Shirou, his journey started long ago, so long ago, and soon it'll come time for him to step off the train. But for Ainz Ooal Gown, theirs was just the beginning. There were plenty of roads left for them to tread, new sights to behold, and adventures to experience. They still had their whole lives ahead of them, and a bright future awaits. They'll continue onwards without him, and all he could do was wave goodbye from his terminus and watch as they moved on.

He told them, and even himself, that everything would work out in the end, but that in itself was nothing more than wishful thinking.

He would watch over Nazarick and the name Ainz Ooal Gown, no matter how long it took. However, the question that arose was: What comes next? Protecting the legacy and memories of his friends was a noble sentiment, but ultimately it was nothing more than an intent.

He had no answer, only the hope of one.

And in the uncomfortable silence, it became all the more damning as the clock ticked by.

Eventually, Zelretch offered him a way out on the matter, but the conversation was far from over.

"I've heard plenty of what you want. But…" He paused here, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, rectangular wooden case. Opening it, he took out a large and rounded cigar, and with a snap of his finger, the end of the cigar lit up. Taking a huge puff, he blew, the smoke forming a ring in the air before dispersing.

"But I've heard little of what your friends want. After all, friendship is a two-way street. If they truly care for you, then I very much doubt that your friends would be okay with the idea of you living like some recluse. To be cut off from the community and basic Player interaction, all to preserve your history."

He took another puff as a flicker of conflicted emotion spread across the magus's face.

"You're more than capable of opening back up to others, forming bonds, and making connections again; Ainz Ooal Gown is clear proof of that. There's nothing truly stopping you from, say, meeting other people and making new friends to help fill in the void for those who have departed. After all, protagonists always have a knack for forming bonds with just about anyone. So I doubt it'll be too much trouble on your end. Hell, look at it like this. When it's just you, you'll effectively be the new Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown, and you'll get to decide how to run things. You can invite anyone you wish to join Ainz Ooal Gown. That way, you'll be killing two birds with one stone. You'll have people and friends to talk and play with again, and the name of Ainz Ooal Gown will be revitalized and carried on. You'd never have to worry about being bored or alone ever again." Zelretch laid out.

A heavy frown dominated the faker's face, showing exactly what he thought of the idea.

"You don't think I'll forsake my friends that easily, do you?"

"Then don't do it. I was just offering solutions." Zelretch immediately countered, staring right back at him. "And secondly, when did I ever say that you would "forsake" your friends? You can still move forward while keeping their memories alive and faithful. It doesn't have to be one or the other." He replied, offering him a pointed look.

"I'm not saying you have to invite people to Ainz Ooal Gown or anything like that. But the point still stands. There are options - you are not beholden strictly to Ainz Ooal Gown. There are plenty of Players in the game who are part of some guild but also hang out and play with different friend groups that aren't related to the guild. It's not an impossibility. If that's the case for them, why couldn't it be for you as well? What is stopping you from moving forward?"

Nothing was the answer, yet Shirou's month remained sealed.

The idea of meeting new people and making friends was far from an outrageous idea, nor was it an unreasonable notion, and it was one he ruminated on idly over the coming months. Heck, with his friend list filled with names of those that he met, helped, and saved over the years, it wouldn't be too hard to integrate himself with another group. A chance to open up to others and begin anew. The thought wasn't without its merit, but it always left him restless.

Perhaps the greater factor against the idea was the feeling of inquiétude behind the action. To seek others out the moment Ainz Ooal Gown was no longer with him for his peace of mind and his own sake.

There was a fickleness to it, and the idea never settled with him.

It would be as if he were seeking to replace them. He would be turning his back on Momonga and everyone's memory if he were to do so. The thought of that alone made his stomach churn.

Shirou knew that was far from the truth. Ainz Ooal Gown wouldn't want him to lounge in solitude, burdened as if shackled by their departure. There was little doubt in his mind that his friends would encourage him to do what Zelretch advised. To give others a chance as they once were.

After all, they were all but strangers once upon a time. And it was only by chance that he and Momonga met and became the closest of friends. From there, Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama joined in, and later on, the likes of Touch Me, Ulbert, Tabula, and everyone in Nine's Own Goal, among others. It all culminated in them growing into Ainz Ooal Gown. Who was to say that a miracle couldn't happen twice?

So why, then, why couldn't he so easily accept such an idea?

It was illogical, he knew.

It was selfish, he understood.

Yet Shirou couldn't find it within himself to comfort the idea. Because deep down, he knew that all roads would eventually converge at the same end. So then, why bother setting himself up for further heartbreak and disappointment?

"No matter how many more friends I make, will it even matter? I hear that player numbers are on a slow decline for YGGDRASIL, especially with more games rivaling it popping up. Everyone stops and quits the game sooner or later. It'll be no different from now." He stated.

"In other words, it isn't because you can't, but rather because you won't." Zelretch said poignantly, cutting to the crux of the matter and the veiled attempt at sidestepping the question.

The unimpressed glare leveled at Shirou only made him wilt further into himself, unable to meet his gaze. Once more, he was unable to refute Zelretch's words, and the room was plunged into the same damning silence that told him exactly what the Magician wanted to know.

"I…" Shirou stammered, trying to speak up, only to falter as he had no satisfying answer to give.

Zelretch's face creased, marred with a growing frown. Seeing that it was going nowhere, the practitioner of Second Magic took another inhale, letting out an aggressive puff. His finger tapped on the cigar to loosen the ashes.

"Tell me…" He prompted. "What would happen if I decided to shut down the game completely tomorrow? Or better yet, if I shut it all down right here, right now?"

Zelretch held up his other hand, his thumb and middle finger pressed together threateningly, and he looked ready to snap his finger, all the while bearing down on Shirou with a hard stare.

"What will be the last thought that'll run through your head, I wonder? Will it be all the regrets you have made in your life and a final desperate wish for a chance to somehow redo it and make it right? Or, will it be one of acceptance? No matter the folly or regret, a life well spent?"

For a moment, Shirou was taken back to the dream with his old man. The final words left to him by his father echoed within his mind. A question posed by Kiritsugu and now Zelretch.

One that bodes the same acknowledgment as he had in the beginning and throughout his moment of doubt.

His mouth opened, trying to speak or say something, but nothing came besides mute words.

Again, he had no answer.

Shirou looked at the man in front of him helplessly.

That was the wrong choice to make, for it only incensed the Dead Apostle Ancestor even further. His nostrils flared, and his lips twitched into a snarl, baring his fangs. Ardent crimson eyes gleamed with fervid emotion and intent as all traces of civility were gone.

Zelretch looked thoroughly fed up with Shirou.

"Is this how you wish to continue, Shirou? Will you remain forever isolated, clinging to the memories and glories of time's past? Are you unable to accept the past and move on because you're unsure of what the future holds? Are you saying you are fine with that?! Lamenting the reality of it all while doing nothing to try and change it? Tell me, how is that any different from the miserable existence of when I first found you in the beginning?! Wasn't that the reason you accepted my offer in the first place? A second chance, only instead, all you've done is retrace your steps right back to square one!"

Zelretch rose from his seat, towering over the faker, his normal calm replaced with a building fury with every punctuated sentence.

"You have no end game, no answer, and no plan besides waiting to see how it'll all end. You're dragging your feet. Your duty is nothing more than a half-measure, a pathetic stopgap! All you're doing is putting the matter out of sight and hopefully out of mind. Even if an ostrich sticks its head into the sand at the sight of a stampede of elephants, that doesn't mean the elephants will just up and disappear!"

It was in the middle of this that his hands reached out and grabbed onto him, yanking Shirou to his feet as he brought him in close. He was forced to endure Zelretch's challenging gaze as he ripped into him.

"What happened to you, kid? Where was the boy who knew of the impossibility of his ideals yet chased them regardless, for no matter how impossible they were, they were still beautiful? The one who proclaimed it was never wrong to help someone in need? Where did that passion, that drive, that fire that you used to have go?! What happened to the young hero who vowed to help anyone he could, even when the whole world was against him? Have you truly fallen so far that you can't even see the light anymore? Even EMIYA, that heroic, bitter fool, still has some fire left in him, despite being tempered by centuries of cynicism. He may not be the same as he once was, but his true nature still shines through. Who was it that reminded him of what it meant to be a hero? Who helped rekindle his hope?!

The old you would have died with a smile on his face, remorseful for hurting and leaving behind those he loved, but he would've been content with it and had absolute faith that they were more than strong enough to accept his death and move forward. He would have died fulfilled, knowing that he had saved one more life and made it better before passing on. Even that alternate version of you went to the gallows with a smile on his face! But with you standing before me here and now, it's like you're an entirely different person!

Forget your friends, forget the Class Card, forget your ideals, forget Saber or Rin, forget everything! And ask yourself this one simple question. What are you fighting for? What do you hope to do? JUST WHAT EXACTLY IS EMIYA SHIROU LIVING FOR?!"

His every word cut into him, gutting his hesitations and indecisions alike. With every point, it felt as if he was being stabbed through the heart by Gáe Bulg. But unlike Gáe Bolg's cursed barbs, there was collateral. Scars that he'd hoped to hide, scars that he'd wished could be forgotten, and scars that he thought had healed. None of that matter, as they were torn open and salted anew, burning shame and guilt into his mind. And he could do nothing, as the Ancestor's vitriol rang true.

That crimson stare, the gaze of someone beyond human but deeply humane. One filled with unparalleled power and knowledge, coupled with an overwhelming sense of empathy. The twisting expression that peered down at him was equally imploring of him as it was menacing. However, what struck him the most was the rawness of the emotions that emanated from the voice.

A whirlwind of anger, a flood of weariness, a hurricane of annoyance, an oasis of hope, and all of them blurred, with a dozen lesser emotions that he could not distinguish. Yet he didn't need to name them to know that they were spoken out of grief for his diminished self.

Tearful aqua eyes stared at him imploringly. A shrill-full voice cried out his name in equal parts frustration and desperation but also a mournful plea.

"Please… help me, help you, Shirou… !"

Just what was he living for again?

Once, it was in pursuit of a smile. An ideal.

Another, it was to protect those that he loved and cherished.

Here, it was to care for and watch over his guildmates, his friends.

Or at least, that was what he told himself.

But after them, what comes next?

"I… I don't know…" Shirou finally answered.

And so, the truth surfaces at last.

He had long known the answer, deep within him, even if he never voiced it.

But by admitting it, it became His words, His truth. A quiet and solemn admission.

"Neither do I, kid." Zelretch replied in an equally soft voice.

All of his anger evaporated, leaving only a sympathetic melancholy. His fingers untangled themselves from the magus, allowing Shirou to fall listlessly back into his seat.

"That's a question only you and you alone can answer."

After all that was said and done, the room returned to silence from whence it came. Shirou had nothing to offer for Zelretch's final word. Nothing but a numbing, lost stare.

Heterochromatic eyes drifted, finding themselves staring into the chalice. His lost reflection stared right back at the water's tranquil surface.

His eyes drooped, half-lidded, as the light within them dulled. A single droplet ran down his cheek and fell, splashing against the calm water of the chalice, dispelling the fragile clarity as his reflection rippled.

How long, he wondered. How long has he been walking this winding, distorted path of his with nothing more than a hope and a prayer for the end?

At that moment, the truth of Shirou Emiya was revealed.

A man who has lived for too long.

The sound of sniffling came from Shirou, making Zelretch's cheek twitch. His lips pursed, puckering at the cheek, as a hand reached up to scratch his finely trimmed beard. He suppressed the urge to sigh while giving the magus a sidelong glance.

This whole meeting and conversation had veered far off course from what he originally intended. He had hoped for Shirou to draw from his failures and fire back with equal vigor, invigorated, but instead, he simply accepted it.

Then again, Zelretch partially blamed himself as well.

YGGDRASIL wasn't simply designed to house him; it was also to give Shirou a second chance to recover.

And it worked. He found a sense of comfort at long last.

But it was this very same comfort, that peace, that cost him his strength, his fire.

Zelretch knew he'd never been good at this gentle emotion stuff besides a few noticeable examples, but they were too few and far between for him to be considered decent at it.

But he made a promise to her, and he'll keep it no matter the obstacle. Even if the source of it was the man himself.

"Time for a different approach." He muttered under his breath.

"Did you know that she finally got the hang of how to use a phone?"

Shirou's ear twitched, catching his words, but he remained as he was.

"Magus society has always been old-fashioned, even to the point of being technologically inept, but Rin was nothing but persistent. Anyway, she came barging into my office one day, as smug as she could be. Showing off this and that on her new phone she acquired." Zelretch conversed, drudging up a sudden story as Shirou listened in.

Bubbles of memories resurfaced as the magus recalled the event. Rin, Saber, and he were in London at the time, and he got around to purchasing a phone for the twin-tailed magus and taught her how to use it.

"You should've seen her, head held high as she showed off. She even suggested that I should ditch my old and reliable flip phone for one of the new-fangled touchscreen phones and that she'd be willing to teach me how to use it. Cheeky lil' brat. Which made it all the funnier when I told her about voicemail. 'You can leave entire voiced messages for people to hear?!' It cracks me just thinking about it." Zelretch imitated her voice at the end, shrill and in disbelief.

He chuckled, his voice tinged with nostalgia and full of familiar pride.

Unbidden, the ghost of a smile slipped across Shirou's lips as the two shared in the memory.

As quickly as it came, it left him with a thought. Shirou glanced at the Magician, silent but attentive. He was unsure of why he was suddenly in a talkative and reminiscing mood, bringing up memories of simpler and better times.

"Did you know that she called your number multiple times over the years? Only Root knows how many times… It did serve as a good form of catharsis, leaving voicemails and venting. Perhaps the reason she kept doing it even in her later years was because she knew… Either you'd lost it or simply changed it, the chances of you hearing them were nonexistent. So she vented into that dead number. How many times did she hear that automated operator? I didn't keep track, but they always seemed to be quite long… and they were the things she never could tell you directly."

That piece of information was news to him. When was the last time he used a phone, he wondered? Better yet, when was the last time he kept an on-hand number for others to contact him? Far too long was the answer, long enough that he had completely forgotten about such a necessity.

But it seemed that Rin never did.

A fact that only compounded his guilt even further.

Shirou heard a sound, a rustling. He perked up in time to see Zelretch reaching into his breast pocket before pulling out something small and holding it out to him. It looked to be a small thumb drive.

"Care to take a gander at what I'm holding?"

He said nothing, giving it an idle look.

"I took the liberty of collecting all of Rin's recordings, including a final message from her for you, during my final visit to her."

Shirou's eyes widened, his melancholy overshadowed by the revelation given to him. However, it was only a fleeting moment, as he was quickly consumed by a shroud of guilt. His hand trembled, almost reaching out to it, but he quickly reeled it in.

The magus shook his head.

He couldn't. Not after all that happened. Not after the way things ended between them, not after the anguish he caused the two women he loved. He failed them, he failed his promise to them, and above all, he failed his promise to himself.

An oathbreaker like him didn't deserve someone like Rin or Saber again…

"Catch!"

Shirou blinked, snapping back to the present and reacting. He grabbed the thumb drive safely out of the air. He stared at it and then back at Zelretch in disbelief.

"I - I don't deserve it…"

"Probably." Zelretch did not deny it. "But it was never mine to keep in the first place."

He leaned back in his chair, facing Shirou wholly once more.

"I have grown tired of holding onto a gift that isn't mine, even if I was entrusted with it. It was always meant for you. I was just the middleman. I thought about making it a secondary prize, using it as a further incentive to motivate you to take that final step forward. But…"

He trailed off before ultimately shrugging.

"Things aren't going as smoothly as I had hoped, so we're improvising. Perhaps you can draw some comfort from Rin's message."

"Were these… her final moments?"

"Make of them what you will, it is not my place to tell you anything that isn't included in that thumb drive. I am the delivery man, and isn't that a hilarious thought?"

He chuckled, though Shirou did not share in the feeling. Yet again, Zelretch neither confirmed nor denied it.

Dichromatic eyes focused on the item in his hand, conflict waning in them.

"The way I see it is that you have two options now. Either keep it in the deepest parts of your inventory, collecting virtual dust for as long as you live and continue believing that you're undeserving and unworthy of whatever she has contained in the thumb drive. Or, you suck it and make something of yourself. We all stumble on the road called life. For some of us, we trip and fall to the ground. Sometimes we skin our knees. At others, we sprang an ankle, and periodically, we break our goddamn legs. It's a part of life, but what defines a person is how they choose to get back. And for someone with such an interesting life, you've had your fair share of skinned knees and broken legs over your life, and worse, I'm sure."

Zelretch paused here, taking another puff of his cigar.

"We all wonder and doubt; some of us even lose sight of what we thought was true and right. That doesn't mean we just give up now, does it? Your raison d'être, I'm sure you'll find it once more."

"How can you be so sure?" Shirou found his voice.

"You're still alive and kicking, aren't you? That means you still have time. You still have a chance. And while people say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, that doesn't mean the old boy can't pull out a trick or two from memory. That's, of course, not counting dementia setting in. If that's the case, then you're right fucked, m'boy!" The sorcerer answered rather cheekily, smirking at his joke.

Shirou said nothing, once again looking at the small thumb drive in his hand. His thumb caressed its surface. Gently, a fist clenched around it protectively over his heart. Heterochromatic eyes flickered from it up to Zelretch, doubt intermixed with determination.

"About time." Zelretch nodded to himself, approving of the look in the magus's eyes.

Shirou quickly stored it in his inventory for safekeeping, awaiting the right time when he was ready.

"Thank you, Zelretch." He managed with a small but true smile.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you really want to thank me, how about you start by learning your lesson and get some more character development already?" The Wizard Marshall waved his arm dismissively.

Zelretch then barked out a laugh, reclining in his chair. He'd seen to have found something amusing about the whole situation.

"Heh, don't we make quite the sight? Old men arguing like children over what is right and wrong, like we haven't done and experienced worse. I suppose it is the lot of old men to look back on themselves in their youth and the mistakes they made, and the regrets they carry. That's both the folly and the joy of growing old. Making those mistakes, but also learning from them and growing. Yet, even all these years later, you lack that selfishness that Rin tried to instill in you. Or rather, it's a different type of selfishness. I wonder, will you be able to find it before it's too late? Especially in the fighting to come." He added cryptically.

Shirou shot him a look, latching onto the immortal's words at the end.

"So, while I have you here, I gotta ask."

Zelretch savored the taste of his cigar, relishing each puff as he drew in a deep breath and then exhaled a cloud of roasted, chalky smoke.

"Are you planning on going after the Archer Class card next?"

Shirou's eyes briefly widened.

That was right. He possessed five of the seven Class Servants: Berserker, Rider, Lancer, Assassin, and Caster. That left Saber, as the tournament's prize, and lastly, Archer.

"I'm uncertain…" He said after a brief pause.

"How so? What's the matter, don't you want to complete the set?" Came the Magician's question.

Another short pause.

"It simply never came up." He answered.

"Well then, let's change that."

Zelretch held out his arm. Opening his hand, a kaleidoscope of soft, rainbow lights danced as the final Class Card appeared.

Shirou's eyes locked onto the World Item. His hand twitched, almost as if wanting to reach out for it. Yet, he stayed his hand.

"What's the matter? Don't you want it?"

Zelretch held it out to him, inviting him to reach for it and take it.

"I do." Shirou said after a moment.

"But not yet."

Zelretch looked at him, curious.

"There's something I have to take care of first."

His eyes drew away from the Class Card, finding the Magician's.

"In the meantime, keep it nice and warm for me when it comes time." He said with a small challenging smirk.

Zelretch's own lips curled up, mirroring the magus's confidence.

"Very well."

His hand closed, and the Archer Class Card disappeared.

"But let it be known that you asked for it." He said, almost like a warning for what was to come.

Before the conversation could continue any further, a notification window popped up in front of Zelretch. His crimson eyes skimmed the content of the text box before dismissing it all with a wave.

"Welp! We need to wrap this whole shindig up. If we delay the tournament any longer, I'm afraid the audience might start a tournament of their own just so they don't have to wait any longer. And as interesting as it'll be to see the total pandemonium of tens of thousands of Players going at it in a full-on fisticuffs, I'd rather not deal with a full-blown riot and paperwork from all the bans that we'd no doubt be handing out like candy on a Halloween night. Then again… I could always pawn off the work to someone else."

Zelretch stroked his chin, seriously considering the idea.

"Please don't." Shirou deadpanned.

"Ruin all the fun, why don't ya." The Wizard Marshall childishly whined, pouting.

Rolling his eyes, Shirou stood up. He performed small stretches, bringing sensation back to his limbs. It felt as if they'd been sitting for far longer than they were.

A growing part of him was anxious to get the tournament underway. After all that was said and done between the two, he could use a much-needed distraction. An objective to keep him centered and grounded for the time being so that he can sort himself out later.

"Wait a moment." Zelretch called out one last time.

"You know, this is usually the part where I, the all-knowing mentor figure, leave with a final quote or some parting words for you to think over. Which will no doubt be later used as foreshadowing to help remind you and push you towards that final character development. Something like, "Why do we fall?" or some other powerful speech. But I figured this would be more poignant. So…"

The Old Man of the Jewels smoothed out his clothes, drawing back his shoulders and straightening his back. He was making an effort to look prim and presentable while giving Shirou a heavy look. Shirou straightened up, matching Zelretch's gaze.

Clearing his throat, he began.

"Tell me, why did the chicken cross the road?"

Shirou blinked.

Out of all the things he'd come to expect, a chicken joke would be by far the lowest on the list. At the same time, he couldn't have imagined a more Zelretch thing to say.

"I don't know."

"Oh, come on, guess."

He thought about it for a moment before answering with the first thing that came to mind.

"To get to the other side?"

"Ding ding ding! You got it right! The chicken crossed the road to get to the other side." Zelretch crowed and clapped, completing the riddle.

Several ticks of silence passed.

A soft, unexpected sound left his lips. The corners of his mouth curled into the barest of smiles. The tiniest snort of a chuckle escaped him.

With such a setup for the joke, he had expected some kind of wild punchline or an extreme non-sequitur.

Shirou didn't know why, but he couldn't help finding it funny, so he laughed. His light and vibrant titters filled the room, bringing a sense of levity after everything that had happened, however brief or small it may have been.

"Was that it? I'd expected a bit more from someone of your reputation, Zelretch." He lightly teased.

The vampire shrugged, nonplussed.

"It's a chicken joke, it's not exactly rocket science. Although you do have to wonder, why might the chicken have crossed the road? Perhaps it had a reason, or perhaps it was simply instinct. Who's to say? Some food for thought."

Shirou quirked a brow.

"Good luck in the tournament, Shirou."

Zelretch would leave him on that as he waved his hand. A magic circle appeared under Shirou as light bloomed from below, and he was teleported away.

Alone, the wielder of True Magic blew out a drained sigh as he slumped unceremoniously into his chair, his head rocking back until he faced the ceiling.

"And now comes the most challenging part of all: waiting…" Zelretch's voice drifted, bouncing off the enclosed room.

"Will you finally stand with your head tall, or will you fall for good? I suppose we'll have our answer upon this tournament's end."

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

October 20, 2136. World: Midgard. Location: The Town of Und Ljósinn - The Champion Colosseum

In a blink, Shirou found himself in the chamber halls, where the rest of the competitors were waiting.

Many were caught off guard and jumped at his sudden appearance. Shirou stood stock-still, Zelretch's last words replaying in his mind.

"Emiya-san?!" A familiar voice called out.

From the side, Warrior Takemikazuchi rushed toward his friend. He let out a sigh of relief. He looked him up and down, making sure everything was alright.

"There you are! I was looking everywhere for you! I was almost afraid something bad happened to ya' and-"

The samurai's concern would be placed on hold as Shirou leaned forward, embracing Warrior Takemikazuchi's side without uttering a single word.

Warrior Takemikazuchi peered down, his eyes blinking in surprise.

It could almost be called half-a-hug as he leaned his body against the armored Heteromorph's own, leaning on him for support. Due to the Nephilim's towering height, his head hung low, resting against the samurai's side.

To any outsider, the action would seem unusual, but for Warrior Takemikazuchi, it was clear as day for him. His friend needed a shoulder to lean on, both physically and metaphorically.

Emotional displays were far from extraordinary, especially in the case of Shirou and with the recent tribulations that he and the rest of the guild members were going through. However, only in the appropriate company would he ever allow himself to indulge in his more sensitive side.

For him to do this so spontaneously…

One of Warrior Takemikazuchi's arm wrapped around him in an instant, and he reciprocated the embrace by patting his friend's back.

Their odd display of affection more than garnered the attention of the fighters in the vicinity, who were taken aback by the unexpected display of affection between two reputedly skilled and powerful Players. Several among them snickered under their breaths, pointing and mocking them.

Normally, such a display of public affection would invoke a burning sense of embarrassment from the armored Heteromorph. Especially in a crowd of so many reputable and well-known Players. He'd always fought and strived to maintain a certain persona in public. He was Warrior Takemikazuchi - the unstoppable force, as noble as he was powerful.

But in the face of his friend's ails, whatever they may be, he couldn't care less about his reputation or what others thought of him.

Warrior Takemikazuchi looked around, flashing everyone a nasty glaring emoticon. While far from intimidated, they at least turned away and minded their own business.

"You got this." Warrior Takemikazuchi whispered, loud enough that only the two of them could hear.

A glimmer of a smile cracked through for Shirou.

He didn't say, "Are you going to be okay?" or "What's wrong, can I help?"

It was a simple, resolute statement.

He believed in Shirou, that everything would be okay, and that was more than enough for him.

"Yeah…" He muttered.

Breaking away, the Bujin kept a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No… Not now."

Warrior Takemikazuchi nodded and gave a reassuring squeeze on his friend's shoulder.

"So, you mind telling me where you were? I couldn't find you anywhere. `Was afraid that you might've gotten cold feet and dipped out of the tournament."

"As if." Shirou let out a small grunt, regaining some of his spirit. "I met up with an old acquaintance… and well, let's just say that our talk went on for a little longer than expected."

A curious brow arose from hearing this. At the same time, the Nephilim samurai's ear twitched, catching an announcement. He turned his head away just as the commentators made a statement regarding the delay being resolved and that the tournament would begin properly momentarily.

Warrior Takemikazuchi looked back at Shirou, the faintest of ideas scratching against his noggin.

"You wouldn't happen to know the reason why the whole tournament was delayed, would ya'?"

"Who knows…"

Warrior Takemikazuchi snorted. That was all the confirmation he needed.

"Always full of surprises, ain't you, mate?"

Takemikazuchi chuckled as he playfully slapped Shirou's shoulder, earning a playful fist that rapped against his armor-clad chest, with the two sharing a gentle, budding laugh.

Silence played out as they waited for the final check-ins to finish up.

While waiting, Shirou's thoughts drifted back to the riddle that Zelretch left him.

On paper, it was a strange and innocuous riddle at best. Yet, no matter how many times he poured it over, he couldn't quite get rid of it.

Why did the chicken cross the road?

There wasn't some elaborate purpose or obscure reasoning behind it, nor was the setup or nature of the riddle anything less than straightforward. It was the oldest joke known to man and could be used in a multitude of ways due to its simplicity, yet Zelretch opted to use the most traditional form of the joke.

He seemed oftly fond of metaphors throughout their conversation, Shirou reminisced. So there must be a purpose behind it.

The chicken crossed the road to get to the other side. Nothing more, nothing less.

A simplistic action that bore a simple reason.

Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side. Why? Because it could. And because it could, it did. And on it went in a circle.

The very question and answer were cyclical, feeding back into itself.

With little progress made, the magus then pondered an alternative, looking at it from another angle. Another way of wording it would be, why wouldn't the chicken walk to the other side of the road? What was stopping it from happening?

The answer he came up with was nothing.

Does it need a reason?

A single question rang out.

The world around him faded as he was pulled in deeper by his inner thoughts, his mind racing with a realization.

Shirou, he was on the cusp of it. He could feel it, the faintest glimmer ahead, and all he needed to do was reach it.

But before he could explore it any further, he was taken out of his inner deduction by the gentle and persistent shaking of his friend, bringing him back to reality.

"Oi! Don't space out now, or did you forget that you picked to go first?" Warrior Takemikazuchi softly chided, reminding him that there was a tournament going on and that took precedence over everything for the moment.

"Hurry it up, or else they might disqualify your ass for holding up the tournament. Again."

Shirou rolled his eyes at the snicker, thanking him with a nod. As he turned to race off to where he needed to go, there was still one final thing the armored Heteromorph wanted to share with him before his first match.

"You remember the plan, right?"

The faker looked at him curiously. It didn't take long before a light bulb went off in his head, and he remembered exactly what his friend meant.

"Kick ass and take names?"

"Never a doubt!"

With his infectious high spirit, Shirou grinned alongside Warrior Takemikazuchi as the two fist-bumped.

"Give'em hell." The samurai waved goodbye and wished him the best of luck.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Standing within the dark, narrow passageway that led into the arena, Shirou stood in wait. From the shadows, he could hear the commentator's attempts at banter, the cheers of the crowd, and even distantly, he could convince himself he heard his guildmates show their support.

Yet, in this singular moment of solitude, his mind was elsewhere. In the conversation he'd held with a ghost from his past, the truths he spoke that even now he struggled to accept and even the present he'd been given. It was an incredible amount to process, too much, some would say. And with such a high-stakes event at play, the pressure only mounted.

A tempestuous storm of emotions brewed within him, enough to rack a lesser man to the point of catatonic crippleness and make even the greatest tremble in trepidation. Yet, for all the dissonance, it brought forth an unyielding sense of distant clarity unseen before within the magus.

They were still there, dwelling within, but now wasn't the time for them. Not with what was at stake.

Even as distant as he felt, trapped in a spiral of worry and self-doubt, his fist tightened. For better or worse, he'd made his choices and mistakes. What he wanted in the future was irrelevant, as the doubts that existed within were buried under a mind of steel.

In a high-stakes fight between equals, a split-second distraction or hesitation could define the difference between victory and defeat.

Losing was, and would never be, an option for him.

There'll be time afterward to sort his emotional baggage out. To finally put his old ghost to rest and decide once and for all…

But, here and now, he had a tournament to win, and not even the pain of his guilt could dull his blades.

"IT'S HIGH TIME FOR THE FIRST MATCH! AND WHAT A MATCH-UP WE HAVE HERE TODAY FOLKS TO KICK IT ALL OFF!"

"Indeed. For this opening match, we'll be starting with none other than one of the most infamous Players that have ever graced this digital landscape! He, who has had his share of mystery and embroiled in his fair share of controversy, but a man that none can deny his skills. The question is, will it be enough here today?"

"RIGHT YOU ARE SAMMIE! KNOWN AS THE BOOGEYMAN OF THE NINE REALMS. PISSING OFF WHO KNOWS HOW MANY PLAYERS ACROSS THE YEARS AND KEPT ON CHUGGING ALONG! HE, WHO HAS BEEN VOTED THE MOST HATED PLAYER IN ALL OF YGGDRASIL FOR 7 YEARS AND RUNNING!"

Shirou couldn't help but blink at that particular tidbit. There was some online screening poll where people could vote on Players they hated?

He didn't know whether to feel proud or wounded by the achievement, if one would call it that.

"GIVE IT UP FOR THE ONE, THE ONLY, THE PLAYER KILLER HIMSELF: EMIYAAAAAAA!"

Following the explosive introduction, Shirou stepped forward and out through the entryway towards the inner arena. Pyrotechnics and smoke accompanied his reveal from the entrance, making his presence a spectacle to behold as he made his appearance. The holographic screens captured his every step, broadcasting him for all to see.

Emiya - Lvl: 100 - [The Player Killer]

Thousands upon thousands of voices reverberated the moment he graced the field, the air itself shaking from the cacophony of voices. The majority of the noise was negative, with a plethora of insults, disparaging jeers, and all other manners of boo's thrown his way. It more than drowned out those who were actively cheering him on.

Despite overwhelming hostilities thrown his way, Shirou strode forward with steady steps as easily as one would stroll down a tranquil park. It was hardly anything new. It would take more than disgruntled animosity to make him lose his cool, no matter their numbers.

"Against a Player with a report as skilled as Emiya, who will have the honor of fighting against such an opponent?"

"GIVEN THAT WE ALL SAW THE FIGHTERS PICK THEIR SPOT, WE ALREADY KNOW WHO HE IS!" AND LET ME TELL YA, HE'S GONNA ROCK YOUR WORLD!"

Following the commentator's words, Shirou's attention was drawn towards the boisterous sound of whooping and hollers emanating from the direction of the entrance ahead of him. He turned his gaze upwards and saw the enthusiastic audience members seated above and adjacent to the entrance, energetically standing and wildly waving their arms and flags in the air. The sound of their stomping feet reverberated through the arena, creating an anthem-like atmosphere to welcome his opponent.

"This Player has a track record of his own, of over a six-hundred PvP matches, and no more than fifteen recorded losses in his entire career. He has won numerous tournaments and has even been a fighter in one of the previous World Champion Tournaments. It's time to see if he has what it takes to bring the title home. Given such names as The Great Goliath, The Unstoppable, or perhaps what he was better known as, "The Mountain that Crushes!" For he is, The Mountain!"

"-AND THE GUY WHO STILL OWNS ME 10,000 YEN!"

"That is beside the point-"

"THAT BASTARD HAS BEEN GHOSTING ME FOR OVER A MONTH NOW! I WANT MY MONEY, SAMMY, YOU PIECE OF SH-"

Sounds of struggle could be heard over the speakers as the announcers fought over the mic.

The entryway ahead of Shirou exploded into pyrotechnics and special effects, welcoming the Player, as the first of his many opponents made his entrance.

The Mountain - Lvl: 100 - [The Mountain that Crushes]

The Mountain certainly lived up to his name, as the Player was massive in size, eclipsing Shirou's height, and could rival Berserker in terms of sheer bulk. The Player was a mountain of a man, almost to the point of monstrousness with his towering physique and boundless muscles. A caricature of what one would picture as the pinnacle of fitness and strength.

The Player's attire consisted of a dark blue open-chest jacket vest and dark trousers, all of high quality. A thick fur mantle hung from his shoulders, made from the pelt of a Frozen Saber Fang, a level 100 mob that resided in the icy regions of Niflheim, which Shirou recognized. Tribal battle tattoos adorned much of his exposed skin, running down his broad chest and powerful log-like arms. He had two powerful-looking gauntlets equipped, with a piston-like contraption at the wrist. The Mountain had lengthy, spiky hair that was roguish in appearance and trailed down his back like the mane of a ferocious lion. He also had a long scar that ran from the top of his head, passed the left side of his eye, and ended at the base of his neck, which only complimented his battle-hardened appearance.

The Mountain swaggered forth, pausing here and there to flex, waving to the crowd or beckoning them. He took his time, making a show of it, which only served to rile the audience up to his side.

"Hit me if you can! If you smell… What! The Mountain! Is! Cooking!"

The audience erupted into further roars and cheers following his rallying cry. They chanted his name as he stood in the arena, soaking in the audience's adoration and roaring support. He struck more poses, showing off to the audience. It was a complete 180° compared to how they received the magus the first time.

Shirou briefly wondered if The Mountain was that well-liked or simply if everyone was rallying for him because they were against the magus. He'd wager it was probably a mixture of both.

The Mountain raised a single finger to the sky before levying it toward Shirou.

"Let me tell ya somethin' Mista Cool and Stoic! Ya may be big, but you ain't bad! Ya may be tough, but ya ain't The Mountain tough!" The Mountain exclaimed, his voice thick and exaggerated. It was loud enough to be heard even without the assistance of the speakers.

"Ya better have insurance on that equipment, 'cause ya takin' a one-way trip on the Pain Express and this baby ain't got no rails! Oh yeah! Ya gonna need an excavation crew to rescue ya, 'cause The Mountain's gonna win this by a landslide! Ya'll be buried deeper than six feet! You feel me fool?!"

Following his string of one-liners, Shirou chose to keep his silence, observing it all with a passive stare as the audience threw their voice in with the titanic Player. His lack of response only further emboldened the brawler's badgering.

"Scared, little man? Well, I don't blame ya. For you're up against The Mountain!" The Player flexed his gargantuan body, muscles rippling through his forearms, biceps, and pectorals.

"Mah fists are illegal in seven out of the nine realms, and after this, they'll be eight! OH YEAH! Not even ya mama'll recognize ya when I'm through with ya! Ya may have ya bows and shit, exploding stuff all ya like, but ya know what's more powerful?"

The Mountain flexed again, showing off his biceps to the crowd with another pose.

"THESE GUNS! OH, YEAH! I hope ya packed a suit, cause ya ain't going anywhere but the morgue!"

Again, Shirou didn't react, save for an unseen raised brow at all the showboating. He wondered just how much longer before the actual fighting would begin. It has been scarcely a minute, and already the Player's voice and attitude grated the magus's patience.

Seeing his words having little effect on him, The Mountain scoffed.

"What's da matter, too chicken to speak up?" He mocked, and the audience followed up with loud chicken noises.

"The Mountain heard about ya', the great Player Killer, the bane of all Humanoid Players. There are even some who have the audacity to claim that ya' are among the strongest. Pah! Nothing more than the whining of noobs and losers! Seeing ya' in person, The Mountain can't help but be disappointed."

An emoticon looking down in disgust appeared over The Mountain. Despite seeing that his words were bouncing off of Shirou like a rock against a steel wall, he continued, rambling.

"The Mountain woulda a tiny bit of respect for ya if ya' had not thrown your lot in with the freaks. And not just any ol' freak, but fucking Ainz Ooal Gown itself! Ya' a damned traitor to your kind! Though The Mountain supposed that it only made sense that a monster lover like you would be in bed with the guild of freakazoids."

For the first time, Shirou reacted. His eyebrows twitched, his lips curving into a frown. Not that anyone was able to notice it.

"The Mountain made a name for himself by crushing any sorry excuse for a Player thrown my way. From the very beginning, none was considered my equal or a threat. In this tournament, The Mountain's gonna show the world and everyone who's the best around! Tha' Mountain' is going to demonstrate what a true World Champion is like! For The Mountain's a superhuman among lesser men. The Mountain-"

"Talks too much, has anyone ever told you that?"

Though his voice was not overpowering, it possessed a subdued strength. It cleaved through the man's diatribe and was heard despite all the clamor around them. The audience quieted down slightly, curious to watch the exchange between them.

"He speaks!" The Player let out a mocking guffaw. "And here, The Mountain thought you might be mute or something."

Shirou cast a cool gaze toward him. His posture shifted slightly as his hand rested on his waist.

"You say you've found no equal, but it's been the opposite for me. For most of my life, I've fought against harsh and all-but-impossible odds. Against opponents who outstripped me in every regard. Honestly, I sometimes wonder to myself how I'm even still alive."

A soft chuckle tinged with nostalgia followed his words, drawing some confusion from those in the audience. He glanced up at the skies above, reminiscing.

"Better and stronger foes have tried their hands. And yet, here I stand, here I remain. Victorious among them all. You say you're disappointed. Well, I feel the same. Standing before me, here and now, I can tell. Mountain-san, you aren't superhuman or whatever spiel it is you believe yourself to be. No, you've simply been blessed with weak opponents."

Shirou allowed a pause before facing The Mountain in full.

"Until today."

A split-second silence engulfed the field and stadium before the world exploded into noise.

"OHHHHH SNAP! SOMEONE GET THAT MAN A POTION FOR THAT BURRRNNNNN! SHEEEEESH! HE'S NOT ONLY HERE KILLING PLAYERS, BUT HE'S ALSO THROWING SOME KILLER SHADE AS WELL! THEY DON'T CALL HIM THE PLAYER KILLER FOR NOTHING!" Bob screamed out.

Tens of thousands of voices quickly rose following Shirou's riposte. A majority were comprised of boo's and heckling, but there was a small vocal portion that was dissing The Mountain - Ainz Ooal Gown was firmly in this group.

Was it necessary for Shirou to engage him the way he did? No, not really.

Was it a bit theatric? Most certainly.

Were Shirou the only target of The Mountain's cavalcade of insults, the magus would've resolved himself to keep his silence, and that would be the end of that. But he didn't stop at him. He targeted Ainz Ooal Gown. The Mountain insulted his friends. And that, he did not forgive so easily. So he retaliated in kind.

"Big words coming from such a little man." The Mountain sneered.

"Perhaps. But what are you going to do about it, The Pebble?" Shirou egged on, smirking.

The magus swore he heard a vein pop from his forehead.

"Is that so?" Shirou could feel the simmering anger laced in his words as the giant glared daggers at him. "Let's see ya' talk big again when The Mountain breaks in fucking your face!"

"Then come, Goliath. Come and slay your David if you can, that is." Shirou coolly returned, two fingers curling in a "come at me" gesture.

"I believe we've waited long enough. We've seen a battle of words. Now, it's time for action! And I, for one, can't wait to see how the Players will use the new physics implementation to their advantage."

'New physics?' Shirou wondered. This piece of information was news to him, and he could only assume that the announcement must've been made when he was speaking with Zelretch.

Following the commentator's announcement, the arena floor glowed beneath their feet and spread, encompassing them. A familiar sensation washed over him, and in a flash of light, Shirou and his opponent found themselves elsewhere.

He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the sudden change, only for them to narrow. He could feel the dry gust of wind, bringing with it scattered grains of sand.

As far as the eye could see, a vast and sprawling expanse of desert rolled out, with its golden sands forming gentle, undulating dunes that seemed to go on forever. A scatter of sandy ruins could be seen across the overworld. The scorching sun, with its unrelenting heat, cast a radiant glow on the sandy terrain, making it shimmer like gold. Amidst this lifeless ocean of sand, the towering presence of a magnificent pyramid loomed in the far-off distance, its grandeur and mystique only adding to the allure of the desert landscape.

'This is the same as when I was with Zelretch… No, not exactly…' He realized.

The sensation was similar but not quite the same.

When it came to DMMO-RPGs, there were certain regulations put in place to prevent the line between realism and virtual reality from being blurred any more than it already was. However, for this World Champion Tournament, it would seem that they were willing to skirt the law a little for the sake of making the competition more captivating. This was evident by the curious confusion that dominated The Mountain's avatar, which was usually adorned with a static cocksure grin, as he marveled at the changes.

"Woah…" He whispered to himself.

The Mountain looked around. He could almost taste the dryness of the air, feel the scorching heat waves prickling against his skin, and hear the rolling winds and movement of gritty sand against his ear. It felt authentic but muted enough to prevent the Player's senses from distinguishing it as too real. The last thing the developers needed was the Player's mind tricking itself into thinking it was real, especially in the case of pain.

Back in the stadium, there was a large, oddly transparent orb that held a reflective surface of where they were. Numerous large holographic screens filled the air, capturing and displaying high-definition footage of the two combatants and the battlefield in real-time from various angles.

Many within the audience discussed what they saw, noting the subtle cues and differences in the visible expressions that the two Players showed. It was certainly a notch above when compared to the previous tournaments.

A depth of realism had been added, which introduced an X factor to the matches, and all were curious to see how it might influence the fights to come.

A duel timer appeared in the air, counting down from ten.

Heterochromatic eyes surveyed the surroundings, quickly familiarizing himself with the battlefield as Kanshou and Bakuya appeared in his hand.

The Mountain reigned in his surprise. He took an informal upright stance, his fists out and his upper form pressed forward with his knees bent and ready.

Silence descended upon the audience, their undivided attention focused on the impending clash. From every corner of the nine realms, as well as the real world, many held their gaze on the spectacle, whether alone, with company, or in various locations. Anticipation filled the air, each onlooker holding their breath in eagerness for the spectacle about to unfold.

The timer hit zero with a loud buzz, and with that, the 9th World Champion Tournament officially began!

"Let's do this!" With a battle cry, The Mountain charged forward.

"[Quick Wind], [Battle Focus], [Iron Will], [Hardened Force], [Adamantium Skin], [Mana Sight], [Focus Strength], [Enhance Reflex], [Bulk Up], [Armored Defenses], [Throttle], [Greater Boost], [Fist Force], [Power Draw], [Eruption Fist]!"

The Mountain wasted no time exploding into action, his massive frame rocketing towards Shirou at speeds that beguiled the Player's large size. His tattoos gave off a colorful glow with each skill activation, no doubt a special cosmetic effect for his character.

Shirou was already in motion the moment the timer hit zero, kicking back as The Mountain rushed him down.

"Ora!" He shouted, throwing a fast but predictable straight left.

Shirou dodged the attack. An explosion followed up his attack after his fist struck and missed. Undeterred, The Mountain winded up for a wide haymaker to catch him.

Shirou proved to be elusive, dodging the attack with ease and the explosion that followed.

The Mountain's punches alone kicked up a torrent of sand and a burst of wind due to the speed and force behind them, and the explosions following each one of his strikes kept Shirou on the defensive.

The Mountain continued his rush and threw attack after attack at an unrelenting pace. Thanks to Shirou's Mind's Eye, he was able to anticipate every movement of his foe and stay one step ahead of the brawler. He may have been fast, but with his large frame, his moves were telegraphed.

During the exchange, Shirou noticed a blue glow in his opponent's eyes. What it meant, he could only speculate.

"Come on! This ain't much of a fight if you're scampering around like a mouse!" The Mountain taunted, throwing an uppercut that Shirou sidestepped.

Seeing an opening, Kanshou and Bakuya lashed out as The Mountain passed him. The black and white Noble Phantasm streaked across the Player's skin, but to no effect.

The two began with a brief exchange of blows. Shirou played it cautiously, committing to the defensive and only responding with counterattacks whenever possible. The Mountain faced no such obstacle and remained unrelenting in his pursuit, devoting himself completely to the offense. He unleashed an endless barrage of punches, jabs, and kicks, showing no signs of slowing down. Any damage done by Shirou's slashes proved to be futile, as the amount of HP deducted from The Mountain's HP bar was negligible, merely in the single digits.

'He's resilient…' A fact that was made abundantly clear, especially with the knowledge of what kind of skills he prefers.

"[Empowered Speed], [Lessen Load], [Focus Agility], [Heavy Duty], [Super Alloy], [Full Force], [Insight Sharpness], [Guardian Stand], [Giant Envy], [Titan's Force], [Scimitar Kick]!"

With another burst of empowered skills, The Mountain lashed out with a sharp low kick that glowed with the activation of the offensive skill.

Shirou leaped back, avoiding the attack, as the kick swept in, cleaving the ground and kicking up a tidal wave of sand.

The Mountain burst forth with blinding speed, catching the magus off guard while he was still off his feet.

"Gotcha! [Heavy Impact]!"

Shirou brought up Kanshou and Bakuya to defend, arcs of neon prana poured into reinforcing them as The Mountain struck with a swift and powerful straight right punch. The piston on the gauntlet fire, landing a second impact right after the first.

His arms groaned, and he could feel his bones shaking, almost buckling against the force of the one-two punch. Kanshou and Bakuya were little better, with spider cracks running across the Noble Phantasm.

The follow-up explosion from his skill, [Eruption Fist], sent him flying back.

Shirou hit the ground, which kicked up another blanket of sand as his body tumbled away. He rolled, recovering back to his feet just as quickly. Just in time too as he caught a flash of red.

"[Bala]!"

A fraction of a second later, an orb of pure crimson barreled forth from the cloud of sand toward him. Shirou rolled to the side as the ball of energy crashed against where he was and exploded, raining down further pockets of sand onto him.

Through narrowed eyes, he caught the profile of The Mountain closing the distance.

"[Bala]!" The battlemaster exclaimed, cocking his fist back before punching forward. Another destructive orb of energy fired forth from his fist.

The magus darted to the side, avoiding the attack, and more like it as The Mountain fired the skill one after another while Shirou ran, attempting to circle around. Each one exploded like a cannonball, with sand blowing up in all directions.

The attack itself didn't appear that strong, but with its size and speed, he'd imagine it would hit like a bowling ball being fired from a cannon. Though he wasn't in any hurry to learn if that was true or not.

The Mountain pulled his fist back, and Shirou preemptively rushed to dodge, but instead of a [Bala], it was something entirely different.

"[Rupture Fissure]!"

The Mountain slammed his fist forward into the sandy terrain as fissures cracked the surface, speeding towards Shirou. His eyes widened, and he jumped back. Reinforcement covered his entire body as an explosion erupted from the crack. He didn't take much damage, but it was enough to catch him off his feet.

Regaining his footing, Shirou rolled to his knees, his eyes fixed on The Mountain as he launched a [Bala] straight at him. In a split second, Shirou reacted with lightning-fast reflexes, hurling Kanshou and intercepting the attack.

The brawler charged through the smoke, closing the distance with a vicious horizontal hammer fist.

"Gotcha! [Iron Hammer]!"

Prana poured into his legs, and with an explosive kick, he dived forward, leading the attack to whiff him as he felt the wind of the blow brush past his cheek. At the same time, prana poured from the hand that once held Kanshou. He grasped the newly traced weapon and swung as they passed, slipping under his opponent's arm. The sword's sharpened blade cut into The Mountain's invincible skin, creating a shower of sparks as the two combatants passed by each other.

"Slippery lil' fucker, ain'tcha?" The Mountain grunted, equal parts amused and annoyed.

Shirou's eyes flickered from his sword to the giant's HP bar, his grimace hardening. He managed to cleave some of his health points, but like with Kanshou and Bakuya before, the damage dealt was minuscule at best, reducing his HP bar by only a sliver.

The weapon in his hand was but one of the handfuls of nameless Noble Phantasms that he copied from Gilgamesh all those decades ago. It was a nondescript Noble Phantasm, one of many that were held within the King of Heroes' illustrious Gate of Babylon. Its unique ability lies in its incredible sharpness. It was similar to Durandal but vastly inferior when compared to the peerless holy blade. However, it served as a good measuring point.

A cursory lull settled over the battlefield after the first fierce exchange. The two Players kept their distance, sizing each other up.

For Shirou, the pieces of the puzzle were slowly aligning, and taken as a whole, he'd come to a good idea of The Mountain's build and subsequent fighting style.

The standoff was broken as The Mountain broke into a charge, and thus, the match resumed.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Warrior Takemikazuchi observed the match with keen eyes, arms crossed, and motionlessness. From the waiting wing, he and the others watched on as the match progressed. Shirou and The Mountain engaged in another brief but furious exchange, with the magus managing to allude to the brawler's reach once more.

'A CQC expert that specializes in heavy infighting at close to medium range with ranged attack skills to either stagger or help close the distance against any opponent. Talk about a nasty combo. You've got a tough customer on your hand, Emiya-san.' Warrior Takemikazuchi observed, using the information he had already gleaned from the fight.

Warrior Takemikazuchi's eyes drifted briefly from the screen, glancing at his fellow fighters.

Absent of the roaring cheers, the waiting wing stood in stark contrast to the stadium. Hushed were the fighters as they stood or sat with their eyes glued to the screen, watching the match unfold before them. No doubt committing the fight to memory and strategizing for if or when they might fight against the victor.

"For all his shit-talking, he's sure having a hard time landing a good hit on him."

"As much as I hate to admit it, Emiya-san is good. I wish they would get on with it before the match becomes a bore."

"It's only a matter of time before The Mountain catches him."

Only the barest of whispers were exchanged between neighbors. Warrior Takemikazuchi kept an idle ear open, giving them only a passing interest as he casually listened in. Others idly joined in, jostling the discussion as comments filtered through the air regarding the direction of the fight.

Despite the numerous remarks flying around, he and the rest of the fighters knew that it was far from as simple or one-sided as they were making it out to be.

He and Shirou have trained and fought against one another for years, and Warrior Takemikazuchi could easily tell the difference. While it was true that Shirou had yet to land a substantial attack on The Mountain, it was more so because he was choosing to keep ahead of him by focusing on the defensive.

Or perhaps it was more prudent to say that he was not committing himself to the offensive just yet.

The stance and the tempo with which The Mountain held himself and fought had a free-form flow to them. It was reminiscent of a skilled street boxer, although not quite professional, as Warrior Takemikazuchi would wager.

Nevertheless, there was a discernible discipline in his form and technique, likely honed over years of practice and play. His style was tailored to aggressive, close-range combat, always on the offensive. The manner in which he unleashed a rapid flurry of blows and chains his attack, even if they didn't land, kept his opponents under constant pressure and gave them no time to react or retaliate. The bruiser's compendium of enchantment and defensive skills meant he could afford to be hyper-aggressive while tanking any attacks thrown his way.

His method of attack was far from complex, but thanks to its sheer simplicity, it was tricky to definitively counter.

'Huh, it ain't all that different from my own.' The Nephilim mused.

' `Course, the biggest difference between us is-'

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Growing thoroughly incensed by the constant slog match, The Mountain switched up his tactic, going for a more dynamic approach.

"[Power], [Force Multiplier], [Zen Spirit], [Flight Footwork], [Ironclad], [Overwork], [Heavy Duty], [Greater Resistance], [Maximum Weight], [Overwhelming Strength], [Core Burst], [Fortitude], [Unstoppable Rampage]!" The Mountain yelled, calling upon even more skills.

A fierce gust of sand was kicked up as the wall of muscle charged towards Shirou. The silver-haired Player jumped away as he crashed into the mound where he once stood, obliterating the sand dune.

Yet, the Mountain paid no heed to the magus's escape and charged forth once more, with the same fury as a rampaging bull.

Shirou braced himself and reinforced his leg, propelling himself to the side to evade the Mountain's assault. The outcome remained unaltered as the attack demolished yet another sand mound and sent sand flying in all directions.

'With that kind of momentum and force, it'll be impossible for him to dodge or make any course corrections. But then again, he probably doesn't need to. One mistimed dodge, one mistake, and I'll be in a world of pain.' Shirou observed.

Close-quarter combat was ill-advised. The brief and subsequent skirmishes told him all that he needed to know about his opponent's inherent defenses and strength. Distance would be his ally until the time was right for him to go all in.

And he needed to put as much distance between himself and the Mountain as he could.

The Mountain charged a third time, but this time he prepared for something new. The heavyweight bruiser jumped high into the air as he gained speed, arms outstretched as he brought them downward with thunderous force.

"[Sheer Velocity], [Full Mantle], [Titanic Surge], [Greater Force], [Heavy Downfall]!"

Shirou realized what he was doing and acted just as quickly.

With a forceful stomp, arcs of prana flowed forth and coalesced into an enormous greatsword beneath his feet. In an instant, he took off, balanced atop the sword as it flew through the air.

Due to the unique properties of his projected Noble Phantasms, one of his guildmates pointed out an application he could try with them. Ancient One commented on how Shirou could technically fly if he were to stand atop a large enough sword and have it shoot through the air like how he normally fires his projections.

It was meant entirely as a joke, but the idea had such merit that Shirou couldn't help but try it out. Thus, sword flying was created, an imitation of the [Fly] spell that he kept in his back pocket for greater mobility.

He left at the right time as The Mountain crashed back down like a screaming meteorite.

It was in mid-air that he bore witness to The Mountain's destructive capability. The desert ground where he once stood all but imploded, rupturing from the force behind his attack and leaving behind only a crater. The attack created a mushroom cloud of sand that reached up to the skies.

Shirou managed to get away, but the booming shockwave that followed caught up to him.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

'-Would have to be the difference that lies in the nature of their builds.' Touch Me compared.

The variety of skills The Mountain displayed throughout the match were ones commonly used by tanks and the like. Touch Me knew several of them, having seen them used by the likes of Bukubukuchagama and Variable Talisman before. Only instead of the Player using it defensively, he employs the skills offensively.

The secret behind The Mountain's build lies in its central components. The bruiser specs towards tank-oriented classes, which served as the core of his build and complement his brawler playstyle. If Touch Me were to make an educated guess, he would reckon that The Mountain had a hybrid build, combining the sturdy defenses and survivability of [Tank] classes with the offensive capabilities of the [Monk] and [Brawler] archetypes and subclasses. This assumption was based on The Mountain's clear preference for self-enchantment and unarmed combat.

From the start, he has demonstrated an extensive reliance on enchantment skills, far beyond what was typically seen in warrior-type Players. All these buffs bolster his stats and toughness to the absolute limit, making the Player an absolute juggernaut on the battlefield.

The Mountain's entire body was a weapon. His body was like a fortress, and his arms were like cannons. Especially when enhanced beyond their physical limits.

"Damn, that's some power." Duskindal whistled at the destructive display from The Mountain's [Heavy Downfall]. He sat with his hands folded behind his head in a carefree manner, comfortably slouched in his seat.

Touch Me silently agreed.

The screen showed Shirou caught in the blast of the shockwave; his footing on his flying sword destabilized, and he was in free fall.

Touch Me's mind drew a comparison between The Mountain to his rival and friend, Warrior Takemikazuchi.

Both employed highly offensive-oriented playstyles, using their innate expertise and personal prowess to overcome their respective builds limitations, supplemented further by their skills. Warrior Takemikazuchi has his mastery of kenjutsu, while The Mountain has his pseudo-boxing style as his base.

His fighting style and build worked hand in hand, synergizing dangerously well together and making the hulking brawler more than formidable and lethal. The Mountain could take a beating thrown his way and dish it right back in spades.

He put the adage "The greatest defense is a powerful offense" into practice.

For all of The Mountain's showboating and arrogance, the Player had the skills and strength to back up his conceit. Then again, the World Champion of Álfheim shouldn't have expected otherwise. It would've been an insult to the credibility and legacy of the World Champion Tournament if he were merely a lumbering brute.

"So far, it ain't looking so good for Emiya-san. He might want to start pulling out those fancy tricks that we've been hearing about if he wants to do any real damage against that kind of defense." Said ShikiHime.

"Is that so? From where I'm standing, I'd say he's doing quite well for himself despite the circumstances." Touch Me maintained, sitting in his seat with his hands clasped under his chin.

"Maybe, but your bud can't play hooky forever. Something's gotta give and it's only a matter of time before he either slips up and gives The Mountain an opening or the man's going to start wising up to his tricks and catch him."LichtKing commented from his seat next to Touch Me.

"He won't have to. If I know Emiya-san, he's biding his time, waiting for his opportunity - patience will always triumph over hastiness. Besides, The Mountain is far from untouchable by the hands of time."

The Mountain's playstyle was undoubtedly deadly, but it was far from flawless. His build's greatest drawback coincidentally lies in its greatest strength. While his arsenal of skills was no doubt vast, it was ultimately finite. At the accelerated rate he was burning through his skills, it granted him immediate, tremendous strength, enough to overpower any opponent before they could have a chance to retaliate. However, it was impossible to maintain such output for an extensive amount of time.

As the saying goes, a fire that rages twice as hot burns out twice as fast.

Rush-down Players were notoriously ill-suited for prolonged battles. If one could either hold their ground against The Mountain's relentless assault or keep ahead of him and draw out the fight, then he'll be forced to expend more and more, diminishing his strength as the fight drags on.

"In other words, The Pebble's weakness is that he goes in hard and fast right off the bat, and if Emiya-san can out endure him, he'll blow all his load and be limp for the rest of the fight." Duskindal chimed in, snickering.

The sound of groans filled the room.

"How immature." Belladonna sniffed, casting a disgruntled look his way.

"Not the words I'd personally use, but you're entirely not wrong." Touch Me snorted at the double-entendre.

"While that's certainly a factor, it won't mean much if Emiya-san doesn't take the initiative and go on the offensive. If he plans on waiting it out completely, he's bound to slip up eventually." Wishful Mercí pointed out.

"I know, and so does he." Touch Me replied, turning back to the match. "Believe me when I say you haven't seen anything yet."

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Flipping through the air, Shirou called upon his black bow. With unparalleled dexterity, he traced and loosed a barrage of empowered arrows upon The Mountain. His feat of acrobatics wowed the audience watching as he counterattacked while falling. His rapid descent and positioning did little to hinder his aim as each arrow found its mark, exploding against his opponent's vital areas.

Much like before, however, hardly any damage reflected off his HP bar, and the Player's taunting laughter echoed through the air.

"Ha! That almost tickles!" The Mountain bellowed, his confidence unshaken.

The Mountain kicked off out of the crater and charged, aiming for where Shirou would land.

"[Trace Bullet]!"

The air lit up as swords were traced and fired alongside his volley of arrows. The Mountain tried to weave the incoming bombardment of explosive projectiles, but unlike his arrows, they were capable of course correction. Although they didn't deal significant damage, their aim was to impede his momentum. Pockets of sand ruptured around and beneath his feet, staggering the goliath along his path. With a fluid motion, Shirou twirled and landed, skidding safely to a stop with a familiar, twisted, corkscrew-shaped sword in his hand.

"My core is…" He chanted, notching Caladbolg II back. The air rippled as arcs of prana poured forth, flowing into the helical arrow.

Although he managed to delay The Mountain, it wouldn't be enough to fully complete his incantation, but that was within acceptable parameters.

With a resounding boom, Shirou released Caladbolg II, the corkscrew sword flying towards the brawler with incredible speed and force.

The Mountain was well aware of Shirou charging up an attack and anticipated it. He planned to sidestep the attack at the last second, his leg already pivoting to dodge the moment he saw the faker's fingers let go of the arrow. However, he had underestimated the Noble Phantasm's speed in comparison to Shirou's other projectiles.

The Mountain didn't even have time to blink before the arrow closed the distance between them, its dreaded spiraling form barreling towards him. The heavyweight Player didn't even see it travel. One moment it was over there, and the next it was less than a meter in front of him. It was as if the distance, space itself, between the two fighters was completely twisted away by the arrow, leaving him no room to react in time.

'S-shit!' His eyes widened.

In the split second before it would hit him, The Mountain managed to wedge his right arm in the arrow's path, bracing himself for what was to come. In the next, he was engulfed in a powerful, super-heated explosion, leaving him reeling from the impact.

Caladbolg II detonation razed the desert field, kicking up a dust storm of ochre sand and blazing conflagration. In the engulfing flames, the immediate surroundings of the desert were glassed from the sheer heat of the attack, leaving only a haze of coarse sand and a garden of hot glass.

The Mountain roared, emerging from the cloud of smoke. While far from fatal, Caladbolg II inflicted a hefty amount of damage, reducing the gargantuan Player's HP down to the high yellow range.

However, that wasn't all it did.

"Ww-what the hell!?"

The Mountain faltered in his steps as he saw the damage done to him. The arm that he used to defend was left a mangled mess that hung limply against his side. His confident façade stripped away, revealing genuine shock and horror at what he saw.

He almost had a freakout, but his mind quickly picked up the discrepancies. For one, he felt no pain, thankfully. Secondly, he could still feel his actual arm and move it; it was just that the limb in question didn't obey due to its mutilated state.

He managed to calm down, but he couldn't look away. The excruciating detail of the bloodied and twisted arm captured his attention. It was not just him but also everyone watching. It was a far cry from what YGGDRASIL typically reveled in, and it drew the morbid curiosity of all those watching.

'Interesting…' Shirou took note of his reaction.

"[Accelerated Healing], [Dispel Weakness], [Frenzy Sort], [Natural Strength], [Hidden Boost]!" The Mountain shook away his stupor.

The glow of the activation of skills focused on his arm, and in no time, his arm was back to normal.

He inspected the restored arm, moving it and flexing his fingers for good measure.

"Nice try, but don't think it'll be that easy!"

The Mountain regained his momentum and rushed Shirou down, his fist firing forth to cave in the magus's head.

Shirou was already ready for him.

"Trace on!"

"[Bazooka Fist]!"

A burst of prana bloomed from his leg as he stomped the ground. They coursed from his limb, spreading through the sand like ripples in a pond. In an instant, a towering shield emerged from below, intercepting the oncoming attack

The sheer force of his punch against the shield caused the air and ground to tremble violently. The sound of metal creaking and cracking echoed through the air as the shield strained under the pressure. But it held, delaying The Mountain and giving him time to jump back and gain distance from his opponent.

"Where ya' running?! The Mountain just wanna give ya' a hug!" He yelled, goading Shirou as he smacked his projection to pieces.

"How about you start fighting like a man instead of a bitch-ass archer?!"

"Very well then." The magus muttered imperceptibly.

Skidding to a stop, his bow dispelled into a stream of prana. His fingers closed in, willing the new weapon to take form with a twirl. In his hand was a long, ornate, shining golden and ivory lance.

"En Garde."

The Mountain blinked in honest surprise. After everything he'd seen, he didn't think that the Player Killer would take him up on his words. Even he knew that the best course of action against himself was to play it safe and keep out of his reach.

That didn't stop the bloodthirsty grin that spread across his face. He was getting bored playing hooky and was eager to return the favor for what he did to his arm.

"FIRST SWORDS, NEXT WERE BOW AND ARROWS ALONG WITH FIRING SWORDS LIKE MISSILES, THEN CAME A SHIELD, AND NOW A LANCE! IS THERE ANYTHING THIS MAN CANNOT MAKE?!"

"Indeed, I find myself quite curious as well. But the question of the hour is, will Emiya be able to pull out the correct weapon for the job? It seems he has finally decided to take The Mountain up on his challenge. One must wonder if this new weapon that he has summoned will be enough to turn the tide of battle for him."

The commentators could be heard, stirring up the crowd, but to the two combatants, they were nothing but white noise. The only thing that mattered was their opponent and winning.

The lines of Reinforcement along his legs glowed brightly as Shirou took off with a burst of speed, meeting The Mountain's charge for the first time head-on.

'I need to time this right or else…'

As both fighters drew closer, they prepared themselves. The Mountain reared his arm back, a textbook example of a right straight with all his weight behind it. For Shirou, golden light radiated from the tip of his lance as he drew back his arm, readying his thrust.

'Now!'

As the two met, they unleashed their attacks.

What looked to be a predictable right straight punch, The Mountain switched it up at the last second. He outstretched his arm in a lariat, ready to clothesline his opponent. One that might've hit had the astute faker not anticipated it.

In a deft and graceful move, Shirou bent his knee and body, executing a powerslide. His back and legs slid against the sandy ground, his quick reflexes and momentum carried him smoothly as he skidded under the giant's swinging arm, narrowly avoiding a heavy hit. His lance struck the scrapper's knee as they drifted past one another.

The Mountain's hands dug into the sand, anchoring him as he swung right around. This quick maneuver saw him ready to charge at the projection user once more, only for his body to tilt and stumble, hitting the ground much to his confusion.

"What the hell?!" He exclaimed, seeing what was wrong.

Much of his right leg was gone, leaving a stump with golden light bleeding from it as everything below his thigh disintegrated away, robbing him of his balance.

Shirou swerved right back around, catching The Mountain's gaze. A mixture of bewilderment and, for the first time, genuine fear.

[The Trap of Argalia: Down with a Touch! - Divine Tier Lance]

This Noble Phantasm was created in YGGDRASIL, and it was all thanks to Assassin's help. Thanks to the flavor text of his NPC Servants, Shirou had access to not only their bios and personalities but also their history, including past summonings. Assassin was once summoned in a Holy Grail War-the Great Holy Grail War, to be exact-to the Black Faction. While the flavor text only provided a general summarization of the events of the Holy Grail War, with the finer details being sparse, it provided Shirou with enough information to take an interest in the Rider of Black and the Noble Phantasm that he possessed.

The Noble Phantasm utility intrigued him, and he sought to add it to his ever-growing arsenal. It was an unconventional weapon, but in this particular scenario, it was just what Shirou needed.

Slashing damage wouldn't be enough, and piercing damage didn't quite cut it for him, and if his usual ranged methods fell short, a different strategy was needed.

Such as inflicting bludgeoning damage. And for that, he needed to render his opponent immobile.

Shirou dashed forward, confronting The Mountain before he had a chance to recover. He swung with the lance and mid-swing, The Lance of Argalia dissipated into motes, replaced with a familiar burst of prana. His finger tightened, grasping the handle of his newly projected weapon as it took form in time to land a brutal blow against The Mountain's head.

The Mountain's vision shook violently as he felt something heavy strike him. His head bounced against the sandy ground, recoiling from the sheer force of the attack. Wide eyes search for the source, falling upon the weapon Shirou now wields.

He almost mistook it for a sword at first, seeing as that was all the Player Killer has shown a propensity for, but on closer inspection, it was more appropriate to call it a club. The weapon looked rather large and cumbersome, with a bulbous end with ridges at the top instead of a sharpened edge. The weapon consisted of dull, blackened metal with smudges of crimson, as if it had been bloodied. A weapon that lacked a certain elegance when compared to his previous Noble Phantasm, but one that was just as brutally effective and well-suited to getting the results he wanted.

[Nægling: Iron Hammer Snake Smash - Divine Tier Sword]

Shirou swung again as the Mountain hurried to defend himself with one of his arms. Nægling collided, his body rattling from the heavy hit, knocking the appendage away.

The Mountain allowed himself to smirk. He used one of his arms to take the attack, giving him a chance to retaliate when the magus's guard was open after the initial heavy swing with his other fist. However, the brawler wasn't the one with the same idea, as Shirou's other hand was far from idle.

Before the Player could get a skill out, his vision rattled once more as his head was smacked to the side. Shirou had traced a second Nægling and swung in the interim of his recovery, using the momentum behind his initial swing to swing again.

Again, Shirou noticed the same blue glow in his eyes as before as The Mountain glared at him.

"B-bbastard!" He gritted out.

The Mountain's vision swam under the brutal assault, his head staggering with every heavy strike, which left him discombobulated as he struggled between recovering his focus and defending. It was this split-second recovery delay between these two actions that Shirou took advantage of. Both his arms worked dexterously with one another, moving to attack and intercept simultaneously and each flowing into the next seamlessly, leaving The Mountain with very little time to recover.

Shirou effectively had The Mountain in a stun lock.

This continued as Shirou slowly whittled his HP down further and further, much to the Player's mounting frustration and encroaching dread. For the first time in the match, The Mountain felt a stab of fear shoot through his heart.

"HOT DAMN, EMIYA SURE ISN'T LETTING UP! THE MAN IS RELENTLESS IN HIS ATTACK. HE'S BEATING THE MOUNTAIN'S LIKE A DAMN DRUM!"

With the audience, many in the crowd were yelling for The Mountain to get back up or belittling him while those cheering Shirou on shouted waves of encouragement. Particularly Ainz Ooal Gown.

"WOOOOO! Whoop his ass, senpai! Show him who's daddy!" Peroroncino howled.

"P-pero!" Reina chided.

"What? It's not like I'm the only one." The archer jabbed his thumb next to him.

"Kick the bastard's teeth in Shirou-kun!" Bukubukuchagama yelled alongside the others.

"Break the motherfucker's face in!" Destana shouted as well with a wild grin, wrangling Momonga in while he tried to keep up with his rowdy girlfriend.

Back with the fight, The Mountain grew incensed by the second under Shirou's assault. He needed to get free and quick.

"RARRGH!"

Taking a gamble, he forgoed any further attempts at freeing himself and focused his efforts on defending against the brunt of the attacks. Despite his health points dwindling lower and lower, The Mountain bided his time, waiting for the slightest opportunity to present itself. And when it finally did, he seized it without hesitation.

The Mountain lunged forward, timing it the moment Shirou hit him with Nægling, the fraction of a second where he couldn't immediately follow it up. His tree-trunk-sized arms wrapped around the silver-haired Player, bringing the magus down with him.

The two Players engaged in a fierce struggle, their bodies tumbling and rolling across the sand and ending with the man on top of Shirou. The magus wrangled against the brawler, but it was little use. The latter's larger size gave him a distinct advantage, allowing him to keep Shirou pinned down with a vice-like grip. The magus let out a pained groan as he felt his chest and ribs being constricted as The Mountain's larger body pressed down on him. They wrestled some more until he projected several swords above them.

With their position as they were, he didn't have to worry too much about splash damage as they rocketed downward. They struck the battle master's backside, exploding and damaging him. Enough to the point where he loosened his hold on him, allowing the projection user to escape.

He kicked the brawler's body, trying to scramble away. Only for The Mountain to grab ahold of his leg, catching him.

The two locked eyes as he felt himself being lifted up.

'Oh, shii-!'

Shirou felt vertigo take him as he was violently pulled off the ground.

Dangling upside down, The Mountain swung him against the ground. Shirou's body bounced harshly against the sand, disorienting him.

The Mountain didn't hold anything back as he pulled back and swung again with all his might, leaving Shirou to brace himself.

It was a rather comical sight for those watching the fight, seeing the titan of a Player swinging another person around like one of those old-timey slapstick cartoons.

As Shirou was lifted up yet again, he was ready this time. He struck with Nægling, a direct hit to the Player's cranium as he was held aloft over the man mid-swing.

It worked as both of them fell to the ground, disoriented. The magus was the first to recover, rolling away and jumping back to his feet. However, The Mountain recovered just as quickly.

"[Rupture Force]!" Both his hands slammed into the ground, and orange light poured forth from the sea of sand beneath them.

Shirou was forced to back off and disengage as an explosive force rocked the ground beneath, kicking up another miniature sandstorm. He was knocked back as wild wind and sand obscured everything in sight.

The faker recovered, wobbly but far from shaken, and rolled to his knees, eyes squinting and searching.

He saw a shadow, seeing it shift in place alongside The Mountain's faint and fragmented voice being heard over the blistering wind. He sprinted forward, reasoning that The Mountain was using this as a distraction to regain his footing and retreat.

However, this was a play on Shirou's part.

Through the obscuring cloud of sand, he came upon the Mountain taking a crouch start stance. He lowered his posture and center of gravity as low as possible. His knee was taut and bent, resembling a coiled spring, ready to be released at any moment. His arms laid against the sandy ground, helping to balance his form. Even with only one leg and less than stable footing and posture, he was able to unleash his skill.

The Mountain didn't retreat, as Shirou thought he would. Instead, he was waiting for him.

And Shirou walked right into it.

"[Fa Jin]!"

When the two separated, The Mountain activated the skill [Fa Jin] under the cover of sand to conceal and prepare himself for Shirou. The ability was an enhancement skill that allowed the user to build up energy by charging up a move. Which could then be transferred over as kinetic energy and empower their next skill dramatically. The longer a Player could hold and stockpile this energy, the more powerful it would be.

Although it hadn't been long since he activated it, no more than ten seconds, it would give his attack an added punch.

"[Raging Vigor]!"

With a powerful and booming stomp, The Mountain released his charged attack. His hulking frame blurred as if fired from a cannon as his entire body slammed directly into Shirou's center mass. The faker barely had time to bring up his arms in defense before he was struck. He sucked in a sharp breath as both his arms all but caved inward. Lances of white-hot pain blossomed from his chest and arms at the center of impact, spreading across his body. The attack alone knocked him straight into the mid-yellow, even with Reinforcement boosting him.

Shirou was sent catapulting backward from the attack, hitting and ragdolling against the rough desert terrain several times before coming to a stop as he smashed into a dilapidated pillar of a small ruin. One of many that were scattered across the arid landscape.

The sun-baked earth received him with a resounding thud, sending shockwaves through his body and robbing him of his breath. His chest heaved with the effort to inhale, but the searing heat and dust-filled air only added to his distress. He coughed fervently, desperately attempting to catch his breath.

At the stadium, the screens showed a close-up of the infamous Player Killer on his back, capturing every excruciating detail of his face twisting in pain. Seeing Shirou in such a state earned more mocking scoffs and eye rolls from the audience. After all, if The Mountain didn't reach in such a manner when injured, then why now him? They didn't believe it for a second.

Jeers and comments on how he was faking it or how he should stop being a wimp and get back up filled the air.

Ainz Ooal Gown, his closest friends, especially, were anything but amused.

"Grr! Why those no-good… ! I'll show them!" Bukubukuchagama growled, her real voice leaking through.

"Easy girl, easy." Yamaiko whispered, holding back the slime from going wild.

"Come on… Heal yourself…" Momonga whispered, his leg bouncing restlessly at the sight of his long-time friend in pain.

Thanks to Avalon, he recovered enough to will out a command.

"Activate: [Boost Magic: Sacred Twilight]!" One of his rings, Draupnir, glowed.

The ring was a Divine tier magical item that was gifted to Shirou years ago by Momonga. The item bore the name of the ring gifted to Odin in Norse mythology.

It was a magic ring that stored up to twelve magic spell slots that he could use at any time. The ring held a reserve of only twenty-four MP, and the spells contained within could only be 8th tier and below, but he had access to meta magic.

A small white magic circle appeared over the azure gemstone. White healing light with motes of twilight washed over him as his bones and wounds were stitched up. The pain subsided following his HP regeneration back into the green. He sucked out a ragged gasp, catching his breath.

"[Recovery], [Greater Boost], [Unbreakable Will], [Steadfast], [Warrior Spirit], and [Bestial Regeneration]!"

The Mountain's tattoo shone brightly, followed by a discharge of steam as he used more of his skills to dispel the effect on his leg in addition to regenerating his HP. A hand clutched his forehead as he steadied his dizzying head.

Both fighters struggled to their feet, eyes set on each other and glaring as a small reprieve settled down amidst the fighting.

"Alright, The Mountain will give it to ya'. Ya' strong, but it's gonna take a lot more to bring down The Mountain!"

"… Mountains becoming hills, weathered by time. Yet, a hill will be a mountain for ants, and ants alone. You are but a carp trying to convince others otherwise."

The two briefly exchanged, back on their feet. Despite the distance, they heard one another all too easily.

"Wordy little bastard, aren't ya?" The Mountain snarked. "Let's see if ya wax that poetic bullshit when The Mountain smashes your face in!"

"The Mountain ought to stop referring to himself in the third person." Shirou groused at his reductive manner of speech.

Outwardly, The Mountain scoffed, but inwardly, he was far warier. Though he may project himself as a strongman, he did not get where he was by relying on the strength of his build alone.

He had heard the rumors regarding the Player Killer, but he always doubted the true validity of them. However, only a fool would completely ignore them, for all rumors have some basis of truth in them.

'This fight went on for far too long.' The Mountain mused. An obvious and pointless observation considering what he'd already seen, but one that filtered through his thoughts nonetheless.

The Mountain's winning strategy was rather simple, rush down his opponent and crush them before they have a chance to retaliate or become a threat. The longer the fight draws out, the more his chances of winning decreased.

The titanic Player had planned to blitz Shirou down and beat him well and truly before he even had a chance to pull out his tricks.

A plan that thoroughly failed, and now he needed to formulate a counterstrategy and quickly.

But what raked him the most was the fact that Shirou, a Player with objectively weaker stats than his own was able to corner and, even to an extent, overpower him. It was a bruise to his ego, knowing that he purposely picked the first match against the Faker Player, confident in his build and skills to beat him, only to be put on the backfoot.

'Despite the trade-off, he knows my build's weakness, and he has the methods to counter it. He'll be a fool not to keep to hit-and-run tactics, just like in the beginning. Or he might feel emboldened by the fight and try again, seeing as how he got me on my knees with just that lance and those clubs… I could try playing it safe as well, run away, and try to force him to come to me instead of the other way around. But that's not counting on what else he might have hidden under his sleeves. Especially if he can fire off more of that powerful arrow or worse. Damnit!'

The Mountain was conflicted, his teeth grinding together at the feeling of being pressed against a wall. Much of his hesitation lay in the mystery that he had no true idea what else Shirou could pull out.

He needed time, time to work out a counterstrategy.

Time that, unfortunately, he would not be given, for while Shirou was known to be a generous man, he had no intention of allowing the man to recover.

'He's cautious.' Shirou observed.

YGGDRASIL didn't support facial animation. At times, it proved to be both a help and a hindrance. It was useful as a mask, a shield to conceal one's true thoughts. In this moment however, all of his opponent's emotions and little intricacies that would normally be hidden away were on full display for the magus. A fact that no doubt slipped The Mountain's mind at the moment. The creases on his forehead, the sweat trickling down his cheek, the twitching of his brows, and the strained curve of his lips told him exactly what he needed to know.

His frustration and hesitance were clear to see, and that was to Shirou's advantage.

He jerked forward, faking a move as The Mountain reacted. He flinched back, his body tense and ready to turn and run on the dime if need be.

'He's waiting to see what I'll do next and reacting accordingly.' Shirou recognized.

Shirou knew better than to rush in and press his advantage so hastily. He may have a slight advantage at the moment, but that could all change, for no fight was assured until the very end.

He couldn't help but think of a vermin, one who'd been scorned and now was ready to do anything to escape. A useful mindset, certainly, but nothing new.

A cornered beast may be dangerous, but a one-trick pony was ever so predictable. All he had to do was make him dance to a familiar tune and make his opponent come to him instead…

His hand gripped around the length of a bow that had yet to exist. A single thought could change that, granting him a range advantage that his opponent would struggle to overcome.

So, a thought he gave and a weapon he received, along with its deadly munition. Now, it was time to see how far the mountain reaches before it plateaus!

'It's time to bring this match to a close.'

Eyes narrowing, Shirou planned his endgame.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"WHOO-WEE! NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALLED A THROWDOWN!" The voice of Bob echoed out, drawing roars from the audience after witnessing the intense exchange between the two combatants.

"`COURSE, NOW THEY'RE JUST STARING AT ONE ANOTHER. ANY LONGER, AND I'D WONDER IF THIS MATCH SUDDENLY TURNED INTO A STARING CONTEST."

Many shared the commentator's sentiment, wanting the fight to resume after almost a minute of an impasse between The Mountain and Shirou.

"It's not that surprising." Sam added. "Though brief, both Players got their fair share of licks in. It's only natural that they would both be on alert for each other."

"RIGHT YOU ARE MY FRIEND, BUT THIS MATCH HAS TO END SOMETIME TODAY. THE QUESTION IS, WHO WILL TAKE THE WIN?! WILL THE MUSCLEBOUND MONARCH CLOBBER HIS WAY TO VICTORY OR WILL THE PLAYER KILLER ADD ANOTHER NAME TO HIS LIST?!"

Shirou made the first move.

With a swift motion, he extended his arm in a broad sweep, calling forth a surge of prana as the air shimmered, coalescing into weapons once more, including his trusty black bow. The Mountain fortified himself with another set of skills and pivoted to make a break for it. However, instead of firing at him, they fired downward, littering the ruin's ground around the silver-haired Player.

The Mountain blinked, and the action was mirrored by those in the audience. He would have little time to wonder further as arrows rained down upon him to little effect, much like before. He looked back, catching the archer seemingly retreating; the gap between them stretched.

"Shit…" He cursed under his breath.

Shirou wasn't giving him any more time. The longer he hesitated, the further the distance between them would widen.

With a stomp, he chased after his opponent, vigilant for any more tricks that he might pull out.

The Mountain's eyes tracked him as Shirou deftly circled around a nearby dune and was out of his sight.

Suddenly, a violent explosion erupted from the very mound of sand that the faker hid behind, leaving a spiraled hole at the base of the dune. An all-too-familiar spiral-shaped arrow shot towards The Mountain, coming in low and fast.

Like before, The Mountain found himself with scarcely any time to react as the arrow struck his leg. He took the full brunt of the explosion. The Mountain lurched, tumbling against the sand.

His eyes immediately went to his legs, and no surprise, they were a mess. The leg that was struck, his left, was nearly gone, with only bits of flesh and strands of meat and muscle hanging limply from the limb. His right leg also suffered damage, being twisted and burned due to the arrow's special property, but not to a significant degree.

Again, the detail of the damage and gore stunned him, but he was quicker to react this time around.

Another set of skills restored his limbs.

He looked up, his eyes squinting before widening as he barely made out Shirou's silhouette across the horizon, shimmering as if some desert mirage.

The gap between them stretched even further.

The Mountain could barely make out Shirou looking back at him. In his hand was another Caladbolg II, showing it off as if deliberately calling attention to it.

Desperation rose within him as he forgoed tactics and rushed after the crimson archer, doing all he could to close the distance between them. He dismissed the volley of arrows as useless. What took precedence were those spiral arrows.

'Just how many of them does he have?!' The Mountain felt sweat rolling down his face.

With such a distance separating them and clear lines of sight on the man, the archer was in his element.

He watched as Shirou came to a stop and nocked back his arrow. He could see it glowing, the air around him vibrating with power.

The Mountain recognized he was charging up an attack, just like before. If the arrows he fired before were at their weakest, he did not want to think about what a fully charged attack would do.

The Mountain burned through his reserve of skills, increasing his speed and defenses and using whatever he could to shorten the gap between them.

He managed to close the distance between them, some fifteen meters or so.

The two locked eyes. He feared for the worst when the arrow seemed primed and ready, only for the unexpected to happen.

Both the bow and arrow dissipated into motes of light.

The Mountain blinked oddly at what he just saw. Shirou didn't give him a moment to think as he rushed headlong toward the Player.

The battlemaster froze before skidding to a stop, hastily preparing himself for the confrontation.

"[Counter Guard]!"

His skill activated, and he took a stance. This skill boosted his defenses, and whenever an enemy landed an attack, it allowed him to land an immediate counter.

The Mountain anticipated an attack, but yet again, Shirou did something out of the ordinary. Stepping within reach of him, the magus swerved, dashing to the side and avoiding him completely.

The two locked eyes. Shirou's face gave nothing away from his action.

He continued running away, forcing The Mountain to give chase once more.

To say that The Mountain was puzzled would be putting it lightly. He couldn't make sense of what exactly the silver-haired Player was up to.

'Why did he not shoot that arrow? Even at that distance, it wasn't like he would be caught in the explosion. He could've easily used it to damage me and make me use the last of my regen skills. Now, he's running away even when he can already take me on in a straight-up fight… Is he just playing it extremely cautiously, or is he trying to buy time as well to come up with a proper plan of attack?'

His mind tried to rationalize Shirou's bizarre actions, only to fall short as their fight devolved into him passively fleeing while keeping The Mountain just out of arm's reach.

Why was he constantly running? Why didn't he employ his powerful abilities? Was it because he didn't have the opportunity with The Mountain hot on his trail? Or, was it because he couldn't?

These questions were shared by not only The Mountain but also those watching.

Many in the audience voiced their displeasure at the sudden direction of the fight. They clamored in their seats, demanding some real action instead of the farce in front of them.

Not even Ainz Ooal Gown was spared from the confusion of Shirou's odd strategy. One that sparked contemplation and discussion over their friend's out-of-the-blue strategy.

"Just what the heck is he doing?" Sigfrida said. "Is he trying to stall out the clock or something?"

They watched as the holographic screens captured the fight, which turned into a game of cat and mouse. Shirou ran and maneuvered around The Mountain, keeping close but constantly out of reach. Occasionally, arrows peppered him, kicking up small explosions, but that did little against the goliath.

Her eyes drifted, catching the sight of Peroroncino sitting cozily in his seat.

"Hey." The Valkyrie nudged her boyfriend. "Do you have any idea what Emiya-san has planned?" She inquired, hoping that her boyfriend might have a clue.

Peroroncino chuckled smugly.

"I haven't the slightest clue!" He declared with an almost comical level of confidence.

Sigfrida and the others around her who leaned in to hear Peroroncino's insight looked at him in silence.

"That's not something you should be proud of…" Sigfrida deadpanned.

The avian Heteromorph shrugged, laid back as he could be.

"Honestly, this ain't the first time Emiya-senpai has done something weird or unorthodox, and it's doubtful it'll be the last time we see him doing so."

"But aren't you confused or curious?"

"Oh, without a doubt." He nodded. "I wasn't kidding when I said I had literally no clue what Emiya-senpai got planned. If anything, it makes it more fun and interesting to see what else he'll pull off!"

"Then shouldn't you be a bit worried that he might lose?"

"He won't."

Peroroncino's answer was immediate.

"Trust me, he won't. If I've learned anything about senpai over the years, it's that he has quite a competitive streak. Whatever he's planning, it's with victory in mind. No matter how strange or convoluted. So rather than worrying about what's what, why not just sit back and enjoy the show?"

Sigfrida mulled over his words.

She was no stranger to hearing her boyfriend's praise for the man. Although Sigfrida couldn't claim to know Shirou very well, it was the exact opposite when it came to Peroroncino. She knew when her boyfriend was bold and exaggerated and when he was cool and assured, even if the two would often intertwine.

Here, there was no doubt within him. This confidence wasn't born of our favoritism or arrogance, but rather of trust.

Trust in the man who instructed him. Trust in the friend who has supported him. A trust in Shirou Emiya.

A sentiment that was shared among the rest of Ainz Ooal Gown. Their questions settled, soothed by Perorocino's words.

It was as the golden archer said, they could speculate all they wished, but it was only when the match reached its conclusion that Shirou's action revealed their purpose.

And so they sat back and watched, waiting for the finale that was to come.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"What's the matter?! You were talking all that good shit before, yet now ya' running like a bitch! Too scared to fight The Mountain again like a man?!" The Mountain called out mockingly, having regained some of his earlier confidence.

Despite his best efforts, his words failed to get a rise out of Shirou. It only garnered a casual glance back as he answered with a spray of arrows.

The Mountain growled, his aggravation building and reaching a fever's peak, as for the last odd minutes, it has been nothing but chase and stall for ad nauseam.

He likened it to a game of tag, one that the archer showed exceptional skill at as he kept a steady tempo, running and zigzagging across the scorching desert field. Shirou was no stranger to sudden tricks, using feints and employing sudden heel-turn maneuvers to throw The Mountain off. This forced him to hasten to keep up the pace with the fleet-footed Player.

Shirou would occasionally fire from his bow, despite the futility of his attack being shown over and over again. By this point, The Mountain had opted to ignore them entirely. He'd gotten over his wariness over those spiral missiles of his, seeing as how he wasn't going to use them anytime soon at the pace they were going.

"Looks like you were all talk after all! Big bad Player Killer, running away with his tail between his legs. Weren't you going to make me eat my words? Well?! I'm waiting!"

Derision spewed freely from his tongue like a lunging viper, hoping to latch onto its prey. The colossal Player had hoped to annoy him, make him angry, or bait him into doing something, anything, but to no avail.

Shirou remained tight-lipped and nimble, always a step ahead of the Mountain, constantly just out of his reach, no matter his effort. That was perhaps what aggravated him the most. Every time he got close, he would be outmaneuvered, and the weapon spamming Player would glance over his shoulder at the brawler.

To The Mountain, he was all but mocking him, as if to say, "You can't catch me!"

The longer the chase continued, the more impatient he became.

The mountainous Player's attacks grew restless, his pursuit sloppier as he gave himself up to blindly catching him. Attacking wasn't his goal anymore. All that mattered was getting his hands on him.

"How about you save everyone the trouble and just do the dignified thing and stand still so I can kill you and win already?!"

The magus glanced at him. He could feel the frustration seeping in and anger boiling off of him at the cowardly strat.

The air was filled with his angry shouts. With how much he was shouting, it was a surprise that his voice hadn't given out yet.

"IT SEEMS EMIYA IS IN QUITE THE PICKLE. HE'S BEEN DOING NOTHING BUT RUNNING AND SHOOTING, BUT HIS ARROWS HAVE BEEN DOING DIDDLY-SQUAT! JUST WHAT THE HELL IS HE UP TO?!"

"I can't help but concur. Despite the versatility he's shown in the beginning, it seems as if Emiya is playing the waiting game. Perhaps the exchange we saw before spooked him, and he's choosing instead to employ a safer alternative?"

"WELL, WHATEVER HE'S PLANNING, I HOPE HE'D HURRY IT UP! WE GOT OTHER MATCHES TO LOOK FORWARD TO."

'I'd say he's good and riled.' Shirou thought, dodging another attack and evading The Mountain's grab as a loud and inappropriate curse followed him.

Feigning weakness, his leaps grew shorter and his dodges less refined. Gradually and noticeably, the gap between them shortened. Something that The Mountain instantly latched onto as he closed in on him.

The Mountain figured that weariness must be settling in, similar to himself. He already felt a sense of mental exhaustion creeping in and a growing headache throbbing from how long the match dragged on.

Exactly as Shirou planned.

'It's high time I end this dog and pony show.' The Mountain thought with a vindictive smile, rushing forward with renewed vigor.

He had already burned through much of his cache of skills throughout the match, far more than he'd liked. He still had to think about his future matches, after all.

The Mountain's prediction paid off as he appeared, towering over the weapon-spamming Player and cutting off his escape route.

"[Heavy Impact], [Bala]!" He struck with a powerful right hook following the activation of his first skill and timing it correctly in conjunction with his second skill, adding more striking power to it as [Heavy Impact] and [Bala] struck Shirou point-blank.

The Mountain grinned, savoring the satisfying sensation of knockback in his fist behind the hit.

Just before contact, Shirou threw up his left arm to defend, taking the brunt of the attack. Reinforcement helped to mitigate the damage taken, but his arm was left bruised and limp from the direct attack. With a boom, he was sent flying, careening backward.

Despite the pain, he didn't scream and managed to right himself before landing on his feet.

He was back at the ruins.

Shirou had led them right back to where they were before, and The Mountain was none the wiser.

"Rargh!"

With a battle cry, he flourished his uninjured arm in a wide arc, his magic circuits ablaze with fervent energy. The very air seemed to ignite with an otherworldly luminescence as a tempest of vibrant neon lightning burst forth from magus. Dozens upon dozens of swords materialized, filling the air with an army's worth of sharp, glinting steel. Interspersed among the sea of steel were a handful of scarlet spears, no more than two dozen in total. The blazing glare of the sun reflected softly off the resplendent shaft of Gáe Dearg, casting burning rays of scarlet across the battlefield.

[Gáe Dearg: Crimson Rose of Exorcism - Divine Tier Spear]

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne's second Noble Phantasm, much like its golden-yellow counterpart, possessed an altered function in addition to its original ability within YGGDRASIL. Not only could it sever any magical enhancements or projections of the target.

The same applies to enchantment skills.

It also had added the effect of halting the flow of mana when struck, preventing any form of immediate counterattack that involved spells or magic. Should a Player be struck by Gáe Dearg while attempting to cast a spell or just before the casting, not only would the spell be canceled, but the MP cost for the spell would be wasted as well. Furthermore, they were also unable to use any form of magic for a few short seconds.

Gáe Dearg was a nightmare of a weapon for mages to fight against, as the likes of Momonga and Ulbert could attest firsthand. Both it and Rule Breaker were banned from being used in casual duels in the guild due to how unfair they were.

While The Mountain wasn't a mage, Gáe Dearg would serve just as effective.

A bid of panic seized The Mountain at the raw display of power, his blue, glowing eyes catching the distortion in his opponent.

[Mana Sight] was a skill that showed the target's MP, identically to the spell [Mana Essence]. It was what he used at the beginning and kept using throughout the fight to gauge and keep track of the Player Killer's MP.

It was thanks to this skill that he noticed the significant drop in his opponent's MP. He figured that the armada of swords was a last-ditch effort.

'He barely has enough to make that troublesome spiral arrow again.' The Mountain noted, his victory feeling secured by the second.

With a war cry of his own, The Mountain met the challenge head-on.

Shirou's projections fired forth, not all at once, but a steady stream of steel as Gáe Dearg flew one by one amidst them. Gáe Dearg sliced through the orange desert and arid sky, leaving behind a trail of scarlet light that shimmered like a mirage come to life.

"[Heavy Metal]!" Instantly, a metallic sheen washed over the Player, his skin taking on a metallic chrome color, followed by a multitude of other enchantment skills and buffs.

The Mountain brought up his fists, swatting and punching the incoming projectiles out of the air. Unlike their predecessors, these projectiles did not detonate upon impact. Instead, they were meant to serve as a diversion. The crimson tips of the legendary spear were unable to fully penetrate the Mountain's impenetrable steel skin, but each one of them struck true. Had the brawling goliath been a bit more attentive, he might have noticed the subtle discoloration that washed over his avatar with each piercing blow. However, swept up by his eagerness to emerge victorious, his impatience and battle frenzy consumed him, making him have tunnel vision for a victory that was well within his grasp.

A conclusion made all the more evident by the fact that his quarry didn't bother running or escaping like before. The magus stood there as if welcoming him.

The Mountain grinned viciously, all too eager to finally bring this match to a close.

Shirou waited, his body relaxing and his posture straightening out, ready to meet the charging giant. He inhaled and let out a steady breath.

The very moment the brawler set foot on the outskirts of the ruin, he snapped his finger.

The swords he had projected earlier and scattered across the ground lit up and detonated. Both they and their surroundings were engulfed in a wild storm of sand and debris. With his vision suddenly blinded by a whirlwind of sand, The Mountain staggered and veered off course, his fist striking nothing but air.

He tumbled slightly, recovering quickly.

Although the thick coat of dust hindered his vision, through narrowed eyes, he caught a faint flicker of light within the sand storm. It clued him in on Shirou's position, and he continued his blitz fearlessly, regardless of the condition.

Shirou's silhouette became more defined as the distance between them shortened, enough for him to act.

"[Inner Discipline], [Power Draw], [Charge Force], [Boost Durability], and [Titan's Rush]!"

With a final burst of skills, The Mountain put everything into his shoulder charge, blue pulsating energy wreathed around him as he barreled towards his opponent.

'Gotcha ya!'

His smirk widened, only for it to freeze as the veil of sand receded to reveal what awaited him.

Shirou confronted him, wielding some kind of great weapon in his hands. It was a weapon that was unlike any that came before it. It took the form of a large stone sword-axe with a wicked bladed edge like a butcher's knife. The weapon looked ostentatious and crude, nearly twice in length as the wielder's own height.

A split-second hesitation overtook The Mountain before his mind rationalized it. There was no way the silver-haired Player could swing such an unwieldy weapon in time. Especially one that looked more in place in the hands of a [Warlord] or a [Highlander] class, Players with the appropriate strength stats and job classes needed to wield it properly. Furthermore, The Mountain's skills and attack were already active, and he was a second away from tackling the man into oblivion. And, even in the unlikely scenario he was to somehow get his swing in, The Mountain was confident that his own attack would surpass Shirou's and cave in his body first, thus negating the Player Killer's pitiful attempt. Additionally, he was practically at full health, with several enhancement buffs and skills still in effect, making it highly unlikely that he would suffer any significant damage even if the attack landed.

That was right. It was imposs-!

The gazes of the two combatants met, their eyes locked in a final moment of intensity.

It would be here where The Mountain's eyes caught something awaiting him. A glimpse of something - something more, something greater - standing before the Player.

The Mountain was large, and with him looming over Shirou and his shockwave tackle ready to make contact, he appeared all the grander in size.

Yet, he was dwarfed by what he saw.

A towering figure, not just in terms of height but presence, awaited him.

A true warrior.

A true hero stood before him.

A pair of golden eyes flashed, swiftly followed by a flash of golden amber and steelish silver.

"[Trigger Off. Set - Nine Lives Blade Work: Shooting The Hundred Heads]!"

One moment he had his eyes on Shirou, dead to rights, and the very next, all The Mountain could see was the sky.

'W-what…?' His mind conjured.

Indeed, The Mountain did get his skill off first.

However, Shirou's was faster.

Just as The Mountain reached him, Shirou delivered all nine earth-rending slashes at godspeed simultaneously, chopping through the gargantuan Player's attack and defenses. His body scattered into eight pieces. The sheer intensity of his attack radiated outward, dispelling the swirling maelstrom of sand that surrounded them. Nine deep scars stretched across the barren ground, a testament to his power.

Cracks spread across the dismembered pieces of The Mountain's body before shattering into polygons all around him, leaving only the projection magus remaining.

Shirou let out a single, tremendous breath. At the same time, the world around him cracked, giving away, and in a blink, he was back in the stadium again.

With a small show, he swung Nine Lives around and rested it on his shoulder, basking in the moment with a small smirk. He stood with his head held high, victorious for all to see.

There was nothing but silence for the first few seconds before the world exploded into noise, louder and greater than ever seen before. A medley of cheering, incoherent shouting, turbulent questioning, all manner of curses, and everything in between filled the air. The amalgamation of noises was so immense that it echoed not just within the stadium but throughout the entire expanse of Und Ljósinn, and possibly even beyond. The ground beneath him seemed to shake, resembling the tremors of an earthquake.

"HOLY SHIT! WHAT A TURNAROUND!"

"I-indeed. It would seem that Emiya is more resourceful than he may appear." Sam joined in, his voice in equal parts disbelief and excitement following his co-analyst.

"WELL, THEY DON'T CALL HIM THE PLAYER KILLER FOR NOTHING! AND HERE I THOUGHT THE FIRST ROUND WAS GOING TO BE A SNOOZEFEST! HAHAHA! NOW THAT'S HOW YOU KICK OFF AND END AN OPENING MATCH! CHOCK ANOTHER NAME TO THE LIST, FOR IT SEEMS THAT THIS MOUNTAIN CRUMBLED AFTER ALL. THE WINNER OF THE FIRST ROUND GOES TO EMIYA!"

"Woah…" Sigfrida muttered breathlessly as she reclined back from the edge of her seat.

Several of the holographic screens replayed key moments in the match, each one ending with Shirou's climatic finisher from different angles of the fight. The noise refused to die down even as the two analysts exchanged insight and intrigue over the match. Heavy debate passed between them and the audience, with each trying their best to solve the mystery and discover the answer to what they just saw.

She gently tugged at her boyfriend's arm, her eyes still affixed to the replays. A burning question of 'how' lingered within her mind.

"Hmm? What's up, babe?" Peroroncino turned to her.

"How'd he do it?" Sigfrida asked him. "How'd he pull something like that just out of nowhere?!"

"What do you mean? I once explained it to you before, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but with the way you told me, I assumed he could only make arrows, swords, and whatever else. Reasonable stuff. That giant 'fuck-you' axe-sword thing that can one-shot someone is kind of another story!"

"Oh, that…" The golden archer trailed off before shrugging. "It's one of Emiya-senpai's trump cards. You'll be shocked at just how many of those he got hiding under his sleeve. Slipped my mind, I guess."

Sigfrida pouted, relenting without any further issue. However, that led to a whole other question.

"But wait, if he had such an ace up his sleeve this entire time, why didn't he use it sooner? What was the whole point of wasting so much time on that goose chase? He could've ended the match at any time he wanted." She pointed this out.

Questions shared by not just her but many others as well. Why did Shirou delay the match for as long as he did when he had the means to end it this whole time?

Before Peroroncino could reply, her question was answered by another.

"Because the right opportunity didn't present itself."

The two glanced over their shoulders, finding that it was Momonga who answered. The necromancer realized that he must have spoken out of turn as he quickly tried to apologize, only for Peroroncino to gesture to his Guildmaster, giving him the go-ahead.

"As I said, it wasn't the right time. As we all saw, throughout the beginning, it was Mountain-san that remained dominant, but the moment Emiya-san switched onto the offensive, it was he that was left reeling. Seeing the raw damage Emiya-san was able to deliver, no doubt put him on high alert. He would be a fool not to be cautious, especially when he was against Emiya-san's unknowable arsenal. You are correct in that it's powerful, but Emiya-san couldn't afford to use it so early or haphazardly, not when Mountain-san was overly weary of what else he could pull out. There was a possibility that it might not have taken him out in one go, or maybe he caught Emiya-san's intention due to his prior weariness. He couldn't afford to tip his hand far too early."

"Ok… But that still doesn't quite answer why the heck he decided to stall out the fight for so long." Destana chimed in from Momonga's side.

"In a PvP matchup, a fight isn't determined by who has the strongest spells or skills, or whose build is better, or even who has the better stats and can do the most damage." Bukubukuchagama added, taking over from Momonga.

"There's an ebb and flow to it, a push and pull, action and reaction. You can even liken it to a dance. One needs not to be solely stronger than their opponent but also smarter and more cunning. It's not about who can land the most powerful attack first or deal the most damage. If that were the case, then he would've spammed those spiral arrows of his. Instead, he took a step back, assessed the situation and planned out his next move. As Momonga-san said, he couldn't afford to tip his hand too early. You can think of it in terms of Super-Tier Magic. They're crazy strong, capable of one-shotting a Player, but you don't see everyone begin with a move like that every time. It comes down to knowing when to use the correct moves at the right time to deal the final blow."

"I think I get it…" Sigfrida said. "Basically, he did what he did to lure The Mountain in and set him up for his ultimate attack?"

"Precisely. After all, all warfare is based on deception." Tabula weighted in, drawn into the growing discussion.

"Rather than give Mountain-san any elbow room to rethink a plan of attack, Emiya-san made him play to his tune when he decided to go with the tactic that we saw. If Mountain-san didn't give chase, then Emiya-san had free reign to spam those powerful powerful spiral arrows - Caladbolg II. It forced his opponent to move, lest he suffer any further catastrophic damage by his hands. On top of that, Mountain-san's caution against those powerful spiral arrows was well warranted throughout their match. That was perhaps why he used and showed it off so often, making Mountain-san focus on that over everything else. A thing to note was that he kept what he was capable of creating to a minimum. It was as to why Emiya-san's trump card - Nine Lives Blade Work - worked so well as a finisher."

"Ahhh." Destana let out an understanding sound, with Sigfrida nodding along.

To a newbie like Sigfrida, and even to a casual Player like Destana, the intricacies of PvP remained a complex discussion as they didn't have much experience when it came to that aspect of the game. However, they were able to follow along thanks to the guild member's helpful explanation and came to better understand the magus's method.

Those within Ainz Ooal Gown knew Shirou's build and abilities were fundamentally unconventional. It was this ambiguity and versatility that made him so dangerous. None, be they a newbie or a veteran, could actively ascertain the exact scopes and limits of his projections.

An archer who was capable of firing arrows and launching exploding swords in addition to wielding small-bladed weapons? Extraordinary, but far from impossible.

Pulling out a disabling lance and two heavy-hitting clubs? That was certainly stretching it, but within the realm of possibility.

But a large and raw weapon that was capable of dropping a Player like The Mountain with all his defense was something so ludicrous no one would think possible on the first go.

Tabula had seen Touch Me be on the receiving end of Nine Lives Blade Work once. As he later shared with the Brain Eater, from firsthand experience, it was near impossible to avoid or defend against, even if one knew what it was capable of.

The skill, or technique, as it would be appropriately called, was devastatingly powerful and insanely quick, to the point of instantaneous. It rivaled the ultimate warrior skill [World Break] in terms of instant power and damage values. The trade-off was it relatively short effective range. Shirou resolved this issue by devising a scenario where The Mountain came to him instead of the other way around.

"It was a well constructed gambit. By switching it up and fighting the way he did, he gave the illusion that it was his only option available to him. And by putting focus on those specific spiral arrows and running away, resulting in the roundabout chase sequence, Emiya-san effectively imprinted the idea that it was his main trump card. Hence, why he switched to using strictly his bow in the latter portion of the match, despite the results from the previous beatdown against Mountain-san." Tabula quickly delved in.

"Indeed. To him, it was unthinkable that Emiya-san would possess another potential weapon that could match him head-on and overpower him. Especially one that could one-shot him. A narrative he spun by abandoning to engage in further close-quarter combat for a seemingly safer alternative. And so he bided his time, setting up the board. A process that was helped further along by Mountain-san's growing impatience, a purposeful act to rile him up, which helped blind him to Emiya-san's true goal." Punitto Moe contributed, the PK & PKK Chief Strategist nodding in approval of his guildmate's tactic.

"By the end, he created a false sense of security for him, and when he saw what was perceived as a moment of weakness and an opening on Emiya-san's part…"

"The dumb fucker ran right into it without a second thought." Ulbert finished, rousing some bemusement from the others.

The World Disaster grunted. It served to remind him of a memory. Years ago, Shirou and Ulbert had a duel. The reasoning behind their match was lost on him and ultimately unimportant. For much of the match, it was Ulbert that remained dominant, keeping the projection user at bay with a flurry of destructive spells, yet he could never score a critical hit. The longer their fight endured, the more restless he grew. It culminated in where the magus had purposely left himself open, and as the magic caster readied his ultimate attack, he was defeated in an instant.

Ulbert could still remember the sting of defeat even after Shirou had taken the time to explain his strategy and review the fight with him. A defeat he resolved to himself to never endure again.

Seeing it repeated brought both a sense of sharp satisfaction and begrudging acknowledgment from him.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

With the other World Champions, they too shared in the audience's astonishment and excitement. Touch Me remained as he was. Though his face was hidden behind a helm, the others could feel the smugness radiating from the paladin.

"Seems like we might've spoken a bit too early, Touch Me-san." LichtKing said, a timbre of excitement in his voice after what they just saw.

"My only complaint is that the second half turned into such a borefest until the end. I mean, I was expecting a bombastic fight and crazy shit like what he showed off earlier." Duskindal slumped in his seat.

Elementum V patted the assassin's shoulder, an understanding looking emoticon appearing over him.

While boring, none would fault the man for resorting to the strategy that he employed. The point of the matches was to win, to determine who was better and who was more worthy. In the end, it was Shirou who won and The Mountain that lost.

"No need to mope, Duskindal-san. It's only the first match. The tournament is only just beginning, and he'll have plenty of chances to wow you and show off just what he's capable of in the matches to come." Touch Me assured.

Duskindal perked up, eager for what was to come. "I'll hold you to that, Touch Me-san."

Touch Me smiled. Before turning back, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

"So, what do you think, Luciferno-san? I'd say he has shown he's more than a bag full of tricks, wouldn't you say?"

Touch Me's question earned the attention of the others as the rest of the World Champions turned to their final seated member in his little corner. Where before he sat slouched and bored in his seat, here he sat upright, his posture leaning forward and giving the slightest hint of intrigue following the conclusion of the match. A far cry from his usual dismissive attitude.

The World Champion of Múspellsheim threw Touch Me a sideways glare.

"Whatever…" Luciferno grunted before going back to ignoring everyone.

A reaction that drew silent amusement from the rest, especially Touch Me.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Dismissing Nine Lives, he turned and walked back to the entranceway. Halfway across, he spotted his friends standing and waving passionately, trying to see if they could catch his attention.

They did.

He waved back in thanks, with some of the members of Ainz Ooal Gown jumping for clear joy, earning a soft chuckle from the magus.

'One down, many more to go…' He thought.

The 9th World Champion Tournament was just getting started.

Chapter 13 - The 9th World Champion Tournament III

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Beta'd: Dante Evans

Chapter 13 - The 9th World Champion Tournament III

The noise refused to die down as the very walls of the stadium vibrated, and they weren't going to stop any time soon.

In contrast, Shirou's return to the lobby was marked by silence and stares from the rest of the competitors.

"Yo!" Warrior Takemikazuchi came from behind, slinging his arm around the magus's shoulder and bringing him in close. His boisterous laughter echoed throughout the hall. "Ha-ha! Not going to lie, I was a bit worried for ya' during the last half of the fight, but I knew you had a plan and an ace up your sleeve. Never doubted you for a second, Emiya-san!"

"I would hope not; otherwise, I might've been forced to rely on you to win this whole thing, and well…"

"Oi, what's that mean, you lil' sword spammer?!"

The armored Heteromorph tightened his hold as his other hand gave the magus a good-fashioned noogie. The two struggled, laughing all the while.

The other Players watched on with silent, judging looks, but the two friends paid them little mind.

Shirou broke free of the samurai's hold, his eyes scouring the waiting lounge.

The hallway area was quite spacious, with ample seating and a generous amount of room for the contestants to relax. However, the majority of the fighters chose to keep to themselves, positioning themselves far away from others, standing with their backs against a wall, or sitting down with their watchful eyes alert to anyone around them. Shirou found the prevailing mood within the waiting wing to be excessively somber and fraught with tension, even for a competitive tournament such as the World Champion Tournament.

Shirou felt a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him from his thoughts.

"C'mon, let's find a spot to park our butts down for a bit and get comfortable. It's going to be a good five minutes before the next round starts."

"A five-minute intermission? Why so long?"

Warrior Takemikazuchi shrugged.

"Hell, if I know. I don't make the rules."

With a small frown, Shirou took a step forward. A grimace flickered as a dull ache flared up in his left arm where The Mountain had struck him during the match. When the match concluded, all the damage and injuries sustained disappeared, but even at full health, the pain lingered, his body remembering the pain that was still all too real for him. He flexed his fingers, spying a quiet, empty seat out of the corner of his vision.

Shirou quietly made his way over. His guildmate joined him, and the two sat in silence. A small sigh escaped him as he leaned back and made himself comfortable. On one of the many viewing holographic screens, the two analysts continued their commentary on the previous fight while segwaying into the next match.

As he sat there, the world around him slowly turned into white noise. His eyelids grew heavy, and for a moment he allowed them to close, figuring a short rest wouldn't hurt.

And so, all was quiet.

"Emiya-senpai…"

Shirou jolted, his eyes snapping open. He was sitting in the living room at the table. He blinked, looking around, expecting a certain golden archer, only to see Sakura coming from the kitchen and carrying a small tray of food.

Shirou made to get up, but a strained pain shot through his arm, stopping him. Looking down, he saw his arm lightly wrapped in bandages.

Brows knitted in confusion as to how or when he got hurt.

Ah, he remembered now…

He had accidentally injured his arm during practice, and Sakura offered to cook for him, and he agreed.

His kouhai made her way to the table, a small, happy smile gracing her lips as she set the table. Taiga was already seated, helping and hurrying it along so as to feed her voracious appetite. Saber softly chided the school teacher for her decorum. Meanwhile, Rin watched on with a bemused look, shaking her head at the two of them.

Shirou blinked. When did they get here…?

Sakura sat next to him and helped to feed him, despite his insistence that he could do it on his own.

She wouldn't take no for an answer, and so he relented. Shirou sat there with a light, embarrassed blush as Sakura fed him her homemade porridge, smiling and preening with every spoonful. Taiga helped herself to a healthy serving of food while finding the time to snicker their way. Rin dined cordially as ever, but he could see her peeking at them from the corner of her eye. Even Saber smiled warmly at the sight while fighting with the Tiger of Fuyuki over the lion's share of the food.

They ate and made merry, laughing and talking.

They talked for hours…

Or was it minutes…?

It didn't matter. He was content to bask in the moment with each other.

"Emiya-senpai."

Sakura called to him.

He turned to look at her. She smiled, but she was also crying.

Shirou blinked.

He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong. Why was she crying? Only, nothing came.

He noticed as well that it was only them.

Where did Saber, Rin, and Taiga go?

"Wake up, Shirou…"

"Em… Em… Emi… Emiya-san!"

With a gasp, Shirou jolted awake at the call of his name, jumping to his feet, only for a comforting hand to stop him. Wide, dichromatic eyes darted around, trying to find traces of those familiar, pleasant purple locks.

"Woah, easy, I got you." Warrior Takemikazuchi held on to the magus as he slowly regained his senses.

Shirou said nothing, trying to control his breathing and beating heart. A hand gripped his chest. It was just a dream.

A figment of his imagination that his mind conjured.

Nothing more…

Right?

"I-Is… something the matter?" He said, regaining his voice.

"I think I should be asking you that. You've been knocked out cold for practically the entire first round."

"Are you saying I slept through all the matches of the first round?!" Shirou's eyes widened, and panic seized his heart at the news. "W-wait! What about your match?"

"The last match ended not too long ago. My match is starting in just a bit. I exactly wouldn't be here to be your alarm if I'd already lost." Warrior Takemikazuchi joked before getting serious.

"You were out like a light. I tried waking you a few times, but nothing worked. It was like you were dead to the world or something. You were also muttering something, but I could barely make it out."

Hearing all of this, Shirou swallowed. He could feel his friend's frown and worry wafting off of him in spades.

Inwardly, Warrior Takemikazuchi was starting to think that Touch Me might've been onto something back on the 8th Floor.

"Emiya-san, tell it straight, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He defaulted.

"Shirou…" His fellow weapon enthusiast gave the faker a poignant look, worry threaded in his tone. His grip on his shoulder tightened in concern. They'd already done this whole song and dance before, and he'd rather not have a repeat.

Shirou opened his mouth, only for a sigh to leave it. A hand rose, nursing his face as he collected his thoughts.

"I'm not too sure what to call it. When I close my eyes, I just… drift away. Sometimes I dream, other times I get these flashes, and for some I blank the time away."

"Is this something serious?"

Shirou offered a helpless shrug.

"It comes and goes…"

Before Warrior Takemikazuchi could ask any further questions, an announcement played.

"Will the contestant, Warrior Takemikazuchi, please make his way to the entrance? I repeat, contestant Warrior Takemikazuchi, make your way to the entrance for your match or you will be disqualified."

The two guildmates shared a look.

"We're seriously going to talk about this once this whole thing is over."

Shirou reluctantly nodded.

As Warrior Takemikazuchi turned to leave for his match, Shirou gave him one last regard.

"Good luck in your match."

Warrior Takemikazuchi turned back to his friend. "Who needs luck when you have skill?" He replied, his bravado returning.

Shirou couldn't help but smile at his friend's confidence.

The two friends exchanged claps as Warrior Takemikazuchi headed off to the arena.

Once he was out of sight, Shirou allowed himself a moment to sigh. He slouched in his seat, his hand rubbing his forehead to ease the residual grogginess.

Shirou felt fatigued, unusually so - more than what was expected. He didn't take that as a good sign, considering the tournament was only just beginning. The magus was left uncertain as to where such tiredness came from, whether it be from the emotionally charged talk with Zelretch, the stress of the upcoming matches, the tournament itself, or perhaps all of the above.

Some part of him whispered in his ears, urging him to find a nice, cozy spot and sleep the day or week away.

That's right… Rest… No more doubt, no more worries. Let all your troubles disappear…

The magus shook his head and slapped his cheeks.

Rest would come later. Right now, there was something more important.

He tuned back in time as the shoutcasters announced the last match-up.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"AFTER SEVERAL GRUELING AND WILD MATCHES, IT'S FINALLY TIME FOR THE FINAL MATCH OF THE FIRST ROUND! AND WHAT A MATCH UP WE HAVE HERE TODAY FOLKS!"

"Indeed! Marking his third foray into the World Champion Tournament, this Player nearly took home the championship title last time. Now, here he comes again. The question is, will he be able to succeed where he once failed, or will he fall before he even has a chance to begin?!"

"HE EMBODIES THE SAMURAI CODE OF IKKEN HISSATSU - ONE STRIKE, ONE KILL! HOWEVER, WILL IT BE ENOUGH TO EARN HIM VICTORY IN THIS TOURNAMENT OF CHAMPIONS?! HE IS THE ONI OF DESTRUCTION, THE MONSTROUS BUSHIDO… LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I PRESENT TO YOU THE ONE AND ONLY WARRIOR TAKEMIKAZUCHI - THE MASTER OF NO SECOND STRIKES!

From the smoke and fireworks, Warrior Takemikazuchi made his grand entrance, following the shoutcaster's explosive introductions.

Warrior Takemikazuchi - Lvl: 100 - [No Second Strikes]

Warrior Takemikazuchi walked towards the arena with his head held high and confidence radiating with every step. He raised a clenched fist to the air as he strode forward. The roar of the crowd surrounded him, a chaotic mix of cheers and boos that he absorbed in equal stride.

"Wow, Takemikazuchi-san sure is popular." Suratan commented, seeing the support thrown his way in comparison to Shirou.

Where Ainz Ooal Gown's sole Humanoid member received mostly boos, the reception for Warrior Takemikazuchi was more evenly split between positive and negative. A surprise, considering most of the Demi-Human and Heteromorphic competitors received a slightly more negative reception from the stadium's audience.

"Hmm? Oh, that's right, you joined a little bit later, so you wouldn't have known." Tabula muttered, catching Suratan's attention.

"Huh? Whatcha mean, Tabula-san?"

"Takemikazuchi-san used to be quite the popular figure in the tournament and PvP scene. He got quite the renown and reputation, especially when he got to the finals of his World Champion Tournament. He slowly stopped participating in tournaments when Ainz Ooal Gown made its debut, dedicating himself to the guild from then on." Said the Brain Eater, surprising his guildmate with that tidbit.

Standing in the arena, Warrior Takemikazuchi brandished Takemikazuchi MK 7. He planted his sword in front of him, his hands resting on the pommel of his mighty weapon as he stared ahead.

"WARRIOR TAKEMIKAZUCHI IS RARING TO GO! HOWEVER, WHILE HE MAY BE A MONSTER ON THE BATTLEFIELD, WILL IT BE ENOUGH? FOR WHAT IS A MONSTER TO A MACHINE?!"

"A first-time contender in this tournament of champions, and yet, here he is. He has fought in several tournaments and competition, but has never made the cut. Until now! The question is, does he have what it takes to win it all or he will fall to the samurai's blade like so many before him?

HE TOO IS A MASTER OF THE BLADE, BUT WILL HIS SKILL BE ENOUGH TO FELL THIS MONSTER TODAY? LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE AUTOMATA OF DESTRUCTION, THE MECHANIZED MAYHEM, WELCOME THE WAR MACHINE, DEUS MACHINA!

With a heavy stomp, the smoke and pyrotechnics parted, revealing Warrior Takemikazuchi's opponent.

Deus Machina - Lvl: 100 - [The War Machine]

Throughout the tournament, the audience was treated to a myriad of Players, be they Humanoid, Demi-Human, or even the occasional Heteromorphs. However, unlike many of the other competitors in the tournament, the one that stepped forward wasn't a being of flesh and blood but rather a creature of steel.

Deus Machina's character model was angular and blocky, but still defined by the general humanoid outline. The avatar was entirely mechanical in nature and comprised a multitude of different parts. The closest description that could be given was as if someone took a mech from a mecha anime and downsized it.

Deus Machina boasted heavy-plated armor across the avatar's chassis. This armor was particularly concentrated around the chestplate, shoulders, and legs, giving the impression of a formidable and imposing figure. The rest of the body was muscular and bulky, further enhancing the impression of strength and power. Running along the back and concentrated in the shoulder and leg regions were vents and thrusters.

His armaments were on full display, giving a glimpse of the arsenal of destruction he wielded. Four missile pods were fitted on the Player's body, two located at the waist on each side and one on each shoulder, with each pod carrying two missile canisters, numbering eight in total. Mounted on his left hand was a three-barreled chain gun. A sheathed katana rested at his side, the sheath magnetically clipped to his waist. At the guard of the sheath, there was a trigger. Lastly, the most conspicuous addition to the roster of weapons was the long, cannon-like barrel that was segmented into three prongs that peaked over his right shoulder, with capacitors and electric coils running down the back.

Deus Machina's armor followed a grey and silver color scheme with accents of red, blue, and gold, along with paint weathering to give it a stroke of roughness. The Player's head was angular and sharp, with the forehead boasting a golden metallic V-shaped horn, one that resembled a samurai's Kabuto helmet of old. The faceplate was completely stoic, with his eye-optics being a brilliant, shining emerald.

'Deus Machina… God Machine.' Shirou mentally translated. Derived from Deus Ex Machina, no doubt.

Quite the lofty name.

The question was whether or not the Player would live up to it.

The magus first thought that the Player was using a Powered Suit. However, that didn't seem to be the case.

For starters, Powered Suits weren't viable in competitive play, with the strongest suits possessing stats equivalent to level 80 characters and were typically outperformed by Players with even Legendary grade equipment. Secondly, while Powered Suits provided a wide range of abilities, its weaknesses were several. They were classified as Full-Body Armour, which meant that it didn't stack with the Player's equipment, in addition to any items, skills, or spells that the Player could normally use being restricted when the Powered Suit was equipped. Powered Suits were useful for low-level Players, but were far too cumbersome for higher levels of play, especially in a tournament as competitive as the World Champion Tournament.

More than likely, Deus Machina was an [Automata], a playable racial class variant of [Automaton], one with a bevy of unique job classes to go with it.

They were generally known for their diverse builds, allowing Players to spec towards whatever they liked. This generalist approach allowed them to be versatile, but they do not excel at any specialty when compared to other classes or character builds.

From what he remembered hearing from Amanomahitotsu and Perororoncino, the build and play style were added to YGGDRASIL in the same expansion that introduced the Power Suit into the game following the rising interest of the Valkyrie's Downfall expansion pack that came before it.

Despite YGGDRASIL being predominantly a game with a high fantasy setting, the developers introduced more sci-fi elements into the game over the years to attract more people into playing. Powered Suits and the like were added during the time when mecha fighting games were growing in popularity, and the developers wanted to cash in on the trend and draw in people from that player base as well. This was a strategy that sort of worked out, as while the community for them remains quite niche, they still constitute one of the most dedicated groups in the player base.

'A powerful all-rounder versus an hyper-offensive specialist.' Touch Me thought, watching from the World Champion seat.

Within the arena, the two Players remained where they stood, each sizing up the other with a calculated gaze as the roar of the audience urged them on.

Warrior Takemikazuchi said nothing; instead, he took a step forward. Seeing this, Deus Machina quietly did the same.

The two Players walked forward and stopped within arm's reach of each other.

Standing face-to-face, a comparison could be drawn between the two fighters. Deus Machina rivaled Warrior Takemikazuchi in bulk and stature, with the Bujin edging slightly over the War Machine in height thanks to his horns.

They were like two mighty titans, their presence filling the arena and thickening the tension.

With such close proximity, the audience was curious to see what would happen next.

Before each match, following the introductions of the fighters, there was a brief interlude where the Players could speak with their opponent.

Throughout the first round, this pre-fight period involved all manner of trash talk from the Players. Everything from biting insults to over-the-top boasts. There was even one match where the Players got physical before their match even started.

The two remained silent, and for a while, it seemed as if they were going to keep it that way. However, it was Warrior Takemikazuchi who made the first move and broke the tension.

"Let's have ourselves a good match."

Warrior Takemikazuchi held out his hand.

Deus Machina glanced at the hand before returning his gaze back to Warrior Takemikazuchi.

"Likewise, and may the best Player win."

The two fighters exchanged handshakes, a sense of mutual respect passing between the two swordsmen as they walked their way back to their spots.

"What a refreshing degree of sportsmanship between Warrior Takemikazuchi and Deus Machina." Said Sam.

Many in the audience grumbled, feeling a bit disappointed that they wouldn't see anything interesting or exciting. Nevertheless, the feeling passed as a new excitement was about to take place next.

"WELL, WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY, LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED! LET THE FINAL MATCH OF THE FIRST ROUND BEGIN!" Bob exclaimed, and the audience's roars joined in.

Light bloomed from the arena floor. Both competitors kept their gaze locked on their opponent, even as their world gave way to blinding white light.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

The light receded, and Warrior Takemikazuchi blinked, taking in the new reality around him.

He was standing on top of the roof of a building. Down below, the wide, open street stretched onward. A hub of urban landscapes greeted him. Everywhere he looked, there were buildings, low and high-rise buildings, and shops. Far in the distance, he could see the outline of towering skyscrapers, creating a beautiful contrast against the clear blue sky. The closest comparison he could give was that it resembled Shibuya in its general layout, with its open maze-like streets.

The sun was out in full force, its warm rays illuminating everything in sight, with pockets of fluffy clouds drifting lazily across the vast expanse of the sky.

A duel timer appeared, counting down from ten.

As the timer counted down, Warrior Takemikazuchi took in the scenery, both enjoying the quiet splendor while also committing to memory the general layout of the area.

Initially, the Heteromorphic Player found himself almost disappointed by the selection of the battlefield.

Throughout the first round, both the audience and fighters were treated to a wide range of stages that showcased the diverse environments where the matches took place. From a vast desert to a desolate snow-covered plain, to a grand underwater temple, and many more. The most unique stage he'd seen yet was a destroyed space station where the two Players had to fight it out using wreckage and debris as their ground and be constantly looking out for air bubbles to avoid taking continuous damage due to suffocation within the vacuum of outer space. Compared to all that came before, the stage for their match seemed mundane in comparison.

The fleeting feeling that he experienced was quickly replaced by a feeling of appreciation. Although not particularly extraordinary, there was a charming simplicity to the stage, one that was more down to earth in comparison to the more fantastical setting that YGGDRASIL had to offer. It was a refreshing reminder of something familiar - modern and easily recognizable.

As he looked around the downtown area, the samurai couldn't help but be reminded of his hometown, if it wasn't constantly choked by dark smog and black clouds. He could easily imagine the vibrant energy and bustling activity that would fill the streets in his mind.

A part of him wanted to step back and relax, to enjoy the sight that the stage had to offer. Unfortunately, he still had a match to win.

Warrior Takemikazuchi's eyes scanned the surroundings, finding no trace of his opponent. Such a fact would've been alarming, but the armored Heteromorph paid it no mind.

The beginning of the matches weren't always straightforward, like it was with Shirou and The Mountain's match, where they were set facing one another. A majority of them actually started the Players off in different locations, a fair distance away from one another. This setup allowed for dynamic encounters, as depending on the fighter's action, one could get the jump on the other or set up traps and encounters to get the edge over their opponent.

With a loud buzz, the timer hit zero, and Warrior Takemikazuchi was instantly on the move.

He raced across the rooftop, his powerful strides and leaps allowing him to easily cover the gaps between each building. The resounding clank of his heavy armor echoed through the air with each bound and landing, adding to the intensity of his movements.

With eyes and ears keenly attuned to his surroundings, the stalwart warrior remained ever-vigilant for any telltale signs of his mechanical adversary. Yet, a full minute elapsed without any indication of the presence of Deus Machina.

Warrior Takemikazuchi came to a halt as the buildings receded. Standing at the edge of the rooftop, he surveyed his surroundings with a watchful eye. As he peered out over the cityscape, he beheld an expansive street plaza stretching out below him. The winding roads leading to other parts of the city were lined with parked cars, their empty shells a testament to the solemn stillness that permeated the once-vibrant locale.

The streets were vibrant and open, but devoid of any signs of life. It was peaceful, but eerie. A snapshot of what it was like in the past, but if it had been meticulously scrubbed clean of anything that would suggest it had once been a bustling hub of activity, leaving behind only a sanitized, lifeless echo of its former self.

The quietness would soon be broken.

His ear twitched, catching a faint sound. A whistling in the air.

He craned his head as the noise grew louder and louder.

In the distance, he spotted a missile canister rocketing towards him.

Gripping Takemikazuchi MK 7 with both hands, Warrior Takemikazuchi prepared his skill. Before he could activate it, the canister's shell detached, unleashing a barrage of micro-missiles - fifteen to be exact - in a wide spread.

His eyes widened as the missiles flew towards him faster. He quickly forgoed his attack, jumping over the side and descending rapidly. The missiles exploded across the rooftop, sending a shower of debris everywhere.

Warrior Takemikazuchi landed on a car; the vehicle flattened from the force of his fall.

He ran across the street, his eyes alert for any more incoming ordnance. As he made his way across the crossing, another sound reverberated through the air. The blaring roar of an engine, accompanied by the sound of powerful thrust.

From the cloud of smoke, Deus Machina made his appearance. The War Machine was a sight to behold, with bright blue flames bursting from the thrusters that propelled the metal behemoth through the air.

The three-barreled chain gun hummed as it revved up. A soft whirr sung out - a melody for the buzzing cacophony.

Deus Machina fired upon Warrior Takemikazuchi. The rounds tore through the air, unleashing a storm of lead.

"[Swift Stride], [Deflection], [Bullet Evade]!"

Using a combination of skills, Warrior Takemikazuchi swung his blade as he ran, his arms going through the motion. The incoming fire was deflected, but not completely. However, thanks to his heavy armor, he took no damage besides a tiny bit of chip damage.

Warrior Takemikazuchi ran towards a car as Deus Machina circled him from above, the stream of bullets flowing ceaselessly as the mechanical Player pushed the advantage.

Reaching it, his leg stomped the trunk of the car, flipping it up as the Bujin used it as a makeshift shield.

Countless holes riddled the car, turning it quickly into Swiss cheese, with a few billets pinging off his armor. It wouldn't last, but Warrior Takemikazuchi never intended for it to.

His eyes tracked Deus Machina, mentally charting his speed and path.

His hand gripped the roof, metal creaking under his grip. He threw the ruined car into the air.

The throw wasn't accurate; it was far from it, but the sight of a hunk of metal flying towards him was enough to make Deus Machina steer off his course, avoiding it with ease. Exactly as Warrior Takemikazuchi intended.

"[Kamaitachi: Swift Wind Sickle]!"

He swung Takemikazuchi MK 7 downwards with both hands, unleashing a fast shockwave slash.

Deus Machina would show off his maneuverability as his side thrusters ignited, allowing him to perform a quick boost, dodging the attack. With another burst, he boosted forward towards his foe, his hand falling to the handle of his katana.

Warrior Takemikazuchi stood his ground.

"[Stride Breaker]!"

"[Full Strike]!"

Deus Machina crashed into Warrior Takemikazuchi, their skills clashing. Despite his best effort, the Heteromorphic Player was forced back, his feet digging into the ground, leaving deep grooves along the street as he was pushed back.

The two swordsmen locked blades in a tight embrace, their bodies pressing aggressively forward, two forces of equal strength matching and stalemating.

The high-pitched hissing vibration, accompanied by a shower of yellow and red sparks, filled the air as the blades vied for dominance.

Warrior Takemikazuchi scrutinized Deus Machina's blade, allowing him to identify the weapon.

'An HF blade!' He recognized, and a Divine class one at that.

High-frequency blades, or HF blades, as they were commonly referred to, were a category of swords that were known for their speed and high damage. In flavor text, they were weapons that made use of high-frequency vibration, hence the name. A powerful current vibrates through the blade at such intense speed that the weapon destabilizes the target's molecular bonds, allowing it to forcefully slice through anything. This special property was what attributed to the weapon's high damage value and allowed them to shred through a weapon or equipment's durability.

Balancing out their advantages, HF blades' durability was among the lowest in the game. They degrade at a faster rate than any other weapon in the game and require constant repair and maintenance. This was doubly true for the higher-tier blades and the requirements to create one.

Divine class HF blades required a substantial amount of materials and Data Crystals, more than the typical Divine class weapon or equipment. The amount of effort and resources required to make, upgrade, and maintain one to the maximum stats could be used to create two other Divine class items of equal worth.

Warrior Takemikazuchi had a couple himself, but they were Relic and Legendary class weapons only. He didn't see much point in investing in making one when his Takemikazuchi series could do the job just as easily and be less of a resource sink.

However, if one were to put in the time and effort, then it was a powerful weapon to have.

Warrior Takemikazuchi broke the stalemate, forcing Deus Machina back.

His eyes fell to his sword, immediately noticing a tiny, chipped part of the weapon's edge falling off despite only a brief initial clash.

A common tactic to use was using the HF blade to break an opponent's weapon, rendering the opponent weaponless and allowing the user to press the advantage. Despite his Takemikazuchi MK 7 being an equally Divine class weapon, Deus Machina's HF blade held a slight edge over Warrior Takemikazuchi's own blade.

Where many other Players might find themselves worried, Warrior Takemikazuchi was the exact opposite. A surge of excitement swelled within at the prospect of the foe before him.

'Then I'll just have to beat him before it becomes a problem!'

"C'mon!" He shouted. "Let's dance!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi pressed the attack, committing to a full offensive. Deus Machina followed suit.

"[Razor Edge]!"

"[Full Sabre]!"

"[Blade Rush]!"

"[Reverse Clap]!"

"[Shock Slasher]!"

"[Impact Striker]!"

"[Sword Rush]!"

"[Slash Drive]!"

The two highly skilled warriors clashed their swords furiously, releasing a barrage of powerful skills that echoed throughout the streets. The air shook with a deafening roar as crimson and golden lightning met, accompanied by the screeching of metal with each powerful exchange.

The sound of their master-crafted blades swinging with speed and ferocity filled the air, creating a pitched whistle that resonated through the surroundings.

Despite the ferocity of their duel, neither Player had landed a significant blow on the other. Occasionally, a swift slash from their opponent would clip their shoulders or bodies, but their swordsmanship and agility were nearly equal. They continued to showcase their impressive skills, executing swift slashes, tricky feints, and timely parries as they engaged in the deadly dance of the sword.

'He's good.'

That was the thought that ran through the minds of Warrior Takemikazuchi, Shirou, Touch Me, and many others.

What made Warrior Takemikazuchi truly dangerous wasn't simply his hyper-aggressive gameplay, but how he supplemented his playstyle with his exceptional skills and mastery of kenjutsu. Any amateur could swing a weapon around, but there was more to fighting beyond swinging a sword and using an attack skill to do all the work. His years of training and fighting with and against the likes of Touch Me and Shirou have honed his skills to greater heights.

The fact that Deus Machina was able to contest the Nephilim samurai spoke volumes of his own skill with the blade.

'But…'

"[Raikiri: Lightning Cutter]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi purposely left an opening, baiting his opponent in as he swung his blade. The Heteromorph performed a counter riposte, knocking the crimson katana away and landing a powerful diagonal slash with his skill across Deus Machina's chassis in one fluid motion. Sparks and wires were exposed from the gash.

'I'm better!'

The Automata faltered, taking the first significant damage since the match began, his HP dropping a fraction.

Warrior Takemikazuchi pressed the advantage, forcing Deus Machina back.

"[Circular Flash]!"

He pulled back Takemikazuchi Mk 7 and instantly swung in a circular arc.

Deus Machina swiftly boosted backwards, evading the attack completely and increasing the gap between them by a few meters.

"[Archer Missile]!"

Another missile canister fired, and the outer shell immediately fell away, dispensing its miniature payloads.

"[Supiasurīarō: Spear Three Arrow]!"

A spectral aura flowed forth from Warrior Takemikazuchi, forming a massive bow with three spectral, spear-like arrows notched.

He clenched his fist, releasing his arrows against the missiles.

The two attacks collided, producing a powerful explosion that rocked the street and kicked up a massive cloud of smoke.

The Bujin charged out of the smoke, giving chase to his target.

"You're not getting away that easily!" Warrior Takemikazuchi shouted.

Deus continued to quick boost away, trying to maintain distance with the aggressive samurai.

"[Bullet Burst]!" His heavy chain gun roared to life with a loud flurry of bullets.

Warrior Takemikazuchi used the same combination of skills as in the beginning against the heavy machine gun fire, deflecting the barrage as he gave chase.

The distance between them shortened.

Seeing that none of his armaments weren't doing any good, Deus Machina employed a different method of halting the samurai's pursuit.

His other arm reached out and flipped a stationary car as he continued firing while quick boosting backward down the street, sending the vehicle bouncing towards the relentless Heteromorph. He didn't stop at one, as two more cars joined in.

Warrior Takemikazuchi dodged one of the incoming cars by swerving to the side. Another bounced, and he dodge-rolled under it as it flipped over him.

"[Cleave]!"

The last car was cut into two. As the two halves flew past him, his arm shot out and grabbed onto the frontal half of the car by the roof.

He gritted his teeth as he pulled with all his strength and threw that half of the car right back at Deus Machina in one swift move.

Deus Machina's optics widened in surprise at the unexpected counter.

"[Shield Matrix]!"

A bright, transparent blue barrier formed around Deus Machina in the shape of an octahedron.

The front half of the car slammed into the barrier, flattening against the defensive skill before exploding. Through the smoke, Deus Machina remained unharmed, the shield showing no sign of damage whatsoever.

Warrior Takemikazuchi closed the distance in an instance.

"[Vorpal Strike]!"

He brought down Takemikazuchi MK 7 with his skill, the attack striking the octahedral barrier with significant force. The shield rattled, but it maintained its strength.

Warrior Takemikazuchi delivered a flurry of swift slashes, seeking to find a chink or break through the defensive barrier.

The barrier held strong, resolute against any impending threat. A change that was in stark contrast to the Automata's previous actions, where he had taken measures to create some distance between himself and the Heteromorph.

'The shield's powerful, but the trade-off is that you can't make any moves while it's active.' Warrior Takemikazuchi reckoned.

Effectively, Deus Machina was a stationary target. In which case, the Nephilim fully intended to use that to his advantage.

"[Lethal Cut], [Flowing Axel], [Kashira Blow]!"

[Lethal Cut] landed with a swift horizontal slash, which flowed seamlessly into [Flowing Axel], which saw Takemikazuchi MK 7 land several more slashes, ending with [Kashira Blow], which delivered a strike with the pommel of the blade.

On its own, [Kashira Blow] was a weak offensive skill that saw very little use. However, it was one of many skills that Warrior Takemikazuchi made frequent use of. Specifically, making use of the skill's animation frames and allowing him to weave his more powerful skills together into a combo to increase his DPS.

With Deus Machina remaining stationary, [Kashira Blow] landed quickly, the attack registering instantly, which he then weaved into his next skills.

"[Shoulder Bash], [Yamāntaka]!"

The Defeater of Death, Daiitoku Myo-o, materialized over Warrior Takemikazuchi, smiting Deus Machina with his massive club.

At the same time, he used [Shoulder Bash], making use of the skill's fast attack frames.

Both skills landed simultaneously, and this time, cracks spread across the upper and frontal sections of the barrier.

"[Violent Flash]!" Golden lightning weaved through Takemikazuchi MK 7 as he swung at the weakened sections, breaking through the barrier.

The lightning-infused blade dug deeper into Deus Machina's shoulder, exposing more internal wiring and machinery, and sparked a shower of electrical discharge. His HP dropped into the high yellow with the direct hit.

"You didn't think that would be enough to stop me, did'ya?!" Warrior Takemikazuchi grinned.

Before he could pull his weapon back for another swing, the azure barrier shimmered before dissipating, freeing Deus Machina.

The Automata wasted no time, his hand grabbing onto the lightning blade to prevent Warrior Takemikazuchi from pulling back. At the same time, he pointed his gun-mounted arm right at the Heteromorph's chest.

"[Chain Burst]!"

Deus Machina fired point-blank into Warrior Takemikazuchi's chest.

The Heteromorph gritted his teeth as the hail of bullets clattered against his chest plate. It felt like a stream of tiny marbles was hitting his chest - an uncomfortable feeling, to say the least.

Despite his passive resistances and heavy armor, his HP was gradually decreasing under continuous fire.

Warrior Takemikazuchi attacked with a frontal kick, driving Deus Machina back and separating them. The two Players stumbled backward, but where Deus Machina attempted to recover his footing, Warrior Takemikazuchi brought his whole weight around, stomping forward with a swing of his blade.

Deus Machina brought up his HF katana, his other hand pressing against the back of the blade to help stabilize his grip. He blocked and halted Warrior Takemikazuchi's slash.

"[Cloudburst Grenade]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi heard a 'fwoomp' sound effect, his eyes immediately tracking the small, cylindrical canister that fired out of Deus Machina and into the air. He watched as it spun through the air, reaching its zenith quickly before falling back down with light flowing out of the gaps.

He instantly pulled back and braced himself, bringing up his blade into a defensive stance. But instead of an explosion, the grenade exploded with a flash as dense smoke filled the area.

A thick cloud of gray smoke consumed Warrior Takemikazuchi's line of sight, making him lose sight of his opponent.

The smoke obscured everything in his vision.

"[Whirlwind Slash]!"

He swung Takemikazuchi MK 7 in a sweeping arc, generating a miniaturized tornado with arcs of lightning coursing through it. The skill also generated slashes that shot outward, slicing through the air.

It helped to disperse the smoke, allowing him more visibility.

However, Deus Machina was nowhere to be seen.

"Where are you?" He muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the smoky surroundings for his opponent.

His ears twitched, catching a machinery-like clicking sound.

"There!"

He charged forward, undaunted.

The smoke receded, and through the gaps, he spotted Deus Machina's V-shaped horned head ahead of him.

"Gotcha! [Raikiri: Lightning Cutter]!"

As the distance between them closed, Warrior Takemikazuchi prepared one of his powerful skills, fully intending to cut him down.

"Takemikazuchi-san, don't!" Shirou exclaimed, jumping up to his feet.

But from the waiting wing, his words of warning would go unheard as he and the audience watched what happened next.

In his haste, the armored Heteromorph neglected to take into account the possibility of the mechanical Player waiting for him.

The shroud of smoke still partially concealed him, namely his torso and arms, and, by extension, his weapon. Upon separation, Deus Machina sheathed his HF blade and took a stance, waiting for his opponent to come sprinting ahead as he knew he would. His right hand rested on the katana's handle while his left lay on the sheath, a finger resting on the trigger.

The two warriors came face to face, and by the time Warrior Takemikazuchi took notice of Deus Machina's stance, it was already too late.

At the last second, just before the purple lightning-infused slash could land, his mechanical finger pressed down on the trigger.

"[Trigger Draw: Jetstream]!"

A single, loud bang was heard across the entire city, followed by a deafening silence.

Warrior Takemikazuchi was knocked off his feet, his back skidding harshly against the street as he traveled a fair distance backward. His vision swam, and his sense of balance was thrown off as a moment of intense vertigo overtook him. Smoke hissed from the slash mark that stretched diagonally across his chest and pauldrons. The attack dropped his HP down into the yellow.

'W-what the hell was t-that?!' He thought wildly and breathlessly, his mind racing to try and make sense of what just happened.

The force behind the counter quite literally knocked the breath out of him.

While Warrior Takemikazuchi was left bewildered by what had just happened - something that'd happened so fast that not even he registered what happened - those watching the match unfold had a different perspective.

Just before the samurai's attack made contact, Deus Machina pressed down on the trigger on his sheath alongside the activation of his skill. A loud and powerful bang resounded out, his electrifying crimson HF blade firing out of the sheath at extreme speed.

Deus Machina channeled the spontaneous speed and explosive power into his swing, matching and even overpowering Warrior Takemikazuchi's attack in an instant.

Deus Machina stood tall, his arm still outstretched from the force of the empowered swing. The top of his sheath, which housed the barrel and trigger, hissed with hot steam. Crimson electricity crackled and coursed through the HF blade, the air popping from the heat and energy that it emitted.

With the audience, many of them were clamoring in their seats. Throughout the fight, they watched as the two Players fought with near-equal skill, strength, and ferocity. When Warrior Takemikazuchi gained the edge, many thought that would be it for Deus Machina. Only for him to reveal another move in his arsenal and knock the Bujin flat on his back. And just like that, the scales tipped once again. It was quite the turnaround, and one very few saw coming, which only made the match even more exhilarating as it was anyone's game.

"I see that much hasn't changed…" ShikiHime muttered with a shake of her head.

"Takemikazuchi-san. Get up and move, now!" Touch Me stressed, his body leaning forward in his seat with his hand tightly gripping the armrest.

However, much like with Shirou, his words would reach no one as the World Champions, and the audience was treated to yet another deadly weapon in the War Machine's arsenal.

Warrior Takemikazuchi recovered, slowly lifting his head, his vision righting itself. Amidst the chaoticness of his thoughts, a sense of clarity pierced through the storm of discord.

'Why hasn't he followed it up?' He thought.

With him on his back, he was wide open for Deus Machina's missiles and machine gun, or he could've closed the distance and lay into him with his deadly HF blade.

Just what exactly was he planning…?

And then he heard it-a heavy clank and a sharp buzz in the air.

Warrior Takemikazuchi's vision focused on Deus Machina, who remained where he was with his body hunched forward. The sun's ray glinted off the lengthy gun barrel mounted on Deus Machina's shoulder, which was pointed directly at the downed Heteromorph. The electric coils and capacitors of the gun thrummed with building energy.

In that instant, all of his instincts blared to life, adrenaline flooding his body, overtaking the previous weariness.

He hastily rolled, stumbling back to his feet and dashing to the side.

Deus Machina discharged his ultimate attack.

"[Flash Step]!"

"[Kaiser Impact]!"

From the very beginning, the moment Warrior Takemikazuchi laid eyes on his opponent, he instantly latched onto the weapon peaking over his shoulder. Given its general shape and aesthetic, he had a fair idea of what kind of weapon it was and the danger it represented. Throughout their fight, he kept it at the forefront of his mind, always vigilant, with a plan in mind should it ever come to it.

It was this caution that allowed him to react in time, even amidst his disorientation.

He blinked forward, covering only two meters in distance, but it would be just enough to get him out of the attack's path. And just in time too, as not even a fraction of a second later, Deus Machina fired.

An azure lick of thunder flickered between the coils and capacitor. Electricity and power crackled and bounced between the narrow space of the three-pronged barrel, building up to an intense level.

A piercing, blinding bolt shot out from the barrel, achieving supersonic speed in a fraction of a second.

Warrior Takemikazuchi felt it before he heard it.

He ran, only for his vision to tilt and turn upside down. A sense of weightlessness took over. It felt as if he was floating through space for a moment, untethered by the law of gravity that anchored him to the earth below. The sensation passed as his body jerked, propelled forward by the shockwave of the attack. What followed next was an ear-shattering, thunderous boom that threatened to leave him deaf.

The force behind the shockwave was so great that everything in front of Deus Machina that was not heavy enough or bolted down within the vicinity of the trajectory of the attack was blown away. Chunks of the street broke off, pieces of the sidewalk scattered, cars flipped, windows shattered into thousands of pieces, the sides of buildings collapsed, and much more.

Warrior Takemikazuchi may have dodged a direct hit, but he didn't leave unscathed as the force propelled him through the wall of a building. The roof collapsed into itself, burying the armored Heteromorph in a layer of rubble.

In the distance, there were several tall buildings and skyscrapers clumped together. [Kaiser Impact] traveled unimpeded and punched through them as if they were wet paper, leaving a massive, gaping hole in the center. A second later, the structural integrity of the buildings collapsed in on themselves.

The raw power and destruction displayed were nothing short of jaw-dropping for those watching.

For Ainz Ooal Gown, many of the members slumped back in their seats, relief filling them. That was way too close…

Warrior Takemikazuchi's head emerged from the rubble, wobbly and disoriented, but no worse for wear.

Within the deafening, all-consuming silence, a sudden, sharp hiss echoed through the emptiness.

He looked around, taking in the devastation, before his eyes landed on Deus Machina.

The mechanical Player remained in his previous position, unmoving and dull. Bursts of hot steam were expelled from the various gaps across the avatar's body. The warped coils dislodged, falling to the ground with a thud as new ones rose to replace the old ones.

It took the Nephilim's mind half a second to realize what exactly he was seeing and another half before it clicked inside his head.

Warrior Takemikazuchi broke out of the rubble with upmost haste and sprinted forward.

'One… Two… Three…'

He closed the gap between them as fast as he could.

'Six… !'

Just as he reached him, Deus's Machina's emerald eyes flashed to life, and he burst into action. He brought his HF blade around, and red and yellow lightning intermixed as the two blades clashed.

"Tsk!" Warrior Takemikazuchi clicked his tongue.

He was so close, but now he'd at least had a cooldown time to assign to the weapon. He just needed to find a way to make use of those six seconds…

'Eight seconds.' Shirou thought, having accurately timed the cooldown duration.

For such a destructive weapon, it would've required an equal drawback. After firing the railgun, Deus Machina would be locked in place, unable to move or react for those eight seconds. Shirou surmised that the physical reaction of his body shutting down and the steam being expelled were visual cues to indicate the cooldown time.

Eight seconds was a lot to ask of a Player, especially in PvP, where one second could spell the difference between victory and defeat. But seeing the power and devastation his railgun wrought, the trade-off was more than fair, even if it wasn't a direct hit.

'You can think of it almost like a Super-Tier Magic.' Touch Me drew a comparison in his head.

The railgun was undeniably powerful but quite situational, similar to the usage of Super-Tier Magic. Both required discretion and set-up, with Deus Machina needing to anchor himself down first to prevent himself from being blown away by the recoil and taking aim before firing.

'In that case, that means he can't just spam the attack and has to be very careful with when to use it.'

Touch Me wagered that Deus Machina could fire his railgun a total of three times at the minimum and four times at the maximum. Having five shots was too high, especially considering the power behind such an attack that could one-shot a Player with a direct hit. One or two was too few, and if that was the case, then the Automata would've likely kept it hidden until he was absolutely certain that the attack would land, rather than take the first chance he did. Three or four made sense, but that meant that the War Machine had a match-finisher in his back pocket to whip out if needed.

Warrior Takemikazuchi may have dodged the first, but the rest of the match was still in the air.

Deus Machina performed another quick boost, propelling himself backward and jumping as his thrusters ignited, allowing him to hover. He retreated while firing on the armored Heteromorph with [Bullet Burst].

Rather than giving chase, Warrior Takemikazuchi followed his lead. He deflected the incoming machine gun fire while retreating, moving with the grace and speed of a seasoned warrior.

Deus Machina rounded a street corner, hiding behind the adjacent building. Meanwhile, Warrior Takemikazuchi slipped into a nearby alleyway, his back pressing against the brick wall.

A momentary lull settled over the battlefield. Both Players used the respite to catch their breath and recover, preparing for the next phase of the fight.

"[Nanomachine Recovery]!"

"Activate: [Boost Magic: Sacred Grace]!"

A swarm of tiny lights raced across Deus Machina's chassis, repairing the damage and bringing him back to full HP.

One of Warrior Takemikazuchi's rings, the [Ring of Nibelung], glowed, and a spell circle appeared, restoring his armor and healing him back to full health.

The ring was a gift from his friend and fellow blacksmith, Amanomahitotsu, who argued good-naturedly that he should have some items for utility rather than have every single equipped item on him be kitted towards solely pure offensive.

A notion that the samurai playfully scoffed at. It was either go big or go home for him.

Of course, that didn't mean he outright ignored his longtime friend's advice. For all his showboating, even he recognized the necessity of having a fallback, just in case.

"Quite the intense skirmish we just witnessed. Both fighters have shown their skill and strength, but I reckon Deus Machina edges slightly over Warrior Takemikazuchi in their last bout. Warrior Takemikazuchi will need a new plan of attack if he wishes to compete with Deus Machina's deadly arsenal." Came the analysis from Sam.

"I have a plan… Attack!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi sprinted out, rushing down the street with a new set of skills to boost his speed and endurance.

Many would've called Warrior Takemikazuchi out for being reckless, charging head-long into the enemy who'd shown himself capable. But the Nephilim did have a plan in mind. A very simple one at that.

His opponent's arsenal was tough, particularly his railgun. In that case, he'd just have to prevent Deus Machina from even having a chance to use them against him!

Deus Machina boosted out from the corner, putting one another in clear view of the other.

"[Archer Missile]!"

He fired another missile canister. However, instead of firing at his opponent, the Automata's target was the side of an office building just ahead of Warrior Takemikazuchi.

Chunks of debris fell, and the Heteromorph halted, lest he be flattened by the rain of rubble.

A cloud of dust obscured the street, cutting off his line of sight from his opponent.

Suddenly, Deus Machina burst forth from the smoke, his thrusters propelling him forward as he took to the offensive.

The two exchanged a few slashes, with Deus Machina parrying one of Warrior Takemikazuchi's swings. Instead of following through with his swing, the Automata pulled back his sword while his other hand unclipped his sheathe and wielded it.

With his finger firmly on the trigger, Deus Machina held the sheathed HF katana and blade aloft.

Warrior Takemikazuchi, remembering the outcome of their previous clash, reacted instinctively, quickly bringing up Takemikazuchi MK 7 to defend against the impending attack.

However, this was what Deus Machina wanted him to do.

Deus Machina quickly boosted forward, hitting the Heteromorph with a shoulder bash, staggering the samurai, and giving him the opening he was looking for.

"[Trigger Draw: Haze]!"

The trigger sheath fired, and he swung at lightning speed, far faster than before, but with a noticeable lack of power.

However, such a fact proved trivial as the crimson high-frequency blade sliced through Warrior Takemikazuchi's right arm with precision ease, taking his arm at the halfway mark. Time seemingly slowed down as the towering samurai could only watch in stunned disbelief as his severed arm flew and tumbled to the ground while Takemikazuchi MK 7 flipped through the air and landed a fair distance down the street, the blade stabbing the road.

"OH NO! SOMEONE GIVE HIM A HAND, BECAUSE IT LOOKS LIKE WARRIOR TAKEMIKAZUCHI HAS BEEN… DIS-ARMED!"

"That was a low-hanging fruit, and you know it, Bob."

"IT WOULD'VE BEEN A GREATER SIN FOR ME NOT TO MAKE IT, SAMMIE! DO YOU KNOW HOW RARE THESE HANDS JOKES ARE?!"

Ignoring the commentator's banter, the two Players locked eyes.

Despite the swift injury dealt to him, Warrior Takemikazuchi didn't panic, compartmentalizing his shock and surprise as his mind prioritized a singular objective.

As one, they turned towards where Takemikazuchi MK 7 was planted.

Warrior Takemikazuchi sprinted as fast as he could, but Deus Machina overtook him easily thanks to his thrusters boosting him forward.

The mechanical Player reached for the weapon first and pulled it free.

Warrior Takemikazuchi could only watch as the Automata reared his arm back and, with all his strength, threw his beloved weapon away. Takemikazuchi MK 7 flew, flipping through the air and gradually becoming smaller and smaller as it disappeared into the distance.

The Bujin skidded to a stop, his mouth left agape.

"R-really?!" Warrior Takemikazuchi complained, sounding more annoyed than fearful. "Dick move, man."

Deus Machina responded by pointing his gun at him, the gun barrels whirling with deadly intent.

"Oh shit…" He squeaked.

He immediately took off running as Deus Machina unleashed his ranged armaments, a barrage of bullets, and a swarm of missiles from another [Archer Missile].

"[Oni Armor], [Seeping Spirit]!"

An orange aura enveloped him as he ran, the two enchantment skills helping to bolster his defensive stats as bullets pinged off of him. He also managed to scoop up his severed arm in time.

He bolted to the side, crashing through a storefront display window. He darted deeper into the building as the missiles pummeled the exterior. Rubble and smoke clouded the area, showing no sign of the retreating warrior.

Despite the clear advantage, Deus Machina did not give chase. Instead, he took to the air, landing on the rooftop of a building that overlooked the entire area. Sheathing his blade, he crossed his arms and waited, silent and watchful, across the empty cityscape.

"Now then, what will you do now, Warrior Takemikazuchi-san?"

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"This is bad… This is REALLY bad!" Amanomahitotsu repeated, his claws snapping anxiously.

"No shit." Said Ulbert, a hint of concern laced in his usually dry droll tone for his guildmate.

On the holographic screens, it displayed Deus Machina perched atop a building, content to remain as he was, with Warrior Takemikazuchi running through the back alleys. He stopped after realizing that Deus Machina wouldn't be giving chase. The audience watched on as he mutely placed the severed hand over the stump, light blooming from the [Ring of Nibelung] as he used another healing spell. And just like that, the limb was restored and was as good as new.

For the moment, peace settled over the city.

All eyes were on Warrior Takemikazuchi, wondering and waiting to see just what exactly he would do next to get out of such a predicament.

None were more concerned and speculative than Ainz Ooal Gown, with the various members discussing what he could do to possibly turn the fight in his favor.

"He needs to retrieve his sword. There's no other way for him to even think of winning without it." Said Tabula, his webbed fingers steepled together as he sat leaning forward.

"He'll need to find it first, and good luck with that." Yamaiko grunted, her leg bouncing up and down restlessly while she sat.

"Hold on! He still has plenty of skills that he can do plenty of damage with." Peroroncino spoke up.

"Aye. There's no way Takemikazuchi-san's going to take this lying down." Nishikienrai agreed, sitting with his arms crossed. "If he can get in close, then he can turn the tides in his favor."

"If being the key word here." Punitto Moe pointed out. "Machina-san would be a fool to let someone like Takemikazuchi-san free reign to get in close. He's no slouch with a blade either, but he holds the range advantage. There's nothing in Takemikazuchi-san's skill list that can match his ranged attack or even come close to it."

"And that's not accounting for any other weapons or surprises Machina-san might have hidden away." Added Bellriver. "He can attack at range, chipping away at Takemikazuchi-san's HP, fight him up close with greater mobility, or just snipe him with that railgun he got. He has options; Takemikazuchi-san doesn't. Not unless he wants to risk it all and charge him head-on."

"Knowing him, that's very plausible." Bukubukuchagama commented.

"What do you think, babe?" Destana asked, seeing Momomga silent throughout the discussion.

"I'm… unsure." He said, and that pained him to admit.

The guild was divided. The majority of them were of the opinion that he needed to retrieve his sword to stand a chance against Deus Machina. A feat easier said than done. The rest believed that he had the means to seize victory even without his trusty katana, but it wouldn't come easily, not without some very high-risk plays.

Shirou and Touch Me's opinions mirrored the guild's consensus. The virtual magus believed that Warrior Takemikazuchi needed to retrieve his sword to increase his odds of winning. However, this would prove to be a daunting task, with Deus Machina no doubt being on the lookout for any attempt to sneak past him in the direction where Takemikazuchi MK 7 had been thrown. The World Champion believed that his friend and rival had the means to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, but the critical question that lingered was how he could achieve this feat without his sword.

Everyone had their own thoughts and opinions, including Deus Machina, who was waiting to see what his opponent would do next and react accordingly.

Hiding in the dark alleyway, with his back pressed against the wall, both figuratively and literally, the true thoughts of Warrior Takemikazuchi belonged to him and him alone.

A whirlwind of emotions swirled within him, but the most prominent of all was excitement.

A toothy grin stretched across his face. The look on his face - it was not one of resignation or frustration, but rather determination.

Despite the odds stacked against him, he hadn't given up just yet.

Like everyone else, Warrior Takemikazuchi faced similar conclusions on what he should do next.

But instead of being bogged down by the seemingly only two options available, he instead decided to make a third alternative.

'When in doubt, improvise!'

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Minutes passed by in silence as Deus Machina waited to see what his opponent would do next.

Like everyone else, he reasoned that Heteromorph would try and make an attempt to retrieve his weapon. Hence, he took to a vantage point to make sure Warrior Takemikazuchi didn't sneak past him.

Yet, nothing had happened for the last few minutes, leaving him confused.

"Hey!" A faint shout echoed through the air, drawing him out of his thoughts.

He looked ahead, catching an orange silhouette in the far-off distance.

"[Zoom]."

He activated a skill, his vision magnifying.

Warrior Takemikazuchi stood on the rooftop of a building.

The two Players stared at one another from across the battlefield.

With his zoomed-in vision, he saw Warrior Takemikazuchi giving him the middle finger, followed up with a 'come at me' gesture with his fingers.

He then turned and jumped off the side of the building, disappearing from the Player's sight.

Deus Machina frowned, wondering just what exactly the Heteromorph had planned.

There were only two directions for the match to continue. Either Deus Machina goes after him or Warrior Takemikazuchi comes to him instead. And if the samurai was running away, in the opposite direction of where he threw his sword, no less, then that left only one option left for the Automata to take.

With a quick boost, he followed after his opponent.

There was no rush in his movement, keeping to a semi-languid pace as he traveled. He kept a watchful eye and ear for any signs of his adversary. For all he knew, the Bujin might be leading him on in an attempt to juke past him. That, or lead him into a trap.

Even without his sword, Deus Machina would not underestimate a Player of Warrior Takemikazuchi's caliber, advantage or not.

For the audience watching, the holographic screens focused entirely on Deus Machina, leaving the happenings of Warrior Takemikazuchi as a complete mystery.

Hopping from building to building, he found himself entering a different district - an entertainment district, if the stores and surroundings were any indications.

As he traversed the new section of the metropolis, the buildings receded as the street below opened up. All the winding roads led to a massive parking lot, with vehicles of all shapes and sizes parked randomly. A large, expansive mall lies ahead of him. Adjacent to the mall, a towering hotel complex loomed.

He boosted off the building, landing in the parking lot. He casually made his way forward, his eyes darting all around in hopes of catching his surprisingly elusive opponent.

The possibility that Warrior Takemikazuchi might have given him the slip crossed his mind, only for him to catch something out of the corner of his eye.

With a quick boost, he evaded to the side, dodging a spectral spear. The attack obliterated a nearby car, engulfing it in flames and smoke. Alarms blared out from the surrounding vehicles, filling the air with a cacophony of sound.

The attack had come from the direction of the hotels.

'There you are.'

Deus Machina blasted forward, taking to the air.

The hotel complex consisted of three separate buildings, each one tall and slender. These buildings were arranged in a triangular formation. The positioning of the hotel buildings formed three vertices, creating gaps between them that provided access to a spacious courtyard at ground level. This courtyard was the heart of the complex, featuring a stunning fountain at its center that served as a unifying element for the paths leading to each of the three hotel buildings.

He hovered in the center, high in the air, as the three buildings surrounded him.

'Where are you hiding?'

He spun in place, casting his gaze from one building onto the next.

As he performed a full sweep, his audio receptors caught a sharp 'whoosh' sound.

Using his thrusters, he boosted upwards, dodging the skill [Supiasurīarō: Spear Three Arrow]. His head instantly snapped in the direction from which the attack originated.

He looked ahead. There, his eyes tracked a shadowy silhouette running down the long stretch of hallway through the lined windows.

Deus Machina did not know why Warrior Takemikazuchi chose this location, but it was evident that he had a plan. Charging in after him would be playing into his hand.

In that case, the War Machine resolved to end the match right then and there.

Deus Machina tilted forward, his railgun coming to bear. At the same time, all of his thrusters activated, igniting a sea of thruster flame. Brilliant blue electricity crackled as the barrels lit up with energy.

"He can fire his railgun while midair?!" Herohero exclaimed, a shock mirrored by the rest of Ainz Ooal Gown.

"[Kaiser Impact]!"

The piercing bolt punched through the hotel building, vaporizing a good chunk of the main structure. What remained of the hotel was practically ripped from its foundation due to the force and shockwave of the attack, sending debris flying in all directions.

The other two hotels in the vicinity managed to remain standing but were not spared from the destruction either. Their windows shattered into thousands of tiny pieces as cracks and fractures ran down the sides of the buildings, with chunks falling off.

Amidst the devastation, a massive cloud of dust and debris expanded outward, lowering the visibility of everything within the surrounding area.

What Deus Machina employed was by no means complicated nor extraordinary, but the method by which he used it could almost be classified as a secondary technique, so to speak. By overclocking his thrusters, he harnessed the force they generated as a counterbalance against his railgun's immense recoil. This innovative technique enabled him to fire the weapon while remaining mobile, instead of just being anchored to the ground. This granted Deus Machina greater flexibility in his use of the railgun, which made it his true trump card.

However, it comes with the caveat that Deus Machina was left in a more vulnerable position than if he were to use the skill from on the ground.

Power flickered and faded from Deus Machina's frame as his mechanical body expunged bursts of hot, white steam. Gravity swiftly took hold, and he plummeted into freefall, unable to move his body during the eight-second cooldown duration.

The Automata wasn't concerned, believing that the match would be called and he'd be transported back into the arena as the victor.

An assurance that lasted for only a second before he realized that something was wrong.

'Why haven't they declared me the winner yet?!'

Suddenly, something heavy slammed into him, knocking him out of his stupor.

It was Warrior Takemikazuchi!

'How?!' Deus Machina exclaimed internally.

Although he was immobilized, his eyes could still move around. His gaze turned back towards the ruined hotel, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. His eyes widened upon seeing a shadowy silhouette of Warrior Takemikazuchi standing in the air, unencumbered by the laws of gravity. The silhouette flickered and faded away.

"Hell yeah!" Nishikienrai jumped from his seat, fistpumping in the air, much to the confusion of everyone else.

'Thank you, Nishikienrai-san!' Thought Warrior Takemikazuchi.

The maneuver that he used was taught to him by none other than his good friend, Nishikienrai. Besides Shirou and Touch Me, the Nephilim sparred with Half-Golem on the regular. The two often trade ideas and tips with one another following their bouts, with the samurai picking up on a few tricks and advice from the ninja.

As Nishikienrai would say, "There's nothing wrong with winning a fight by beating the crap out of your opponent, but sometimes a little deception is in order."

Having reached the hotel complex first, Warrior Takemikazuchi quickly positioned himself at the remote end of one of the upper floors of one of the hotels. The moment he fired his ranged skill, knowing full well that Deus Machina would dodge it easily enough, he used another skill, [Shade Doppelganger]. This particular skill was taught to him by Nishikienrai himself and was one of the few utility skills in his repertoire. The skill creates a shadow duplicate of the user. It cannot attack, nor could it be used defensively, and it could only carry out a singular action.

The samurai made his shade run down the lengthy hallway towards the other end, intentionally putting it in clear view to draw his opponent's focus.

With Deus Machina's attention focused on his shade, Warrior Takemikazuchi used the opportunity to relocate to the other hotel building adjacent to him. While separated by a gap between them, he managed to leap across to the other side with ease. However, he knew he had to hurry to reposition himself if he wanted to take advantage of the brief window of opportunity that was to come.

When Deus Machina fired his railgun, the shockwave that followed shook the remaining two buildings to their foundations.

Warrior Takemikazuchi stumbled from the tremors, and for a moment, he feared the building would collapse regardless. Thankfully, it held, and he was able to get into position.

From there, he ran, building up speed while also using some skills to boost his speed and stats as he leapt through the broken window frame, catching Deus Machina mid-fall.

Momentum carried them as the two Players slammed through the side of the last hotel on the other side, smashing through several walls before crashing onto a hallway on one of the high-end floors.

Deus Machina could only watch, a prisoner in his own body, as Warrior Takemikazuchi recovered first and ran right at him with his hand outstretched.

He first thought that he was going in for an attack, only for his target to be revealed.

Warrior Takemikazuchi's hand grasped the handle of his HF blade, pulling it out of the sheath.

Just as the crimson katana was pulled free, the eight seconds were up, and Deus Machina immediately burst into action.

He stomped forward, hitting him with a shoulder bash, staggering the samurai. His arm shot out, grabbing onto the HF blade's hilt.

The two Players fought for dominance, pushing and shoving, slamming each other into the walls as they tussled.

Deus Machina briefly managed to overpower the samurai, wrestling his weapon back from his grip and kicking him back.

He swung his blade, only for his swing to abruptly halt and struggle.

Due to their large frames, the hallway they were in was just barely able to contain them. There wasn't enough room for him to swing his blade, leading it to be caught against the wall, the high-frequency blade cutting deep into it.

Warrior Takemikazuchi had no such trouble as he swung with his fist, landing a clean right hook, followed by a swift left hook.

Deus Machina tried to back up to put some distance between them, but Warrior Takemikazuchi wasn't going to let him go that easily. The warrior's arm stretched out, clasping onto a nearby door and ripping it off of the hinges. He hurled it towards the Automata, leaving him with little time to react as it smashed into him.

He staggered backward as wood and splinters covered his vision, further disorienting him.

"Rarr!"

With a roar, Warrior Takemikazuchi charged forward, both his arms outstretched and his hands open. Deus Machina reacted automatically, his own hands opening up and catching his as he halted the samurai's charge.

What ensued was a contest of strength between the two warriors, their hands locked in a fierce struggle, their feet leaving deep indentations on the floor.

The thrusters running along Deus Machina's back sputtered but ultimately didn't ignite.

Another repercussion of his aerial rail fire technique was that it drains the majority of his energy gauge, which powers his quick boosts and thrusters. While they do regenerate over time, the regeneration rate takes time. It was why he was always conservative with his flight and quick boosts, making sure not to use more of his energy than he needed.

He had to be tactical with what he had and needed to make the call to see if it was worth it or not, but he was indecisive.

His indecision manifested as hesitance, which gave Warrior Takemikazuchi the opening he needed.

Calling upon further strength, he won the stalemate, pushing his opponent back as they bulldozed through the hallway and out of the wall.

They fell from a great height, crashing through the roof and stained glass rooftop of the mall adjacent to the hotel. Even as they fell, they continued their struggles. Unfortunately for Deus Machina, Warrior Takemikazuchi won the struggle, leading to him being on top as the ground drew ever closer.

They slammed onto a walkway, with the mechanical Player taking the brunt of the damage and breaking through the floor.

He crashed onto the ground level, his HP dropping all the way down into the mid-yellow. Lying there, he had a clear vertical view of the mall and saw just how high of a fall they fell. The mall was large, with nearly two dozen or so floors that stretched upwards.

His hand clenched, panic shooting through him as he realized that he had lost his weapon.

His optics scoured the surrounding area, desperately searching for his weapon. He found it on the ground, several meters away from him.

Deus Machina instantly got to his feet and boosted towards it.

Reclaiming his weapon, he next looked for Warrior Takemikazuchi, finding the Heteromorph on the walkway on the second floor. He had let go just before they hit the walkway.

"See ya'!" He said playfully, giving the mechanized Player a two-finger salute before taking off.

Deus Machina quickly gave chase, using a quick boost to jump onto the second floor.

They ran deeper into the mall, with Warrior Takemikazuchi in the lead thanks to his head start, forcing Deus Machina to use his thrusters to catch up.

He saw the samurai turn a sharp corner up ahead. He boosted forward, turning the corner in time to find a store kiosk, one of many that populated the mall's hallway, hurtling towards him.

The kiosk slammed into him, sending him flying backward into the large display window of a clothing store and crashing through the interior.

While surprised, Deus Machina recovered quickly and easily enough.

"[Nanomachine Recovery]!"

Pushing the kiosk away, he stood up and used his skill again, storing his HP back to full for good measure.

Exiting the store, he continued his chase. Luckily, he didn't have to search hard for his opponent's whereabouts as he followed the trail of footsteps left behind. It led him to a department store.

Upon stepping inside, he was greeted by an array of colors and fragrances emanating from the various perfumes and colognes on display.

He cautiously made his way forward, into the store, his grip on his katana tightening.

Walking past the various racks and merchandise, he was met with the sight of a pair of escalators situated in the center of the department store. He gazed up towards the open space, observing the escalators connecting and ascending towards the upper floors.

To the side was a crooked sign that had been altered to where an arrow pointed upwards instead of forward as it was originally positioned.

Deus Machina looked at the sign and back at the upper floors.

"[Archer Missile]!"

Firing his fifth [Archer Missile], it launched straight upwards, unleashing its payload against the uppermost floor and ceiling. The entire store shook from the force of the explosions, with dust and pieces of the ceiling raining down.

At the same time, he activated his thrusters and, with a single, boosted jump and thrust, made it to the top floor, using the explosion and smoke to conceal his movement.

Landing, he scanned his surroundings. The entire floor was covered in dust and smoke, but there was no sign of his foe.

Suddenly, something flew out of the sea of smoke.

"[Ignition Blade]!" He used a skill, swinging his HF blade and slicing through whatever it was that was thrown at him.

An explosion of fabrics filled his vision, surprising him.

They fell lazily to the ground, with a few landing on his large frame. In particular, one landed on one of his horns and slide all the down, partially covering up his vision. His hand reached up and pulled it off, allowing him to see just what exactly it was.

It was a pink, frilly thong.

What was thrown at him was a steel display basket filled with undergarments. Hanging off of him from head to toe were an assortment of colorful panties and underwear.

In that moment, Deus Machina's mind blanked out at the sight before him. Reflexively, his other arm reached out and grabbed the other end, giving the thong a stretch.

"Kyaaa! Pervert!" A high-pitched scream ripped through the air.

"Ww-w-wait! It's not what it looks like!" Deus Machina instantly panicked, his normal voice leaking through.

Turning in the direction of the scream, he found no one.

It took him a fraction of a second before he realized what was wrong.

Before he could react, Warrior Takemikazuchi tackled him once again from behind, knocking both of them over the railing and plummeting towards the ground.

Landing with a crash, the two separated.

Deus Machina let out a low growl. This was the third time he found himself knocked flat on his back, and he was getting tired of it.

However, that was a secondary concern compared to what he saw in Warrior Takemikazuchi's hand when he recovered. His sheath.

Emerald's optics widened, his head whipping down to his waist to find that it was indeed gone.

'He must've grabbed it when we were falling… !'

"[Nio Vajrapāni: Benevolent Vajra Kings]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi used his skill, manifesting the Nio Guhyapada and Nio Narayana, with both Nio wielding electrically-charged vajra swords.

"[Shield Matrix]!"

Deus Machina hastily brought up his defensive skill, defending against the powerful combined lightning attack. It protected his HP, but the force behind the attack flung him deeper into the store, upending display desks, racks, and stands. He collided with a wall, being partially embedded in it.

Through the transparent hard light barrier, the Automata watched as Warrior Takemikazuchi clipped his trigger sheath to his own waist and took off running.

Deus Machina dropped the barrier as quickly as he could, giving chase yet again.

Unlike before, where Warrior Takemikazuchi purposely left a trail of footprints to lead him on, this time he seemingly disappeared once he left the store.

Deus Machina searched for him, running up and down the different paths and traversing the various floors for his opponent.

It took him a few short minutes before he finally found him.

Standing on a walkway on the third floor, it overlooked the center court of the mall. And there, standing out in the open in the middle, was Warrior Takemikazuchi. Curiously, what looked like a collection of long metal pipes dotted the area, stabbing the ground around the Heteromorph.

He wielded one in his hand, a substitute for his sword, as he tapped it against his shoulder.

"`Bout time you got here. I was starting to get bored." Warrior Takemikazuchi called out.

Deus Machina's optics swept the area, finding nothing else out of the ordinary.

The smart play to make would be to use his ranged armaments to attack, especially since Warrior Takemikazuchi was completely out in the open. But considering his track record so far in the match, the mechanized Player didn't place much faith in them.

Deus Machina briefly glanced at his railgun. With his vantage point, he had the seemingly perfect opportunity to end it once and for all. However, he was hesitant.

Warrior Takemikazuchi survived not just one, but both of his [Kaiser Impact]. A feat that very few could boast. They say that third time's a charm, but was he willing to risk it?

After everything he'd seen, it wouldn't surprise him if the Bujin had something else up his sleeve. And there was still the mystery of why he took his sheath in the first place…

Thirty seconds flew by as Deus Machina considered his options.

In the end, he boosted forward, jumping off the walkway and landing at ground level.

To be certain and safe, he'll end the match with his own two hands; that was the decision he made.

Slowly, the mechanized Player made his way over to his opponent.

"Finally decided to stop running, have you?" Deus Machina quipped.

"Indeed. For this is where you will meet your end, my friend." Warrior Takemikazuchi gripped the metal pipe with both hands, taking a basic forward stance.

Hearing this, Deus Machina couldn't help but scoff under his breath. His grip on his HF blade tightened as he took a stance. He figured he'd humor the samurai before dealing the coup de grâce, bringing their match to an end.

The two warriors edged closer, and once in range, they unleashed their skills.

"[Helm Splitter]!"

"[Shift Striker]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi's skill, [Helm Splitter], landed first, striking with an overhead swing at Deus Machina's head. The metal pipe lit up due to the activation of the skill, but while it may register as a weapon, it was pitiful in comparison to his Takemikazuchi MK 7. The damage dealt was insignificant, matching the strength of the 'weapon' in his hand.

Deus Machina ignored it, landing a clean strike against the Nephilim. He tried to defend with it, only for his high-frequency blade to cut through the pipe like a hot knife through butter, leaving a long gash across his chest plate. His HP dropped into the low green.

Warrior Takemikazuchi discarded the metal pipe and hopped back, his open palms outstretched and grabbing onto two more.

"[Dual Strike]!"

"[Geist Strife]!"

He swung the metal pipes in an X fashion, meeting the Automata's swing. They held their own for half a second before the crimson katana cut right through, slashing down the samurai's left side, cutting through the pauldron, and into his shoulder. His HP dropped into the mid-yellow.

Warrior Takemikazuchi jumped back and threw the two pipes at Deus Machina, which he swatted away easily enough. The Heteromorph reached for a longer pipe, wielding it like a staff.

He swung it, hitting his opponent in the side to no effect. He then attacked with a thrust, an attack that Automata easily repelled using a skill, shortening the metal pipe and landing another blow on him. His HP dropped into the red.

Warrior Takemikazuchi reeled, dropping down to one knee, his neck left wide open.

"Your head is mine!" Deus Machina shouted, holding his HF blade high over his head.

His crimson blade fell, like an executioner's blade, liberating the Heteromorph's head from his neck and bringing the match to a close…

Or at least, that was what he thought.

'Huh…?'

Deus Machina's swing stopped.

He was confused, but the answer quickly revealed itself.

Warrior Takemikazuchi stopped Deus Machina's swing completely by intercepting it. The metal rod pressed against the pommel of the katana mid-swing, its momentum halted by the counterforce being applied from his thrust.

"Word of advice: don't commit too much to a full swing, or else you leave yourself open." Warrior Takemikazuchi said, offering a surprising piece of advice.

Deus Machina quickly pulled back, going in for another swing, but the samurai was ready for him.

With a twirl, he flipped the metal pipe completely, bringing the other end around and up, striking his opponent's chin from below within his blindspot.

Deus Machina's vision jerked upwards, his downward swing continuing sloppily.

Warrior Takemikazuchi discarded the metal pipe as he stepped into Deus Machina's guard. Before the swing could be completed, the War Machine felt a pair of hands grab ahold of his sword arm, and the next thing he knew, he felt his heavy body being lifted up and his vision flipping.

'That's…' Shirou's eyes lit up in recognition at the maneuver his guildmate revealed.

The samurai performed a one-armed shoulder throw, throwing his opponent over and onto the ground and following it up by delivering a brutal kick to the back of the head.

Deus Machina lurched, tumbling in a forward roll as he hastily recovered. His grip tightened, fully intending on using his quick boosts to recover and press the attack. The only problem with that plan was that he felt nothing but empty air between his fingers.

His emerald optics dilated, snapping to his empty hand before snapping to Warrior Takemikazuchi to find his high-frequency blade in his hands. He had disarmed him mid-throw.

'Thank you, Emiya-san!' Warrior Takemikazuch thanked him in his head.

The disarming technique that Warrior Takemikazuchi just performed was taught to him by none other than Shirou. This came about after a friendly duel between them some years ago. It was what the magus used to win their bout. Afterward, the Nephilim asked him if he could teach him the move. He figured that such a technique might one day be useful.

How right he was!

"OH, HOW THE TABLES HAVE TURNED! IT IS DEUS MACHINA'S TURN TO BE DISARMED!"

"Another one, really?"

"SCREW YOU, SAM. MY JOKES ARE HILARIOUS, AND YOU KNOW IT!"

Deus Machina instantly brought his chain gun to bear. He knew that trying to retrieve his weapon would be more hassle than it was worth. Besides, Warrior Takemikazuchi's HP was low, and he only needed a few more attacks to finish the Heteromorph off.

"[Heavy Bu-!"

"[Senkū]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi swung, slicing at Deus Machina's forearm, right where the heavy weapon connected to his arm. It was a clean slash, severing it and leaving the mechanical Player bereft of another one of his weapons.

"Rgrhh!" Were it possible, Deus Machina's face would twist into a nasty grimace.

The Automata boosted backwards, firing another [Archer Missile].

"[Battō: Torrential Waves]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi drew back the blade, sheathing it before drawing the high-frequency katana in an instant. He launched a spherical torrent of crimson slashes that sliced apart the missiles before they even got in range, detonating them and catching the War Machine in the resulting explosion.

The two warriors stood poised at a distance, a moment of reprieve settling after the changing tide.

"She handles like a dream." Warrior Takemikazuchi whistled, appraising the weapon.

He twirled the high-frequency blade in his hand, getting a feel of its weight and deftness. It wasn't too light, nor was it heavy in any area; it was perfectly balanced. His other hand ran down the smooth, crimson surface of the katana, mesmerized by the flicker and crackle of crimson electricity coursing through the peerless blade.

"Does she have a name?" Warrior Takemikazuchi asked, a sense of genuine curiosity bubbling through for the craftsmanship of the weapon.

"… HF Blade Custom #63517." Deus Machina answered after a momentary pause.

"Well, that's a boring name." He said flatly. "A beauty like this deserves a worthy name. How does Crimson Moon sound? Or maybe Blood Veil would be better?"

"Why don't you make your own, and then you can name it whatever you want?"

"You know what? I think I will! Hope you don't mind me taking some inspiration."

Despite the casualness in their banter, tension mounted as Deus Machina's mind raced. He was so close to victory, yet so far away. He needed to do something, and quickly, if he wanted to have a chance at winning.

With Warrior Takemikazuchi's HP in the red, it would only take a few decisive attacks to beat him. However, armed with a weapon again, it more than evened out the odds against him.

Several ideas crossed Deus Machina's mind. He could try getting into melee range and use what other offensive skills he had left to chip away at his opponent's HP. Or, he could use the close proximity to fire his remaining [Archer Missile], even if it meant being caught in the explosion itself. He still had one more usage left of his [Nanomachine Recovery], so he could afford to be reckless so long as it meant Warrior Takemikazuchi's HP dropping to zero first before him.

However, that was going off the assumption that he could pull this off before Warrior Takemikazuchi could blitz him down before he could enact his gambit.

And knowing the samurai's skills and intensity, such a reality wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

The ending of the match was a coin toss, and one that Deus Machina wasn't ready to make.

However, the same couldn't be said about Warrior Takemikazuchi.

"Say, this match has gone on for long enough, don't you think?" He asked suddenly, sheathing the HF blade. "Wh'da say about bringing the first round to a close with a bang?"

Seeing this, Deux Machina was confused.

"Don't look so confused." Warrior Takemikazuchi chuckled. "We both know that you've got only one option left."

He jerked his head, gesturing to the railgun on his shoulder.

"So I say, give it your best shot."

The Automata's confusion only grew.

Warrior Takemikazuchi wanted him to use his railgun, but he also sheathed the HF blade, leaving him seemingly defenseless.

Just what was he planning…?

And then, an errant thought popped into his head.

One so outlandish, so ridiculous, and so absolutely insane that it wouldn't leave his mind. And yet, as he stared, matching the armored Heteromorph's gaze, he realized exactly what his intentions were.

"You… you're insane!" Deus Machina exclaimed, disbelief coloring his words.

"I'd like to think of it as more of a gamble." Warrior Takemikazuchi responded candidly.

"Question is…"

He took a stance, his knees bent, his core centered, and his body pressed forward. His left hand gripped the sheath with his finger on the trigger, while his open right hand hovered just in front of the blade's handle, poised for action.

"Are you game, or not?" He challenged.

The air around them grew heavy with anticipation as a deep, tense silence echoed as the air stilled across the battlefield. The two combatants locked eyes, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

For the audience watching, many were left confused by Warrior Takemikazuchi's vague words of challenge and Deus Machina's reaction. Why were they just standing there, and what exactly was Warrior Takemikazuchi planning?

The next ones to figure out what Warrior Takemikazuchi intended were none other than Touch Me and Shirou. And their reactions couldn't be any more different.

"There's no way… Why would he…? He can't be that reckless! He wouldn't… !?" Shirou muttered frantically to himself.

The other competitors in the waiting wings looked at the magus, wondering just what exactly he meant.

"Of course he would." Touch Me let out a subdued chuckle, leaning comfortably back into his seat.

The other World Champions glanced at him, curious as to what the paladin found so amusing. The only one who seemed to have figured it out was ShikiHime.

"No fucking way…" ShikiHime's head snapped back and forth between Touch Me and the screen, adding to the other's confusion.

"Oi! Mind sharing with the rest of the class what's going on?" Duskindal called out.

However, ShikiHime's eyes were glued to the screen.

As the tension between Deus Machina and Warrior Takemikazuchi mounted, the audience grew increasingly restless and annoyed by the prolonged standstill. In the midst of their frustration, scattered ideas began to surface in their minds - some idle, some fanciful - but gradually and collectively, a single idea began to take shape among them.

It was a possibility so incomprehensible that it beggars disbelief, and yet it seemed to gain credibility with every passing moment.

Especially for the members of Ainz Ooal Gown.

The guild members looked to one another, as if trying to reassure the others and themselves of what was to come.

It was no secret that Warrior Takemikazuchi was a risk-taker and daredevil of the highest order, but surely not even he would be that crazy… right?

Surely he wouldn't risk his match and victory on such an insane stunt if he wasn't confident…

Right…?

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Warrior Takemikazuchi remained in his stance, unwavering and awaiting.

Deus Machina too took a stance, his feet anchored and his railgun leveled solely at the samurai, energy and electricity humming steadily, ready to be unleashed.

They remained as such, reminiscent of a standoff between two gunslingers or a duel between two samurais.

Time was immaterial to them, for all that mattered was their opponent in front of them.

The victor would be decided by what was to come next. The question was: who would make the first move?

Railguns operate on the principle of using electromagnetic force to rapidly accelerate a projectile to high velocities. Its destructive capabilities lie not in any explosive ordinances but rather in the projectile's immense kinetic energy to penetrate through anything in its path. Unlike, say, a laser or plasma beam or an attack made of magical energy, the railgun's projectile was solid and tangible.

Theoretically, the HF blade's high oscillation rate could allow it to catch the projectile. However, the practicality of this idea was highly dubious. Something that seemed plausible in theory and something that could be executed successfully were two vastly different concepts.

Even with the trigger sheath's explosive quickdraw, the railgun was exponentially faster than it. Warrior Takemikazuchi's timing needed to be absolutely perfect; if he was even off by even one one-thousandth of a second, he was dead.

This was the fact that baffled everyone.

What he was attempting was the height of lunacy. Everything was stacked against him, and yet he wouldn't back down.

Deus Machina's composed demeanor conveyed confidence, but inwardly, anxiety and nervousness were consuming him. He was silently sweating, his muscles twitching with tension.

On the other side, Warrior Takemikazuchi was still and mediative. He had his eyes closed to his opponent. Such an action would've been a death sentence, yet it worked out in his favor as it made his opponent hesitant.

For Warrior Takemikazuchi, the world around him ceased to exist as he concentrated solely on the present moment.

The distant, numbing ringing that permeated the air silenced.

He let go of his thoughts, his worries, his excitement, his promise to Shirou, his opponent, everything.

Everything ebbed away, fading into a welcoming darkness.

But within the void, a vivid image began to take form in his mind's eye.

A solitary tree stood tall and proud, surrounded by lush foliage. The soft pitter-patter of rain fell gently upon its branches, trickling down to the ground below.

Beside the tree lay a serene little pond, its surface shimmering with the raindrops that danced across its still waters. A single branch from the tree stretched out over the pond, its leaves rustling in the gentle breeze.

His vision fixated on a single leaf, and as he watched, a solitary droplet of rain landed upon it. The droplet clung to the leaf's surface for a moment, then began to slide, pulled inexorably downward by the force of gravity.

As it slid, he could see the world reflected in its miniature form, distorted and blurry yet still somehow beautiful. Unencumbered by the weight of the world

The droplet reached the leaf's edge. It rested there, for a minute or perhaps no more than a second, he could not say.

With a soft plip, it fell into the pond below in slow motion.

It splashed against the surface of the pond, a single ripple dispersing from the center that stilled the pond.

In that singular instant, Warrior Takemikazuchi pressed the trigger as his eyes opened to the world of the living once more.

"[Kaiser Impact]!" "[Trigger Draw: Raiden]!"

What happened next would remain a highly debated topic within the game until its eventual shutdown.

Many argued that Warrior Takemikazuchi acted first, pressing down on the trigger and spooking Deux Machina into reacting and firing a fraction of a second later. Others claimed that it was Deus Machina who fired first and that Warrior Takemikazuchi had reacted just as quickly in response. The debate over who initiated it first was a matter of mere milliseconds, making it a contentious and arbitrary point of discussion. And then there was the belief that they did it simultaneously, whether it be by a stroke of luck or mere happenstance.

Whatever the truth may be, there was no denying what happened next.

And like a flash of lightning, the outcome was decided in an instant.

Deus Machina's railgun unleashed its piercing bolt. The immediate shockwave that followed shattered all the glass and windows around him as the blast expanded outward.

In a flash of crimson lightning, the blade fired with a resounding bang. The hilt slid into his awaiting arm as his fingers instantly grasped it. In a single fluid motion, his arm channeled the blade's momentum, guiding the slash with precision and speed as he quickdrew.

The slash carried through, catching the projectile as it reached him at the upper end of the high-frequency blade's edge. Due to the extreme speed of the projectile and the quickdraw, there was no resistance as the crimson katana cleanly sliced the projectile in half.

Momentum still carried the two halves forward, their trajectory veering off slightly due to the action of the HF blade.

One half missed Warrior Takemikazuchi's cheek by a hair's breadth. The other missed as well, hitting only the tip of one of his horns and taking a part of it with it. They flew down the hallway of the mall, punching through the various shops and walls and leaving a wake of destruction on their path. Thousands upon thousands of fragments of glass fell from the windowed ceiling, descending like a deadly hailstorm.

The Heteromorph still took the brunt of the direct shockwave. He stood his ground even as the force of the shockwave threatened to send him flying, his feet leaving deep indications on the floor.

Warrior Takemikazuchi's HP dropped. And for a moment, it seemed as if that would be it, until it stopped. Leaving only a mere sliver of health points left.

Everyone, from Deus Machina to the audience and viewers watching and even the World Champions, couldn't believe their eyes.

It was an impossibility. A one-in-a-million chance, and Warrior Takemikazuchi took that one-in-a-million chance and won.

While everyone was left speechless and/or in abject awe, what Warrior Takemikazuchi was feeling was indescribable.

His entire arm was numb and trembled feverishly. His legs shook uncontrollably, threatening to give out beneath him at any moment. His vision was blurred, and his ears rang with the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest. Yet, that was nothing compared to the adrenaline coursing through his veins and dopamine flooding his brain.

It was like a wave of energy that consumed his entire being. He never felt more alive in his entire life than he did in that moment.

Power faded from Deus Machina's body as his emerald eyes flickered and dulled. Steam was expunged from his body as he faltered and stilled.

Warrior Takemikazuchi had eight seconds, more than enough time.

He ran, closing the distance between them in an instant.

"[Slash-All]!"

"[Razor Edge]!"

"[Asura's Slash]!"

"[Brilliant Blade]!"

"[Sunderer]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi swung the high-frequency blade, delivering skill after skill upon the vulnerable Player. Deus Machina could do nothing but watch as his HP dropped.

Instead of feeling panic or anxiety, all he felt was a sense of acceptance. The moment Warrior Takemikazuchi survived his trump card, he accepted his fate. In the face of what'd just happened, there was no conceivable way he could've possibly topped that even if he tried.

It was clear who the victor was.

Just as the eight-second cooldown duration ended, the Automata's HP was reduced into the low red, and Warrior Takemikazuchi readied the finishing strike.

He pulled the HF blade back, unclipping the sheath and sheathing the katana once more.

Light returned to Deus Machina's optics as the two warriors exchanged one final look.

The trigger sheath fired, and with a clean slash, Warrior Takemikazuchi separated Deus Machina's head from his body.

Oil spurted from the gaping wound. The spark and electricity of the HF blade ignited the oil, setting it ablaze. The fiery halo swept around them, a bright and vivid mix of crimson and scarlet pink flames.

"Damn, GG…" The severed head of Deus Machina managed to say as he fell, giving Warrior Takemikazuchi one last look of admiration before his body shattered into polygons.

"Aye, to you as well." The Bujin responded with equal respect.

The world around him cracked, giving way to blinding white light. He was back within the stadium.

Takemikazuchi MK 7 stood a meter away. He walked over and retrieved it, and only then did the brains of everyone there kick-start back up.

The sound that erupted from the stadium was nothing short of explosive, one that outstripped everything before it. An overwhelming cacophony that drowned out everything else. The audience was screaming with such intensity that their throats ached, yet they continued to scream. Their cheers were devoid of any articulation or purpose, mere primal noises and raw emotions that resonated across the stadium, the town, and even beyond.

Amidst all the pandemonium, the loudest voice belonged to none other than Ainz Ooal Gown. Their members were jumping with unbridled joy, punching the air, and embracing each other in camaraderie as they chanted Warrior Takemikazuchi's name.

"I… I… I don't… Folks, I genuinely do not have any words to say…" Sam stuttered, unable to speak or convey his thoughts about the spectacle they had all just witnessed.

"WELL, I DO. THREE IN FACT. HOLY! FUCKING! SHIT!" Bob added, contributing to the roar of the crowd. "LET IT BE KNOWN THAT WARRIOR TAKEMIKAZUCHI IS A MAN OF HIS WORDS, PEOPLE. NOW THAT'S HOW YOU END THINGS WITH A BANG! THE VICTOR OF THE FINAL MATCH OF THE FIRST ROUND GOES TO WARRIOR TAKEMIKAZUCHI!"

The roar of the crowd accompanied him as he walked back to the waiting wing.

Basking in the stunned awe of his fellow World Champions, Touch Me sat with his arms crossed and his head held proud.

'Well done, Takemikazuchi-san.' He nodded.

"That… That was bonkers…" Shikihime said breathlessly. She sat at the edge of her seat, her hands slowly unwinding from how hard she was clutching the armrest.

Despite the complete disbelief coloring her voice, there was an undeniable hint of excitement and eagerness in them.

"You know, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to take you up on a rematch if you ask." Said Touch Me.

"Don't tempt me with a good time, Touch Me-san." She chuckled, and all could hear the grin in her voice.

Entering the waiting wing, he ignored the attention of the other Players as he walked over to where Shirou was waiting for him.

"Yo~" Warrior Takemikazuchi greeted with a wave.

"That… that was undoubtedly one of the most reckless and stupidest things I've ever seen you do." Shirou said without any preamble.

And that was saying something, considering all the things he'd seen the samurai suggest or do throughout their years together.

"Ah, if it's stupid but it still works out, then is it really stupid?" He countered smugly.

To which Shirou simply grunted, relenting on the matter. It would be extremely hypocritical of him to give his guildmate a hard time when he had quite the storied history of insane and reckless decisions himself.

But it was the principle of the matter!

The near-heart attack he had while watching wasn't worth it.

However, he would be lying if he said that he wasn't both happy and hyped up by Warrior Takemikazuchi's instant turnaround. Reckless as he may be, there was no denying that the Bujin had a flair for the spectacle and knew how to put on a show and make a fight engaging from beginning to end.

Unbidden, a small smirk came to his lips as the two friends joked around.

The first round of the World Champion Tournament concluded.

And many were to follow.

Chapter 14 - The 9th World Champion Tournament IV

Merry Christmas, everyone!

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Beta'd: Dante Evans

Chapter 14 - The 9th World Champion Tournament IV

The tournament proceeded throughout the day, with both Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi fighting formidable Players one after the next as they progressed through the tournament. Some were undeniably powerful, and others were incredibly skilled, and as they advanced through the rankings, the challenge only grew. Yet the magus met and surpassed each and every last one of his opponents.

However, it would be in the semi-finals that Shirou would face his greatest and closest match to date within the entire World Champion Tournament.

Standing in the hallway for the umpteenth time, he waited for the two shoutcasters to finish their commentary and start the next round.

"Ladies and gentlemen, after several long and intense rounds of matches, we have nearly arrived at the end. Welcome to the semi-finals! And what a journey it has been!"

"HOW RIGHT YOU, SAM! WE'RE ONE STEP CLOSER TO SEEING JUST WHO WILL BE CROWNED THE 9TH WORLD CHAMPION! SO LET'S MAKE SOME NOISE!" Bob shouted.

"FINALLY, ALL THE TRASH TIER NOOBS HAVE HAD THEIR TEETHS KICKED IN, AND NOW WE CAN SEE SOME REAL FIGHTING! SERIOUSLY, MY GRANDMOTHER IS A BETTER PLAYER THAN THOSE SCRUBS… AND SHE'S NOT A META GAMING BITCH!"

The audience followed his advice, albeit against him. The air rippled as the commentators were showered with spurring boos and angry comments from the spectators. Shirou had to plug his ears just to stop them from ringing. If he somehow makes it through the tournament without any permanent hearing loss, that'll be a miracle in itself.

"Speaking of your grandmother, how has she been?"

"SHE'S BEEN GREAT! OH YEAH, SHE ALSO ASKED ME TO INVITE YOU TO THIS YEAR'S CHRISTMAS."

"Thanks. She's a sweetheart… Where were we again? Oh! Right, ahem! Starting us off as always is Emiya." Sam began, "In the first round, he wowed the crowd with his skills with both the bow and sword, and it only continued as he unveiled more and more of his tricks throughout the matches. With what we've seen so far, one must wonder just how many more he has up his sleeves. Whatever the case may be, there's no doubt that it'll be a match worth remembering! Welcome, Emiya, to the field!"

Taking it as his que, he stepped out of the entrance to the roar of the crowd. Unlike in the beginning and early on, Shirou noticed the change in tune. Before, much of the voices were vitriolic towards him, but as he racked up victory after victory, the consensus seemed to be more split. Half still booed him on principle and called him a cheater, while the others were more neutral and enthusiastic.

"YOU CAN SAY THAT AGAIN, SAM. IN OTHER WORDS, HE IS A LUCKY SPAMMER WHOSE CHOICE OF WEAPON IS ALL OF THEM! WITH A BIG FUCKING SWORD AND A BIG FUCKING BOW TO LAUNCH SAID SWORDS. WITH A BULLSHIT ABILITY LIKE THAT, THE SWORD SPAMMING PLAYER HAS BEEN GIVEN THE DISTINGUISH TITLE OF CHEATING HAXOR FUCKER!"

"Distinguished…?"

Shirou nearly missed a step upon hearing the commentary, sharing the co-commentator's absolute incredulousness at what he just heard. He wasn't the only one, as a few in the crowd - Ainz Ooal Gown included, were surprised, or in Ulbert's case, wheezing with laughter.

A single quirked brow rose. Guess opinions traveled faster than he'd thought.

"THE QUESTION IS, WILL HIS ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT POWER BE ENOUGH AGAINST HIS OPPONENT?"

"Just like Emiya, she's been making waves throughout the tournament, beating back veteran Players left, right, and center! No one can seemingly stop her as she claws her way towards the crown. Will she break through the obstacle before her, or will she fall to Emiya's blade like so many others before her?"

"MUCH LIKE HER GAMERTAG, ONCE SHE ERUPTS INTO COMBAT, THERE'S NO STOPPING HER! EMIYA FOUGHT HIS FAIR SHARE OF COMBATANTS THROUGHOUT THE TOURNAMENT AND HAS BEATEN THE ODDS TIME AND AGAIN. HOWEVER, HOW WILL HE BE ABLE TO HANDLE A NATURAL DISASTER LIKE HER?! GIVE IT UP TO THE BURNING MISTRESS THAT HAS SWEPT THROUGH THE COMPETITION, THE DOMINATOR OF THE STRONG, AND THE DARK HORSE OF THE TOURNAMENT: THE BLAZING LIONESS, VOLCÁNICA!"

A blazing display of pyrotechnics and special effects heralded the arrival of his next opponent.

Volcánica - Lvl: 100 - [The Blazing Lioness]

Volcánica was a Demi-Human, denoted by the furry, feline ears peeking out of the corner of her hair and her cat-like tail, swaying with every step. Her character race was a Catfolk, a Granat, to be more specific, a subrace known for their proficiency when it comes to fire magic and fire-based skills. Her healthy, tan skin, which was lighter than his own bronzed skin, made her stand out even more.

Her attire consisted of chest wrapping that wrapped around her modest chest, which left her midriff bare, showcasing her toned abs and stomach. On top of this, she wore an open, long, royal blue blazer with golden trims along the side, complete with long sleeves and a high collar. Dark trousers, with straps running down her legs, were connected to black metal-plated shoes. A red sash was wrapped around the waist, helping to tie it together, fashioned by a metallic ring buckle in the design of the Ouroboros. A brilliant vermillion coat, draped like a cape, hung from her shoulders, flowing with every step she took. Fur dominated the high collar of the coat, designed to resemble bright, wavy flames, adding to the overall fiery appearance of her outfit. Lastly, she wore a simple, black collar with a bell around her neck and a ruby-encrusted ring on her tail, near the tip, completing her look with a touch of glamor.

Her entire right arm was sleeveless, granting another glimpse at her physique through her well-toned muscles. A fierce tiger tattoo dominated her right shoulder and snaked down her arm, adding to her fierce and untamed appearance. She donned a pair of vambraces and greaves, adorned with intricate crimson designs that were accented with a golden orange hue.

Despite her youthful and strikingly beautiful features, there was more to her than just a pretty face. She possessed the trappings of a beast in human skin. Her periwinkle eyes shone with a predatory gleam, hinting at the wildness that lay beneath her exterior. Her avatar wore a sharp and confident grin, with a fanged, pronounced tooth sticking out from the corner of her mouth. Her short, wavy, orange-vermillion hair completed the look of a fierce warrior.

The atmosphere was positively electrifying, as the audience was eager to see the two front runners duke it out and see who would come out on top.

Shirou eyed the feline Player as she strode confidently forward.

"So, is it true?" She asked, standing in the arena, facing him.

"Is what true?" He returned.

"Is it true that you never once died in game?" She questioned with a note of eagerness.

Shirou's confusion only grew. Why would she be interested in a detail like that?

He must've taken too long deliberating her question, for she was quick to follow up.

"It's a yes-or-no question. Ain't no reason to complicate it." Volcánica grunted, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

"No." He shook his head. "Far from it, in fact. I've died plenty of times." He answered honestly.

"Really? -Tsk - Damn…" The firebrand clicked her tongue.

What caught his attention was the genuine sense of disappointment in her voice.

"You sound disappointed."

"Damn right, I am! I wanted to be the one to pop that cherry of yours."

Shirou blinked.

"I beg your pardon?"

Volcánica let out an unladylike snort.

"Don't be a prude. You heard exactly what I said."

She stared him down.

"I wanted to be the first to beat you. To break the legend. It would've made my win all the sweeter knowing I handed the infamous Player Killer's first ever death!"

Her hand shot forward, her fingers flexing to clench a victory she could all but see and grasp.

There was no shortage of confidence in her. Too much, one could say, bordering on sheer arrogance. It was no different from how some of his previous opponents acted, as if they would be the ones to lay him low. However, there was something subtle about her that was different from the others.

"You sound quite sure of yourself. I'd suggest you don't make the same mistakes that came before you did and underestimate me." The virtual magus warned.

"Please, don't compare me to those chumps." The lioness scoffed, offended at the comparison.

"They were arrogant."

"Oh? What does that make you, then?"

"Confidant as hell, of course!"

Shirou's lips twitched. Again, she was unabashed in her attitude. There was almost an endearing charm to it.

"Is that so? Would you be so kind as to clarify the difference?"

"Naturally."

With a hand on her hip and her head up high, she looked like a teacher, ready to educate her pupil.

"There's a big difference between arrogance and confidence, and that boils down to attitude. Arrogance is looking down on your opponent and underestimating them when you ain't hot shit, like those chucklefucks you fought."

"And confidence?" Shirou asked, playing along.

"Confidence is knowing exactly who you're going up against is capable of and that they can stomp your ass like anyone else. But it's also knowing that no matter what comes your way, you'll beat the odds!"

She gave him an appraising look.

"Everyone can bitch and moan about your build or bullshit abilities all they want, but the facts are facts. You're the real deal, and you've shown everyone why you're the best of the best. But so what?! There ain't nothing I can't beat! And I'm going to prove that to the world, right here, right now!" Volcánica declared for all to hear.

The audience roared right behind her.

Ignoring the rising heat of the crowd, Shirou took a mental step back and looked at her once more.

She sounded eager. More than eager to prove her mettle.

She was like a great bonfire, burning bright and full, and after hearing her words, Shirou couldn't help but feel a bit fired up himself.

"You really are confident as hell."

"Damn right, I am! That's pride! Pride in my strength. Pride in my skills. Pride in knowing that I'm the best around! And you know what?" She took a step forward, flashing a wide, challenging grin. "No one's proven me wrong yet."

"So bring out all the fancy little tricks you've got up your sleeve. I can handle anything you throw at me and more. Especially those big ol' swords of yours~"

Shirou couldn't help but grin alongside her. With a step forward, he met her challenge.

"You are without a doubt a great Player, Volcánica-san." He complimented. "But I can assure you, you haven't faced anything like my swords before."

"Men and their swords. All talk, no action." She harrumphed. "But with you, you actually have some bite to you. But it's like I said, there ain't nothing I can handle."

She took another step forward.

"Believe me, you haven't seen anything yet." He coolly returned.

Another step forward.

"Ohh~? Got something special tucked away for little ol' me? Don't promise a girl a good time, or else I'll take ya' up on that offer, bad boy ~" She rumbled - a mixture of an aggressive, sensual purr and an excited growl.

The two met at the center of the stage, locked in an intensive stare-down.

Volcánica stood a fraction taller than Shirou, allowing her to leer down at him. The magus was far from intimidated, challenging the lioness right to her face. They stood right in each other's faces, Volcánica with her smoldering stare and Shirou with his stoic confidence, both refusing to back down. So close were they that they could feel the others' breath against their skin.

"IS IT GETTING HOT IN HERE OR IS IT JUST ME?" The commentary of Bob interjected, the holographic screens showing a close-up of the tension between the two combatants.

The noise coming from the audience rose, egging the two Players on with whistles and catcalls. While the majority of the watchers wanted the fight to begin, there were those that were enjoying the back and forth between them. And for Ainz Ooal Gown, a few were certainly enjoying the show in front of them.

"Oh my, who knew Emiya-san could be so bold?" Ankoro Mocchi Mochi whispered, fanning herself with her hand.

"I know, right?!" Yamiko gossiped right beside her. "Flirting so openly, and in the middle of a big tournament, no less. I didn't know he had it in him."

"They're not flirting! The-they're just trash talking! Yeah, trash talking…" Bukubukuchagama grumbled, her cutesy voice torn between indignation and jealousy.

"If that's trash talking, then I'm curious about how he flirts if he's as smooth with his words. Maybe I should try luck…" Considered the sweet-toothed Player.

"Down girl." Said the Nephilim Spiritualist. "And last time I checked, you've got a boyfriend already."

"That doesn't mean a girl can't do some window shopping."

"I hate both of you." The pink slime huffed, melting into a puddle in her seat.

The two other female members only giggled, seeing her pout.

"I believe we've waited long enough. Let the first match of the semi-finals begin!"

The two didn't break eye contact even as the stage lit up in the familiar white glow, and in a flash, the two fighters were transported to their battleground.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

The flash of white receded, and he was greeted with an ocean of greenery.

Towering trees of varying species and sizes stretched across the field and beyond the horizon. The sheer size of them was staggering, their towering form standing tall with an almost palpable sense of pride. Each tree easily eclipsed tens of dozens of meters in height, touching the skies like skyscrapers. Their trunks were thick and massive, gnarled and weathered, their bark rough to the touch, and imbued with the stories of countless years. Scores of equally large outstretching branches, thick with leaves and covered in a tapestry of vibrant colors, reached outwards in all directions. The uppermost leaves brushed among the clouds above and rustled softly in the gentle breeze, their whispers carrying across the field like a symphony of nature.

Beneath the canopy was a field awash with a sea of green, dotted here and there with colorful wildflowers that swayed gently in the wind. Rays of sunlight danced and weaved their way through the blanket of leaves, casting a gentle and inviting glow upon the luscious grassland.

Shirou stood upon one of the hundreds of branches that made up the vast networks around him.

As the duel timer appeared and counted down, he scoped out the area.

The location reminded Shirou greatly of an area known as Tall Hollow, located within Niðavellir. The zone was a forest, one that was unlike anything anyone had seen before, at least impossible to exist on Earth. In fact, it was practically identical.

'If so…' Shirou thought, his eyes looking off in the distance, beyond the sea of trees, and remembering another landmark that shared the land with the great forest.

The timer buzzed, and Shirou immediately braced himself. His magic circuits glowed as Reinforcement spread across his body. Kanshou and Baukya graced his hands as he took a stance, his heterochromatic eyes sweeping the area for his opponent.

He wouldn't have to wait long, as a pillar of flames erupted in the distance, announcing her presence and giving away her location.

Volcánica was down below, walking through the tall grassland as the nearby grass, ferns, and bushes wilted and burned from the wave of heat shimmering off of her. A coat of brilliant crimson-orange flames enveloped her, making her stand out all the more.

Upon spotting one another, Volcánica flashed a grin, while Shirou sported a frown.

Her passiveness immediately stood out to him.

In all of her matches, she crushed her opponents fully and head-on. Never once retreating or halting. This hyper-aggressive playstyle laid many of her opponents low, including those that seemingly held the advantage over her. It was why the faker was immediately on guard as he waited for Volcánica to come screaming toward him, as she'd done with all her previous opponents.

Instead, she purposely announced her presence and walked as if she were going for a casual stroll.

For her to break the norm like this…

Their gazes remained locked on one another, and despite no words passing between the two fighters, Shirou immediately understood Volcánica's intentions.

If she wants it, then he'll happily oblige.

The married blades gave way to his black bow as he notched back several arrows and loosed them, firing a barrage of a dozen arrows. Mana cloaked their forms, resembling Grandr Shots.

Volcánica's grin stretched. She spread her arms, her fingers flexing and her bones popping in anticipation. Fire sparked, coating her forearm in luminescent flames.

"[Burning Knuckle]!"

Her fists were a blur, punching each of his arrows in rapid succession. Flames consumed them, burning away even the mana that cloaked them.

"Next!" She demanded.

Shirou answered her challenge by loosing another round of arrows alongside [Trace Bullet]. The half-dozen arrows flew straight, supported by artillery. Halfway towards their target, his projections altered their course, arcing to attack from the sides.

Faced with an attack from three different directions, any ordinary Player would find themselves in quite a predicament. For Volcánica, she resolved the issue as she'd always had, with overwhelming force.

"[Blazing Torque]!"

The flames burned brightly as the skill overlaid on her previous skill, spreading from her arms to her legs as well.

It didn't matter where they came from - her left, her right, or even from above - each projectile was met with her flaming fist. Shirou's swords shattered, their explosion consumed by flames, while his arrows burned to cinders. Her speed and reaction time were nothing short of incredible, as she swung and pivoted to meet each projectile with lightning-fast reflexes within an instant of the other.

A few of his arrows and projections remained, lagging behind the rest that were destroyed by Volcánica's rush.

A blast of flames ignited from her feet, vaulting her into the air, her body pivoting and flipping upside down as her legs lashed out in a spinning kick, catching the others.

Two swords survived, with each coming in quickly from opposite directions. The one on her right was faster, closing in on her.

Swift as a cat, she deftly avoided the attack by a hair's breadth even while upside down, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. And in that very same moment, her hand shot out like a snake striking its prey, plucking the sword out of the air with precision as it whizzed past her. With the sword's momentum still carrying it forward, she brought it around with fluid grace, using it to strike the second sword.

Steel rang as Shirou's projections broke against one another, detonating.

From above, he saw it all happen.

'Incredible…' He couldn't help but praise.

He'd known that she possessed incredible reflexes and dexterity, having closely observed all of her matches. However, it was one thing to observe it; it was another to see it happen in front of him.

Volcánica stepped out of the smoke with hardly a scratch on her, her fiery aura burning bright as ever.

"NEXT!" She roared.

Shirou's eyes narrowed. Prana surged from the palm of his hand, forming Hrunting in its arrow form. Swords filled the air around him, a storm of steel ready to be unleashed.

Her eyes brightened, and her fist clenched in anticipation.

Half of them fired forward, slicing through the web of branches, while the other flew towards her.

A rain of falling tree branches and sharpened steel descended upon her.

Volcánica stood her ground and met every one of them. And for those that she couldn't smash with her fists, she used her legs, supplementing her punches with blazing kicks. She laughed all the while, an excited and merry laughter.

A heavy boom drew her attention as she pummeled the last of Shirou's projections. Looking up, a massive and thick branch the size of a small building fell towards her.

"[Double Up]!"

The flames coating her fists intensified. With a jump, she reared her arm back for a powerful punch.

Her fist buried itself deep into the massive branch, cracks spreading across its bark as fire and light shone through the cracks from the inside. It exploded in a shower of flames and burning splinters.

Landing on her feet, she spun around to face him, her mouth open to demand more. However, her eyes caught something strange - or rather, the absence of something.

'Where'd that arrow go?!' Volcánica's eyes widened.

A flash of crimson from the corner of her eyes was her only warning.

Blood spurted forth, coloring the ocean of grass around her red. Droplets of crimson clung to the blades of grass like morning dew.

Volcánica's shadow, which stretched across the grass field, stilled, showing the silhouette of herself and Hrunting. The modified arrow struck the right side of her face in what looked like a clean and deadly hit.

Hrunting found its mark.

However, that was all it did.

Shirou's arms slowly lowered in disbelief at the sight before him.

Hrunting pierced through her right cheek, with the blackened, sharpened tip of the arrow exiting out her left cheek, but that was all it managed to do.

Volcánica stopped Hrunting with nothing but her teeth and sheer grit.

Her teeth pressed down on the Noble Phantasm, metal crunching and creaking under the pressure, and with a powerful chomp, she broke the modified arrow between them. The tip and the rest of the Hrunting tumbled to the ground.

Her body swayed, reeling from the attack, but she remained standing all the same.

Volcánica's head whipped around as she spat out a massive glob of blood, filled with fragments of Hrunting and broken teeth.

Slowly, she turned to face him.

The right side of her face was an absolute mess. Her cheek was fully exposed, revealing bloody, cracked teeth, ripped muscles, and mangled flesh. The inside of her mouth fared little better, with the sharpened edges of the Noble Phantasms leaving deep gashes and bloody cuts within the oral cavity. Her left cheek was only slightly better, with a bloody exit wound. Rivulets of blood trickled down from the open wound and her mouth steadily, dying her in sanguine red with her own life nectar.

She grinned. A wide and bloody grin that split her face literally from ear to ear.

"NEXT!"

At the sight of Volcánica's twisted visage, a shuddering pressure pressed down on him, with the magus taking half a step back.

He'd face his fair share of maniacs and bloodthirsty opponents, but the battle lust displayed by her was almost on another level. It was reminiscent of when he first encountered the Servant of Madness all those decades ago and bore the brunt of the Servant's crushing aura.

But where Berserker's radiated madness and rage, the woman before him exuded a pure and unbridled fervor for battle.

Despite everything he'd thrown at her and the grievous damage dealt, she was eager for more…

Shirou's lips curled into a wry smile. The magus thought he had a good grasp of her personality from her matches, but it seemed that he slightly underestimated just how voracious she truly was.

Turning on his heel, he took off, running deeper into the forest.

"That's it?"

She watched him run away, her face flushed with a warm, orange-red glow. The bloody wound on her face healed rapidly courtesy of her spell, [Healing Warmth].

Volcánica was almost disappointed that Shirou didn't bust out the other weapons that he'd shown throughout the tournament. She was especially curious about those special spiral arrows of his - Caladbolg II - and how she would fare against them head-on.

However, the feeling passed as her grin returned.

"My turn~!" She gave a throaty growl, flames igniting from her feet like jet propulsion.

In an instant, she took to the air after Shirou.

The lioness began her hunt.

It didn't take her long to reach him, his ears catching the roar of flames as she rocketed towards him like a screaming missile.

Shirou leaped to the side, dodging her as she slammed her fist into a tree, the tree itself bursting into flames from the punch.

A burst of flames from her fist allowed her to change direction instantly, rocketing towards him without delay with another punch at the ready.

The two fought: swords versus fists, fire versus steel.

Volcánica punched and parried his swings, the flaming aura coating her limbs and providing her with protection and strength.

Shirou blocked a punch with his swords, jumping back at the same time.

His eyes fell to the married blades, finding the edge of the blades to be cracked and warped from the intense heat of her flames through their brief clash.

He threw them at her as she rushed forward, a fresh pair taking their place. She ignored the spinning blades, the Noble Phantasms flying past her.

The first pair curved around, spinning towards Volcánica's unprotected back as Shirou kept her occupied.

"[Blaze Kick]!"

In another showing of dexterity, Volcánica's legs ignited, and with a jump, she performed a tornado kick, catching the thrown married blades. Simultaneously, she blocked Shirou's swing with Kanshou, who sought to capitalize on the opening, with her right arm and vambrace.

"I've already seen that little trick!" She shouted. "You're going to have to try better than that, little magician!"

"How about this, then." He returned.

He stomped with his right leg, arcs of prana flowing from the limb down into the branch.

Volcánica leaned back in the nick of time, avoiding a long blade that shot off from beneath. She backflipped away, dodging the attack and more like it as swords emerged from the branch to skewer her.

"[Trace Bullet]!"

Shirou fired a volley of projections at her mid-flip.

"[Bright Roar]!"

A fiery apparition of a fierce lion head appeared behind her as she righted herself and released a thundering roar. The burning shockwave stopped the attack, with the projections exploding at a safe distance.

From the cloud of smoke, she charged headlong. However, the swords that sprouted from the branch glowed and detonated.

The branch fell, taking Volcánica with her, while Shirou remained.

The prospect of falling from such a great height and splattering against the harsh ground below would've been quite the predicament for any normal Player. For the tanned-skinned Catfolk, it didn't register as an inconvenience.

A jettison of flames from her feet kept her afloat, propelling her back up to the branches.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd be playing hard to get." Volcánica quipped, turning to face Shirou.

Only to find that he'd already left her behind, his form slowly getting smaller and smaller in the distance.

"Then again…"

Her smile stretched.

"I do love it when they run~"

The flames beneath her feet intensified as she gave chase.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"AND WE'RE OFF THE RACES! DESPITE EMIYA'S EFFORTS, VOLCÁNICA IS FAR FROM DETERRED!"

Momonga watched the match play out, his crimson orbs focusing on the feline Player.

While many of the contestants had a reputation or were well known, her background was unknown. She was a complete newcomer, and many held doubts and skepticism regarding her qualifications in this tournament of champions.

However, Volcánica quickly proved her naysayers wrong in her first match, where she handily wiped the floor with her opponent. She quickly became a crowd favorite through her explosive play style and dominating victories.

Which made it all the more interesting to parse her build.

"She's got to have a [Monk] class or something. Perhaps something like [Martial Lord]?" Coup De Grâce said.

"Or, she could be using enchanter support classes like [Enchantress] or [Fire Forge]. I can think of a couple of job classes that can do what she does." Shizyuutensuzaku added.

"But she'd shown some utility and attack spells, rather than strictly enchantment spells." Variable Talisman pointed out.

"Yeah, but if she were a mage, then how come she hasn't used any high tier spells or meta magic yet? It would've come in handy in her earlier matches." Blue Planet contended.

"There's also the alternative of it coming from her racial classes. Her fire magic and skills come from her being a [Granat]. One shouldn't discount the possibility of a potential specialized racial or job class that would allow her to do this." Punitto Moe proposed.

"It would explain how she's able to use both spells and skills in tandem." Bellriver nodded along with Punitto Moe.

"In addition, there are a few racial and job classes that allow the user to use magic but restrict them from using meta magic." Said Tabula, throwing in his support.

"There are?" Peroroncino's head perked up at this tidbit. "Damn. That's news to me."

The discussion grew as nearly all of Ainz Ooal Gown gave their thoughts and opinions.

"What do you think, Destana-san?" Momonga asked.

His angelic girlfriend shrugged her shoulders.

"No offense, babe; how the heck would I know if you don't? Remind me again, who's the hardcore gamer in this relationship?" She teased.

Momonga tilted his head, conceding.

Volcánica possesses a hybrid build, no doubt about that, and a unique one at that.

Rather than just being a mage who knew how to throw a punch, it was more accurate to call her a fighter who just so happened to use magic. Instead of using spells as her main form of damage, she weaves them into her full-contact combat style, empowering her physical strength and strikes.

She was a fighter-mage.

'… Nothing Emiya-san can't handle.' The Overlord thought.

Momonga held the utmost confidence in his best friend. He'd made it this far; he wouldn't lose now.

And yet, a nugget of doubt persisted. Something was telling him that there was more to her than what she'd shown so far.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"[Blitz Driver!]"

Shirou heard her coming and leaped to another branch, dodging the powerful dropkick that smashed through the treelines, destroying several treetops in the process.

"[Leo's Paw]!"

Landing, she used a skill, causing the flames coating her arms to enlarge, forming large flaming paws. She swung them, grabbed a hold of the destroyed branches and wood, and threw them at the magus.

He dodged out of the way of the first throw, hopping from branch to branch. The second throw he intercepted with [Trace Bullet].

Volcánica burst out of the great cloud of smoke, running right towards him with a fist cocked and ready.

The two swung in unison, but as Baukya closed in, her punch curved downward, impacting the branch beneath them instead as his swing flew over her head and missed.

The entire branch rattled, catching him off guard and making him lose his footing and balance.

'She was aiming for the ground from the beginning!' He realized.

Volcánica swung her lower body around, a burst of flames increasing its speed as she attacked with a swift kick.

The heel kick made contact with Shirou's temple, knocking him back and off the branch.

He fell, hitting a lower branch, bounced, and fell again.

Landing on another, he rolled and managed to stop himself from going over the edge.

He recovered quickly as the sounds of her yells closed in and grew louder. He dodged out of the way as the Granat crashed down from above.

The magus jumped back to gain some distance, but Volcánica wasn't going to let him go that easily.

A blast of flames propelled her, closing the distance with a flying knee strike.

Shirou brought both arms up, crossing them to guard against her knee strike.

The force and speed behind her attack faltered him, his body stumbling backward to put any amount of distance between them.

"[Whiplash]!"

She swung her right arm, a whip of fire extending forth and wrapping around Shirou's forearm, catching him while he was still off-balance. Her muscles tensed, and with a mighty tug, she pulled him off his feet and towards her.

"C'mon! I know you can do better than that!"

She twisted her whole body, channeling all her weight and force into her right arm as she threw a powerful straight punch as the Player Killer got within range.

However, even off his feet and on the perceived back foot, Shirou would show his tenacity and seized the opportunity to his advantage by bringing his sword to bear for a counterattack.

'A cross-counter!' Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

Volcánica raised her other arm in time as Kanshou stabbed through her forearm, the blade's tip piercing into her shoulder.

At the same time, her [Burning Knuckle] struck Shirou's face, and a heavy and meaty thud echoed across the forest.

The two Players traded attacks, but it was far from equal.

Shirou flew backward, smashing through several more branches before being stopped by one of the thicker branches. His body slumped against the branch, half-embedded inside it, with his head tilted back.

The lioness blasted towards her downed prey.

Shirou's head instantly snapped forward, matching her gaze. Brilliant periwinkle eyes clashed against determined steelish silver and autumn gold.

He snapped his fingers.

In her excitement and haste, she had forgotten all about Kanshou, which was still lodged in her arm.

It detonated, engulfing her in a small explosion and knocking her off course.

Landing and recovering, she ignored the bloody and wounded limb and quickly turned around to resume her chase. Only to find the magus coming in fast. He used the branch as a springboard to launch himself forward.

Volcánica threw a punch, putting it in Shirou's path. But to her surprise, her fist connected with nothing but empty air. The magus performed a last-second maneuver, twirling and sailing over her arm like a spinning bullet.

Shirou swung, the other half of the married blade leaving a deep slash wound across her neck as he slipped right by her. A fountain of blood burst forth. A reflexive, sharp, strangled gasp escaped her lips. Her hand instinctively fell to her neck, clutching the bleeding wound.

The two locked eyes: Shirou from his position on a lower branch, looking up, and Volcánica from above, peering down. Patches of burn marks marred the left side of the magus's face from where she struck, but he remained undaunted. Meanwhile, her hand grew bloody and wet, stemming the flow of blood from her neck. The damage was reflected in their HP bar, with Shirou in the lower green and Volcánica in the high yellow.

Shirou could see it as clear as day. The initial jolt of surprise and alarm settled, and relief and understanding filtered through before being overtaken by a whole new emotion: elation.

Volcánica's lips trembled, stretching, as her fanged tooth bit into her lower lip, drawing a trickle of blood.

"That's more like it." Volcánica chuckled, making a throaty sound that resembled the purr of a lioness.

Despite the new implementations, YGGDRASIL still remained a game, a false reality. They were never in any real danger, and while many of the fighters had their own moments and freakouts, some took it in equal stride. Volcánica belonged to the latter.

But in that singular moment, she felt it…

Her hand rested against her chest, over her heart. The thumping of her heart calmed, yet her body still remembered the fleeting sensation that dominated her core - how her heart skipped a beat.

A feeling she'd never once experienced in either the mundanity of the physical world or in the extravagance of the digital world. Until now.

… The rush and exhilaration of death!

"Show me more!"

Warm healing flames concentrated over the wounds, patching up the damage as her HP returned to full health. Her grin widened, and her eyes danced with excitement.

"[Killer Instinct], [Flare Up], [Double Team], [Fiery Dance], [Kick Jet]!"

The flames coating her body shimmered and brightened, concentrating around her arms and legs. Her posture lowered, and she crouched down on all fours. Her stance resembled that of a feline predator, her body poised to pounce upon her morsel.

Shirou was internally confused, but cautious.

She pounced. But instead of pouncing at him, she sailed right over Shirou, onto a branch on the other side. She jumped again, but this time to the side. The next, below, and the one after that, across. His head swerved back and forth and around, tracking her erratic movement.

The sound of rustling leaves, swinging branches, and the whipping of the wind surrounded him. She was a bouncing blur, moving so rapidly thanks to her skills that afterimages followed her, forming a dome around the magus and cutting off any escape route. There was no course or pattern in her movement, only randomness, which made it difficult for him to gauge her intentions.

His instincts blared, and he reacted, pivoting on his heel and swinging Bakuya as Volcánica came in from behind.

Shirou anticipated an attack, only for her to surprise him completely with what she did next. A burst of flames from her feet allowed her to somersault over his swing mid-air, evading it.

They locked eyes once again, their faces separated by a breath. Shirou's face bore a contemplative frown. Meanwhile, Volcánica's face was adorned with a mischievous smirk, as she flipped over Shirou, looking down at him with a playful glint in her eyes.

He swung around, hoping to catch her as she landed, but she proved to be as nimble as a cat as she jumped away, continuing her previous bouncing around.

She pounced at him again, coming in diagonally from the side.

Shirou swung around to meet her, his attack whiffing thanks to her dodging at the last possible second with a similar maneuver as before. Like a bouncing ball, she moved from one branch to another, appearing from different angles - from the sides to above, before lunging at him from below.

He thought he caught her this time, but her agileness allowed her to dodge yet another slash. As Volcánica slipped past him, a searing pain spread across his back.

The Humanoid Player staggered, a hiss of steam emanating from his backside.

"Gotch'ya." she teased, her tail wagging mischievously. The flames coating her arms took the form of paws with sharp claws.

This continued for a little bit as she continued launching herself at him, coming in from all directions - from below, the sides, above, behind, and so forth. This made it difficult for the projection user to discern which were feints and which were genuine attacks. It was almost like a game of chicken, with Volcánica bouncing around the edge before coming at him, baiting him into reacting before she reacted herself.

This unconventional approach allowed her to attack from his blind spots at the last possible second, ensuring little to no time for him to defend or react.

However, it wouldn't continue.

Shirou managed to block a swipe from Volcánica following her dodge, wising up to her unorthodox attack pattern.

Despite it, it didn't seem to bother the Demi-Human Player, if the persistent grin on her face was any indication.

It only served to reinforce the theory that he held about his opponent based on what he'd seen throughout her previous matches.

'In that case…'

Shirou relaxed his stance, much to the confusion of everyone watching.

Kanshou and Bakuya's forms gave way to a burst of prana, condensing around his arms. In their place were a pair of sleek but sharp ivory-black gauntlets with veins of purple light flowing across their surface.

'Those are… !' The tanned-skinned Granat recognized the new weapon. They belonged to one of Shirou's previous opponents.

What came as a surprise wasn't the fact that he was capable of replicating them, but rather his showing of it.

Throughout the tournament, the virtual magus revealed much of his deadly arsenal and skills. However, the one thing that remained consistent with them was that they were all weapons to be wielded: swords, bows and arrows, lances, spears, maces, daggers, and many others. This was the first time that he showed any hint of his hand-to-hand combat expertise.

He raised his hands, taking a basic guard stance while keeping his gaze fixed solely ahead. He seemed unfazed by his opponent's bouncing around, leaving himself wide open to any attack she might launch.

But instead of taking advantage of the opening offered to her, Volcánica landed in front of him on the branch on all four, exactly as he knew she would.

"You could've told me you knew how to dance." She quipped, cracking her knuckles. "C'mon then, let's tango!"

With a stomp, she rushed forward, closing the distance in an instant.

She threw a fast but predictable punch, which Shirou countered with a speedy jab.

The air popped as the two attacks made contact, with the fighter-mage's fist reeling and her fingers tingling from the counter.

[Behemoth Breaker], that was the name of the gauntlets he wielded. They were a Divine class weapon, with the weapon's unique effect being [Recoil]. They functioned similarly to Yamaiko's own gauntlet and their ability of [Knockback], albeit on a lesser scale. Each punch was launched as if fired from a gun, accompanied by a jettison of force that produced a miniaturized shockwave with every hit. This burst of speed added to the weapon's striking power, allowing the user to stagger their opponent and consecutively chain punches one after the other.

Volcánica's fingers tightened, her fists clenched, and her grin stretched.

"[Burning Knuckle: Barrage]!"

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

'Now, why'd you go and do that?' Warrior Takemikazuchi thought, watching the new development.

Warrior Takemikazuchi knew from personal experience that the virtual magus wasn't the type to bang his head against a wall in an attempt to power through an obstacle in front of him. That was more his forte.

If a method doesn't work out, then he'll try a new one, and another if need be, and another, until he finds one that works.

Back when Volcánica was bouncing all around him, the samurai was curious to see why he didn't bother escaping. He could think of several options available that his guildmate could've used, such as firing his projections in a widespread direction to destroy the branches, jumping off the branch and forcing her to give chase, or tracing another Noble Phantasm that would've given him an edge. Instead, Shirou was seemingly indulging her at her own game.

By the magus's own admission, his hand-to-hand combat skill was abysmal - relatively speaking - when compared to anything else. And yet, he was willing to challenge her in a confrontation in which she held the clear advantage.

The armored Heteromorph was no stranger to his friend's spontaneous tactics, but this one was by far the most curious.

In the end, all he could do was watch and see how it all came together.

'What'd you have planned to turn this around, eh, Emiya-san?'

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

A flurry of punches flew from both sides, the air rippling and popping as if a gun were being fired continuously.

Volcánica's arms were a blur, a fiery blur that made it seem as if she had multiple arms swinging and punching all at once.

Despite an impressive display from both Players, it was clear who the better striker was between them, yet Shirou kept up with her.

"Isn't this fun?!" Volcánica laughed throughout their rush.

Amid the heated clash, she spotted an opening in her opponent's guard and immediately seized the opportunity to launch a left straight.

Only for her attack to be read and parried by Shirou swiftly twisting his body and using his shoulder to deflect her attack. Simultaneously, he countered with a punch to her face. He left an opening on purpose to bait her, and she took it without any hesitation.

Her head reeled, her body stumbling back a step from the speedy jab.

Shirou's other arm shot forward. She threw out another punch to counter him, but his target caught her completely by surprise.

Volcánica's mind blanked out for the briefest of moments as she felt his hand grab her, more specifically, clutching her chest.

"H-hey!" An uncharacteristic squeak left her lips.

Rather than copping a feel, the magus's intended target was her chest wrapped, and with a pull, her body jerked forward.

He swung his head forward, nailing her in the face with an unexpected headbutt that further disoriented her.

Not wasting a moment, Shirou seized the opportunity and swung with a right straight, his fist slamming into her unprotected face with all his strength.

The impact of his punch sent her skidding backward, her body colliding with the trunk of the tree with a heavy thud. Her legs wobbled and bowed as her back slid down against the tree and slumped there.

For a split second, it looked as if she was down for the count.

"Who knew that the Player Killer was quite the naughty little boy~?"

Steadily, she stood back up, using only her legs to push herself up. Blood dripped down her lower face and neck from her bloody nose.

"Then again…"

Her tongue peeked out, running across her upper lip and tasting the gushing blood.

"I don't mind a bit of dirty roughhousing." She flashed him a flirty and approving grin.

"C'mon! Let's have some real fun!"

Her flames danced, flaring with intensity to match the lioness's mood.

In the face of her burning eagerness, Shirou remained stoic and, without any hesitation, turned around and ran away.

"Eh?"

Her grin dropped.

She stood there for a solid second before shaking away her stupor and giving chase.

"It was cute the first time around, but now it's just repetitive." She groused, calling out to him. "Don't you know it's rude to tease a girl and then leave her hanging?!"

Shirou ignored her, which only served to further annoy her.

Up ahead, Shirou performed a sharp and immediate left turn, rounding the corner. His form disappeared completely from view, thanks to the gigantic tree.

Volcánica caught up immediately, her legs pivoting the moment she landed on the branch. She turned, finding only a green sea of leaves and a grid of brown branches ahead of her.

"Where'd he go?!'

She then heard it - a faint sound - the clinking of metal. And it was coming from behind her.

She turned around just in time as an obsidian fist filled her vision.

The moment he made the turn, one of his gauntlets dispersed into a stream of prana as the magus recycled it to trace a new projection. Weaving around his arm like snakes was a chain of steel with a spiked dagger at the end. The nail shot out, impaling the massive trunk of the tree and helping to anchor him as he swung around from out of his opponent's periphery.

He swung in with a punch, catching her by surprise.

A heavy clang reverberated as Volcánica flew back, her back smashing through several branches before dropping.

She landed, tucking and rolling back to her feet.

Her cat ears perked, catching a sharp whoosh that cut through the air, flying right toward her.

Volcánica's head snapped in its direction, catching only a red blur as her hand shot out to grab it.

With remarkable reflexes, she caught it without so much as flinching.

Had she been even a second late, the spear would've pierced through right between her eyes. Instead, the crimson tip rested a fraction away from her skin.

"Close, but no cigar." She said coolly, her fingers twirling the spear with a prideful smirk.

Shirou offered only a neutral but unimpressed look. He then snapped his finger.

Quicker on the uptake this time around, she threw the spear away, the projection exploding away from her.

"Fool me once; shame on you. Fool me twice; you ain't gonna fool me again!" She shouted.

From the cloud of smoke, a piece of Gáe Dearg flew out, the spear's blade catching her in the shoulder.

She staggered back but recovered her step. She turned to counterattack, only for her flames to flicker and vanish suddenly, catching her completely off guard. She tried calling upon them, but to no avail.

Shirou swooped down much like a bird of prey, with Kanshou and Bakuya gleaming with deadly intent. The tanned-skinned fighter raised her arms to defend, her vambraces taking the brunt of his slashes but still managing to wound her.

He pressed the advantage, and for the first time in the match, Volcánica was forced onto the defensive. However, that didn't mean she was going to cede the offensive entirely. Magic or not, she would not be cowed so easily.

"Come on! Is that the best you've got?!" She yelled, defending against one of his swings while throwing out a left hook that the magus parried easily.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

'Ah, I see now.' Touch Me recognized, watching as the fight progressed from a melee to a chase.

Like with Warrior Takemikazuchi, he was initially curious to see why the Humanoid Player would risk a frontal confrontation despite her previous showings. However, the tricks Shirou employed gave an inkling of his true tactic.

Volcánica was undoubtedly strong, having made it this far in the World Champion Tournament, and her battle instinct was top-notch. However, it served to highlight something about her - that she was an amateur when it came to combat.

There was no form or discipline to her attacks; it was nothing but wild instinct. Her skill comes from her free-flow style, which made her unpredictable when fighting, and combined with her fighter-mage build, she was a force to be reckoned with. But that was all.

She attacked to land as many hits as she could to deal as much damage as she could. While that describes the basic principle of PvP combat, the difference lies in the intent versus the outcome.

Rather than fighting strictly to win, she was fighting for the thrill and fun of it, as seen throughout her matches from her constantly taunting and egging on her opponents and meeting them head-on every single time.

For the more veteran and eagle-eyed Players, all of her matches, including the one with Shirou, followed a similar pattern. She would engage the opponent in a direct approach - the fun option, so to speak. There were times in her matches when openings or alternatives were available to her, only for her to ignore them entirely in favor of continuing her method.

In a certain sense, her disposition was admirable. Where many were trying their best and stressing over winning, she was having fun and enjoying every moment of it.

'She and Takemikazuchi-san would probably get along very well.' Touch Me chuckled to himself at the mental imagery.

However, there was such a thing as having too much fun…

And for someone like Shirou, that was an advantage he could exploit.

This was why the paladin considered her an amateur. She fought well and with vigor, but sloppily, as if she were still learning the ropes of PvP.

'It's almost as if she'd only just started playing…' The Heteromorphic World Champion idly mused.

It reminded him very much of his own beginning, back when he was learning before developing his style of fighting.

However, that brought up an interesting conundrum: just where and how exactly did she get scouted to earn a place in a tournament as prestigious as the World Champion Tournament?

A question for another time as Touch Me tuned back in as the fight reached an unexpected development.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

She attacked with a rush of punches and kicks, but without her magic, they were nothing he couldn't handle. He parried and blocked every attack she threw at him, countering with fierce slashes. Cuts and lacerations marred her body, with blood leaking from the numerous wounds.

'This is getting annoying!'

She backstepped, using her footwork to give the illusion of her retreating to draw Shirou in. The second he stepped forward, her foot pivoted, and she rushed him.

He swung. However, she brought her body low and sped up, dodging his swing completely by running under it.

Behind him, she quickly turned around to attack his open back, only to be forced back by a crimson blur, hopping back a few paces.

"Tsk!" Volcánica clicked her tongue. The attack grazed her, blood trickling from the cut that ran along her cheek.

Shirou turned around, and in his hand was a Gáe Dearg. The moment she slipped past him, he switched Kanshou and Bakuya out with the cursed spear and swung in a reverse thrust.

His heterochromatic eyes watched her, his stance was firm and solid. So long as he controlled the tempo of the fight, she would be easy pickings. The magus was in no rush, so long as it meant victory in the end.

Volcánica gave him a look, her eyes narrowing and her countenance puckering in determination.

She bent her knees, her body and center of gravity lowering, and with a stomp, she charged right at him.

'A tackle!' His eyes narrowed.

It was a head-on tackle, but he didn't let that fool him.

His grip on the spear tightened in preparation, waiting for the right moment.

When it arrived, Volcánica had chosen to maintain her tackle with no switch-up, which made it easy for him to react. He attacked with a fast thrust, knowing that she would be too close and too late to evade the attack.

However, that was exactly what she had in mind.

Her hand shot into the path of Gáe Dearg. The Noble Phantasm pierced through her palm with little effort. But instead of backing off, she powered through, continuing her charge as her pierced hand ran down the weapon's shaft. With sheer determination, her hand found his, grabbing onto him before he could pull back.

With the distance between them closed, she swung with her other fist. Shirou blocked it, but that left him open as the lioness quickly returned the favor from earlier by retaliating with a headbutt of her own.

Shirou reeled.

He willed the stuck spear to disperse, recycling the prana to project Kanshou and Baukya back into his hands as he pushed to attack.

However, she wasn't done just yet.

Volcánica brought her bloody, punctured hand to her mouth and sucked in a mouthful of blood. She spat out a spray of blood, catching him off-guard.

He exclaimed in surprise as the blood hit his face, forcing his eyes to close. Even when blinded, his swing still carried through but missed.

He heard her footsteps and tracked her movement. He swung again, charting her position. His eyes peeked open, catching a glimpse of a shadow, only to be blinded once more as it clung to his head.

'Her coat!'

She unfashioned it and threw it, granting her a few more precious seconds.

Volcánica dropped to the ground, his slash missing her completely. Gyrating her body, she swung her leg, knocking him off his feet with a leg sweep.

Shirou fell on his back, and the magus felt her body pressed against his, her arms wiggling about.

With a twirl, he held Kanshou in a reverse grip and brought it down to stab her.

What happened next would leave the magus befuddled as he felt the body on top of him twist and turn, and the next thing he knew, he felt his body being flipped over.

The cape flew off, no longer inhibiting his sight.

The magus landed back on his back, caught in her technique, which looked to be a combination of an armbar and a triangle choke hold. Her well-toned legs wrapped around both his arm and neck, and her thighs pinned his head against his shoulder between them in a vice-like grip. The Granat used her taller height to her advantage, using all of her body and weight to hold him down and to pull on his arm to its limit and beyond.

'She knows how to grapple?!'

Shirou struggled, trying to free himself, but her hold on him was practically absolute.

"Enjoying the touch, loverboy~?" She purred, putting on the pressure.

Her only response from the magus was a strangled choke as she tightened her hold on him, her thighs squishing his head between them and forcing his shoulder to press further against his cheek. The feeling was unbearably uncomfortable.

However, that was nothing compared to the strain that emanated from his arm.

He could feel his ligaments straining and tearing and his elbow joint buckling upwards. Any more, and the bone would dislocate or fracture entirely.

Reinforcement helped to mitigate some of the damage, but it was merely a stopgap. Shirou needed to escape her submission hold before she tore his arm off. He couldn't swing his swords due to their locked position, so he settled for a riskier alternative.

A pulse of prana flared above them, condensing into projections that fired down upon them. Explosions rocked the area, catching both of them in the splash zone. He lowered their yield, but they were powerful enough to make any normal Player react.

However, Volcánica wasn't any ordinary Player.

"Don't think I'll be letting you go that easily." She quipped, still holding on. "Most people would kill to have their heads sandwiched between a lady's lovely thighs. So sit back and enjoy the experience!"

Volcánica pulled hard, his muscles snapping and his elbow bending upward with a loud, scraping crack that reverberated across the entire forest.

"OOOH! THAT SOUNDS LIKE IT HURTS!" Bob cringed in sympathy.

The painful sound earned many winces from the audience, especially those from Ainz Ooal Gown.

White, hot pain shot across his arm, as if molten lava were flowing through his veins, spreading throughout his entire body. He couldn't even scream; his teeth gritted together with such force that he feared they might break.

Black spots slowly dotted his vision as he struggled to breathe.

He didn't know if being rendered unconscious counted towards a loss, but he wasn't going to lie there to find out.

Another pulse of prana filled the air with projections once more.

'Again?' She thought, tightening her hold and bracing herself.

Instead of firing at them, the traced Noble Phantasms fell upon the limb of the branch that connected it to the tree. With a loud, splintering crack, the branch snapped, sending both of them plummeting to the ground.

Shirou expected her to let go of him, only for the opposite to happen.

Her hold loosened from the surprise, allowing him some room to breathe. He freed his fractured arm from her grasp, but she wouldn't be letting go of him that easily. She proved herself to be quite the nimble acrobatic as she used her legs that were still wrapped around his neck as a fulcrum to swing her body around. Her body writhed around his, similar to a snake coiling itself on a tree branch. She ended up behind him, an arm locked around his neck as she hugged his back.

Shirou found it extremely incredulous that she was still trying to choke him out despite their shared predicament.

Volcánica clung to him, screaming as they fell, but it was not a scream of fear or shock, but one of childish laughter and excitement.

It was made very apparent that she wasn't going to let go, so he prepared another solution before they went splat against the rapidly approaching ground.

He projected a sword next to them. But instead of firing it, he detonated the projection immediately, knocking them off course.

The two slammed into one of the nearby trees, with Volcánica's back taking the brunt of the slam. They ricocheted off the tree's rough bark and careened towards another one. This time, it was Shirou who bore the brunt of the collision, his side slamming hard against the tree's trunk.

The two Players continued their freefall, colliding with tree after tree.

Despite Shirou's quick thinking, which helped to bleed off a majority of the momentum of their fall, it was a gauche maneuver at best, and they still dropped from a dizzying height.

The two Players hit the ground hard, their bodies bouncing before separating in the air.

They fell back to the earth with a thud. There they lay on the grassy ground, their bodies wracked with pain as they tried to catch their breath, recovering from the great fall.

He could feel Avalon kicking in, the golden sheath knitting the worst of his internal injuries and broken bones immediately. Using Draupnir, he healed himself fully with [Sacred Twilight].

His hand clutched his chest, right over his heart. He could feel it pounding away, beating at his chest. He quickly used his breathing techniques to get it under control.

While Shirou was trying to keep his heart from exploding from how fast it was beating, Volcánica had a drastically different reaction of her own.

"T-tthat… was… AWESOME!" She punched the air with both her arms, her enjoyment heard even through her rapid, breathless pants. "Again! Let's do that again!"

Volcánica let out a chaotic belly laugh, as if she had just experienced the most exhilarating rollercoaster ride in the world.

Shirou rolled over and looked at her incredulously. She was like an adrenaline junkie and a daredevil rolled into one and cranked up to eleven.

"Where in all the nine realms did Zelretch even find you?" Shirou blurted out, unable to hold back the question and curiosity.

"What's the matter, too much for ya to handle?" She quipped, remaining on her back as she tilted her head back to look at him upside down.

A temporary reprieve settled over the forest as both Players caught their breaths.

"I find it hard to believe that someone like you would go completely unheard of until today."

"Well, considering I only started playing this game about a month and a half ago, I reckon that might be it." She snarked.

A short pause rang out.

"You've been playing YGGDRASIL for less than two months?" He asked in a low tone.

"Yup~" She said, smacking her lip and popping the 'p' sound at the end.

The Catfolk Player rolled over, slowly and steadily getting back up to her feet. Bright, healing flames washed over her body. With Gáe Dearg's effect no longer active, she could call upon her fire magic once again.

"I saw an advertisement for the game and thought, why the hell not? Didn't like it as much in the beginning, but once you figured it out, it started to get fun." She casually chatted, stretching her limbs cat-like and cracking her bones with a satisfactory pop. "I fooled around for a bit before getting bored. Honestly, if it weren't for the tournament invite, I think I might've just quit YGGDRASIL and tried out another game. Playing an MMO-RPG all by yourself gets boring after a while. Still looking for a clan or guild to join though…" She muttered, trailing off.

Another pause rang out.

A gentle breeze rolled over the field, encapsulating the quiet disbelief that Shirou and everyone else watching felt at that moment.

She looked over, blinking at the look on Shirou's face.

"What, did I say something weird?" She inquired genuinely.

YGGDRASIL was notorious for being a game that wasn't beginner-friendly. It was marketed with that premise alone, and that was the main appeal that drew people in.

For new Players, the game was unforgiving and challenging, requiring a significant amount of trial and error to learn the mechanics and gameplay. However, the process of learning was expedited by interacting with other Players and engaging in gameplay, which allowed for a more immersive experience and a better understanding of the game's intricacies.

Adversity brought people together, after all. That was how friends were made, clans and alliances formed, and guilds reigned supreme. Along with other external factors.

It wasn't strictly impossible to stick to being a solo Player, merely more risky. Without the support of a clan or guild, or even a party of friends to call upon, any solo Player would have to brave the dangers of the game alone. Whether it was navigating treacherous dungeons, battling ferocious mobs and bosses, or even defending oneself against other Players and PKers, going it alone was a recipe for disaster.

Everyone watching could only speculate on what she'd done, how she played, or even where she grinded and leveled up to end up where she was now within that short month and a half time of playing.

However, a singular fact remained:

Volcánica, in such a short time, through her own skills and merits alone, left such an impression that it caught the eye of the developers that they selected her to be one of the contestants in the final World Champion Tournament alongside a roster of equally skilled and veteran Players.

To say that this was unprecedented would be an understatement to end all understatements.

"You're a monster, do you know that?" Shirou said suddenly and wholeheartedly.

Volcánica giggled with a playful demure, her tail wagging with delight at his honesty.

"Careful, Tiger. You're going to make a girl blush with those compliments."

A gentle breeze blew over the field as the two Players basked in the tranquil silence.

And then the two burst into action, resuming the match.

Shirou took off running, with Volcánica already hot on his heels.

Flames erupted from her feet, allowing her to take to the air.

"[Burning Knuckle Cataclysm: Barrage]!"

Using the empowered skill, each one of her punches produced a concentrated blast of flame.

She circled him from above, unleashing a barrage of punches and blasts. Each one scorched the land, kicking up a small explosion and leaving pockets of flames across the grassland.

Smoke and flames clouded the field, reducing the visibility of her opponent. Even then, she didn't let up for a second.

From the veil of flames, Shirou reappeared, wielding a large, golden shield.

She observed him blocking one of her punch-blasts, the shield seemingly absorbing the flames of her attack.

After tanking several more of her attacks, the shield glowed a radiant, burning golden hue.

Shirou reared back and threw the shield at her, orange and red flames jettisoning along the shield's edge like blades as it cut through the air.

The blazing disk arced towards her at great speed and with deadly precision.

Volcánica clenched her fist as the shield drew closer, and once it was in range, she punched it head-on.

In a sudden and violent outburst, Svalinn erupted into a massive conflagration of flames. While she didn't take much damage health-wise due to her inherent resistance to fire damage of any kind, it exploded with a force far greater than any of his projections shown before and took her completely by surprise.

The sheer force of the blast sent the Feline Player hurtling through the air, her body careening wildly through the treetops and smashing mercilessly into branches and tree limbs. She collided with the thick trunk of a tree, buried inside it.

Shirou ran the moment he threw Svalinn, already knowing how she'd react and mentally calculating how long it'd take for her to recover. He darted across the grassland, his sight focused in front of him, towards his destination in the distance.

Blackened smoke spewed from the hole in the tree. Suddenly, an arm reached out and grabbed onto the edge, slowly pulling the body out.

"A shield that explodes? You have all kinds of goodies hidden away, don't you, Emiya-kun~?"

Freeing herself, she took to the air once more and gave chase.

Shirou's feet pounded against the earth as he ran, his surroundings blurring into a hazy streak as he focused all his energy on running. The trees that had once towered over him began to thin out, and he could feel the cool breeze from the open air on his face. Soon, he burst through the final line of foliage, having reached the edge of the massive forest.

What awaited him was an expansive and idyllic plain that stretched far and wide. Of note was the massive lake that lay in front of him, exactly as he had hoped in the beginning.

As Shirou took in the position of the lake, the treetop, and the spanning branches of the forest behind him, his mind raced, formulating a strategy to bring the match to a close.

Volcánica blasted out of the forest and hovered high in the air, her periwinkle eyes sweeping the open landscape for signs of her opponent.

However, she couldn't find neither hide nor hair of him.

"Come out, come out wherever you are ~" She called out in a sing-song voice, her eyes scanning the area.

There was nowhere for him to hide, and he couldn't have run far, not to the point of disappearing completely.

So where was he…?

Her ears twitched. She instantly moved to the side, dodging a flying sword that cut through the air.

She turned around, looking back at the treetops.

There, she could make out glints of light from the branches as swords were fired in a straight volley toward her.

"There you are."

She blasted towards the branches, dodging or punching the swords that came her way away with ease. Her keen eyes caught a flicker, a shadowy silhouette moving swiftly along the branches of the tree line.

She blasted upwards, rising higher than the trees themselves.

"[Flare Blitz]!"

Fire wrapped around her body, forming a condensed sphere of raging flames.

She descended, bursting through the canopy from above like a great fireball, and smashed down, sending waves of fire emanating outwards from the point of impact.

The Granat hit her target…

Or at least, what she thought was him.

"What the hell?!" She exclaimed incredulously.

Under her feet were the melted and warped forms of a clump of swords.

From her blind spot, he appeared, having hidden behind one of the trees until the right moment.

The magus took some inspiration from Warrior Takemikazuchi's maneuver in his first match. Having a head start, he retreated up to the branches and traced several basic swords in preparation, as well as tracing a few more swords to form the vague approximation of a stick figure.

When she appeared, he fired his initial projections and made the stick figure "run" across the branches. The shade cast by the trees helped to obscure it further, baiting her in knowing her aggressive play style.

She turned, and all she saw was a pink blur filling her vision.

He swung his fist, wielding Yamako's gauntlet: [Female Sensei's Iron Fist of Wrath].

Shirou scored a direct hit, her body flying backward and out of the forest thanks to the gauntlet's [Knockback] ability.

Volcánica fought to recover, only for her arms to be bound to her side as steel chains materialized, wrapping around her body.

The instant [Female Sensei's Iron Fist of Wrath] made contact and [Knockback] was applied, Shirou dismissed the gauntlets, attaching the tether of prana to her and recycling it to form Rider's chain, as well as tracing an additional weapon.

On one end of the chain was Volcánica, constricted and immobilized. On the other end was a massive, weighty-looking obtuse stone hammer, with the chain wrapping around its handle.

A hammer that was flying towards the lake.

Their eyes met, and for the first time in the entire tournament, her confidence gave way to shock and alarm.

"You sneaking, little fffuuuuuuccccc-!"

Her body jerked violently, being pulled along for the ride as her screams and curses grew fainter.

The lake's surface, which shimmered in the sunlight like a sheet of polished glass, shattered and rippled upon impact.

The heavy hammer sank, dragging Volcánica with it into the deep, watery depths. Her flames ignited and flared with renewed fervor, only to sputter under the aquatic pressure.

She screamed, but all that came out was a gargled noise as water filled her mouth and lungs. Her thrashing intensified, but the chains held, and the deeper she sank, the harder it was to escape.

Bubbles and steam frothed along the lake's surface, with many at first, before dwindling.

Shirou let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping with a sense of relief.

He turned around, his eyes closing as he awaited the commentator's call to end the match.

Only for every single hair on the back of his neck to stand up straight in an instant and his instinct went into overdrive, blaring its warning.

A fraction of a second later, a colossal pillar of flames exploded from the lake, reaching towards the heavens above.

His head snapped back around so quickly that it was a surprise that he didn't suffer any whiplash from the abruptness of the action.

He brought up his arm to shield himself as a searing heat wave radiated forth, washing over him and the forest. Where once the air was cool and wet, it completely evaporated, leaving only an arid dryness. Next came the tidal wave of hot, hissing steam that expanded outward in all directions, blanking the surrounding area.

Standing on top of the branches, he had a clear view of the entire lake and its immediate surroundings.

Where once a pristine and great reservoir of water rested, a massive dry lake bed remained. The surrounding grass dried and wilted, catching fire that quickly spread into something more destructive.

His heterochromatic eyes wandered, searching for Volcánica. He wouldn't need to search for long.

His ears twitched, catching a faint sound.

It started low at first, gradually building by the second until it became recognizable. A chuckle that grew into a loud, cackling laughter.

A heatwave pulsated from the lake, dispersing the thick fog of steam and revealing Volcánica to be alive and well. Better than that, she was invigorated.

"It would seem that this match is far from over. How will Emiya deal with such a development?" The commentary from Sam added.

Shirou's eyes widened at the sight before him, a reaction shared by all watching the sudden reveal.

His nose twitched, his head turning away from the overpowering scent of fire and mana that she radiated.

It wasn't like before, when she was simply wreathed in fire magic. Now, it seemed as though her very being was comprised of fire.

Her body was fire-like, composed wholly of incandescent orange-crimson flames that glowed and burned as brightly as a miniature sun. A wide and joyous grin stretched across her face, mirroring the brilliance of her fiery aura.

"What the hell is that?!" Peroroncino exclaimed, jumping to his feet and pointing a talon at the holographic screens.

All of Ainz Ooal Gown thought the same. Just when they thought the match was over, she revealed an ace up her sleeve.

"Shit… This ain't good…" Warrior Takemikazuchi muttered to himself, leaning against a wall. His relief for his friend's victory turned into apprehension at the massive hurdle before him.

'Has she been hiding that this entire time?' Touch Me wondered, sitting up straight in his seat.

It was clear to everyone that this new form of hers was different and unique. This was her trump card, her ultimate skill. One that she kept close to her chest until now.

This sudden development had the audience and viewers speculating. It was an unexpected development, especially considering the lioness's well-known fiery and impulsive personality. The fact that she had been keeping such a powerful trump card hidden until this point was both strategic but also out of character for her. Others were of the mindset that it was completely deliberate, saved for a crucial moment of need. Many more had their own separate opinions circulating through the crowd.

However, the reality was simpler than one might expect. The simple truth was that she didn't feel the need to use it.

None had pushed her this far. None had provided her with a challenge to make her feel threatened. And none had given her greater enjoyment.

None but him.

[Promēthean Incarnatus].

A unique skill that belonged exclusively to her class and build, and one she happened upon by complete chance.

When Volcánica first started playing YGGDRASIL, she had no guides or help in how she should play. She simply spec'd her job classes according to her whims and what she found enjoyable. Concepts such as viability, min-maxing, and optimization were of little importance to her. All that she cared about was having fun; after all, wasn't that the purpose of playing a video game?

She played, she fought, she died, she experimented and she played some more.

Her dedication would be rewarded upon reaching level 95, where she unlocked a rare job class: [Solus]. By reaching level 100 and distributing her remaining five levels into the job class, she unlocked the job class's ultimate skill: [Promēthean Incarnatus].

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time!" She shouted. "Come on, let's turn up the heat!"

Volcánica kicked off and covered half the distance between them within a blink, her arm rearing back for a punch.

He jumped off the branch without a moment's hesitation, uncaring of the great height.

She punched, and a ray of pure destructive flames lanced forth from her fist.

Unlike the punch-blasts of earlier, this one didn't burn with great intensity so much as it vaporized everything in its path.

An entire section of the treeline was gone, leaving a gaping hole along the treetop. Not even a trace of ash remained.

Shirou almost couldn't believe his eyes at such destructive power.

He projected Rider's chain once more. The nail shot out, impaling a nearby tree as he controlled his fall.

Volcánica kicked the air, catching up to him. She punched again, firing another burning ray.

Shirou pulled on the chain, changing his course to dodge the blast as it barreled through several trees along its path, leaving a massive wound within the giant trees. Her attack felled many trees, their sturdy trunks tipping as they crashed against the ground with a thunderous tremor.

She swung again and again, unleashing a flurry of punches. Her punches were wild, but that made them no less dangerous, as her blasts destroyed the landscape.

Shirou traced another copy of Svalinn, blocking one of her punch-blasts.

He defended against the attack, but the chains were vaporized, leaving him to fall the rest of the way down.

Thankfully, it was only a dozen or so meters, and he landed without much issue.

However, he couldn't afford to relax just yet.

Volcánica was directly above him and punched downward.

The magus brought up Svalinn. He blocked the attack, dropping to one knee under the force of the blow.

The golden shield was hot to the touch, with small cracks developing along its surface and leaking flames.

'Two direct hits and it was already at its limit…'

He quickly threw the shield at her.

She didn't bother reacting, let alone dodge, as the golden shield made contact. A great, fiery explosion consumed her, and just as quickly, it parted.

She showed no sign of damage. If anything, it seemed as if she absorbed the heat, her flames glowing brighter in intensity.

She descended, crashing down to the ground like a blazing meteor. A pulsing shockwave of flames blasted out, knocking him off his feet.

Shirou tumbled and rolled, recovering mid-roll and coming to one knee.

His breaths were labored and the air had grown hot and thick, making it difficult to breathe.

The once lush and tropical forest was now a scorching landscape, with pockets of wildfire spreading and rising all around them.

She strode forward, the fire all around her swirling and dancing at her beck and call.

"C'mon! I know you're better than this! This is all I've got, so it's only fair for you to show the same!" She roared, her untamed smirk demanding more.

"Bring out that massive sword-axe, those spiral sword arrows, or the twilight greatsword. Bring any of them! Bring all of them! I know you're nowhere near done. So bring it on and let's rumble to our hearts' content!"

The flames around them raged, matching her intensity and desire for battle.

Shirou's head tilted downward, his hood shadowing his face.

Volcánica's perpetual grin faltered for a moment, a flicker of worry showing at the downcast head that hid his true expression from both her and the world watching.

Shirou's thoughts raced, taking stock of everything - from his condition, strength, and resources left to him, while also musing over how he could win the match now. His mind was a whirlwind of ideas, with countless plans being generated and discarded within the span of a fraction of a second within his head.

Shirou had meticulously observed her matches, analyzing his opponent's fighting style, strengths, and weaknesses, and had devised several strategies and contingencies leading up to their match. However, they were all predicated on the feats and abilities that she had demonstrated. This new, powered-up form of hers, which she'd shown no hints or inkling of possessing, caught him completely off-guard.

In that regard, the fault lies solely with him. This was the World Champion Tournament after all. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that every contestant, Shirou included, had a secret weapon or two hidden away. It was expected even.

It was foolish of him to think that Volcánica would be the outlier.

'Unpreparedness is your greatest foe.' Shirou remembered the proverb, a favorite of a certain Death Vine. 'Momonga-san and Punitto Moe-san would be so disappointed in me.' He chuckled ruefully, finding a strange sense of humor despite the situation.

While he could think of several options off the top of his head that could contend with her, he couldn't see any immediate routes available to prevail against her.

There was still much he didn't know about her ultimate skill. Her new form's strength, capabilities, and even duration were all shrouded in mystery.

And, even if she were to stand there and allow him to trace whatever he needed, there was no guarantee that she'd just remain idle and allow him to defeat her so readily.

A battle junkie she may be, but she was still very much in it to win.

For the briefest of moments, a looming sense of defeat crept up and hung over him.

'I'll have to leave it to Takemikazuchi-san to finish it…'

His mind quickly wandered, rationalizing the best course of action to take. He needed to push her to the limits of her new form and force her to reveal her strengths and abilities, as well as any potentially exploitable weaknesses. Any detail he could glean would be vital in providing the Nephilim samurai with any advantage he could for when they fight in the final match of the tournament.

As resignation closed in around him, in that moment as well, he remembered something.

"If you're losing at a game, then simply change the game."

His eyes briefly widened.

'Tabula-san…'

A memory replayed in his head. A few years ago, the Brain Eater challenged him to a game of chess. It was a best-of-three match, with Tabula taking the first match and Shirou taking the second. For much of the third match, they remained even. As the game progressed, it was slowly looking like it would end with the magus taking the win. Only for Tabula to casually upend the board, abruptly ending the final match.

The two guild members sat across from one another. A table separated the two, with the chessboard in the middle being turned over.

Shirou looked to the side, where the black and white chess pieces littered the floor.

He looked back up to Tabula, who sat with one leg crossed over the other and with his gangly webbed fingers steepled and resting on his knee.

"Well, would you look at that? It seems like it's a tie." He said.

Shirou couldn't help but chortle.

"You still lost." He argued.

"That would say otherwise."

Tabula pointed to the ground, where the two king pieces lay.

"And correct me if I'm wrong, but if the king is tipped over, that means forfeiture. And seeing as how both of our kings are knocked over…"

The virtual magus snorted.

"You only did that because you were losing."

Tabula casually shrugged while remaining poised in his seat, not even bothering to deny the accusation.

"Never took you to be a sore loser, Tabula-san." Shirou jested.

"I didn't lose, Emiya-san. I simply didn't win. And neither did you." Tabula amended, holding his pale head high with a hint of playful arrogance.

"If you're losing at a game, then simply change the game."

Shirou found himself silent, musing over his words.

The Eldritch Heteromorph stood up from his seat.

"So, want to go on some dungeon raiding?" He asked.

Shirou spared one more glance towards the fallen chess pieces. He shook his head, chuckling softly.

"Sure, why the heck not?" He stood up, joining his friend. "Let's see if any of the others want to join in."

Winning and losing were two sides of the same coin.

Contextually, they were one and the same, but there was a difference between "I want to win." and "I refuse to lose."

All his life, he has fought. He'd fought and won, but he'd also fought and lost, and he would continue to fight and struggle ceaselessly.

Shirou wanted to win the tournament and earn the Saber Class card, not because he doubted Warrior Takemikazuchi's skill and capability, nor because he feared someone else getting it instead.

It was as Zelretch said: "… does that mean you admit you're okay with the idea of losing then?"

No, he wasn't.

Shirou wanted to win because he was selfish, and because of that, he refused to concede to anyone.

Not then, not ever, and certainly not now!

Shirou wobbly stood back up, his head rising, and fixed his opponent with a selfish, resolute gaze.

"Atta'boy~" Volcánica let out a hungry purr. Her tongue licked her lips in approval, matching him with her own smoldering gaze.

"If you're losing at a game, then simply change the game." The quote repeated itself once more.

Shirou knew that neither the conventional nor even the unorthodox would be enough to beat her.

If he continued fighting as normal, that would only play in her favor.

No. What he needed was to change the game - make Volcánica play by his rules.

And to do that, he needed to flip the board.

In that moment, his Mind's Eyes formulated and provided him with such a strategy.

One that took a page from Warrior Takemikazuchi's crazy book that would make the Heteromorphic samurai weep proud tears in pride.

A plan so mind-bogglingly ridiculous that not even someone like Volcánica could account for it.

And he had just the Noble Phantasm in mind.

Of course, whether or not it would work was very much up in the air.

'Only one way to find out.'

"You want everything I've got, then consider it brought!"

His magic circuits illuminated, igniting all across his body.

"I am the bone of my sword!" He incanted.

A wave of prana surged forth from his body as he called upon everything he had left. Wild and untamed arcs of brilliant neon prana flared all around the magus, creating a dazzling display of power.

Volcánica's wide grin turned practically feral at the sight before her, her eyes alight with eagerness.

His arms reached forth, his fingers curling as the surge of prana was channeled. He grasped the untamed energy and, with a mighty roar, willed the weapon into reality as he slammed the butt of the weapon against the ground.

Shirou panted laboriously. Perspiration wreaked havoc on his face and neck. The glow of his magic circuits dimmed and hissed as wisps of heat and steam flowed from his body. Fatigue gripped him, yet he still held on.

For a moment there, he was worried that he wouldn't be able to trace it, but he had just enough MP left to manage it.

Step one was completed; now it was onto step two.

Periwinkle eyes wandered, evaluating the weapon and taking in every detail.

It was a spear; that much was certain. It was a long, almost ornate spear that possessed an exquisite appearance and exuded an air of opulence. Its golden shaft extended, with its unique circular guard possessing a distinctive marking that gave the appearance of a singular, all-knowing eye. The spear possessed a distinctively sharp and brilliant electrifying-pink speartip as the center, with jet-black blades curved on both sides.

She hadn't seen this weapon before, and that only added to the thrill.

However, for a certain crustacean blacksmith, the weapon's appearance scratched at his noggin.

"Huh… That looks familiar…" Amanomahitotsu muttered under his breath, one of his hands rubbing his chin. His eyes narrowed behind his goggles, scrutinizing the spear to try and remember it.

Shirou pulled his arm back, bringing the weighty spear to bear for a throw.

Volcánica's entire fiery form was vibrating. Her battle lust and excitement reached a fever's peak, and her eyes shone with anticipation. However, she didn't make a move, no matter how much she wanted to. She hungered for a glimpse of the mysterious weapon's true power, eager to meet it head-on and test her strength against it. Her heart thundered with anticipation as she waited for the first move, eager to see who would emerge victorious in this fiery clash.

With great effort, he reared back and threw the spear with his strength.

Instead of throwing it at his opponent, however, the Fake Player threw it upwards.

Her eyes tracked the spear, watching it as it sailed through the air and continued before disappearing above the leaves and foliage.

{1… 2… 3… 4… }

She stood, rooted in place, for a solid second. She blinked, wondering and waiting to see what would happen next.

Nothing happened.

She blinked again, her body slumping a fraction. Much of her initial excitement and battle lust dimmed, doused as if someone threw water onto a bonfire.

Volcánica turned back to look at Shirou. Her brows knitted tightly together, and her grin puckered into a confused frown.

"Hey! What the hell was… that?" She trailed off.

Shirou was gone, or rather, he was running away.

{… 12… 13… 14… 15… }

Again she waited.

And again, nothing happened.

A sense of growing disappointment swelled within her.

What she thought would be a great and epic clash fell completely flat on its face.

She stomped forward, but not before craning her back up to the treeline from where the spear disappeared above, watching and waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Once more, nothing.

{… 21… 22… 23… }

A blast of flames from her feet propelled her forward as she chased after her quarry.

Her eyes locked onto him as she closed in, unleashing a barrage of fiery punches from above.

He dodged the beams, relying solely on his speed and agility to avoid the attacks.

As she continued raining down punches, something else became apparent. Rather than mounting a defense or launching a counterattack, he was focused solely on avoiding her strikes.

Or perhaps it was more prudent; that was all he could do.

{… 29… 30… 31… }

'Don't tell me he blew his entire load just to make that…'

Her frown deepened.

A burst of flames granted her increased speed, allowing her to appear right beside him. Shirou turned to face her as she punched, her punch-blast consuming him completely within its fiery embrace. A brief silhouette could be seen falling and tumbling back within the blast.

"Huh?" She involuntarily let out.

He survived, but more than that, she was surprised by the relatively low damage taken from her punch-blast.

{… 37… 38… 39… 40… }

As she fixed her eyes on him, she noticed sparks crackling and popping around him like fireworks. The air around him shimmered, as if he was wrapped in a spectral shroud with a scale-like texture. One of his rings glowed a brilliant shade of emerald before the light dulled, returning to its inert state.

'That was close…' Shirou internally sighed.

Before their match, Shirou used the one-item substitution ruling to swap one of his rings for the one he just used.

The ring possessed a simple, golden band with a finely cut emerald at its base. It was a Divine class item that possessed the ability: [Salamander Shroud]. With [Salamander Shroud], the wearer could effectively reduce any fire-based attack by a staggering 80%, regardless of the attack's strength or tier.

While extremely useful, it comes with two caveats. The first was that he had only three usages, with it now down to two. Secondly, there was a 25-second cooldown before he could activate the ring's power again.

Shirou ran. Ahead of him was an old and decrepit log - the corpse of a once gigantic tree that fell.

{… 49… 50… 51… }

Volcánica stood there for a second, observing him. Her mind turned, trying to make sense of his course of action. Dodging her attacks, she could understand, but running towards the fallen tree, he was practically heading towards a dead end.

Nevertheless, she blasted after him. She punched, firing a blast from behind just as he reached the gargantuan log.

"[Blink]!"

Using Draupnir, he used the spell to dodge the attack. [Blink] was a 3rd tier spell and functioned exactly like [Teleportation], albeit shorter in range and distance.

Shirou blinked upwards, dodging the burning blast as it bore a hole through the log. He gripped the bark, pulling himself up and over.

She caught up quickly, reaching the log with her right leg rearing back as flames and energy concentrated on the lower limb. With a mighty kick, she sent the fallen tree flying.

With the obstruction removed, she scanned the area for where Shirou might run off too, only to find him dashing in. After climbing over, he hung back and waited for the right moment. In his hands was a large branch that he had snagged, wielding it like a club.

He swung, aiming for her face.

Volcánica didn't bother blocking or reacting as the branch smashed against her cheek and splintered into pieces before combusting into flames.

{… 62… 63… 64… 65… }

She swung with an uppercut, but Shirou avoided it by jumping back.

He threw what remained of the branch at her.

She casually backhanded it, smashing and splintering it into tiny pieces before quickly burning.

This had the intended effect of acting as a distraction and cover, as her vision was momentarily filled by the burning splinters.

Shirou closed the distance, striking back for the first time with a brazen punch that landed against her cheek.

While surprised, she was unimpressed.

The punch had no power or strength behind it, not enough to where it could hurt her while in her powered-up state. If anything, he was only hurting himself.

His fist reared back with burns along the skin, his face twitching with a wince. Yet he persevered, throwing another punch with his other fist.

Volcánica returned the gesture with a punch of her own. Shirou brought up his hands to defend, but he was still knocked back a few meters, falling onto his back.

"Is this really it?" She wondered aloud, feeling a twinge of disappointment and sadness.

{… 72… 73… 74… }

She walked forward, her steps casual and measured, as she watched the virtual magus slowly recover.

His fingers gripped the soil beneath him, grabbing a handful. Once she got close enough, he threw the clump at her, aiming to throw dirt in her eyes.

It didn't even get close, as it burned up due to her fiery aura.

Once again, Shirou attacked her head-on, this time with a roundhouse kick to the face.

{… 80… 81… 82… }

Again, no reaction.

He swung around for another kick, but this time, Volcánica's hand grabbed his leg mid-air. With a casual tug, she effortlessly pulled him off his feet and threw him. He landed a few meters back and rolled, clutching his side.

'This ain't fun anymore…' The lioness bemoaned to herself.

Any normal Player would find enjoyment in lording over a weakened and defeated opponent, but for Volcánica, all that she derived from this was dissatisfaction.

Their match could hardly be called a fight anymore. It was like a toddler going up against an adult. It wasn't fair, let alone fun, and that ruined her vibes with regards to their climatic match and finale that she envisioned.

{… 93… 94… 95… }

Volcánica blinked, dragging herself back from her thoughts and back to reality.

While the fiery Catfolk was internally moping, the magus recovered and ran.

She blasted after him and caught up yet again. She punched, firing her burning beam point blank.

A repeat occurred, with Shirou using [Salamander Shroud] to protect against the punch-blast.

Shirou staggered, tumbling and rolling against the harsh ground. He reached out, grabbing a hold of a rock and throwing it at her.

Volcánica caught it easily and crushed it within her palm.

If nothing else, he was persistent. She would give him that much.

Shirou was on the ground, his forearm pressing against the earth, supporting him. He tried to stand back up, but his legs shook and buckled.

He remained on his arms and knees as Volcánica walked up to him. His forehead pressed against the ground, and the sound of his labored pants echoed across the burning forest.

{… 100… 101… 102… }

"Not going to lie, I'm a bit let down." She said. "Compared to how all your previous matches ended, this one is a major flop. I don't know whether to be mad or just sad."

Her words trailed off, a weak grunt escaping her lips.

She loomed over him, her gaze fixed on him, waiting to see if he would say or do anything.

Shirou remained silent.

{… 106… 107… 108… }

"Still…" She said, her voice filled with a mix of regret and satisfaction, "It was fun while it lasted. I had one hell of a time, and I don't regret it. So I can't bitch and complain too much about that."

She slowly raised her arm, her hand clenched into a fist. The flames glowed with greater intensity as she readied the final attack.

{… 111… 112… 113… }

"So, any last word?"

Despite the lackluster finale she found herself in, she enjoyed their match for all that it was worth and had her fill. Out of respect for the Player in front of her, she would allow him his final say before bringing their match to an end.

Silence reigned for a few more seconds.

{… 116… 117… }

Shirou said nothing.

She readied her fist, figuring that would be it.

{… 118… }

"Only… two…" He gasped out, her fist jerking to a halt immediately.

{… 119… }

She waited, and that would be her mistake.

"… Time's up."

{… 120}

She raised a brow.

Out of nowhere, the world above them exploded into noise with an ear-piercing reverb boom. The once serene blue sky was dyed in apocalyptic crimson.

Her head snapped to the sky, her attack forgotten as her eyes widened at the change.

The shockwave blew away the treetops, granting clear sight of the cataclysmic view. It was as if a second, great, angry sun appeared high above them. The thunderous crackle of crimson lighting echoed across the realm as the ardent flames spread and intensified, encompassing the entire sky.

"What in the actual FUCK is that?!" She yelled, taken completely aback.

'When did he-?!'

It took her half a second before she remembered, and it clicked in her head.

'The spear… !'

"NO WAY!" Amanomahitotsu exclaimed at the top of his lungs, jumping up from his seat to his feet. His outburst surprised his guildmates, making them jump in their seats. "He managed to get that to work?!"

The moment he laid eyes on the spear, the Heteromorphic blacksmith racked his brain, scouring his memories to remember the weapon. It was only after seeing it active that he finally remembered. The voices of his friends fell on deaf ears as he stood there, his eyes locked on the holographic screens in disbelief and awe.

Shirou was momentarily forgotten as Volcánica's attention was captured solely by the burning skies. He stood up, his gaze resting at the center of the phenomenon, where he could just make out the form of the spear.

'Vasavi Shakti…'

Like nearly all of his YGGDRASIL-made Noble Phantasm, the creation of [Vasavi Shakti] came about from him learning of it - in this case, similarly with the Trap of Argalia - from reading about the Great Holy Grail War and being intrigued by it. The project was a collaborative effort, involving Amanomahitotsu and Ancient One, and their help and expertise would prove invaluable.

However, reproducing the legendary divine spear of the Hero of Charity in YGGDRASIL proved to be a far greater undertaking than the magus initially thought.

While Players had carte blanche to make and design weapons with any ability of their choosing, that didn't mean it would come easily. Finding high-tier Data Crystals and materials was but one of many hurdles in the Players' path. Additionally, several checks and balances were put in place to prevent Players from crafting weapons or items that would be considered too powerful and busted. After all, if there wasn't any restriction, then everyone would be running around trying to make World Item-tier weapons like [Longinus] or [World Savior] with none of the downsides or portal Guild Weapons.

Shirou couldn't count the number of times he and his friends needed to compromise or change something due to a major stipulation or required a workaround to continue.

A part of him still couldn't quite believe that they managed to get down in the end.

But while his projection may bear the name and image of the divine weapon, there was nothing truly divine about it. To even call it a copy would be an insult to the Divine Construct.

Even with all of YGGDRASIL's mechanics and customizability at his disposal, his [Vasavi Shakti] was nowhere near as powerful as the original wielded by the great Indian Heroic Spirit. Despite not being able to match the original's EX rank, it still carried enough potential to pose a grave threat.

However, for all its strength, it came with a number of restrictions.

Volcánica stared up at the crimson skies, enraptured by the sight before her.

While her main reasoning for playing YGGDRASIL was undoubtedly her interest in the game's difficulty and Player combat, another factor that kept her hooked was the fantastical sights that the game had to offer.

In her relatively short time of playing YGGDRASIL, she had been treated to many wondrous locales and zones across the game's nine realms, each one as different and unique as the next. Say what one will about YGGDRASIL, its community, and its developers, but none could deny that the game provided a wealth of immersive experiences. To immerse herself in a fantasy world and indulge in the fun of it all was exactly what she was searching for - an escape from the mundanity of the real world.

"You should be honored."

Volcánica blinked, snapping out of her daze.

She turned around, finding Shirou back on his feet, his gaze also to the skies, before meeting hers.

He smiled, remaining calm and casual even as the cataclysmic sight raged above them.

"Among all of my conjured weapons, it has to be one of, if not the strongest, I have stored in my arsenal. I've tested it plenty of times during practice, but never has it seen actual combat. Until now. Congratulations, Volcánica-san. You have the privilege of being the first-ever Player to face [Vasavi Shakti]!" He boldly declared.

Shirou knew he got her hook, line, and sinker with that last part, evident by her cat ears perking up and twitching.

He wasn't done just yet.

"You can think of it similarly to the Super-Tier Spell: [Sword of Damocles]. Instead of destroying buildings, its sole purpose is to send everything into oblivion."

During its inception, Ancient One drew comparisons between Vasavi Shakti and the Super-Tier Spell: [Sword of Damocles]. But where the Super-Tier Magic was an orbital weapon designed for destroying structures rather than inflicting damage, the spear of Indra was designed to be the ultimate finishing move. The Anti-Divine Noble Phantasm eclipsed that of any Anti-Army Noble Phantasm he held, and its damage output was almost on par with Ulbert's [Grand Catastrophe] and could even one-shot the likes of Bukubukuchagama with her full regalia of defensive buffs and skills active if scored a direct hit.

"Of course, the only real downside is that [Vasavi Shakti] can only fire upon one target. If you're fast enough or can use [Fly] or [Teleportation], you can get out of its effective range fairly easily." He continued, oddly talkative, much to the confusion of everyone watching as to why he was revealing his own weapon's weakness.

The more astute Players, which included the likes of Momonga, Touch Me, Warrior Takemikazuchi, and Tabula, quickly realized Shirou's aim.

"You wanted everything I've got?" He paused, glancing up at the second sun.

"That is everything I've got! So, you think you're up to it, Volcánica-san?!"

Shirou was issuing a challenge…

Volcánica said nothing, her gaze drawn back to the burning sky. The intense crimson glow emanating from above obscured her face, leaving everyone watching to wonder what thoughts were going through her mind.

'It's total bunk…' Shirou thought, maintaining his facade of confidence.

What he said just now was but one of [Vasavi Shakti]'s many limitations.

For starters, [Vasavi Shakti] required an exhaustive amount of MP to trace, far greater than any of his other projections.

Secondly, while the trio were able to create it, it was too costly for Shirou to power by himself. Therefore, a workaround was implemented. In the flavor text of the Noble Phantasm, Amanomahitotsu and Ancient One coded where the spear was able to siphon mana from the surrounding environment to fuel its power. This manifested as a two-minute activation start-up, an interim where anything could go wrong.

This leads to the third point. Like all Noble Phantasms, [Vasavi Shakti] had a requirement before its power could be unleashed. He needed to throw it, allowing it to reach the proper altitude, and suspend high in the air to begin charging up. Which left the spear vulnerable to potential interceptions and attacks during that two-minute window.

And if, by some miracle, the magus cleared the first three hurdles, there was the fourth and final drawback that he spoke about. Any competent Player who saw the burning skies and flaming death ray would immediately recognize the danger and relocate.

While Shirou was proud of all the work and effort he, Amanomahitotsu, and Ancient One put into recreating the divine spear, the virtual magus recognized the failings of the Noble Phantasm.

Even under the most ideal of conditions, it was ultimately impractical and wasteful to pull out [Vasavi Shakti] when he had dozens upon dozens of easier and more viable alternatives he could employ. And thus, it remained stored within the hills of swords of Unlimited Blade Works.

Until now.

This was his game-changer. This was his final gambit.

Shirou's gamble wasn't about whether or not he could trace it in time, nor whether or not he could stall her out for the two minutes.

He wagered it on all or nothing, whether Volcánica would value winning in the end or her whimsical desire for challenge above all else.

It was time to see where the chips fell.

Volcánica stood stock still, staring up at the burning sky with the spear primed and ready. Shirou's words replayed themselves back in her head.

Indeed. With [Promēthean Incarnatus], it wouldn't be difficult for her to get the hell out of dodge and avoid the impending attack. Alternatively, she could just attack the Humanoid Player right then and there and beat him, ending the match and making the threat null and void.

Either option would assuredly grant her victory.

But…

Her head lowered, and she locked eyes with Shirou one more time.

'… That's what a small fry would think!'

Her lips stretched to show the biggest and greatest smile yet. Her smile was all teeth - a grin that impossibly split her face and one that no sane individual could possibly make.

… A challenge Volcánica eagerly and happily accepted.

"I knew you'd be good for it!" She roared, her cheeks blushing deeply despite her being made of fire.

Her battle lust was on full display and was suffocatingly palpable. Shirou couldn't help but shudder again at the twisted, euphoric visage that dominated her face, his grin straining to match her fervor.

A thunderous 'Vroom' reverberated across the skies, signaling the beginning of the end. [Vasavi Shakti] twirled, pointing to the earth below - at its target.

Shirou took off, running as fast as he could.

Volcánica turned her attention back above.

Seeing that he kept true to his words, it was only proper for her to show the same courtesy and fight with everything she'd got.

"[Burning Eclipse], [Overheat], [Scorch Sunderer], [Pyroclastic], [Corona Crown], [Overdrive], [Maximum Flare], [Prometheus], [Cremation], [Hellblaze], [Prominence Nova], and [Ignis Fatuus]!"

She concentrated all her power and invoked a multitude of learned skills and spells, causing the flames she created to intensify and glow brighter. Swiftly, the licks of orange and red flames began to flutter, burning hotter and brighter. The colors shifted and transformed into a brilliant golden yellow, which then rapidly morphed into a brilliant alabaster hue. Finally, the flames transformed again, this time into a blazing azure blue. It was as if the very essence of fire had been distilled into a single flame, burning with an intensity that was both mesmerizing and terrifying.

The intense blue fire burned hot, the sheer heat radiating off of her and the flames carving away the very ground she stood on and everything in her immediate surroundings.

In the center of it all was Volcánica. She was like an otherworldly spectre, her ethereal blue flames flickered and undulated in a mesmerizing dance of destruction. The very air burned from her azure blaze.

It was as if the Bonfire of the Netherworld had been unleashed.

She spread her legs, centering herself as she spread open her arms to the seething sky and the angry star above, beckoning it.

"COME ON!"

[Vasavi Shakti] answered her call. Humming with latent power, the second sun exploded into a wash of crimson and flames. The motif of a great eye covered the skies, peering down at her. The lightning-pink speartip glimmered as power condensed within, before exploding forth, rendering its divine judgement.

[Project (Modified) Vasavi Shakti: O' Sun, Abide to Death!]

A lance of pure destruction and crimson descended, carrying with it the power of a newborn star.

The forest shuddered, the air burned, and the mighty, gargantuan trees trembled and fell.

As the lance of pure destruction reached the canopy of the trees, Volcánica met it head-on.

"[Burning Knuckle Cataclysm: Adolla]!"

What could only be described as a pure hurricane of punches met Vasavi Shakti. So vast and so numerous was it that it was as if she were a multi-limbed asura.

Each one of her punches produced her signature fiery blast as she unleashed several dozen of them within the span of a second.

Fire versus fire. Crimson versus azure. Power versus power - Vasavi Shakti versus her fists.

It was on full display for all to bear witness to.

What truly boggled the minds of everyone watching was the fact that she was actually contending with the Noble Phantasm, holding it at bay.

The heatwave of their inferno clash all but distorted the area around them as the two vied for dominance, her continuous stream of punch-blasts against [Vasavi Shakti]'s all-consuming lance of flames.

She punched and punched, and punched even more, laughing uproariously at the top of her lungs. She was laughing so much that it was starting to hurt, but she didn't pay it any mind. She was having too much fun.

The moment [Vasavi Shakti] unleashed its wrath, Shirou sought cover behind a nearby fallen tree. He pressed his back against the sturdy bark, bracing himself for what was to come next.

The magus peaked out from the side, the sight of Volcánica and [Vasavi Shakti] in a fierce deadlock searing into his mind.

"She really is a monster…" He whispered to himself, both in stunned admiration and quiet horror.

He quickly got back and prepared himself.

The lioness didn't know how long she was going at it. She could've been at it for a few minutes, or even a few hours, or perhaps it was only a few seconds. It didn't matter, as she reveled in the thrill and indulged herself to her heart's content.

However, all good things must come to an end eventually.

Her eyes fell to her right arm as it reared back, the flames composing her arm flickering at the elbow. Likewise, across her body, her azure flames flickered and wafted.

Time's up, she recognized.

"Then let's give it all we've got!"

With a clenched fist, she poured every ounce of strength she had into her final punch just as [Promēthean Incarnatus] ended, returning the Granat to flesh and blood.

The stalemate lasted for but another second before [Vasavi Shakti] continued its course.

Even in the face of assured destruction, Volcánica simply smiled as she was consumed in flames.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Back in the stadium, all eyes were glued to the holographic screen as [Vasavi Shakti] struck, consuming both Volcánica and the world in blinding red and white before producing only static.

Nearly everyone jumped up from their seats, clamoring for the organizers and devs to fix the issue.

Everyone wanted to see what happened next. They wanted to see who would prevail: The Blazing Lioness or The Player Killer.

None were more anxious than Ainz Ooal Gown, with nearly all of them sitting on the edge of their seats. Some of them were praying and hoping that their guildmate's insane strategy would work.

"A moment of patience, please. We are working to resolve the issue." The voice of Sam reassured the audience.

While the organizers were working on getting the feed back up and running, the interim allowed for a brief lull for the watchers to catch a breath and speculate on the outcome of the match.

"Damn…" Duskindal whistled, slouching in his seat. "That'd got to be one of the craziest and ballsiest things I've ever seen."

"The question is, did it work? It would suck if all that hard work ended up costing him the match." Said LichtKing, his finger tapping impatiently on the armrest. Like everyone else, he wanted to see what happened next.

"Perhaps he sought a tie in the end." Wishful Mercí proposed. "I can't imagine either Volcánica-san or Emiya-san surviving something like that, especially when they've already exhausted their resources."

"Maybe, but he'd still need to worry about Sudden Death. And if so, then it's anyone's game at that point." ShikiHime added, with the others adding to the round of murmurs.

In the rare event that a match ended in a draw, the victor would be decided by Sudden Death. A rematch where both Players would fight on equal grounds, but with reduced HP and MP.

Touch Me sat rooted in his seat, his eyes locked to the screen, waiting while the discussion continued around him.

There was nothing he could do but wait and hope for the best.

It didn't take long before the video was back up and running, and as for the two fighters…

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Ash - that was all anyone could see.

Where it was once lush and verdant, the great tropical forest was no more, and in its place was a barren and lifeless expanse of ash and ruination.

Great grey clouds and plumes of smoke choked the air; so dense was it that they shrouded the world in dusk and perpetual gloom. Ashes fell like snow, smothering the land in a lifeless, monochromatic sheen. The majestic trees, nature's pride, that once towered over the landscape were nothing more than dust in the wind. What few that survived bore the scars of the cataclysm, reduced to mere husks, their charred, hollow skeletons standing as a testament to the destruction that had taken place.

The screens focused on a tiny dune of sand and ash, something that confused the viewers at first.

Slowly, something stirred from beneath the blanket of ash.

Volcánica had survived.

She rolled over almost drunkenly, sprawled out on her stomach as her shaking arms and legs struggled to support her.

A noise escaped her, softly at first, building until it bloomed into a joyous outburst of laughter. Her entire body quivered with mirth, as she threw her head back in laughter.

It was an uproarious laughter that overflowed with a complex mix of emotions - triumph, relief, incredulousness, pure elation, and a touch of wild abandon.

And the lioness was well within her right to laugh. She managed to not only contend with the seemingly unstoppable attack but also survive it. If anyone had the right to be happy, it was her.

Volcánica managed to stand back up, her hands gripping her shaking knees to support her.

Her laughter died down as the crunching of footsteps drew closer.

She turned her head, flashing Shirou with a grin as he approached.

The magus survived by using his last [Salamander Shroud] and every last drop of MP in Draupnir to shield and heal himself as he was engulfed by [Vasavi Shakti]'s blast. Even with that and Avalon's help, he was only able to scrape by.

The Granat made it out alive through a combination of her build's innate resistance stats, her skills, and sheer luck, funnily enough. During her clash against [Vasavi Shakti], she was able to hold out long enough to where its initial power waned, just enough to where she could survive.

"Hey there, Sugar." She greeted. "Are you shocked that I took your big load and am still standing?" She teased with a weak but impish smirk.

"No." He answered immediately, surprising her.

"While that would've been ideal, there was also no doubt in my mind that you would've survive somehow. Among all the Players I've met and battled, you are undoubtedly one of the toughest I've ever had the pleasure of playing against. I knew that beating you wouldn't be simple or easy. No. From the very beginning, [Vasavi Shakti]'s true purpose was all for this moment."

Shirou's countenance was one of mutual respect as his eyes, a striking blend of silver and gold, shone with sincere admiration. He couldn't resist offering a soft and complimentary smile, inadvertently laying on the Emiya charm. And it was focused solely on her.

Volcánica averted her gaze slightly, almost bashfully.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel warm and special, don't ya, Honeybun?" She replied with a touch of shyness. Hints of red dusted her cheeks, glowing pinkly against her tanned skin in a genuine blush.

The holographic screens captured everything, putting particular focus on Shirou. Those watching, particularly the female Players, were especially captivated by his benign expression. It didn't hurt that he was very easy on the eyes, even in his roughed-up state.

But for a certain pink slime, the sound of grinding teeth could be heard. Were it possible, and had she had one, Bukubukuchagama would be pulling and biting on a handkerchief. All the while muttering incomprehensibly under her breath in stewing jealousy.

Yamaiko and Ankoro Mocchi Mochi patted the slime's shoulder, reassuring her that it'd be alright.

"May I have this final dance?" Shirou proposed, branding a dagger in his hand in a reverse grip.

It was the Mystic Code Azoth Sword.

She chuckled, albeit in a subdued manner.

"I thought you'd never ask." She said, taking a stance.

Both of their HPs were in the low red. They were battered, bruised, and weak. They had exhausted their MP and resources and couldn't call on any more skills, abilities, or items to aid them.

The two Players were at their utmost limits.

But where Shirou was on death's door and required a push to fall over, Volcánica had two feet in the grave and needed only a gentle breeze to keel over, as shown by the difference in their HP bar.

Despite it all, she maintained her brimming smile.

In all of her matches, this was the closest she'd gotten to potentially losing. None have gotten close to or managed to drive her so far back. None have pushed her to her absolute limits - none but him.

Despite the possibility of defeat looming over her, she felt only delight.

Their match will not be decided by power, abilities, or even character builds; it all comes down to their skills and determination.

It boils down to who was simply better.

Two warriors fighting with everything they've got and beyond, within a field of ash amongst a land of ruin, with the entire world watching.

She couldn't have asked for a better finale.

Simultaneously, the pair dashed ahead, as if a signal had gone off that only they were privy to.

Shirou swung, going for a wide swipe.

Volcánica bent her legs, sliding on her knees underneath the swing.

The two combatants spun around, facing each other once more. As she moved, Volcánica snatched a handful of ash and dirt from the ground and threw it towards Shirou.

The magus raised his arms, shielding his face from being blinded.

Volcánica darted towards him from the side, but the magus was used to her fighting style by now and swung directly in her path.

Rather than halting or avoiding the swing, she took the hit, powered through, and tackled him to the ground. The two wrestled, rolling against the ashen ground.

After a few moments of intense struggle, they came to a stop, with her mounting him.

She had one hand pinning down the wrist of the hand that held the Azoth Sword, preventing him from attacking. She swung with her other hand, striking with the bottom of her fist.

Shirou raised his other arm to guard against her as she began pummeling him, raining down hammer fists with wild fury.

His HP slowly dropped with each hit.

"WE'VE SEEN THEM AT THEIR BEST, AND NOW THEY'RE GETTING DOWN AND DIRTY! JUST WHO WILL COME OUT IN THE END?!" Sam shouted.

With her opponent having a weapon and slightly more HP than her, he held all the advantages. The objectively correct play to make would be to play it safe and cautiously, avoiding his attack while looking for any opening to clip away at his health bar.

However, that wasn't how she played.

Volcánica was a lioness through and through. It didn't matter if she was at the peak of health or death's door; she meet the challenge head-on and give it a hundred and ten percent every step of the way.

Through the gap, his heterochromatic eyes watched, working out the timing of her swings.

As her fist came down, he removed his arm and countered with a headbutt. The two meet, with him winning the clash and catching her by surprise.

His hand shot out, grabbing her by the front and pulling her down as he swung another headbutt against her forehead.

She reeled. Her position on him loosened enough that he pushed her off of him with a hip thrust.

Volcánica stumbled to the side, recovering, only to have a knee strike her jaw from below.

She staggered back, her teeth rattling, and blood and spittle spurted from her mouth.

She ignored looking at her HP bar, knowing it would only distract her.

A wise decision as her opponent dashed in, attacking with a stab.

She couldn't dodge or block it, she knew, as the blade closed in.

Blood gushed forward, dyeing the ashen ground with ripe crimson.

Shirou's attack landed, but Volcánica used her right hand to intercept the Azoth Sword, which had pierced her palm completely. She stopped it as the tip pressed dangerously against the flesh of her chest.

The faker attempted to back off. Volcánica's fingers closed in around his hand and the dagger, clutching them tightly and preventing him from pulling back.

She roared, mustering all her remaining strength in her swing. Her left fist struck him in the cheek, knocking him back.

Shirou reeled, the blade pulling loose out of her palm with him.

Volcánica clicked her tongue, her eyes narrowing.

His HP dropped even further, but it wasn't enough. Had she attacked with her dominant right arm…

Shirou tumbled, but mid-roll, he recovered and, with precision, threw the Mystic Code at her.

She flinched, the blade stabbing the left side of her chest.

Volcánica ignored it, rushing forward, her bloody right hand clenched into a fist.

Shirou halted, coming to his knees in a crouch. His hand clenched into a fist, waiting.

Their eyes met as their fists sailed forward.

With her slightly longer reach, her punch would hit him first.

However, Shirou wasn't aiming for her.

Her eyes tracked his fist. He was aiming for the dagger, no doubt trying to push it in deeper and deal the finishing blow. But she reasoned that she could drop his HP down to zero before he could drop hers.

'That's right… I can win this-!'

A second before Volcánica's fist would hit him, his fist hit the jeweled pommel of the Azoth Sword first.

"Läßt!"

Her eyes widened as a burst of magical energy surged forward from the Mystic Code and detonated.

Volcánica's punch halted in front of Shirou's face, her body staggering from the miniature blast.

"W-what…?" Volcánica coughed up blood, stumbling back in total disbelief as her HP dropped to zero.

Her arm reached over, finding part of her left side gone. Her fingers reached for something that should've been there, grasping only emptiness. Rivulets of blood dripped and flowed from the gaping wound, coloring her arm and staining the ashen ground with the nectar of life.

"B-but you said you were out of MP…"

Shirou's forehead was caked in dried blood down his left side, his left eye closed, while his right side was bruised from where her fist struck him, leaving his right eye half-lidded.

"I lied…"

A moment of silence passed between the two.

She snorted, and a second later, she barked out a laugh. She laughed as if she had just heard a mildly amusing joke, the mirth in her voice clear.

A part of her should've known that Shirou was lying or that he had something else in mind after going through all the trouble with [Vasavi Shakti], but she didn't. She was too absorbed in the fight and how it would all end. Though perhaps some of the fault lies with her for believing in the first place.

In truth, Shirou used up all his MP tracing [Vasavi Shakti]. However, the jeweled pendant he wore, a replica of Rin's Pendant, once utilized, granted him a reserve of MP. Enough to project the Azoth Sword and fuel his last-ditch attack.

In any case, the result remains the same.

Shirou won, and Volcánica lost.

Despite this, there was no bitterness or anger in her defeat, only satisfaction.

Volcánica smiled contently.

She gave it her all; she had her fun, and in the end, she lost.

She wouldn't have had it any other way.

Cracks spread across her body.

Volcánica graced Shirou with a final smile - a soft, maidenly smile that looked completely out of place for someone like her.

"Let's play again sometime…"

With a small smile of his own, Shirou replied, "Don't take this the wrong way, but if I never fight you again, it'll be too soon."

She chuckled as her body shattered into polygons.

"You really know how to make a girl feel special, Emiya-kun…"

The world of ash and grey shattered all around him and the roar of the audience welcomed him back.

A sense of relief washed over him, and he let out a deep sigh, taking a moment to relax.

Volcánica was undoubtedly one of the most tenacious opponents he had ever faced. The magus was willing to wager that she could even give Warrior Takemikazuchi a run for his money. Now that would've been an interesting match-up.

He made his way back to the waiting wing, the sound of the stadium and the analysis from the commentators became nothing more than white noise.

There was only one thing on his mind, a solitary thought that dominated all else.

'Only one match left…'

Last edited: Dec 26, 2023

Chapter 15 - The 9th World Champion Tournament V

I in no way shape or form own Fate/Stay Night or Overlord ( オーバーロード). They belong to their respective owner. Fate/Stay night is property of Type-Moon, and Overlord ( オーバーロード) belongs to Kugane Maruyama. And I in no shape or form make a profit of writing and publishing this.

Beta'd: Dante Evans

Chapter 15 - The 9th World Champion Tournament V

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is finally time…" Sam's voice echoed through the stadium, capturing the attention of the audience. A sense of anticipation hung in the air as he paused for dramatic effect.

"Welcome to the final match of the 9th World Champion Tournament!"

The audience's cheers and screams roared through the air.

"After a long day of intensive, nail-biting matches, we have finally reached the end. In the beginning, there were one hundred and twenty-eight Players. And now, that number has whittled down until only two remain."

"TWO FRIENDS, BUT ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE, THERE IS ONLY THE ENEMY AND EITHER VICTORY OR DEFEAT. ONLY ONE LUCKY OF A BITCH IS GOING TO TAKE HOME THE GRAND PRIZE AND TITLE. THA' QUESTION IS, WHO'S GOING TO BE?!"

"In one corner, we have a most controversial figure! Love him or hate him, none can deny his strength or his skill. Like his arrows, he has flown straight and true, having flown past all the other contenders. He is set on hitting a bullseye, but will he make this shot? Especially against who he'll be up against?"

"IN THE OTHER CORNER, WE HAVE THE MAN HIMSELF. HE HAS TORN HIS COMPETITION TO SHREDS, A VETERAN AMONG NOOBS AND POSERS THAT DARE CALL HIM A PEER. BUT NOW, HE FACES HIS GREATEST OPPONENT YET. DOES HE HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO WIN IT ALL, OR WILL HISTORY REPEAT ITSELF ONCE MORE AS HE FALLS SHORT OF THE FINISH LINE?"

"There's only onE WAY TO FIND OUT!" The voices of Sam and Bob overlapped as the cacophony from the stadium reached new heights.

"The enigmatic weapon savant. A jack of all trades and master of all. Welcome your finalist for the 9th World Champion Tournament, The Player Killer; Emiya!"

"GET READY TO WITNESS THE ARRIVAL OF THE DEMON KING OF ONE-SHOT SKILL, THE SHOGUN OF TERROR. LET'S HEAR IT FOR SAMURAI OF NO SECOND STRIKE; WARRIOR TAKEMIKAZUCHI!"

They entered the arena in perfect sync, greeted by a deafening roar from the frenzied crowd.

For the final match, the organizers were going all out on their special effects.

An array of dazzling spotlights, each one emitting a different hue, illuminated the entire stadium in a mesmerizing display. Amidst the dazzling lights, Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi emerged, their every step accentuated by bursts of vibrant fireworks, painting the night sky with a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds.

As the two Players made their way toward the center arena, numerous holographic screens filled the air and accompanied their walk. Each showed different clips and highlights of their various matches throughout the tournament, proudly displaying their strength, skills, and spectacle.

Above the arena, the full tournament bracket began to shrink from the sides as Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi's names traveled through the bracket. Starting from the very beginning to the various rounds to the round of sixteen, to the quarter-finals and the semi-finals before stopping at the final bracket as the two stepped foot onto the arena.

Standing on opposite ends, the two guild members faced off against one another as the roar of the crowd surrounded them.

Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi, after a rigorous competition, had emerged as the finalists of the highly anticipated 9th World Champion Tournament. All eyes were on them, waiting with bated breath for the highly anticipated showdown that was about to unfold.

Amidst the excitement, all of Ainz Ooal Gown sat comfortably in their seats. Excited chatter spread amongst the guild members as they discussed and placed bets on which of them would emerge victorious.

Momonga slumped in his seat, an audible sigh of relief leaving his skeletal lips.

He'd been a bundle of nerves throughout the tournament. But now, with both members of Ainz Ooal Gown as the tournament's finalists, he could afford to relax.

It didn't matter to him who took home the title of World Champion; in the end, the prize would be theirs.

It would finally be his…

Momonga exhaled softly under his breath. He rested his head on his hand, his index and middle fingers gently massaging his temple.

Even after all their years together, his best friend's fixation regarding the Class Card, the Saber Class Card especially, eluded him. He understood Shirou had a history with them and they undoubtedly held sentimental value beyond their covetous status as a World Item. Yet there was more to it that he wasn't seeing.

Whatever its purpose or significance, he hoped that it would finally relieve his longtime friend of his burden and put it to rest.

But then comes the matter of what comes next…

'After all, where do you go from there once you've finally gotten that which you've been chasing for so long…?'

He felt something lean comfortably against his shoulder. Destana's hand rested on his, interlocking and pulling him back from his musing.

"Everything's alright, sweetie?" Destana asked, gently squeezing his hand.

"I'm fine, dear." Momonga assured. "I'm just thinking."

"Well, don't think too much. We both know how much you like to overthink things." She joked, cracking a small smile. "Everything's fine, so let's stop worrying and enjoy it for what it's worth."

'She's right.' He thought, shaking his head, shaking away the doom and gloom.

Like a switch being flipped, the negative thought disappeared and his mind was abuzz with ideas and planning. Whether it was Shirou or Warrior Takemikazuchi who emerged victorious in the end, he knew that it would be a momentous occasion for Ainz Ooal Gown - a moment that deserved to be celebrated in style. After all, it had been far too long since the guild had been whole again, and he was determined to make the most of it. And nothing, not even his doubts, will ruin it.

Momonga discreetly sent a DM to both Tabula and Punitto Moe to ask for their help in planning the afterparty. He intends to make it worthy of welcoming the new World Champion into their ranks.

At the same time, he made a mental note to gather the inner circle once more once it was all over to chat with Shirou. Less of an intervention and more of a casual check-up between friends. Just to make sure everything was alright.

But until then, he had a greater priority, and that was cheering on the two of them with the others for the exciting match to come.

The Overlord would admit that he wasn't too sure who he'd like to see win and didn't wish to play favorites. In the end, he, like everyone else, would just have to wait and see who would emerge victorious.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

"It's a good thing we didn't make an actual bet; otherwise, ol' Touch Me-san would've gone home with the whole pot." Duskindal quipped, earning some amusement from the others.

He stood at the guard rails, leaning and looking down through the glass from above. The other World Champions, minus Luciferno, were up and about, stretching their legs before settling back in for the final match.

"So, who'd you think gonna take home the crown?" LichtKing wondered aloud, looking to the others for their opinion.

As the World Champions eagerly awaited the start of the final match, they were split in their allegiances. LichtKing, Wishful Mercí, and Belladonna were in favor of Shirou winning, while others, such as ShikiHime, Duskindal and Elementum V, had placed their bets on Warrior Takemikazuchi. Luciferno didn't say anything and remained isolated in his little corner; no surprise there. However, the one everyone was most curious to hear from was the Hero of Justice himself, whose silence and neutrality were a source of great curiosity and speculation among the assembled champions.

"Not going to weigh in, Touch Me-san?" Asked Wishful Mercí.

"I don't know." He answered.

"Come on, no need to be shy. Everyone has favorites. Don't worry, we won't kiss and tell." Shikihime playfully elbowed him.

Touch Me chuckled.

"I genuinely do mean it when I say I don't know. When it comes to those two, it's always a coin toss. In the end, it'll be settled with their blades. Like always."

They spared a glance at him. He stood there, exuding an air of confidence mixed with pride. The debate over who would win was rather trivial to him. So long as they had fun and gave it their all, that was all that mattered.

"Still, for a guild to possess two World Champions in their ranks… That's practically unheard of. Quite the fortune for Ainz Ooal Gown." Wishful Mercí commented.

"Indeed. Almost too convenient…" Belladonna muttered.

While she did favor the magus, Belladonna was among those who felt that the match-up was a bit convenient. After all, both the contenders hailed from the same guild. It didn't matter who won; Ainz Ooal Gown would benefit regardless.

Of course, this was merely her personal opinion and feeling, as while many others were disgruntled with the results, the truth spoke for itself.

The two earned their spots, and no amount of gripes and complaints would change that fact.

"That only means that whoever wishes to incur our wrath better be prepared." Touch Me said.

"If any poor sap is stupid enough to go against the 6th most powerful guild in the entire game, then they deserve it." Duskindal remarked.

Touch Me chuckled playfully along.

"While the prospect of becoming a World Champion is no doubt tantalizing, no doubt Takemikazuchi-san's quite happy for the opportunity to settle the score." Said the paladin, catching the attention of the others.

"Score?" Elementum V typed/asked, looking at the paladin with a question mark emoticon.

"Both Emiya-san and Takemikazuchi-san practice and duel each other often. They're always trying to improve, Takemikazuchi-san especially. They developed quite the rivalry, and that translated to matches and duels where they're always trying to one-up one another."

"Really, what's the score then?" LichtKing asked, getting back to his seat.

"Tied, 386 to 386. And that's not counting all the other random matches where it ended in a draw or something else." Touch Me revealed. "However, Takemikazuchi-san won their last two bouts in a row, tying up the score."

"Huh, so this'll be the tiebreaker." ShikiHime commented.

"And what a tiebreaker it'll be." Elementum V typed and added, followed by an emoticon with a wide smile and two hands rubbing together to show that he was excited for the match-up to play out.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Both guild members stood in the arena a far distance apart from one another, silent, even as the world roared around them.

Even amongst the sea of voices, Shirou believed he could hear the voices of his friends clearly amongst them all. They were cheering them on equally, urging them to do their best.

Warrior Takemikazuchi has been oddly silent since he arrived in the arena, standing there almost as still as a statue.

He expected the Bujin to open up with a starter or engage in some playful banter and trash talk. Instead, he kept to himself, and it seemed as if he was keeping it that way.

A worried frown came to Shirou's lips. Not too long ago, he remained boisterous as ever as his semi-final match wrapped up and they moved on to the finals.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak up, the unmoving samurai spoke up.

"You know, I was wondering when I would get the chance to show it off." Warrior Takemikazuchi said suddenly, drawing the attention of all.

"But I cannot think of a more suitable time and place to unveil it at last…"

Many, including Shirou, were curious as to what his words meant and what he intended to do next.

He drew his Takemikazuchi MK 7 and held it aloft, his other hand gently running across the katana's polished surface with tender care and reverence.

"You have served me long and well, but it is time." He spoke clearly for all to hear, his voice filled with solemnity and pride.

Suddenly, and to the surprise of everyone, he threw his prized sword into the air. Shirou tracked it as Takemikazuchi MK 7 rose and then fell.

At the same time, his hand shot out, reaching into a small, black void, and he pulled out a long, sheathed sword.

Grasping the handle, and with a flourish, he unsheathed the sword and held it with both hands as Takemikazuchi MK 7 fell in front of him.

With a single, swift downward swing, his mighty Divine class sword shattered into countless shards and polygons.

He pointed the blade at Shirou, the air crackling and thrumming with arcs of electricity. A brilliant shine ran down the blade's excellent edge.

"Behold, my latest and greatest work, and the instrument of your defeat! I present to you my Takemikazuchi MK 8!" Warrior Takemikazuchi declared, at the same time the name echoed in his mind, Unlimited Blade Works grasping and categorizing the weapon the moment his heterochromatic eyes fell upon it.

Unlike all of his previous iterations for his mainstay series of weapons, the Takemikazuchi, which were all katanas, the Mark 8 was fashioned as an ōdachi with a long handle and an impressively longer blade. The weapon was wreathed in a constant surge of electricity and golden sparks.

Thanks to Unlimited Blade Works, its history was displayed to the magus. Unlike all those that came before it, where Warrior Takemikazuchi created them to contend and beat Touch Me, Takemikazuchi MK 8 was designed entirely around the magus. Every aspect of its creation, from its conception to its strength, was tailored specifically to accomplish a single objective: to defeat him.

For months, with unwavering focus and unbridled passion, he toiled away, devoting himself to crafting the perfect weapon. He sought help from the likes of Amanomahitotsu and Nishikienrai, swearing them to secrecy to prevent even so much as a whisper of it reaching his ear. It was finished only recently, and Warrior Takemikazuchi was waiting for the perfect opportunity to show it off.

And what better opportunity was there than the final match of the World Champion Tournament for all of the world to bear witness to? He had waited patiently and eagerly, using his one substitution to bring out Takemikazuchi MK 8.

Shirou could instantly tell that the weapon was peerless. Its splendor and strength could almost rival those of some of his Noble Phantasms stored within Unlimited Blade Works. An incredible accomplishment considering it was a weapon forged by mortal hands and lacked any extraordinary achievements or valorous history to boast of.

The only other weapon that came to mind that could rival it would be the God Slaying Emperor Blade, which was a joint project between himself, Warrior Takemikazuchi, and Amanomahitotsu.

For a few seconds, Shirou didn't know what to say, unable to take his eyes off the ōdachi.

"I'm honored." He said. "Although, I can't help but feel concerned."

"Oh? And why's that?" The Heteromorph planted Takemikazuchi MK 8 against the ground, both his hands resting on the pommel.

"Don't you know, Takemikazuchi-san, that it's a sign of bad luck to have a newly crafted weapon be destroyed in its first engagement?" He said. "And what a shame it'll be, especially for everyone to see." The magus ruefully shook his head, as if mournful for what he was about to do.

The Bujin chuckled.

"Is that so?"

A hand rose, stroking his chin idly as he nodded his head as if imparted with some great knowledge.

"I'd like to see you try." Warrior Takemikazuchi answered with a sharp smirk.

"It'd be my pleasure." Shirou returned his own grin.

"It seems that both Players are ready."

"THEN LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!"

Light bloomed from the stage once more, transporting the finalists to the battlefield that awaited them.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

In a blink and a flash, they arrived.

The first thing Shirou felt was the present, gentle breeze.

The two stood on a flat platform on opposite sides near the ledges, the distance separating them being only several meters. The ground beneath them was firm, with patches of grass sprouting here and there, their tips swaying gently in the breeze. The design and pattern of the floor seemed to be a remnant of a once-grand walkway, now a mere fragment that had floated off to become its own little island.

Across the horizon, the backdrop of a warm, radiant sun shines brilliantly across the expansive sky. Fluffy white clouds scattered across the sky, creating a canvas of ever-changing shapes and shades.

As far as the eye could see, the panoramic view was dotted with numerous and seemingly identical floating island-platforms that stretched out in every direction - above, below, and all around. They varied in length and size but remained large enough to accommodate a fight. While some of these platforms carried the remnants of ancient ruins and broken architecture, others seemed to be completely untouched by the passage of time. It was almost as if they were all once part of a greater whole, before being shattered and raised high into the skies above.

Shirou sneaked a glance down from the edge of the ledge, finding only more floating island platforms, and a thick blanket of cloud that stretched out way below them made it impossible to see anything past it.

One could only hazard a guess at just how high up they were, and all it would take was one misplaced fall to send them plummeting to their deaths.

This would be their final destination.

A duel timer appeared and counted down from ten.

Warrior Takemikazuchi wielded his Takemikazuchi MK 8 in the stance of the Ko-gasumi No Kamae.

[9]

Kanshou and Bakuya appeared in Shirou's hands, raising the married blades in his stance.

Everyone, from the audience watching in the stadium to those watching the broadcast, made themselves comfortable, their eyes glued to the screen for what was to come.

[7]

All of Ainz Ooal Gown was excited.

Bets were placed, sides were taken, and cheers were heard. Win or lose, they knew that the two guild members would give a fight worth remembering.

[6]

The World Champions sat attentively in their seats, curious and eager for the fight to come and awaiting to see who would emerge victorious to be welcomed in as their new brethren.

[5]

"May the best man win." Touch Me muttered, wishing the both of them luck.

[4]

"I, Shirou Emiya, issue my challenge." The magus announced.

Each of their official duels would begin like this, with the loser of the previous match being the one to issue the challenge next time.

It was nothing too serious that it would warrant being called a requirement, and it was more of a playful formality that persisted between them.

[3]

"I, Warrior Takemikazuchi, happily accept." Said the Bujin.

"Let our blades determine who is truly the strongest!" The two said in unison.

The timer hit zero, and with a loud buzz, the final match of the 9th World Champion Tournament began!

Shirou dashed forward with great speed. Warrior Takemikazuchi stood his ground.

As the two met, they swung.

The sound of shattering steel reverberated among the clouds.

Kanshou and Takemikazuchi MK 8 clashed, but only the latter remained.

Shirou's speed allowed him to outpace Warrior Takemikazuchi's continuing swing. The sword's sharp blade sliced through the air, creating a haunting melody that sang throughout the battlefield.

Behind him, the magus swung around with Bakuya.

The Nephilim samurai did the same, twisting his body and bringing around his ōdachi.

Another clash and Takemikazuchi MK 8 emerged victorious yet again.

Shirou's eyes fell onto the shattered married blades.

Only two clashes, but it was abundantly clear which was superior.

When pitted against Takemikazuchi MK 7, Kanshou and Bukuya were able to withstand two to three blows with the help of [Reinforcement]. Yet, Takemikazuchi MK 8 shattered them with almost effortless grace.

He jumped back to dodge Warrior Takemikazuchi's follow-up, a fresh pair replacing his previous.

A brief stillness followed the first exchange, both swordsmen eying the other before the sound of clashing steel resumed.

With the audience, many were excited to see how the final matchup played out. But as the fight progressed, something quickly became apparent. Specifically, they were not employing any skills, showcasing only their swordsmanship.

Much of the excitement dipped as the crowd clamored to see some real action.

"WE'RE GOING OLD SCHOOL HERE FOLKS. THAT'S HOW REAL MEN FIGHT! NO FANCY-PANCY SKILLS, ONLY SOME OL' FASHION STEEL AND BEING BETTER THAN YOUR OPPONENT. WE'VE GOT A REAL SASAKI KOJIRO VS MIYAMOTO MUSASHI FIGHT ON OUR HANDS HERE!" Bob said, trying to rouse the audience.

"Both Players have shown remarkable skill, but it's a deadlock. Emiya cannot seem to bypass Warrior Takemikazuchi's defense and stance, while Warrior Takemikazuchi is unable to reach Emiya thanks to his speed and endless supply of swords." Came the analysis from Sam.

Indeed.

Instead of his usual modus operandi of forcing an engagement and keeping on the offensive, Warrior Takemikazuchi stood and waited. He had barely moved from his spot at all, meeting each of Shirou's rushes head-on and winning every clash.

With his stance and guard, Warrior Takemikazuchi was like an iron wall. One that the magus found no opening to exploit.

Already, he had gone through over a dozen pairs of Kanshou and Bakuya. While they were easy and inexpensive to trace, Shirou knew he couldn't afford to waste his prana continuously.

He needed to break the stalemate, and he had just the idea.

'What are you up to this time?' Warrior Takemikazuchi thought, catching Shirou's expression.

The magus jumped back several paces, putting distance between them.

Shirou threw Kanshou and Bakuya, dashing forward immediately with a powerful kick, as a new pair replaced them.

Warrior Takemikazuchi didn't react.

For a second, it seemed as if they would reach him, only to land half a meter in front of him, stabbing the ground.

The married blades exploded, kicking up a cloud of smoke and dust.

Again, he didn't react.

After all, he'd seen this maneuver before.

From his left and right side, something emerged from the haze, shrouded in the smoky veil.

He swung, catching both of them with a single horizontal swing. The smoke parted, revealing the shattered forms of Kanshou and Bakuya.

Immediately after, two more trails appeared from the smoke, one from above and one from below.

In an instant, Warrior Takemikazuchi swung again, bringing down Takemikazuchi MK 8 and destroying another pair of the married blades with one swing.

Warrior Takemikazuchi remembered the first time he faced off against this. In its original showcase, the pair of Noble Phantasms Shirou threw detonated to form a smokescreen. The samurai was instantly on guard, deducing that he'd used it as cover. From one of his sides, something emerged and he preemptively struck it. What he had attacked was one-half of the married blade. Shirou has used it as a feint, slipping in from the other side to strike at the samurai's unprotected side.

Over the years, he'd seen Shirou use the same maneuver a handful of times, each time with some variations added.

And that was why he knew with confidence exactly where he was coming from next.

'The sides, and then above and below… That leaves behind…' He thought as another pair flew in from the rear.

He swung around, catching the third pair like the others.

'But…'

His swing continued, following through as he swung to his side at seemingly nothing. Only for Shirou to appear, directly in the blade's path.

'That's what you'd want me to think!'

Shirou ran around the outskirts of the smoke, using the smokescreen alongside the three thrown pairs as multilayered feints to misdirect his focus and allow him to attack the side of Takemikazuchi's open flank. A decision his guildmate saw right through, having parsed his opponent's intentions.

Shirou swung with both Kanshou and Bakuya, and again, they fell to Takemikazuchi MK 8's strength.

Warrior Takemikazuchi's leg shot out, stomping on one of Shirou's feet, preventing him from backing away.

"Got'cha!" He crowed, bringing his blade down.

With such proximity, it would be impossible for the magus to defend or recover against the swing.

However, what happened next surprised even him.

Just as the blade reached Shirou, both his hands shot out and clasped the blade from both sides, halting it between his palms.

His face was strained with the effort of holding back the lethal strike.

'A Shinken Shirahadori!' Warrior Takemikazuchi recognized, surprised but also amazed.

The fact that he was able to catch his slash was impressive. However, with Warrior Takemikazuchi's larger frame and superior strength, Shirou wouldn't be able to hold him back for long.

But then again, he knew that from the very beginning.

Warrior Takemikazuchi pressed on, practically making Shirou bend backward as he struggled to hold him back.

'Just a bit more… !'

Just then, his ears twitched, catching a familiar sound. From his periphery, something flew from the fading cloud of smoke, arcing past his vision.

The Bujin's focus was instantly split between finishing his swing or defending against the incoming threat.

He had only a split second to decide as they closed in.

In the end, Warrior Takemikazuchi pulled back his blade and kicked Shirou back, prioritizing the new, immediate threat.

He quickly swung around, destroying all three of the incoming swords.

'Wait… three…?' His eyes widened.

They always came in pairs, this he knew.

That meant…

The lone remaining Kanshou appeared, spinning through the air well after the others. It flew past him, curving behind him within his unprotected blind spot. Exactly where Shirou was waiting, flying right into his awaiting hand.

Warrior Takemikazuchi hastily pivoted, his body twisting as he brought Takemikazuchi MK 8 around.

They swung, Warrior Takemikazuchi with a diagonal downward slash and Shirou with a diagonal upward slash.

Due to his haste and Shirou angling his body at the last second, Warrior Takemikazuchi's slash missed him by a hair's breadth. Unfortunately for the samurai, he wasn't as lucky.

The two immediately jumped back.

Warrior Takemikazuchi glanced down, a hand coming up to his chest over the shallow cut that stretched diagonally across his chest plate.

First blood went to Shirou.

"Damn…" He muttered. "`Thought I finally had ya' there for a second."

"I won't lie, it was close." Shirou hummed. "That blade of yours is truly something." He said, eyeing Takemikazuchi MK 8 appraisingly.

Warrior Takemikazuchi laughed boisterously.

"We worked on this baby for months! It'd better be, or else I'll be having some words with them."

The two friends shared a brief laugh.

The relaxed mood would not last.

"Well, what'd you say we get this show on the road?" Warrior Takemikazuchi's grip tightened, raising his blade in a stance.

Shirou's smile remained, but it was tight, his eyes narrowing with a competitive glint.

Warrior Takemikazuchi dashed forward.

Shirou stomped the ground, prana flowing from his leg into the ground as large blades sprouted from below.

"[Slash]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi swung, slicing through them with impeccable ease. Shirou immediately jumped back, dodging the samurai's slashes.

"[Trace Bullet]!"

"[Violent Flash]!"

Lighting danced along the ōdachi's blade. Like with everything else, he sliced through Shirou's projection effortlessly. However, that wasn't all, as instead of detonating, they dissipated into motes of light. No different from if they were to break or be dismissed by the magus.

'Takemikazuchi-san wasn't kidding.' His eyes narrowed.

Credit where credit was due, they'd outdone themselves in creating Takemikazuchi MK 8, making it more than just stronger or sharper than its predecessor. However, its true specialty lies in its ability to 'sever'.

Shirou's [Trace Bullet] were simple projections, swords typically, which had been filled with prana to the point of 'cracking'. Their explosive power comes from the 'reaction' of the prana going off.

What made Takemikazuchi MK 8 truly dangerous wasn't simply its strength and incredible sharpness but rather the ability to 'sever' the volatile prana of the Broken Noble Phantasm, in a manner of speaking, preventing the 'reaction' from going off. It was kitted solely around dealing with the magus's Noble Phantasms.

If one were to categorize it in terms of a Noble Phantasm, then Takemikazuchi MK 8 would be considered an Anti-Shirou Noble Phantasm.

A direct confrontation with Warrior Takemikazuchi would only play in his favor.

In that case…

Kanshou and Bakuya Alternative appeared in his hands. He began firing while running backward, retreating to put some measure of distance between them.

Warrior Takemikazuchi gave chase, ignoring the bullets as they pinged and bounced against his heavy armor.

Reaching the end, Shirou jumped off and disappeared over the ledge.

Seeing this, Warrior Takemikazuchi ran to the edge and peered over. The open skies and floating island-platforms filled his view, but there was no sign of his foe.

'Where'd he go?'

He caught a sound - a line being reeled in. It was coming from below him, and then, from behind?

Warrior Takemikazuchi whipped around as Shirou appeared from the other side of the ledge, swinging upward.

When he jumped off, he traced his hookshot gauntlet and hooked onto the rocky bottom of the platform. Using his fall, he swung around to the other side with his shot ready.

Firing a charged shot from Kanshou Alternative, the armored Heteromorph staggered back from the clean headshot.

"Ahh! S-shi-shit!" He cursed, his body tilting and flailing.

His left leg stepped back onto nothing, forcing him to balance himself precariously with his right leg as his arms spun and wobbled about trying to maintain his fragile balance. For a second, it looked like he was going to fall over.

"Safe!" He exclaimed in relief, regaining his footing at the last second.

A victory that lasted for but half a second before Shirou's boot smacked him right in the face, punting him off the edge.

Warrior Takemikazuchi fell and landed on his back on another island-platform, nearly rolling off the side before catching himself.

He shook his head, looking back up to see Shirou with Kanshou and Bakuya Alternative in their bow form and several arrows notched.

He loosed them, their forms turning Gandr-like shots that flew toward the samurai.

Warrior Takemikazuchi immediately readied his swing to intercept, only for the arrows to strike around him rather than at him. They exploded, with cracks spreading across the platform.

The ground beneath him tumbled and gave way.

"[Flash Step]!"

Using the fragmented ground he was still standing on as a springboard, he kicked off of it, blinking forward thanks to his skill. He landed safely on another platform.

Warrior Takemikazuchi was instantly on the move as more arrows fell upon him. It didn't stop there, as Shirou's projection filled the air, flying in tandem with his arrows. He destroyed the floating islands both around and ahead of him, reducing his path little by little.

'He's trying to make me fall to my death.' He quickly realized Shirou's aim.

It was cheap, but clever.

"Ya' know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're afraid to take me on mano-e-mano!" Warrior Takemikazuchi shouted.

His taunt didn't so much as earn a twitch from Shirou's stone-faced expression, who continued firing upon him.

Warrior Takemikazuchi skidded to a stop as a wide gap lay in front of him, courtesy of Shirou destroying all the island-platforms ahead of him. His head swiveled around, looking for any alternative paths. Unfortunately, any nearby island-platforms were either destroyed or too far away from him to reach.

A surge of prana flowed as Caladbolg II appeared in his hand.

With nowhere left to run, Shirou readied Caladbolg II as Warrior Takemikazuchi turned around to face him.

'Alright then. Two can play at that game!'

Shirou watched, his eyes narrowing. It looked as if Warrior Takemikazuchi was planning on facing Caladbolg II head-on.

Given who he was going up against, that didn't surprise him. However, not even his Takemikazuchi MK 8 could take on the false spiral sword in a direct match.

"[Kamikaze: Divine Wind]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi swung his blade, unleashing a fast and wide air slash that cut through the air. It sliced through everything in its path, which included the island-platform that the magus stood on.

Shirou clicked his tongue, jumping off and landing on a lower, adjacent platform to avoid plummeting.

He quickly recovered, notching Caladbolg II back once more and taking aim. Even if Caladbolg II wasn't fully charged, the spiral Noble Phantasm was more than enough to send the samurai to his imminent demise.

There was only one problem with that: Warrior Takemikazuchi was no longer there.

Shirou's eyes widened.

He searched, finding Warrior Takemikazuchi standing on another island-platform within a cluster of them on the other side much closer to him.

'How?' Was the question that rang inside his head. How did he reposition himself over there and so quickly at that?

Unfortunately, he wouldn't have time to wonder as he readjusted his aim, more slashes flew in his direction as the samurai copied his friend's strategy.

Shirou ran, jumping from one stage to another, with Warrior Takemikazuchi following suit. They ran practically parallel to one another, both launching ranged attacks to gain an advantage over the other.

Notching back Caladbolg II, he attempted to aim as he ran.

Seeing this, Warrior Takemikazuchi swiftly reacted.

"[Swift Gale], [Supiasurīarō: Spear Three Arrow]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi swung, sending a fast vacuum blade that sliced apart the platforms in front of Shirou, forcing him to halt. At the same time, his spectral arrows targeted the islands above him, raining down debris.

Shirou jumped to the side, avoiding the falling rubble and cloud of dust.

He looked back, notching Caladbolg II once more, to find Warrior Takemikazuchi had disappeared yet again.

'Where is he now?' Shirou searched for him, but he was nowhere in his line of sight.

Suddenly, he felt a rush of wind behind him and the ground beneath him lurch before the island-platform split apart and fell, having been cut in half.

'Below?!'

Standing far below him was Warrior Takemikazuchi.

However, even while falling upside down, it did little to hinder the archer as he took aim and drew back his bowstring.

"My core is…" He incanted, streaks of prana flowing forth from the helical arrow.

"[Flowing Spirit], [Mountain Leap]!" Warrior Takemikazuchi bent his legs as his body glowed from the activation of his skills.

With a powerful jump, he leaped towards the magus.

However, it wouldn't be enough to reach him.

"[Caladb-!"

"[Wings of Icarus]!"

Suddenly, great wings sprouted from his back, propelling Warrior Takemikazuchi toward Shirou at greater speed.

Just as Shirou was about to release his arrow, the Heteromorph intercepted and tackled him mid-air. The two spun as they struggled and grappled with each other.

'The [Wings of Icarus]!' Shirou recognized. The ability belonged to a ring that allowed the users to conjure wings, granting them increased mobility and brief flight. That was how he was able to relocate so far and quickly, by using it in combination with his movement skills.

'He must've swapped out one of his usual rings for it before the tournament.' The magus reckoned, having not seen it being used once throughout the entire tournament. 'He kept it hidden entirely for our match…'

The two Players crashed onto another island-stage, tumbling. Amid their roll, Warrior Takemikazuchi managed to gain the upper hand, swiftly grabbing onto the magus's arm in a vice grip. Recovering first, he swung Shirou around, using his momentum to throw him against a broken wall.

Shirou slammed into the wall. He coughed, spittle spitting from his mouth.

Shirou hastily rolled the side, dodging Warrior Takemikazuchi's downward swing as he split the wall.

He backed up, trying to put some distance between them to recover.

"Oh no, you don't. [Thrust]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi lunged.

Shirou dodged, but thanks to Takemikazuchi MK 8's long reach, it wounded him in the shoulder. Golden electricity flowed from the ōdachi, numbing his entire right arm.

Shirou faltered for a split second, allowing Warrior Takemikazuchi to press the advantage.

The magus was forced to use Caladbolg II to defend, all the good that did as he fell onto his back, lightning shocking and numbing his body.

He quickly rolled to the side and off it to avoid Warrior Takemikazuchi's downward slash, which threatened to decapitate him.

He fell, hitting a lower platform with a less-than-graceful landing. Rolling, he quickly ran.

Standing at the ledge from above, Warrior Takemikazuchi tossed his blade up slightly, catching it in a reverse grip.

"Hey!" He called out, rearing his arm back. "Catch!"

He hurled Takemikazuchi MK 8 at Shirou.

Shirou skidded to a sudden stop. The Divine class blade landed ahead of him, stabbing the ground. Had he not halted in time, the blade would have surely impaled him.

A shout ripped through the air as Warrior Takemikazuchi jumped, falling towards him with his fist clenched and ready.

Shirou brought up both his arms to defend, [Reinforcement] streaking across his limbs.

His arms shook as he defended, his body skidding backward from the heavy blow.

"[Kundali]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi thrusts his arms forward. The Dispenser of Heavenly Nectar, Gundari Myo-O, released a serpent from his hand. It slithered through the air, coiling around the magus and constricting him.

He rushed in, grabbing his Takemikazuchi MK 8 while his opponent was held in place.

"[Trace Bullet]!"

"[Slash]!"

He readied his skill against Shirou's volley.

Just before they reached him, the projections detonated prematurely, well before he had a chance to swing his blade. While the damage was far weaker than it was normally, he was still caught in the blast of the explosions.

Warrior Takemikazuchi's HP dropped, but that wouldn't be enough to deter him or halt his charge.

He swung, his sword slicing through the veil of smoke.

A metallic shriek pierced the air.

The smoke parted, revealing a thick, towering shield colored in a vibrant shade of hot pink. Tall enough that it obstructed even the wielder from the samurai's sight.

Despite the deep scar that stretched across the shield's surface, it remained steadfast and unyielding.

'Bukubukuchagama-san's [Stalwart Argus].' He instantly recognized the pink Elder Slime's signature shield.

"[Senkū]!"

Empowered by the skill, he swung Takemikazuchi MK 8 at lightning speed, slicing through the sturdy tower shield like a hot knife through butter. The upper half flew off.

Warrior Takemikazuchi saw no sign of Shirou behind it, deducing that he must've broken free of his constraint and ran to gain some distance.

Just then, Shirou popped around from behind the lower half of the shield, having used it as an impromptu cover to launch his surprise attack.

The samurai swung Takemikazuchi MK 8 down out of instinct.

A click was heard, and then a resounding bang, followed swiftly by the screech of clashing lightning.

For the first time in the match, Warrior Takemikazuchi was forced back, something he had not anticipated. Steam hissed from the slash mark that ran down his side, his HP dropping a fraction.

In Shirou's hand were a familiar trigger sheath and crimson katana.

'Deus Machina-san's HF blade!' He thought. 'He used the explosive quick-draw to beat my swing…'

He grinned.

"That's more like it!"

They met, and their blades danced.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Momonga sat at the edge of his seat, his crimson orbs glued to the holographic screens. The intense battle between the two finalists had everyone in Ainz Ooal Gown captivated, cheering them on with endless enthusiasm. It was a fun conundrum - rooting for one while exclaiming and watching out for the other. The support for either of them flipped back and forth with every second as the two finalists duked it out.

While many of them remained neutral, Momonga included, others, such as the likes of Peroroncino, Bukubukuchagama, and Bellriver, were actively rooting for Shirou to triumph, while the likes of Ulbert, Nishikienrai, and Amanomahitotsu were shouting their encouragement for Warrior Takemikazuchi to take home the prize.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Momonga noticed something. Destana was oddly quiet, a contrast to the normally rambunctious excitement that she'd shown throughout the tournament. Although her avatar's expression remained unchanging, he could easily tell that his girlfriend was pensive.

"Is something wrong?" Momonga gently nudged her with his elbow, jolting her from her thoughts.

"Huh? No, not really…" She muttered. "Just a bit surprised, is all."

"About what?"

Destana didn't say anything immediately, a finger scratching at her cheek almost sheepishly.

"It's just, kind of… Well, I guess I'm surprised that Warrior Takemikazuchi-san is able to keep up with Emiya-san." She admitted. "Since, well, he can do a bunch of 'swish' or 'shing!' and 'kaboom!' and 'pew!' Y'know?"

Momonga was confused by her statement, but found her hand gesture to mimic the weapons or action, alongside the onomatopoeia of the sounds to be cute.

It took him a moment before he realized what she exactly meant.

Momonga glanced back at the holographic screen. Shirou had just projected Bukubukchagama's shield, crouching low in wait for his opponent, his hand resting on the handle of the HF katana and a finger on the trigger.

The two Players clashed, and from there, the two dueled.

Though she was part of the guild, that didn't necessarily mean she had a complete understanding of the history of the two guild members, especially concerning the Fake Player. From an outsider's perspective, Shirou's multifaceted build seemed unbelievable and unstoppable. Moreover, his abilities had accumulated quite a notoriety over the years, making it a challenge to distinguish between fact and fiction. The tournament was a testament to some of the exaggerated rumors regarding the magus's abilities, which were proven true.

If one were to go off on the rumors and hearsay, coupled with the faker's versatile playstyle and unique Noble Phantasms showcased throughout the tournament, which contrasted with Warrior Takemikazuchi's straightforward, but audacious and adventurous plays, the assumption that Shirou would hold the advantage handily was far from unreasonable. A bias that he didn't fault her on.

"Is that sword of his really giving Emiya-san that much trouble?" Destana wondered aloud.

Back when Warrior Takemikazuchi first revealed Takemikazuchi MK 8 and made his bold declaration, she first thought of it as nothing more than a cheeky, prideful boast between friends. Yet, seeing it in action, it was clear that it was living up to his promise.

A soft, amused chuckle left Momonga's skinless lips.

"That's certainly a factor, but that's not all." He said. "Would it surprise you to learn that between Takemikazuchi-san and Emiya-san, the former has a higher win percentage over the latter?"

"Really?" She sat up straighter in her seat, her attention divided between the match and her boyfriend.

"Indeed." He nodded.

Touch Me, Warrior Takemikazuchi, and Shirou - it went without saying that those three were the greatest warrior-type Players within all of Ainz Ooal Gown. Nishikienrai was a close contender, but his specialties lie in stealth and assassination rather than physical combat.

Touch Me was renowned for his staunch defense, combined with unparalleled skill and strength that befitted his title as a World Champion. His mastery of counter-combat allowed him to withstand even the most powerful attacks while dishing out equally devastating blows. This harmonious fusion of offense and defense made him a force to be reckoned with.

Where Touch Me's style had a distinct focus on defense while maintaining an offensive front, Warrior Takemikazuchi was the complete opposite. His style of fighting focuses solely on overwhelming force.

The Heteromorphic samurai was well-reputed for blitzing down his opponents, even at a reckless pace. This method of combat was characterized by its aggressive pace, overpowering his opponents with sheer force and skill, leaving no room for his foes to mount a defense or launch a counterattack against his relentless onslaught. His proficiency with the blade rivaled that of Touch Me's and even surpassed the World Champion when it comes to DPS in a few areas.

Lastly, there was Shirou. Where the other two had their own defined form of fighting, the magus favored adaptability above the rest. The sword-spamming Player was the most diverse and dynamic, allowing him to change and adapt his strategies depending on the situation. This fluidity gave him an unparalleled level of unpredictability that made him a terror on the battlefield, as he wasn't limited to just one play style.

"You can almost think of it like a rock paper scissor scenario." He drew a comparison after giving a brief rundown on each of the Players.

Touch Me was the rock; Shirou was the paper; and Warrior Takemikazuchi was the scissors.

It was a vast simplification, in Momonga's opinion, but the analogy was apropos in his mind.

Objectively, all three were relatively equal, with each possessing unique and differing specs and advantages in different areas in comparison to one another.

But when it came to the Fake Player and the Bujin, it was less of a matter of statistics or percentages and more of a coin toss.

The two guildmates have fought together and against one another throughout the years, and they've traded tips and insight far more than either of them could recount. The two were intimately familiar with each other's strengths and weaknesses, and they knew exactly how to exploit or counter them.

And it was this familiarity that allowed the samurai to find the subtle chink in the armor that was the magus's formless fighting style.

The magus was unparalleled in versatility, that was undoubtedly true, but that very strength was a weakness in itself. The gap that existed between his mind grasping the appropriate weapon for a situation among countless, consciously bringing it into reality, and then adapting himself to better utilize the new armament was not an instantaneous process.

In that break in the flow, in that infinitesimal interval, he was compromised, his stance void to preemptively adapt into one more suited for his next weapon.

This was where the Bujin's hyper-aggressive play style excelled, by disrupting that infinitesimal interim to create an opening and capitalize on it. By preventing the set-up, he stops the virtual magus from following through with his moves.

After all, no attack was a threat to him if it wasn't allowed time or was stopped from being one.

'Takemikazuchi-san practically has all his bases covered…' Momonga quickly realized.

With Takemikazuchi MK 8, the samurai had an efficient counter against the magus's usual tactic of firing [Trace Bullet] or detonating his projections to deal massive damage. Even if Shirou were to try and trace his heavy hitters, Warrior Takemikazuchi would immediately rush to neutralize them before he could use them, putting Shirou in a more precarious position than if he hadn't. And as shown with Caladbolg II, he was well aware and vigilant of them, and no doubt had countermeasures in place. This effectively locked Shirou down and made him rely on quicker, but simpler Noble Phantasms to bridge the gap, of which, the Divine class ōdachi would make short work of them.

Furthermore, the locale of the battlefield favored Warrior Takemikazuchi more than it did Shirou, as the close-quarter nature of the floating stages allowed the samurai's specialty to shine.

It was evident that Warrior Takemikazuchi had been planning this for a long time. Every aspect, from his Takemikazuchi MK 8, the finely-tuned strategy, and his fully committed blitz, had been all for this moment - this match. And like the first blooms of a long-awaited harvest, it was time for the Nephilim to reap the fruits of his labor.

'But he's only able to do that by committing to a sustained rush.' Momonga mused.

Warrior Takemikazuchi favored high burst-DPS rush over sustain-DPS, and for him to commit to the latter so heavily spoke of the effort and perseverance needed for him to keep up the pressure on the magus.

The samurai couldn't afford to give Shirou even a chance to recover.

All of Ainz Ooal Gown and Warrior Takemikazuchi, especially, have seen the Fake Player's incredible ability to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat with a single decisive move countless times. That was all it took - a single instant - to turn the tide. Therefore, the only way to prevent him from reaching that moment was to ensure that Shirou was not allowed a chance to do so.

"So how can Emiya-san turn it around?" Destana wondered.

As Momonga opened his mouth, the crowd around him rustled. Gasps and other noises filled the stadium, particularly those from the members of Ainz Ooal Gown, capturing the Guildmaster's attention.

The couples snapped their heads back to the front, returning to the fight and action as their eyes widened at the sudden development.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Lightning crackled as two lightning-charged blades clashed.

The magus's dichromatic eyes fell onto the HF blade, noting the chipped edge and surface riddled with tiny cracks. [Reinforcement] and [Alteration] helped to fix it, but it was merely a stopgap, as he'd been doing so numerous times throughout their exchange. It was made abundantly clear again which weapon was superior.

Rather than keeping up the pressure, Shirou allowed Warrior Takemikazuchi to win the struggle, backstepping back while pulling back the crimson katana.

Locking in his stance, he quickly sheathed the blade, his finger already on the trigger.

"[Trigger Draw: Jetstream]!"

"[Relentless Spirit], [Indomitable], [Raikiri: Lightning Cutter]!"

With a loud bang, Shirou channeled the powerful, explosive quick-draw into his swing.

Simultaneously, Warrior Takemikazuchi's body glowed and a brilliant aura of purple lightning enveloped Takemikazuchi MK 8's blade, imbuing it with power.

However, instead of retaliating with a counter-attack to match his opponent's slash, Warrior Takemikazuchi gripped his ōdachi tightly with both hands and held it in waiting.

Shirou's HF blade collided with Takemikazuchi MK 8, sending a shower of sparks flying in all directions.

Warrior Takemikazuchi, in a surprising move, held his ground, using his skills defensively to guard against the attack. The samurai skidded backward, weathering the quick-draw slash.

The Humanoid Player attempted to back up, but the Nephilim samurai was quicker to react.

Warrior Takemikazuchi swung Takemikazuchi MK 8 horizontally and slashed against the ground at an angle, firing a scattering of rubble at the retreating magus.

Shirou swung, slicing as much as he could. Reinforcement glowed brightly as he knew that he wouldn't be able to destroy all the incoming debris.

Shirou winced at some of the larger pieces.

One in particular flew past his guard, hitting him in the head right over his right eyebrow.

He hissed, reeling as his vision faltered for a split second.

Warrior Takemikazuchi rushed in, putting him on the back foot.

The Bujin's sword swung wide and heavy, making each slash a powerful blow that left the virtual magus staggering with every swing. Cracks spread across the crimson katana with every hit as he defended and fought to keep up with the relentless attacks.

Shirou swung for an attack but was parried.

"[Caṇḍamahāroṣaṇa]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi's blade flashed downward, its lightning-infused strike faster than ever. Too strong to block and too quick to deflect, it barreled into Shirou's shoulder, digging deep into his shoulder blade and flesh.

Wild electricity ran rampant, shocking his insides, and, as his HP plummeted into yellow, his throat spasmed, forcing a guttural roar of pain that he'd tried to quiet.

Warrior Takemikazuchi's body stilled, a renewed swing halting midway, stalled by the unexpected sound that made his heart hurt and his body tremble. Sadly, he wasn't allowed to focus much more on said feelings, as a barrage of [Trace Bullet] found its way into his chest, knocking him away from his wounded friend.

Years of practice had him roll with the attack, his tumble turning into a roll and finally a kneeling stance, his sword at his side, ready for further action, but when nothing else came his way, he allowed himself some words.

"H-hey, you alright, man?" He was surprised by the tremble in his words, but he ignored it in favor of his friend's pain.

Much like himself, his opponent was also kneeling, but while he was voluntary, he didn't think Shirou was in the same boat. Not with the shaking his eyes caught, likely the result of the residue electric attack, if the sparks that occasionally seemingly spawn from nowhere were anything to go by.

"I'll… live…" The words came out gruffer than expected, but it was the best that he could do, even as he staggered into a standing position to match Warrior Takemikazuchi's own rising frame.

A momentary reprieve settled over the battle. A tense quietness permeated the air, punctuated only by the soft rustle of clouds drifting overhead and the gentle caress of the breeze on their skin.

"Why'd you let up and drop your guard, Takemikazuchi-san?" Shirou asked. "You're not one to make amateurish mistakes like that." He said, trying to rouse a response from his friend.

Warrior Takemikazuchi said nothing, eying the wounded shoulder.

Shirou glanced at it.

The detail displayed was both grisly and fascinating. The cut was clean and deep, parting a portion of his shoulder and exposing flesh and muscle. Blood poured from the laceration, running down his hand and pooling on the ground. Had Warrior Takemikazuchi pushed on, he could've severed the magus's arm completely at the shoulder.

"I've survived worse, and you know it." The magus grunted, clutching the shoulder and fighting back the painful wince.

He was no stranger to pain; one could even call them old friends. And in a morbid way, he was appreciative of it. It kept him grounded. A constant reminder - a source of stability. To everyone else, YGGDRASIL was a game, but to him, it was his reality.

He knew it, and so did his friends, those of his inner circle, even if it took a while for them to accept it. It was nothing new.

But of course, on occasion, that fact of his reality rears its ugly head, especially when they least expect it.

Using their respective rings, they restored their HP to full.

Shirou's deep wound knitted together, and just like that, his shoulder was as good as new.

The silence stretched on as the two warriors faced one another.

Warrior Takemikazuchi didn't say anything. His character model's wide grin remained, but a closer inspection revealed a subtle strain in his facial expression. His body language also betrayed a slight hunch, and his grip on Takemikazuchi MK 8 loosened ever so slightly.

These subtle cues, though easily missed by an untrained eye, spoke volumes to Shirou about the turmoil brewing within his guildmate's mind.

"Don't you dare think about taking it easy on me." Shirou said sharply.

Call it misguided pride, call it obtuse fairness, or whatever else, but if he was giving it his all, then it was expected that Warrior Takemikazuchi would show the same courtesy.

Win or lose, he would not have it said that either of them was given the victory instead of earning it rightfully. And the same applied to Warrior Takemikazuchi as well.

Warrior Takemikazuchi stared into Shirou's heterochromatic eyes. No words were spoken, but his resolute gaze told him all that he needed to know.

An unspoken understanding passed between them.

The Heteromorph dipped his head slightly, acknowledging his opponent's and friend's resolve.

"Alright." Warrior Takemikazuchi said after a moment. "But remember, you asked for it. So don't blame me when I give you plenty of ouchies for you to chew on." He quipped, raising his blade.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." The magus gave a small smirk.

He swung his arm with a weeping flourish, his magic circuits glowed brightly as prana filled and flowed from them. The streams of shimmering prana converged and a ring of swords formed, revolving in perfect unison around his body. A halo of swords followed, hovering behind him and turning ceaselessly. The longsword he held in his hands gleamed magnificently, its splendor and strength shining with a dazzling glow.

'Durandal!' Warrior Takemikazuchi recognized the peerless sword.

Aloud, he commented. "Oh? Now that's new." Intrigue colored his words.

Warrior Takemikazuchi's eyes flickered from the holy sword to the hovering swords, observing them.

The sword of Roland, while formidable, was a known factor. Its indestructibility was a solid counter to his Takemikazuchi MK 8, while its "miracles" were something he needed to be watchful of. However, what he was weary of was the mystery and potential threat behind the hovering swords.

He had a fair few ideas on what their purposes may be, but he knew better than to assume. When it came to fighting the virtual magus, one could never truly ascertain his methods until the last possible second.

But that only made it all the more exciting to see what he had planned in mind. Plus, he was eager to test his Takemikazuchi MK 8 against the peerless Durandal.

Shirou made the first move, dashing forward as four swords from the rotating halo fired forth. New swords instantly took their place.

Warrior Takemikazuchi dashed forward as well. His eyes tracked the incoming swords. They spread and arced, coming at him from different angles.

He swung, destroying the first two, and followed it up with the other two. They dissipated into motes of light, surprising him. He expected Shirou to detonate them prematurely, like before. They weren't even a part of [Trace Bullet], only simple projections.

Meeting in the middle, the two swung.

"[Cleave]!"

A metallic shriek echoed.

Warrior Takemikazuchi tried to power through with his skill, but Shirou held his ground, their blade locked in a tight embrace.

From the halo, five more swords fired out, curving around him to attack from behind.

"[Five-Fold Slasher]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi pushed, letting go of the stalemate. He swung around, destroying four of the swords with ease. However, the fifth sword detonated before he could get rid of it, catching him in the blast and leaving him stunned, rather than expressly dealing damage.

Taking advantage of the opening, Durandal found purchase on the Heteromorphs' side and landed a substantial attack.

"[Kashira Blow]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi whirled back around, aiming at his forehead and striking with the pommel.

Shirou reeled, with Warrior Takemikazuchi swinging at his unguarded side.

The swords that circled the magus quickly came together, layering over one another to form an improvised shield.

Takemikazuchi MK 8 sliced through the first three with little effort. The fourth, fifth, sixth, and all the following swords met the same fate. Reaching the eighth and final sword, a bastard sword with a wide flat blade, it was finally halted, leaving a deep gash and cracks along the sword's surface but not breaking through.

As Warrior Takemikazuchi pulled back for another swing, Shirou seized the opportunity to score another blow on him. Like with the halo, new swords replaced the ones previously destroyed.

"[Violent Flash]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi retaliated with a lightning-fast attack, golden lighting coursing forth from the slash.

Shirou raised Durandal to block the attack, but was only able to deflect it partially. The powerful skill grazed his sides.

Warrior Takemikazuchi rained down slashes, but Durandal held, it's peerless form holding up against Takemikazuchi MK 8's unparalleled sharpness.

Again, the two locked blades.

"Ol' sword, bless thy miracle…" Shirou chanted.

Warrior Takemikazuchi's eyes widened as Durandal glowed. Simultaneously, swords fired out from the halo, aimed at him from all directions - above, the sides, and behind.

"[Acala's Sword]!"

He swung his sword in a wide arc, using the AoE physical attack skill to knock Shirou back, who defended with Durandal again, while also destroying the incoming swords.

Despite his effort, one survived. With his other hand, he swung, attempting to bat the final sword away. Right as his hand made contact, the projection detonated, catching him in the full blast.

The samurai staggered.

Shirou swung, landing an upward diagonal slash across his chest.

"Argh!" The two roared in unison, forging onward as the warriors duked it out.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

'I've seen Emiya-san pull some interesting maneuvers, but this?' Touch Me pondered. 'This is definitely a first.'

It was less of a graceful and tactful duel and more like a slugfest. Only instead of fists, it was with swords.

'A sword-fest.' His mind playfully conjured.

Having seemingly abandoned keeping his distance and playing to his strength, Shirou fought Warrior Takemikazuchi head-on at his own game.

The World Champion couldn't help but be impressed by the remarkable display of versatility and ingenuity demonstrated by the magus's projections.

The ring of swords that circled him functioned as a defensive measure that could come together to serve as either a cushion or barrier to slow Warrior Takemikazuchi's ferocious swings. The hovering swords created a constant presence, while the halo of swords remained a looming threat that would keep up the pressure. But it didn't end there as he could switch them up at any second, making each of them a credible threat if left unattended.

Shirou was able to do this by tracing simple, inexpensive swords that were easily replaceable once one was used up. This kept him stocked up, allowing him to devote his entire focus and energy to combatting the Bujin.

And there was still Durandal to worry about.

'It's practically impossible to determine which is an actual attack, a feint, or a set-up for another move…' Momonga thought, analyzing the fight.

His floating swords could serve either as deceptive feints to allow him to get his swings in with Durandal, shift counters, or as distractions to mask his next move. Furthermore, the magus was adept in the art of alternating between offensive and defensive tactics with Durandal. In the latter case, his projections would serve as the damage dealer as he used the holy sword's invincibility against Takemikazuchi MK 8. To add another layer of complexity to his attack pattern, his invocation of Durandal's miracles served as bait to force his opponents to redirect his focus, leaving the Heteromorphic Player vulnerable to his next move. And by constantly switching it up, the unpredictable tempo made it all the more challenging for the samurai to discern a pattern between his moves as any of them could be real or false.

And that was only with what he'd seen showcased so far in the fight.

The Overlord watched as Shirou expertly wielded Durandal to deflect an attack, allowing him to slip into Warrior Takemikazuchi's guard. While the ōdachi gave him a longer striking range and reach, the tradeoff meant that at a certain range, it was cumbersome to wield properly due to the weapon's length and the Heteromorph's large frame. Something that the Humanoid Player was fully exploiting, keeping up close and personal with his opponent.

The faker's skillful combination of various factors enabled him to string together his moves and attacks, allowing him to attack at a reckless pace that was almost uncharacteristic of the magus. However, this daring approach was not without its flaws, as the formidable Warrior Takemikazuchi was equally skilled at unleashing a flurry of attacks. Nonetheless, the faker's boldness paid off as he was able to keep up with Warrior Takemikazuchi's pace and even push him back, much to everyone's initial surprise.

Following a clash, the two Players separated.

The sound of their heavy breathing echoed, filling the air with each winded exhale.

The samurai's heavy armor was riddled with dozens of cuts and marred with blast burns, while the virtual magus bore numerous slits across his body, blood seeping from the wounds.

The two were taking damage but also dealing it in equal amounts.

Despite it all, the two shared a smile.

Warrior Takemikazuchi chuckled.

To think he would be bested in a match-up of aggression, he never thought he'd seen the day.

Shirou's gaze flickered towards Takemikazuchi MK 8. Even after all the clashes, even from the likes of the HF blade, it remained impeccable as it was when it was first revealed.

However, his keen eyes caught something: a tiny, hairline fracture along the surface of the blade.

This didn't go unnoticed by Warrior Takemikazuchi.

"[Repair Weapon]."

His ring, the [Ring of Nibelung], glowed as he gently ran his hand down along the ōdachi's blade. It glowed, and just like that, the minuscule imperfection was no more.

"You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?" He asked rhetorically, casually resting the ōdachi on his shoulder.

"No." Shirou admitted freely. "But a man could always hope, Takemikazuchi-san."

"Well, I guess you'd just have to keep on hoping, old friend." Warrior Takemikazuchi quipped good-naturedly.

A moment of levy passed between the two friends, and just as it quickly as it came, it left.

"[Kōtei bureidosutōmu: Emperor Bladestorm]!"

In an instant, his sword blurred as he swung. The air itself whistled sharply as if severed, leaving behind a distortion that seemed to ripple through the atmosphere.

Shirou's reflexes kicked in and he instinctively ducked, and the ultra-high-speed slash sailed over him. His halo of swords was annihilated, shattering into pieces. The attack traveled, slicing through the various island-platforms in its path as if they were mere paper.

"[Flash Step]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi closed the distance, using his skill to blink forward with a fast swing.

"[Seven-Fold Striker], [Dancing Blade], [Swift Strike]!"

The magus was instantly on the back foot, swaying backward as he defended and fought back against Warrior Takemikazuchi's relentless slashes.

With each clash of their blades, the air around them hummed with the sound of steel meeting steel. A song of steel played out as the metal of their blades rang, their steel dazzling as they made contact with one another. Their movements were a blur, their forms almost impossible to follow as they engaged in a deadly dance, captivating the audience.

"[Senku]!"

Shirou brought up Durandal to defend.

The skill clashed against the Noble Phantasm and the two locked swords.

"[Shoulder Bash]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi used his skill to land a fast body blow, staggering the magus.

At the same time, Shirou swung his sword, attempting to counterattack.

Switching to one-handed, Warrior Takemikazuchi parried the attack.

"[Lotus Fang]!"

With a flick of his wrist, the samurai tossed Takemikazuchi MK 8 and caught it in his left hand. The quick switch enabled him to swing once again, capitalizing on the opening he had created.

Shirou's eyes widened as Takemikazuchi MK 8's ascending slash sliced through his right hand which held the holy sword with ease, separating some of his fingers and a portion of his hand in one swift, clean stroke.

While Durandal was invincible, its wielder was far from it.

As the peerless sword fell, the Bujin swung at it with his blade. He knocked it away, the Noble Phantasm bouncing against the ground, before rolling over the edge of the stage, lost to sight.

At the same time, Warrior Takemikazuchi's right elbow descended, landing a powerful elbow strike that connected with Shirou's head with a heavy sound.

He hit the ground, his head bouncing. Sharp pain flared as his vision blurred and swayed.

Despite his disoriented state, he managed to roll to the side as Warrior Takemikazuchi's fist came down, smashing the ground where his head was. Cracks webbed out from the impact spot.

He twisted his body, his leg reaching up and wrapping around the limb. It almost looked like he was going for a grapple.

Warrior Takemikazuchi swung his arm, tossing Shirou away.

He rolled, recovering to his knees in a crouch.

Blood poured from the wound, trickling down from his forehead and staining his right eye and vision. Throbbing pain assaulted his head while a sharp, stinging pain spread from his maimed hand.

"Trying to crack my head open or something, Takemikazuchi-san?" Shirou quipped. 'Then again, I did tell him not to hold back…'

His tongue peeked out, taking a lick of the flowing blood. The bitter, iron taste helped to dull the splitting headache as his vision refocused.

His left sight was fine, but his right sight was hindered slightly by the blood, with parts of Warrior Takemikazuchi's body being covered in his vision.

He dared not blink, but try as he might; not even he could completely control his body's bodily functions and the accumulating pain.

His body reacted and his right eye blinked, and the samurai moved in that instant.

Shirou's remaining swords gathered, overlapping to defend like before.

Before Warrior Takemikazuchi could destroy all of them, they detonated, catching both of them in the blast.

Shirou flew back, over the ledge, and landed harshly on his side on another island-platform.

Warrior Takemikazuchi pushed on, jumping down with a crash as Shirou came to his knee.

A single projection was traced and fired straight upwards, hitting the bottom of an island-platform above them. A chunk of rubble fell right onto the stage and directly into Warrior Takemikazuchi's path.

"[Ganyu Strike]!"

He slashed at the rubble, kicking up a cloud of dust.

From his periphery, he saw something whipping forward from the side towards him.

He tilted his head and shifted his weight to the side, allowing what he saw as a long, black shaft to sail over him. He backrolled as the smoke cleared up.

'That's one long-ass spear…' He first thought, seeing the new projection in the Fake Player's hand.

Indeed. In Shirou's hand was a spear with an obsidian-black shaft and an elegant, ornate engraving etched into the surface of its sharp blade.

The spear's length was the most notable feature. It was long, almost to the point of being absurd, doubling his height. It looked cumbersome to wield and balance, yet the faker had no such trouble even with a impaired hand.

Warrior Takemikazuchi was unfamiliar with this apparent new Noble Phantasm, hence his slight caution.

[Tonbokiri: The Spear that Split the Dragonfly - Divine Tier Spear]

Tonbokiri, one of the three legendary spears of Japan, was wielded by the great general and daimyō, Honda Tadakatsu. The spear was forged by none other than Fujiwara Masazane, a disciple of the great blacksmith Sengo Muramasa. The weapon's legend was derived from the story of how a dragonfly landed on the blade and was sliced cleanly in two. The weapon would serve Honda well, earning him countless victories and cementing the weapon's name in Japanese history as an unrivaled weapon.

Warrior Takemikazuchi scrutinized the spear, trying to parse out its ability. Appearance can be deceiving, and he knew that his friend and fellow weapon connoisseur enjoyed giving his Noble Phantasms esoteric usage that typically defies the weapon's functions.

Shirou's grip tightened, his grasp on the spear shifting ever slightly.

That was the indication that Warrior Takemikazuchi had to react before Shirou swung. Moving faster than it should've been possible, the Tonbokiri blurred as he swung the spear horizontally in a spinning strike.

Anticipating the attack, Warrior Takemikazuchi readied his Takemikazuchi MK 8, but at the last moment, he switched his stance to block the incoming attack with a swift guard.

He resisted but was caught off guard by the sheer speed and weight of the spinning slash. He was swept off his feet and thrown back off the ledge into freefall by the sheer force behind the blow.

[Tonbokiri]'s super-sonic slash expanded, destroying the surrounding island-platforms paralleling theirs.

The Noble Phantasm shattered in his hand, its purpose fulfilled.

Shirou ran and jumped off after Warrior Takemikazuchi.

"[Trace Bullet]!"

Falling, his projections surrounded him, but rather than firing at the samurai, they fired backward.

The various floating platforms above and behind him exploded, reducing them to chunks of rubble.

"Trace on!"

Prana surged forth, forming numerous chains. They fired outward, the nail-spike at the end of each chain stabbing pieces of rubble he made. With a mighty tug, he pulled, redirecting them towards Warrior Takemikazuchi.

"HAHAHA! You always know how to keep it interesting, Emiya-san!" Warrior Takemikazuchi shouted, laughing.

A bombardment of stones descended upon the samurai as he fell.

"[Sever], [Flowing Edge], [Rendering Blade]!"

He swung his ōdachi, each swing of the Divine class blade cleaving through the hunks of stone like they were nothing.

Warrior Takemikazuchi landed with a heavy crash, leaving a deep indentation from where his legs landed. The floating stage he landed on trembled precariously and nearly crumbled under the force.

He did not stop swinging his sword even as he fell, slicing through the rubble with tremendous ferocity that rained down upon him.

Slicing through a particularly large chuck, the two halves separated to reveal Shirou. In his hand was a great obsidian single-edged axe equipped with thrusters along the back.

Shirou dropped from above and swung his axe with all his might, and the thrusters ignited, augmenting the force of his strike.

Warrior Takemikazuchi braced himself, his grip tightening as he swung back.

The two Players roared as their weapons clashed.

The ground shook dangerously once more.

A piercing, grating sound rang out as their weapons fiercely vied for dominance.

"Break!" Shirou shouted.

Warrior Takemikazuchi was forced to one knee, struggling to contend with Shirou's attack thanks to him getting the initial drop on the Heteromorph.

"[Tenshō: Piercing Heaven]!" A surge of moonlight energy cloaked Takemikazuchi MK 8.

With his teeth gritted and his willpower unbroken, Takemikazuchi pushed himself back up on his feet.

The clash between their weapons intensified.

'Just a bit… more… !' Warrior Takemikazuchi thought, watching the cracks along the axe increase and spread.

However, what gave way first wasn't Shirou's projection but rather the stage.

Both their eyes widened, and they shared a look as the ground lurched and fell apart, revealing the vast open sky beneath their feet.

There were no more island-platforms below them; they would fall to their deaths.

Separating, the two focused everything on surviving.

"[Flight Foot], [Quick Dash], [Flash Step]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi ran precariously on what was left of the stage, kicking off the edge as the platform fell into the open, cloudy abyss below.

What he was aiming for was an island-platform that floated in the far off distance.

With his skills, he jumped, gaining some distance. But it wouldn't be enough.

"[Wings of Icarus]!"

Thankfully, he still had one more option available to him.

Long, ethereal wings manifested, and with a mighty flap, the Heteromorph soared forward.

Unfortunately, he was just the tiniest bit out of reach. His hand outstretched and his fingers stretching, brushing against the ledge but unable to grab on.

'Let's hope this works!'

With one last desperate attempt, he flipped his grip on his ōdachi, holding it in a reverse grip.

While he was just out of reach of the platform, his Takemikazuchi MK 8 could make it.

He swung, the long blade stabbing into and finding purchase on the stage. That didn't mean he was completely in the clear, however, as he continued sliding downward as his blade cut into the rocky underbelly of the platform.

For half a heartbeat, it looked like that would be it.

Warrior Takemikazuchi came to a stop at last, dangling precariously from the very bottom of the stage.

He remained there for a few short seconds, although it felt like hours to him, unable to tear his gaze away from the incredible but also terrifying view below him.

Eventually, his other hand grabbed on and gripped the rocky underside of the platform, and together, he managed to heave himself up and over.

Warrior Takemikazuchi rolled onto his back and lay there. His hands wouldn't stop shaking, and the loudness of his labored breaths filled the air.

"F-fuck… !" He gasped, holding a hand to his chest. "That was way too close…"

It took a few seconds before his breathing evened out.

'Guess Emiya-san made it out as well.' He idly thought.

Considering that the match didn't end, it was reasonable to assume such.

Indeed. Shirou made it to safety by using his sword-flying technique to clear the distance and by snagging onto another island-platform with his hookshot gauntlet.

The Heteromorph came to his feet, and something quickly became apparent to him.

It was quiet and peaceful.

Too quiet and peaceful…

The Heteromorph half expected the faker to bombard him while he was getting his bearings. Instead, as he looked around, all he saw was a tranquil view.

"[Soaring Razor]!"

He swung his blade, launching high-speed slashes that sliced through the island-platforms around him. They crumbled and fell, revealing nothing.

Again, only the sound of silence followed.

"[Warrior's Instinct], [Premonition]."

Using his skills, he briefly closed his eyes to the world. A soft chime rang out, expanding as the world opened up around him in monochrome. But much like with his eyes, all he saw was the world around him, with no sign or presence of his opponent whatsoever.

"I can't detect him at all…" He muttered, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

While he knew his guildmate could be stealthy, it was typically attributed to auxiliary items or equipment more than any active skills or abilities. However, the rules of the tournament prohibited the use of inventory items, and the Heteromorph knew for a fact that the magus had not selected any stealth items for the tournament. That left only one culpable source available.

'[Carnwennan]…'

[Carnwennan: White Hilt of Shrouds - Divine Tier Dagger]

Carnwennan, the dagger of King Arthur. It was said that the weapon was gifted to the King of Britannia by God, alongside the legendary Excalibur and Rhongomyniad. Welsh legend has it that Carnwennan was bestowed the magical ability to shroud the user in shadow so that no foe may seek to strike down the great king in deceit and deception. It possessed a modest history and legend, often overshadowed when compared to the iconic Excalibur or the majesty of Rhongomyniad.

The YGGDRASIL-made Noble Phantasm possessed no actual blade, consisting of only a beautiful engraved white hilt and intricate black handle. In that regard, Carnwennan was considered more of an item than an actual weapon.

It was originally Nishikienrai who proposed to Shirou to create a weapon or item for the purpose of stealth. Warrior Takemikazuchi played a small helping hand, with the virtual magus being the one to choose and finalize the design and name. It was a recent addition to magus's arsenal.

'He must've 'traced' it when we separated and made it to safety.' The Heteromorph figured.

The ability of [Carnwennan] was simple but no less dangerous. When drawn, it would render the wielder completely invisible and undetectable, comparable to that of [Perfect Unknowable].

It was a powerful tool in his arsenal, and he often used it in combination with the likes of Caladbolg II and others to deliver powerful sneak attacks that left enemies and entire PK parties dead before they'd even know what hit them.

A fact that left Warrior Takemikazuchi stumped as to why he hadn't tried and done so already.

Instead of fretting over the what-ifs, he focused on the facts of the matter.

Shirou chose to remain concealed, despite the apparent advantage.

In that case, there was only one thing left to do.

Using the [Ring of Nibelung], he used the remaining MP to heal himself. He then planted Takemikazuchi MK 8 on the ground, resting both his palms on the pommel of the ōdachi.

And so he stood vigil and waited.

"Your move, Shirou."

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

With Shirou, he had traced Carnwennan and relocated to an island-platform just outside of Warrior Takemikazuchi's range, but still within clear view for the magus. He used [Draupnir] to heal himself and restore his hand.

He was crouched, leaning against a small, broken stone wall.

'Well, that was a bust…'

He peaked over the side, observing Warrior Takemikazuchi, who remained as he was. His gaze lowered, resting on his weapon.

He considered tracing Takemikazuchi MK 8 throughout the fight but dismissed it. While that might put them on equal footing weapon-wise, their skills will be the determining factor. And against someone like Warrior Takemikazuchi…

A warrior dedicated to the single art of the sword to its utmost limit.

A flicker of a smile came to his face as he thought this. He briefly wondered how a match between him and Saber would play out.

A spectacle, without a doubt.

The faker shook his head, reigning in his wandering thoughts.

'Focus!' He still had to contend with Warrior Takemikazuchi.

Shirou blew out a soft sigh.

'Caladbolg II or firing [Trace Bullet] to get him to fall to his death is an obvious choice, and one Takemikazuchi-san already has a plan and counter for. Balmung and Clarent are readily available options, as are Gáe Bolg and Gungnir. Assuming that I can use them before he uses his gap closers to stop me. Όριο would help to restrict him, but it'll hold him for a second or two before Takemikazuchi MK 8 slices through them. But that might just be enough. Nine Lives Blade Works would be the best option, but not even he would be reckless enough to get in range if I pulled that out. Durindana Pilum would be a better alternative as well…'

His mind was a storm of thoughts. He considered each Noble Phantasm one by one, determining their usability.

He thought and thought, his thoughts racing.

There was a solution he wasn't seeing - a path to winning…

He just needed to find it-!

"But I think, above all else, you shouldn't focus entirely on winning and try to have some fun with the tournament."

Shirou blinked.

Momonga's heartfelt words echoed, silencing the storm of thoughts and bringing with it a clarity that stilled the body and mind.

Fun…

Fun wasn't a word typically associated with the magus.

He couldn't care less about the World Champion title or being recognized as the strongest or best. From the beginning, he had his eyes set on the prize: the Saber Class Card.

And now, standing right at the finish line, his best friend's words came to him and he mused back on his previous matches throughout the tournament.

Did he have fun?

The answer, he found, surprisingly, was yes.

Despite his hyper-fixation of winning his matches and performing at his very best each time, he wouldn't deny that he felt a timbre of excitement from each one of them. From the first to the very last: The Mountain, Volcánica, everyone before and after them, and now, Warrior Takemikazuchi.

It was truly a tournament of champions, and each and every one of his opponents challenged him in different ways.

A rush of exhilaration.

A surge of alarm or swell of determination.

And lastly, a sense of excitement with each hard-fought fight and victory.

Winning felt great. Winning was good.

But…

Shirou observed Warrior Takemikazuchi. The Nephilim samurai could've continued attacking to force the magus to reveal himself, or actively hunt him down.

Yet, he didn't.

He simply stood there, patiently.

While the prestige that came with the title of World Champion and the opportunity to fight against highly skilled Players was undoubtedly enticing, Shirou knew that his guildmate entered the tournament for his sake more than his own. Because he knew just how important the Class Card meant to his friend.

Warrior Takemikazuchi had given it his all in each of his matches, but he'd also had fun with it, enjoying himself every step of the way.

And if Warrior Takemikazuchi could do it, what was stopping him from doing the same?

… What was the point of trying your hardest to win if you don't enjoy it?

In that brief moment, something happened.

A subtle shift occurred - imperceptible to the naked eye yet palpable in its effect.

A previously taut tension within him gradually loosened. His shoulders slackened and his muscles eased. His body relaxed as if a weight had been lifted off his chest.

He rose, his eyes drawn to the vast expanse before him. A backdrop of endless blue and roaming white clouds extended to the horizon, and he couldn't help but take in every detail of his surroundings.

When they had first been teleported to their battlefield in the skies, he had scanned the area with a tactical eye, noting every feature that could aid him in his match.

He committed the location to his memory, but never once did he take a step back to take it all in.

Now, standing there, he came to appreciate the peaceful and tranquil beauty of the world above the clouds.

He took a deep breath, relishing in the crispness of the air, and exhaled slowly.

Win or lose, the Saber Class Card will go to him regardless.

In that case, why not enjoy himself, if only to indulge for just this one moment?

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Warrior Takemikazuchi remained as he was, with his eyes closed as he waited. Such an action would court certain death, but the Heteromorph wasn't bothered or concerned.

He knew that if Shirou wanted to launch a ranged or sneak attack, he would've done so already.

And so he waited until his friend/opponent was ready to meet him once more.

He wasn't too sure how long he stood there before he heard a soft landing and the pattering of footsteps.

Opening his eyes, he found Shirou walking towards him.

"Yo~" He greeted casually. "Enjoy your nap break?"

Shirou smiled. A soft, gentle smile.

A smile that quietly surprised the samurai, one that was completely at ease.

He felt as if there was something different about the Humanoid Player, yet he couldn't put his finger on it.

For lack of a better word, he looked better, more mellowed out than before

"I did, thank you."

Warrior Takemikazuchi shrugged.

"No problem. After all, it only seems fair after the ass-kicking I've been handing out throughout the match." He grinned teasingly.

Shirou chuckled.

"I challenge you! One attack to end it all."

Again, the Nephilim was caught by surprise.

What the magus was proposing was a final clash, one attack each to determine who would win and who would lose.

What gave Warrior Takemikazuchi a quiet pause was the look in his friend's gold and silver eyes.

It wasn't the reckless abandon of a desperate gamble that he saw there, nor the unyielding determination of a stubborn warrior.

No, the only word that came to the Heteromorph's mind was a curious confidence.

In the face of his friend's challenge, there was only one answer he could give.

"I accept!"

Picking up Takemikazuchi MK 8, Warrior Takemikazuchi took a stance.

"Trace… on!"

Prana flowed from his hand, forming his final weapon.

Simple.

That was the first word that popped into Warrior Takemikazuchi's head as he laid eyes on the newly projected weapon. Simple but elegant.

The sword possessed a long and graceful blade that shone with a seamless sheen. Its handle was light, yet violent, and featured a tassel at the end that swayed gently in the breeze. His keen eyes estimated it to be a monohoshizao - a weapon that surpassed the length of his powerful ōdachi by a fractional margin. Like with Tonbokiri, Shirou held the long blade with comfortable poise.

The samurai's lips pursed, racking his mind to try and discern the weapon's identity.

Where the Heteromorph's creations were given robust names, born from his mind, he knew his friend drew his inspiration from real-life history, legends, and myths. With many of his powerful Noble Phantasms, as he called them, bearing the names of old.

The weapon in his hand was oriental in origin, so he narrowed it down to legendary or mythical swords from Japan. He first thought of Murasame, the famed demon sword of the legendary blacksmith, Muramasa, but dismissed it as some hard consideration. The Honjo Masamune was considered next but rejected as well. Another one that came to mind was the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, but that idea fell flat.

Several more names were tallied off before Warrior Takemikazuchi gave up.

In the end, it didn't matter.

'Because there's nothing my Takemikazuchi MK 8 can't slice!'

The two held their stance as they edged forward, their measured steps echoing through the open expanse.

The brilliant sun shone in the background, providing a splendid backdrop for their final clash. The audience watched with bated breath as the final match reached its conclusion.

Warrior Takemikazuchi was the first to act, bursting forward with his attack.

Shirou waited, meeting this friend for one final time.

The two attacked in unison.

"[Raikiri: Lightning Cutter]!" "[Traced Tsubame Gaeshi: Swallow Reversal (False)]!"

Warrior Takemikazuchi swung his Takemikazuchi MK 8 with a fierce determination that echoed through the very air itself, a maelstrom of sound and fury. Shirou's monohoshizao sliced through the air with graceful yet deadly precision, emanating a harmonious melody that beautifully contrasted with the cacophony of Warrior Takemikazuchi's swing.

Warrior Takemikazuchi watched as their blades closed in.

And just before they met, he saw it happen…

Another man appeared as if superimposing over Shirou.

A long ponytail-haired man garbed in purple faced him.

The world faded around him.

Complete darkness clouded his vision.

A descent of steel.

A flash of purple split the darkness.

A single slash.

A deep reverb screeched as if space was expanding and time distorted.

One became three, which fell as one.

… In a single instant.

The two swordsman slide past one another, their blades leaving distortions in the air.

A sharp gasp left Warrior Takemikazuchi's lips, his mind replaying the intensity of what he'd just seen.

Meanwhile, a pained groan escaped Shirou's lips as he fell to one knee. A deep wound stretched diagonally down his body, blood pouring out and dripping onto the ground. Cracks spread across the monohoshizao, shattering into fragile motes of light.

Warrior Takemikazuchi blinks. He glanced down. He was unhurt; he wasn't hit by Shirou's final attack. A peek at his HP bar reinforced this fact, showing that he had taken no damage at all.

Takemikazuchi couldn't help but taunt Shirou with a hint of disbelief, "What's the matter? Don't tell me you missed."

In response, Shirou let out a noise that was both a grunt and a chuckle as he stood back up.

"Who said I was aiming for you, Takemikazuchi-san?" He retorted.

Huh?

Warrior Takemikazuchi's head tilted as he stared at his friend.

If that attack wasn't meant for him, then what…?

Something fell and clinked against the ground.

He looked at the ground. There, a piece of Takemikazuchi MK 8's blade lay.

Broken…

That word echoed through his head - an incomprehensible thought.

His eyes fell to his hand, still holding onto the handle and what remained of the broken blade.

He stared dumbly, his gaze flickering between the two in absolute silence.

Warrior Takemikazuchi slowly, and with great effort, tore his gaze away from his broken masterpiece and back to Shirou, who watched on with a small but cheeky grin.

Tsubame Gaeshi. Swallow Reversal.

Three strikes as one.

It was neither a Noble Phantasm that could be recreated nor was it an ability that could be simply copied.

An impossible slash, born from no great hero or warrior but a simple man. A technique that steps into the realm of True Magic, created from perseverance and dedication to the blade.

Shirou could spend decades training and practicing, and he would have no hope of replicating the attack.

And if, by some miracle, he succeeded in mimicking Sasaki Kojiro's technique, it would be nowhere as refined as the original.

Thus, a workaround was needed. In essence, Shirou cheated, so to speak.

While Unlimited Blade Works possessed the memory of the skill and the history and concepts of the weapon and technique of Assassin, he lacked the means to properly replicate.

Which was where YGGDRASIL came into play.

It was common in video games to have special attacks or flashy moves, such as an unavoidable attack, a multi-slash attack, and so forth. Multi-attack skills were far from what anyone would consider extraordinary. And it was this facet of the game that the magus leveraged to his advantage.

The process involved imbuing the essence of Tsubame Gaeshi, which he gained from the knowledge and history of Unlimited Blade Works, and supplementing it with the game's mechanics to replicate the divine technique.

An endeavor that bore many of failures and dead ends until he'd finally done it:

[Traced Tsubame Gaeshi: Swallow Reversal (False)].

Though he had succeeded in producing a Tsubame Gaeshi, it was far from perfect. A shallow imitation at best and a mockery at worst. Yet he succeeded.

As he once declared to the King of Heroes, "There is no rule that says a fake cannot defeat the original."

In that regard, "There is no rules that says an imitation cannot match the original."

The battlefield quieted - a minute seeped in silence as the two finalists locked eyes.

And then it was broken.

Warrior Takemikazuchi threw back his head and laughed. A hearty laugh filled with incredulousness and mirth, of pride and acceptance, all rolled into one.

"I concede."

He raised his hand, his fingers letting go of the tsuka. The other half of Takemikazuchi MK 8 fell, clattering against the ground as he laid his broken weapon down in defeat.

"You win, old friend." Warrior Takemikazuchi said as both he and the open skies cracked. "This time.."

"But I'll be back. Count on it."

Shirou met his smile.

"I'll be waiting."

Warrior Takemikazuchi shattered into polygons and the world shattered around him.

Flashing lights and roaring sounds welcomed Shirou back to the realm of Midgard.

Above the arena, the tournament bracket proudly displayed Shirou's name and image under the title of [World Champion].

While the roars of the crowd were jubilant, they were also filled with an unmistakable layer of confusion and even anger among them, as they struggled to come to terms with the unexpected outcome of the championship.

Warrior Takemikazuchi's decision to concede the match left many watching unsatisfied. There was no reason for him to quit just like that when he still had the advantage over his opponent, even with a broken weapon.

Those invested in the match, and eagerly awaited the culminating finale of the grand tournament, were left feeling disappointed and underwhelmed by the outcome. Instead of a high-stakes, intense fight between fierce rivals, it felt more like a semi-serious duel between friends. While the fight had plenty of spectacle, the lackluster ending failed to live up to the thrilling, heart-pumping finales of past World Champion Tournaments.

Yet, those who knew Warrior Takemikazuchi well recognized how fitting of an end it was.

If there was one thing that the Bujin held utmost, alongside his friendship with Ainz Ooal Gown and his dedication as a Player and warrior, it was his pride in his weapons.

The Takemikazuchi MK series was his pride and joy.

And to see his latest and arguably his greatest work, which endured and dominated throughout the match until the very end, be shattered like that…

Yet he didn't feel any disappointment or anger. Quite the opposite.

He was rather stoked!

Defeat wasn't the end, but rather a lesson.

Shirou showed him that there was still much he could accomplish, areas where he could learn and refine his skills. Heights he could still reach.

And he will…

'Emiya-san's a man of his word.' Warrior Takemikazuchi mentally chuckled, thinking back to Shirou's words before their fight and how they came true in the end.

When the match ended and he was teleported away, what he didn't expect was to be teleported into the stadium, where Ainz Ooal Gown sat. Then again, he wasn't complaining.

His sudden appearance surprised his guildmates, but it quickly faded as they happily welcomed him back.

His friends immediately crowded around him as much as they could, patting him on the back, giving him words of encouragement, or even just complimenting him for a spectacular fight.

"Really, you had to surrender, Takemikazuchi-san?" Ulbert bemoaned from his seat. "Now we have to deal with two World Champion wannabe heroes in our group. Fantastic…"

"Suck it, goat head! You're just mad that you lost the bet!" Peroroncino crowed, holding up his head smugly.

The World Disaster responded by flipping the bird at the golden archer.

The back and forth banter between the two drew plenty of amusement and chuckles from the rest of the guild.

"Darn, I really thought you had it in the bag." Said Nishikienrai, who was seated next to him. "Who'd thought that Emiya-san would have something like that in his back pocket? There's always next time."

"Indeed." Warrior Takemikazuchi nodded.

Already, his mind was planning his newest project, Takemikazuchi MK 9. His thoughts raced with the possibilities. Perhaps he'll even enlist the help of a certain Paladin of Justice this time around.

The samurai chuckled to himself. It looks like there were now two World Champions on his list to contend with.

For the moment, he put aside the thought. He didn't want to miss the crowning ceremony.

"In the beginning, there were one hundred and twenty-eight warriors. Now, only one remains. He, who has fought and won, victorious amongst them all! Let us now welcome this champion of champions with open arms, as he stands tall and proud in his triumph!"

Shirou stood in the middle of the arena as the colorful array of lights and special effects went off all around him.

Eight pillars of light shot forth into the air, dispersed evenly across the outer edge of the arena, surrounding him.

"The shadow that stalks the dark, an assassin silencing all who trespass his domain and challenge his skill! Fear him, run from him, but you're already dead; the World Champion of Helheim: Duskindal!"

From one of the pillars of light, a great shadow expanded forth from the ground, shooting up into the air. The shroud of darkness writhed and whirled, unfurrowing to reveal a presence.

Duskindal landed, his feathered cloak spreading like great wings and accompanied by a scattering of jet-black feathers. Standing tall, he offered a theatrical bow, a soft chime echoing out.

"WITH TAINTED WINGS, HE TRAVELS THE WAR-TORN SKY! THE ANGEL THAT BRINGS DEATH AND SALVATION, THE GENTLE TORMENT; THE WORLD CHAMPION OF NIFLHEIM: WISHFUL MERCÍ!"

Two spears fell from above, one holy and one cursed. A mass of feathers descended and expanded; a wash of light and beautiful grey feathers filled the air. Retrieving his weapons, Wishful Mercí graced the world with a gentle smile.

"Only those who can defend the weak have any right to call themselves the strongest! For the hearts of man and monster are not divided by good or evil, but by prejudice! The heroic Paladin of the Heteromorph; The World Champion of Álfheim: Touch Me!"

From the pillar, Touch Me appeared, landing and striking his iconic pose. His shield was raised, and at the ready, his sword was poised for action, his cape billowing majestically. Behind him, the kanji for 'Justice has Arrived!' was proudly displayed.

The two friends shared a nod. Though Touch Me's face was obscured by his helm, the magus could feel his proud smile.

"FORGED IN ICE AND TEMPERED BY BATTLE, HER BLADES HAVE NEVER WAVERED! NO MATTER THE ODDS, NO MATTER YOUR BEST, A DUEL WITH HER WILL BE YOUR END! THE BEWITCHING QUEEN OF RIME AND FEAR; THE WORLD CHAMPION OF JOTUNHEIM: BELLADONNA!

The clacking of her heels announced her presence as she stepped forward from the pillar of light. Approaching, her arms fell to her sabres, unsheathing and juggling them. In one fluid motion, she caught and slashed at the air with all four swords, creating a dazzling display, and sheathed them.

"Divine is his claim to all that is pure. Holy is his right to subject all that is corrupt. With the kindness of saints, he saves all; with the pride of knights he smites thy foes; The World Champion of Vanaheim: LichtKing!"

The holy knight appeared, jumping forth from the pillar of light. He landed, his arrival marked by the resounding clang of his heavy armor. He planted his heavy shield firmly in front of him as he struck a valiant pose. His fierce lion's helm, staring out with unyielding determination, seemed to challenge all who dared to defy him.

"HE IS POWER AND RAGE. HE DESIRES ALL THAT THE WORLD HAS TO OFFER AND CRAVES FOR MORE IN ARROGANCE AND GREED. THE MONSTROUS SIN THAT SEEKS ONLY WRATH: THE WORLD CHAMPION OF MÚSPELLSHEIM: LUCIFERNO!"

Unlike the others, there was no flashy introduction or showcase as Luciferno made his appearance. He simply walked forward and took his place, his arms crossed over his chest as he leveled a weighty gaze upon the magus. A look of utter contempt that practically rivaled that of a certain chunni-World Disaster.

"The flight of the valkyries rides high above mortals all. Though her heart was of steel, her soul was righteous beyond flesh. The maiden of steel who rebelled against the heavens with beauty and arrogance alike; The World Champion of Niðavellir: ShikiHime!"

A large mechanical axe fell, splitting the ground. A rush of dazzling white and blue hard light feathers plunged from above, declaring her presence. Touching down, she seized her trusty weapon and brandished it in an impressive show, before resting it casually on her shoulder. The Hime ran her fingers through her brightly colored hair, flicking it back with a playful yet haughty air.

"HIS MOUTH IS SILENT; FOR HIS FISTS CONVEY HIS THOUGHTS! HIS BODY IS TEMPERED, HIS SPIRIT IS FREE, AND HIS WORLD IS HIS TO COMMAND! SUNDER THE EARTH, SCORCH THE LANDS, DROWN THE SEAS, AND DIM THE SKIES, SAGE OF THE ELEMENTS; THE WORLD CHAMPION OF ASGARD: ELEMENTUM V!"

Elementum V strode forward, his arms and legs showing off a few martial katas. His floating orbs dazzled in a display of the elements with each move. Taking his place, his katas ended with his hands in the palm-hold fist salute as he offered the magus a respectful bow.

The noise from the audience grew, reaching near-unparalleled heights. At last, all nine World Champions were gathered.

"Congratulations, Emiya-san." Said Touch Me, walking forward. "It was a splendid match."

Before Shirou could reply, he felt a hand rest against his shoulder.

"Nice work out there!"

He turned, finding Duskindal by his side, casually leaning into him.

"I knew you'd win this whole shindig! I never doubted you for a second! And if anyone says otherwise, they're lying!"

This earned scoffs and eye rolls from the others.

"Oi! If you're free after this, hit me up. I want a piece of ya'." ShikiHime stepped up and declared bluntly, sporting a challenging grin.

"Well, would you look at that? Hime-chan's staking her claim already." LichtKing teased, lightly elbowing Touch Me, who chuckled.

The metal maiden whirled around. Although it was impossible to tell, all could imagine the hint of a slight blush spreading across her cheek.

"Not like that, you idiot!" She yelped. "Get your mind out of the gutters!"

"I don't know…" Duskindal said, removing himself from Shirou and stroking his chin contemplatively. "You were pretty focused on him come the semi-finals and afterward."

"Poor Warrior Takemikazuchi-san." LichtKing tsked, shaking his head ruefully alongside Duskindal. "Hime-chan abandoned him for the next best thing, just like that."

ShikiHime huffed, pouting as her feet stomped on the ground in anger.

"Calm yourself, ShikiHime-san." Belladonna said, coming to her fellow female World Champion side. "You'll only be giving these petulant fools the reactions they crave." She scoffed, turning her nose to the insufferable assassin and knight.

"Now, now. None of that. Let's not fight, especially on such a momentous occasion." Wishful Mercí intermediated. "After all, we wouldn't want to give our new friend here the wrong first impression."

The grey Aerosphere offered the magus a condolent nod.

Elementum V said nothing, displaying a screen with emoticons on it and offering the magus a handshake, which he took.

Shirou's gaze fell on each of the World Champions. He'll fully admit that he wasn't quite sure what to expect, but they were pleasant and welcoming enough. Banter and compliments flowed easily from them, along with other platitudes, as they welcomed him into their ranks.

Well, almost everyone.

From the corner of his eyes, he spied Luciferno, sullen and silent on the side. Standing there, he radiated an aura of thinly veiled contempt and impatience.

Then again, from what Touch Me shared and what he'd heard of the World Champion, he didn't consider his lack of acquaintance a tragedy.

"EVERYONE! LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE FINAL WORLD CHAMPION - THE WORLD CHAMPION OF MIDGARD: EMIYAAA-!"

"A moment, please." A voice said, loud and clear over the noise, cutting off Bob's screaming announcement.

The crowd stirred. Many voices rose, and he could see the audience pointing and gasping at something.

Looking up, he found none other than Zelretch.

He floated in the air of the arena, looking down on Shirou and the other World Champions.

"I ask of you, what is a World Champion?"

Zelretch's sudden question left many wondering.

"Huh, was this on the itinerary or something?" Shirou heard Duskindal whisper aloud.

"I don't think any of this is planned…" Replied LichtKing. "Then again, you never know when it comes to the shitty devs."

Noises of agreement came up from the other World Champions.

Touch Me and Shirou shared a look, with the former being a questioning glance, while the latter shook his head.

"In the beginning, the World Tree, Yggdrasil, possessed countless magnificent leaves. Each was a tapestry of wonder and power. And then it came. Out of the great void beyond the boundaries of the realms, a beast emerged, a gnawing hunger that knew no bounds. The Scourge of Yggdrasil. The Devourer of Worlds. The Great Devourer shook the World Tree to its core. It plundered Yggdrasil, consuming the leaves of the World Tree one by one, snuffing out its wonder. Once, there were many, and now only nine remain." Zelretch monologues.

It took Shirou a moment to recognize why it sounded familiar.

He was describing the lore of YGGDRASIL. The fragmented remnants of the leaves became the World Items in the game, while the remaining nine whole leaves became the nine playable realms.

"Asgard, Álfheim, Vanaheim, Niðavellir, Jötunheim, Niflheim, Helheim, Múspellsheim, and finally, Midgard. Nine realms. Nine warriors. Nine Players… At last, all nine chosen Champions have gathered at last."

The CEO of Kaleidoscope Industry gazed down at the nine Players.

"The cunning and the prideful."

His eyes fell on Duskindal and Belladonna, with the Demi-Human assassin crossing his arms coolly while the Elven duelist held her head regally.

"The stalwart and the silent."

Next were LichtKing and Elementum. The golden knight puffed out his chest, while the elementalist martial artist simply nodded.

"The boastful and the skilled."

Up next were ShikiHime and Wishful Mercí. The metal maiden huffed, a finger twirling one of her colorful twin-tails, while the grey angel smiled placidly.

"The righteous and the arrogant."

After them were Touch Me and Luciferno. The heroic paladin stood tall and proud, while the demon of disaster glared up at the CEO, defiant.

"And especially the stubborn."

Zelretch's crimson gaze fell onto Shirou and the two locked eyes.

"Through trials and tribulations, you nine stand here now. And now, for one final trial."

Though he was speaking to the whole group, it felt as though he was speaking solely to Shirou.

His hand flourished out, brandishing a weapon. It was a sword unlike any other, featuring a blade made of a crystallized shard. Lights bounced off the crystalline blade, reflecting rays of gleaming rainbow light.

Shirou's eyes widened, his shoulders jolting as his body locked up.

"Emiya-san?" Touch Me called out, catching his friend's reaction.

The Jeweled Sword glowed, captivating all.

With a simple swing, a radiant wave of luminosity traveled and dispersed across the ring, illuminating the entire arena in a spectacular array of kaleidoscopic hues.

Collectively, nine pairs of eyes widened, and before any of them could react, they disappeared in a blinding flash of light that consumed the entire stadium.

"Ahh! Frick, that stings!" Sigfrida moaned, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

Like many others in the stadium, she was caught off guard by the sudden, blinding flash of light. It was like a flashbang had gone off right in their faces.

"You alright, babe?" Peroroncino hugged her side, his hand rubbing her back with gentle ministrations.

"Yea, give me a few secs." She said, blinking away the white spots.

"I… this is… um… Well, folks, it seems that there's more to the show! A moment please while we confirm the next event!" The voice of Sam assured, though he too was equally bewildered as everyone else.

It seems that the commentators too were stumped and surprised by Zelretch's action, which left many wondering what was to come next.

"Well, I can safely say I did not see that coming." Tabula remarked.

"I don't think anyone did. Including the tournament organizers." Herohero snorted. "He really is the king of the shitty devs."

"Still, to pull something like this. Talk about random." Wish III said.

"I mean, now's the best time if ever. When's the next time you're going to see all nine World Champions together?" Bukubukuchagama put out there.

"It would make sense that they would try something innovative or interesting." Added Tabula.

"The question is, just what exactly does the shitty bastard have in mind that would involve all nine World Champions." Ulbert wondered with a grunt, crossing his arms.

Everyone in the stadium, including Ainz Ooal Gown, speculated amongst themselves regarding the spontaneous turn of events.

Amidst all the confusion, there was one who had a different reaction.

"Momon-kun, are you alright?"

Destana noticed how Momonga sat there, stock still. He said nothing, sitting there in foreboding silence.

The others took notice of their Guildmaster's quietness and the worry emanating from his girlfriend.

"I don't know…" He whispered, and the voices of his guildmates ceased as their attention focused solely on the Overlord.

"I have a bad feeling about this…"

Zelretch, with a wave of his hand, called upon a throne-like chair. He sat down on it comfortably, seemingly unperturbed by the confusion unfolding around him in the stadium. With another wave of his hand, numerous holographic screens materialized in the air, displaying footage of where the nine World Champions had been transported.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

One second, they were in the stadium; the next, all nine of them appeared elsewhere.

They appeared to be in the woods, standing amidst a dense thicket of trees. The warm sun was lazily shining overhead, casting intermittent beams of light through the leaves of the forest, illuminating the surroundings with a soft glow.

"What the hell is going on?" Luciferno growled, speaking up for the first time.

A question that was shared by the rest as they looked around, taking in their new surroundings.

"Oh, great! Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!" ShikiHime shouted, making her displeasure clear.

"Language, young lady." Wishful Mercí suitably admonished.

"No offense, Mercí-san, but there's a time and place for everything. Right now, I think I'm well within my rights to be pissed! Leave it to the shitty devs to pull shit like this." ShikiHime clicked her tongue, with the likes of Duskindal and LichtKing nodding and echoing the sentiment.

"Should we be surprised by this point?" Elementum V said/typed, showing a deadpanned emoticon with a string of other emoticons.

"I am more concerned regarding whatever 'trial' that he spoke of." Remarked Belladonna. Her hands fell to her blades, her sharp gaze scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble.

While everyone was coming to grips with the situation, there was one who had a vastly different reaction.

"Emiya-san?" Touch Me called out to his guildmate once more.

Shirou had his back turned to the Heteromorphic Player, his body rigid and still since the arena.

As his eyes took in the surroundings, he was gripped with familiarity, spurring his feet into action as the paladin reached out to him.

"E-emiya-san?!" Touch Me's surprised voice drew the attention of the others as they watched Shirou take off.

The World Champion of Álfheim quickly gave chase.

"Tha' hell?" LichtKing muttered. "Oi, Touch Me-san, Emiya-san! Where're you guys going?!"

No response.

The remaining World Champions shared a look, and as one, they followed after the two with varying degrees of haste.

Shirou ran and ran, and despite the activity being far from laborious, he was panting, his heart beating rapidly against his chest.

The trees slowly parted as the edge of the forest approached. Ahead of him, a veil of blinding light concealed what was on the other side. Reaching the end, he stepped out of the woods and was treated to a sight he never once thought he would see again.

His legs slowed, coming to a stop as he stood there, transfixed.

"Emiya-san!"

A few seconds later, Touch Me arrived.

"What has gotten into you?" His hand clasped his guildmate's shoulder.

Shirou slowly turned around.

Touch Me was taken aback by the look on his friend's face. So many flickering emotions passed that it was difficult to tell what exactly he was feeling, and yet, at the same time, he understood.

The other World Champions caught up, with Luciferno being the last, walking at his casual, uninterested pace.

"Woah." Duskindal whistled. "Now that's quite the view."

A sentiment shared by the others as they took in the view. A picturesque town lay sprawled out before their eyes, its charming streets and buildings interwoven with the breathtaking coastal view of the ocean. The town was surrounded by lush greenery and natural beauty, punctuated with urban and suburban landscapes that added to its distinctive charm.

"I wonder where we might be." Wishful Mercí wondered aloud. A rhetorical question, but one that was answered nonetheless.

"Fuyuki City…"

Everyone turned to look at Shirou.

Even after all these years, he remembered it as clearly as yesterday.

He even knew where exactly they were.

They were on the outskirts of the city, at the edge of the Einzbern Forest, which granted a clear and full view over Fuyuki City in all its beauty.

To his left, he spotted the towering Mount Enzo and its surroundings. Despite the distance, he could see the mountain and the temple perched atop it. His eyes then wandered to the quaint and suburban area of Miyama Town, which sprawled out in different districts. He could even make out the lush greenery of Fuyuki Park and Homurahara Academy. The sight of them brought a rush of memories and a wave of emotional nostalgia, both the good times and the sad times that he had experienced.

Even from where he was, the Mion River that divided Fuyuki City into two halves sparkled. The clear blue water flowed seamlessly, connecting the river to the port and vast ocean. He then fixed his gaze on the Great Fukuyi Bridge that linked the two wayward sections of the city. Even from such a distance, the bridge remained as magnificent as he always remembered it to be.

As he looked to his right, he could see a breathtaking view of the vast Shinto Town district of Fuyuki City, with its towering skyscrapers and countless buildings that seemed to stretch on forever. Despite the distance, he could still make out the intricate details of the modern architecture that symbolized the city's progress and development. If he narrowed his eyes, he could even discern the solemnity of the cemetery and that of the church that stood on the other side.

His eyes grew wet and he blinked away the tears.

Shirou never thought he would see his beautiful hometown again, except for fleeting glimpses in his dreams or dredges from memories.

"Emiya-san…" Touch Me came to his side. "Are you, okay?"

Shirou opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Elementum V's text screen appeared, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Guys, we got company." It read.

The World Champion of Asgard raised his fists and took a marital stance, his hooded head staring back into the thick forest.

Seeing this, the others followed suit, brandishing their weapons and taking their stances in preparation.

Luciferno remained off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest, unconcerned and standoffish.

At first, there was nothing. But gradually, their ears twitched, catching a sound that grew louder. The heavy clanking of footsteps, and it coming their way.

Slowly, the vague form of a figure could be made out from the murky depths of the woods.

As the silhouette sharpened and took on a clearer shape, an inexplicable sensation pressed against the barriers of the magus's mind.

His eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed and his face scrunched up.

And as the figure drew closer, it grew all the more recognizable.

Shirou's heterochromatic eyes slowly widened in realization as the mysterious individual stepped out of the veil of trees and into the light.

His breath hitched, and his body trembled minutely.

In a breathless whisper, he uttered her name, "Saber…"

Shirou would recognize her armor and shape anywhere, even if an eternity had passed. Even if it had been blackened and twisted into something else.

The sleek armored dress was once a majestic set of grace and beauty that evoked the image of a king, with its vibrant and proud colors of elegant silver and brilliant blue. It was a symbol of honor, valor, and nobility, fit for the Once and Future King.

But no more. In its place was something else.

Different.

Blackened…

̶̷̸̺̝͍̒̚͠C̶̷̸̹̮̖̯͝͠o̴̷̷͍̗̬̓͋̅r̵̷̸̥͔͔͙̈́͆̕͠ŗ̴̷̷̭̟̂́u̴̷̴͓͖͑͝p̶̷̸̧͚͙̰̎̀͆ẗ̴̷̷̼̤͚̎̃e̸̷̸̛͙̹̫̓͌͊d̶̷̸͇̍̚͜…

The armor stood in contrast to everything it once was. Saber was clad in a mass of heavy blackened steel that seemed to absorb all light, leaving it as dark a starless night. Ominous streaks of deep scarlet pulsate across the armor's surface, akin to tattoos embossed upon it. The armor possessed sharp angles, with taloned gauntlets and clawed boots that gave off an aggressive appearance. The chest plate especially was designed to accommodate her modest chest. A majestic stygian mantle flowed from the wearer's shoulders, creating an impression of a great shadow worthy of a king. The draconic helm concealed the wearer's face. It was sharp and angular, with two golden orbs peering from the visor.

The sounds of a click and clink echoed, and the helm split and parted to reveal the identity of the black knight.

Shirou's vision blurred.

"I am Saber, your Servant… I ask you… Are you my Master?"

A memory of a life long ago took over, and just as quickly as it flashed by, it faded away.

In its wake, a hauntingly beautiful face emerged, staring intently back at them - at him - so familiar and yet so different.

Her eternally youthful remained but bore the weight of an indescribable heaviness that made her look older than her years. Gone were her familiar blonde locks, replaced by pale hair that shimmered like moonlight, fashioned in her signature braid and bun. Her complexion, once fair, had been transformed into a porcelain-like snow-white, much like that of her half-sister, Illya. Scarlet streaks, no different from the ones on her armor, spread across the tapestry of her pale skin, pulsating like veins.

However, it was her eyes that gripped him.

Her eyes, which once sparkled with a radiant emerald glow of honor and stoicism, were gone. Empty, golden-pale eyes stared back as if peering into his soul.

Her gaze was a cold, dead stare, with barely any light reaching into her. Her face was devoid of any emotion, only detached indifference.

Shirou felt something within him shudder at the soulless expression.

The sensation that pressed against his mind grew stronger, and his gaze grew heavy, drawn downward.

In her hand, she held the sword of legend, the symbol of her kingship - the beautiful and physical actualization of her ideals. The Divine Construct, the sword that amplifies: The Sword of Promised Victory.

Excalib̴̷̸̵̸̷̴̷̸̷̷̵̸̷̶̵̷̷̶̷̷̶̷̶̸̷̸̷̷̴̷̷̷̵̷̶̸̷̸̸̷̷͚͇͒̅̄̂̈́̚ȕ̶̷̶̴̴̷̸̷̶̷̷̵̵̷̴̴̷̸̵̷̴̷̷̴̷̷̶̷̷̴̸̷̶̸̷̷̸̷̴̦̟̩̲̲̦́̍ṛ̷̷̷̶̸̷̴̷̷̷̵̸̷̷̶̸̷̶̷̷̵̴̷̷̷̷̶̸̷̸̸̷̷̴̷̶̨͈̲̘̇̈͂r̵̷̷… ̷̷̷̴̴̷̵̷̴̷̷̴̶̷̷̴̷̴̶̷̸̵̷̴̷̷̴̸̷̶̸̷̸̴̷̴̶̷̵̨̫̳̤̖͛̎̉M̵̷̵̶̴̷̸̷̷̷̷̸̸̷̷̵̷̷̶̷̶̸̷̴̷̷̷̵̷̴̸̷̵̴̷̵̷̷̸̵̷̷̗͎̻̞͓̖̏̚͜ǒ̸̷̶̷̴̷̶̷̶̷̶̷̸̷̶̵̷̸̵̷̴̵̷̸̷̷̶̷̷̷̵̷̵̵̷̸̴̷̷̜͇̦̟͎̠̬͛r̵̷̶̴̸̷̸̷̷̷̸̷̴̷̷̸̷̸̶̷̷̵̷̷̸̷̴̵̷̴̵̷̴̵̷̸̶̷̶̶̷̸̵̷̵̴̷̶̸̷̸̷̷̶̸̷̴̢̺̩̰̩̮̓̑̈́͑̅̚͜g̴̷̸̵̷̷̶̷̴̷̵̵̵̷̸̶̷̵̷̷̷̸̷̵̵̷̸̶̷̵̷̷̸̸̷̶̶̷̶̵̷̶̴̷̸̷̷̴̲̪̘̜̝͂͆̇͗̽͝a̸̷̸̷̷̷̸̷̶̷̶̵̵̷̸̸̷̶̶̷̷̷̷̵̵̷̵̵̷̴̵̷̵̶̷̵̷̷̶̶̷̸͉͙̫̥̲̎̊̃͆n̸̷̶̴̵̷̶̷̷̷̷̴̸̷̸̸̷̸̵̷̸̶̷̶̵̷̷̷̷̵̶̷̸̵̷̸̸̷̸̵̷̷̵̷̶̖̜͍̩̻̓̄̋́͘

An excruciating sensation that could only be described as a screwdriver being jammed straight into his eye and stabbing his brain overwhelmed him.

…

A̸͕̐̊͝ļ̷̘̮̱̤͎͍̰̯̫͆̇L̷̞̣̀̀̉͋͝ ̸̛͓̺̖̩̱͚̒o̴̺̜͇̙͋̊̅̉͋̑̊͑͒͜͝F̵̢̨̨̖̭̖̲̬̝̀͛̈́̅͛̓͑̈́́ ̵̝̰̪̮͙̲̤̜̜̤̾͐̚T̶̢͍̤͎͒͑h̸̞̥̺̲͖͍̐Ẽ̷͔̤̽̽͗̀̔͠ ̴͓̩̬͔̜̂͐̈́͆̈́W̴̱̪̫̌́̆̒̈̓͝o̸̡͈͉̲̤͙͆͆̆̈̓̈͒͊̐͝Ŗ̴̢̢̤̮͚̟̻̣̏̓̾͗̀l̸̢̢̞̜͉͇̯̝̥̬̐̓Ď̵͕̭̻͍̩̮̣̿̓̂̊̈́'̷̛̗̽́̈́́́S̶̡̖̺̲̋̒̅̉̂́̎̓̕ ̷̨̳̬̖̼̍̾͌͌͛̓͘͝É̶̗̝͉̲̩̾̔̂̎͜v̴̛͇̎̿̇̓̒̾͜͠͝I̷̡̧̡̬͔͈̩̙̿̈͗́͑̑̽ļ̶̙̰̱͐̀

.̷̼̺̳̯̌̐̕.̸̱̔͝.̸̞͍̰͚͈̈́́̔́.̵̨̣̍͆̓.̷̩͎̱̈́̆͐̂͛.̷̻͔̞̝̾̏̓̿͆.̶̨̘̫̏.̶̠͓̝͔͎̽.̴͕͖̝̉́̎.̵̮̝͚̎͆̕.̸̬͎̙̰͆.̷̩̱̝̞̩̾͛͊̒.̸̺̖͕͔̬̀̔̂͒͝

Â̵̳̂̊̑͝N̴͈̈́͗ĝ̸͍͗̈ͅR̵̢͇̤͍̺̀̚Á̷̬̲̆̃̍̚ ̸̦͎͎̅M̴̮̋̑̒͜͝ͅḁ̶͙̟̼̺̈́̓I̴̠̓Ň̶̘̤̲̀͠y̸̪̖̥͌Û̴̫̚

.̷̟̝̳̎͌.̶̣̪̾̇̂.̵͓̾͗̉̉̈́̐̉́̀.̴̰͕́̊͌̚͠.̸͓͎̭̰̝͇͂͂́̓͜.̴̭̘͉̻̩̫̽̊͜.̶̳̘̠͌̆̑͂̒̈́͠͝͝.̸̛̖̟̬̠̱̈̐͛̔̈́͗̔̒͝.̷̡͔̩͈̯̝͇̟̣͋.̶̨͙͇̳̻̀̍̎͗̓̑̈́͜͠.̸̺̘̰̪̓͜.̴̛̛̗̠͈͕̾̆̒̅̽̌͝.̶͙͇̳͕̻̈́̏̑̀͝.̷̹̪͓̀̀͊̾̎̕͜.̴͈͍̬̞̰̳̩̩̭̑͐͌̀.̸̢̧̧̯̒̍͛̕.̸̧̧̭̱͎̱̯̥̣̑

F҉̸҉̕҉́҉̅҉̏҉̂҉̣҉̡҉̞҉A҉̷҉̽҉̼҉̜҉̤҉̝҉̲҉I҉̷҉̈́҉̌҉̑҉̈́҉̛҉̧҉͕҉̯҉̦҉̨҉l҉̶҉̀҉̍҉́҉̯҉͖҉͇҉͖҉̧҉U҉̵҉̄҉́҉͠҉̋҉͊҉̬҉̞҉̩҉̝҉R҉̸҉̓҉̔҉̔҉̄҉̆҉̩҉̘҉e҉̸҉̔҉̇҉̹҉[

.̷̟̝̳̎͌.̶̣̪̾̇̂.̵͓̾͗̉̉̈́̐̉́̀.̴̰͕́̊͌̚͠.̸͓͎̭̰̝͇͂͂́̓͜.̴̭̘͉̻̩̫̽̊͜.̶̳̘̠͌̆̑͂̒̈́͠͝͝.̸̛̖̟̬̠̱̈̐͛̔̈́͗̔̒͝.̷̡͔̩͈̯̝͇̟̣͋.̶̨͙͇̳̻̀̍̎͗̓̑̈́͜͠.̸̺̘̰̪̓͜.̴̛̛̗̠͈͕̾̆̒̅̽̌͝.̶͙͇̳͕̻̈́̏̑̀͝.̷̹̪͓̀̀͊̾̎̕͜.̴͈͍̬̞̰̳̩̩̭̑͐͌̀.̸̢̧̧̯̒̍͛̕.̷̟̝̳̎͌.̶̣̪̾̇̂.̵͓̾͗̉̉̈́̐̉́̀.̴̰͕́̊͌̚͠.̸͓͎̭̰̝͇͂͂́̓͜.̴̭̘͉̻̩̫̽̊͜.̶̳̘̠͌̆̑͂̒̈́͠͝͝.̸̛̖̟̬̠̱̈̐͛̔̈́͗̔̒͝.̷̡͔̩͈̯̝͇̟̣͋.̶̨͙͇̳̻̀̍̎͗̓̑̈́͜͠.̸̺̘̰̪̓͜.̴̛̛̗̠͈͕̾̆̒̅̽̌͝.̶͙͇̳͕̻̈́̏̑̀͝.̷̹̪͓̀̀͊̾̎̕͜.̴͈͍̬̞̰̳̩̩̭̑͐͌̀.̸̢̧̧̯̒̍͛̕.̸̧̧̭̱͎̱̯̥̣̑.̸̧̧̭̱͎̱̯̥̣̑

.̴̲͈̮͒̓́͛.̷͙̏̀ͅH̵̖̏̇͆̌e̷̟̖̱̥͕̾̈́r̴̟͚̹̠̺̿̀̾̅O̷͚͉̠̟̰̊̔̈.̷͛̏͜.̶̨̛̹̬̪̎̅̌̊.̷̗͖̱̬̉͝

d̴̸̴̵̴̷̵̷̼̻̩̬̗ͭ͠E̵̴̷̵̴̶̵̸̸̷̤͚̙͓͗ͪ̄̉͞A̴̶̵̸̶̸̸̴̷̵̛̱͕̬̞͓͇͒͗t̴̸̶̴ͧͪ̈҉̸̶̵̶̵̵̷̸̘̭͎̹̦̤͙Ḩ̴̷̵̸̸̴̶̸̷̗͉̫̥̜̏̆

.̶̣̪̾̇̂.̵͓̾͗̉̉̈́̐̉́̀.̴̰͕́̊͌̚͠.̸͓͎̭̰̝͇͂͂́̓͜.̴̭̘͉̻̩̫̽̊͜.̶̳̘̠͌̆̑͂̒̈́͠͝͝.̸̛̖̟̬̠̱̈̐͛̔̈́͗̔̒͝.̷̡͔̩͈̯̝͇̟̣͋.̶̨͙͇̳̻̀̍̎͗̓̑̈́͜͠.̸̺̘̰̪̓͜.̴̛̛̗̠͈͕̾̆̒̅̽̌͝.̶͙͇̳͕̻̈́̏̑̀͝.̷̹̪͓̀̀͊̾̎̕͜.̴͈͍̬̞̰̳̩̩̭̑͐͌̀.̸̢̧̧̯̒̍͛̕.̸̧̧̭̱͎̱̯̥̣̑

̴̷̸̫̲̤͍͗͑̾͊͐̅̉b̶̷̵͉̙̄̈̀͌͗̇Ȍ̷̷̷̼͔̙͕̃͂̕r̷̷̸̡͓̯̘̞̼̿͐̂͊͠ķ̸̷̵̙͈̗̌͋̉͘E̸̷̸̥̰̙͇͓̜͑́̉̾̄N̵̷̸̠̘̘̖̍̄ ̴̷̷̭̞̠̲̻̆̎́̍̃̃͑̚P̴̷̷̡̙̭̘͍̙̾͊͌̾͌ͅr̶̷̷̠͎̫̠̪̊̇̐͐̇ò̶̷̴̱̻̺̰͕͎̞̈͋͜M̷̷̵̛͍͚̱̪͍͉̻͔͆̚̚Ḯ̵̷̵̮̰͓͉͗̐̔̽͊͑̕s̸̷̸̨͎̪̮̺̤͕͚̅̉̀̀Ę̵̷̶̛̛̳̦͚̲̜͑̇̌͠[

.̷̼̺̳̯̌̐̕.̸̱̔͝.̸̞͍̰͚͈̈́́̔́.̵̨̣̍͆̓.̷̩͎̱̈́̆͐̂͛.̷̻͔̞̝̾̏̓̿͆.̶̨̘̫̏.̶̠͓̝͔͎̽.̴͕͖̝̉́̎.̵̮̝͚̎͆̕.̸̬͎̙̰͆.̷̩̱̝̞̩̾͛͊̒.̷̟̝̳̎͌.̶̣̪̾̇̂.̵͓̾͗̉̉̈́̐̉́̀.̴̰͕́̊͌̚͠.̸͓͎̭̰̝͇͂͂́̓͜.̴̭̘͉̻̩̫̽̊͜.̶̳̘̠͌̆̑͂̒̈́͠͝͝.̸̛̖̟̬̠̱̈̐͛̔̈́͗̔̒͝.̷̡͔̩͈̯̝͇̟̣͋.̶̨͙͇̳̻̀̍̎͗̓̑̈́͜͠.̸̺̘̰̪̓͜.̴̛̛̗̠͈͕̾̆̒̅̽̌͝.̶͙͇̳͕̻̈́̏̑̀͝.̷̹̪͓̀̀͊̾̎̕͜.̴͈͍̬̞̰̳̩̩̭̑͐͌̀.̸̢̧̧̯̒̍͛̕.̸̧̧̭̱͎̱̯̥̣̑[

"̷̷̴̱͔͚̼̲̦̙͈̈́̅̀̐͒̂̀̐̈́Y̶̷̴̨̤̱͇͙̰̝͈̖͔͆̇̃̔̑̔̔̅̽̃̿͗͘͜͠͠͝Ǫ̶̷̸͈͔̬͚̙̩̳͔̊̏͊̄̄̑̏͋̂̂͗͘͜͝ų̵̷̴̢̧̨̛͕̟͍͚̯̦̼̬̲̼̭͂͂̄͌̊͆͂͘.̴̷̷̡̳͖͇̜̱̩̯̺͖̹̺̥͈͎̄͋̎̇͌͒̒̃̄̀́̑͆͠.̵̷̴̺̫̳͇̻̥̤͎̣͙̮̞̞͑̈́̀̔́̑̀͋̑͗͐̒.̷̷̶̡̛̹̘͖͔͉̙̗̞̼̲̻͉̯̲̺͑̆͑̓̄͒͂̕ ̶̷̴̢̡̻̺̪̖̗̮̝͕̬̜͗̏̋̾͆̒̋͐͝ć̸̷̷̨̯̭̬̯̯͕͇̂͋̀̍̊̋̓͘͜͠͝o̶̷̶̳̲͖̙͖̫̫̐̀̾̋͆̿́̀͆͘̚̕͜ú̵̷̷̫̠͔͎̖̏̒̈́̏̽̒̽͊͜L̸̷̶̨̢̹̦̫̏̽̎͆̊̽ͅD̵̷̷̢̙̻͖̜̬͙͚̙̮̱͒͒͂̓̽́͒̅̇̀͊̈́͘ň̶̷̷̨̛̩͍̹̭̭̞̯̦͓͇̥͉̽̓̃̋̃̄́̐̀̐̓̓̾ͅ'̸̷̶̡̢̧̥̹̗̻̠̲͖̳̩̹̋͐͐̌̽͐̚ţ̶̷̶̧̢̢͖͍̫̝̥̝͂̿̍̈̿͋̓̈́͆̇̚͘͝.̵̷̸̡̩̳̝̦̳̼̲̭̍̋̇̃͗̄.̸̷̸̨̥̮͔̊̀͂́̍͊̂͝.̸̷̷̨̡̩̠̯̭̻̮̈́̏̎̎͂̀̿̇̉͘͠͝ ̶̷̶̨̧̗͈̪̮̮̹͎̖͎̞̫̝̻͌̋̂̀̅̓̄̽̐̾̓̊̓̚͜͠s̴̷̵̰̠͔̲̖̜̲͉̳͚̬͔͗̓͊͗͐̅̔͌̇͛͘Ã̷̷̸͇̤̝̬͓̱̏̑̆͠V̴̷̸̱̰̻͇̳͕̭͕͗̏̾̾̃̂e̷̷̴̖̱͖̣͈̝̖͈̾̏̎̀̆̈́͌͑̋͘͜͝͠ͅ ̷̷̴̢̘̩̘̣̺̠̼̘̹͇͔͚͈͗̓̓̈́̈́̑̌̿͘̚͘͠ṁ̷̷̸̢̟̣̦͈̟̙̟̭̥̳͂͋̈́͑͜Ȩ̶̷̷̨̨͙͉͉̝͙̜͖͍̦̉̑̌͂̂̀̐̏̅̚͘͘͜͜͠ͅ.̸̷̶̢̠̦̪̻͓̥͚͎͕̜̦̐͆͐͂̎̐̆͆͊̌͠.̶̷̵̰͖̺̻̟̺̣̤̤̯̰̙͕̺̾̄̐͊̓̋̐̅͒̓̊͠ͅ.̴̷̶̨̨̲̙̞͔̜̟̦͎͙̥̿͗̈̃̅͝"̴̷̴̡̧̢̛̩̗̮̰̺̳̗̬͇̋̎̀̈́̀̐́̊̒̐͘͜[

.̸̢̧̧̯̒̍͛̕.̸̧̧̭̱͎̱̯̥̣̑.̷̼̺̳̯̌̐̕.̸̱̔͝.̸̞͍̰͚͈̈́́̔́.̵̨̣̍͆̓.̷̩͎̱̈́̆͐̂͛.̷̻͔̞̝̾̏̓̿͆.̶̨̘̫̏.̶̠͓̝͔͎̽.̴͕͖̝̉́̎.̵̮̝͚̎͆̕.̸̬͎̙̰͆.̷̩̱̝̞̩̾͛͊̒.̸̺̖͕͔̬̀̔̂͒͝.̷̟̝̳̎͌.̶̣̪̾̇̂.̵͓̾͗̉̉̈́̐̉́̀.̴̰͕́̊͌̚͠.̸͓͎̭̰̝͇͂͂́̓͜.̴̭̘͉̻̩̫̽̊͜.̶̳̘̠͌̆̑͂̒̈́͠͝͝.̸̛̖̟̬̠̱̈̐͛̔̈́͗̔̒͝.̷̡͔̩͈̯̝͇̟̣͋.̶̨͙͇̳̻̀̍̎͗̓̑̈́͜͠.̸̺̘̰̪̓͜.̴̛̛̗̠͈͕̾̆̒̅̽̌͝.̶͙͇̳͕̻̈́̏̑̀͝.̷̹̪͓̀̀͊̾̎̕͜.̴͈͍̬̞̰̳̩̩̭̑͐͌̀.̸̢̧̧̯̒̍͛̕.̸̧̧̭̱͎̱̯̥̣̑.̷̟̝̳̎͌.̶̣̪̾̇̂.̵͓̾͗̉̉̈́̐̉́̀.̴̰͕́̊͌̚͠.̸͓͎̭̰̝͇͂͂́̓͜.̴̭̘͉̻̩̫̽̊͜.̶̳̘̠͌̆̑͂̒̈́͠͝͝.̸̛̖̟̬̠̱̈̐͛̔̈́͗̔̒͝.̷̡͔̩͈̯̝͇̟̣͋.̶̨͙͇̳̻̀̍̎͗̓̑̈́͜͠.̸̺̘̰̪̓͜.̴̛̛̗̠͈͕̾̆̒̅̽̌͝.̶͙͇̳͕̻̈́̏̑̀͝.̷̹̪͓̀̀͊̾̎̕͜.̴͈͍̬̞̰̳̩̩̭̑͐͌̀.̸̢̧̧̯̒̍͛̕.̸̧̧̭̱͎̱̯̥̣̑[

S҉̶҉̇҉̋҉̣҉̱҉͕҉͕҉̗҉O҉̷҉̐҉̑҉̑҉̈́҉̊҉͑҉̦҉̪҉̝҉̗҉̦҉͇҉͔҉͚҉̘҉̳҉͜҉m҉̵҉̎҉̓҉̔҉́҉̬҉͈҉̬҉͕҉̺҉̪҉̖҉E҉̶҉̚҉̏҉̂҉͠҉͖҉ͅ҉̣҉ͅ҉̬҉͙҉̖҉͍҉̰҉o҉̶҉̛҉̔҉͐҉͑҉̈́҉̆҉́҉̐҉̾҉̽҉̀҉̘҉͓҉͎҉̱҉̯҉̭҉̰҉̙҉̢҉̤҉N҉̸҉͆҉͗҉͔҉̰҉̨҉̫҉̥҉E҉̴҉̾҉̆҉̓҉͝҉̾҉̀҉̎҉͝҉̊҉͠҉̈́҉̡҉͈҉͍҉̤҉̨҉͎҉.҉̷҉̇҉͖҉͍҉̯҉͖҉̙҉͔҉.҉̶҉͆҉̑҉̾҉̽҉̠҉̥҉̭҉̤҉̺҉̠҉ͅ҉̦҉͕҉̢҉̥҉.҉̴҉͆҉̽҉̛҉͖҉̧҉̻҉ ҉̸҉͘҉̃҉̚҉̂҉͙҉̝҉ͅ҉͉҉̙҉̞҉͙҉̣҉̙҉ ҉̶҉͐҉̕҉̒҉̍҉̑҉̫҉̯҉[

P҉̷҉̿҉̍҉͕҉͜҉͕҉͓҉̣҉L҉̶҉̔҉̈́҉̈҉̛҉̾҉͆҉̊҉̕҉̂҉͘҉̡҉̜҉̻҉͜҉̗҉̝҉e҉̵҉̌҉̄҉̫҉͕҉̻҉̩҉͙҉̫҉̳҉̯҉̻҉̪҉̝҉A҉̷҉́҉͝҉̈́҉̚҉̈҉͝҉͊҉̈҉̀҉̈҉͕҉̦҉S҉̷҉͂҉͜҉̳҉̧҉̠҉̺҉̱҉̼҉ͅ҉e҉̴҉̾҉͂҉́҉́҉̈́҉̝҉̳҉̭҉̩҉̫҉̠҉̜҉͍҉̥҉.҉̴҉̍҉͌҉̇҉͝҉͑҉̕҉͋҉ͅ҉̟҉̳҉̙҉̹҉͈҉ͅ҉͙҉̨҉.҉̶҉͘҉̿҉̢҉.҉̴҉͌҉͑҉̿҉̊҉͈҉ ҉̴҉̏҉͑҉̈́҉͠҉̎҉̍҉͒҉̒҉͝҉̕҉̈҉̹҉͚҉͍҉͇҉̲҉̳҉̭҉ ҉̸҉͑҉̛҉̍҉̂҉͊҉́҉́҉̈҉̀҉͕҉̳҉͔҉͍҉[/

s҉̸҉̑҉̅҉̓҉̂҉̓҉̭҉̰҉̫҉A҉̴҉̆҉̉҉̊҉̃҉̀҉̠҉̢҉̣҉̘҉͇҉̤҉̳҉V҉̷҉̂҉̒҉͗҉͔҉̱҉̪҉̹҉̺҉̼҉e҉̷҉̎҉͊҉̈́҉̈́҉͊҉̼҉̢҉̳҉̨҉͜҉̖҉̜҉.҉̸҉̅҉̍҉͆҉̄҉͘҉̉҉̿҉̮҉̡҉͎҉̰҉̤҉.҉̵҉̈҉́҉͘҉̿҉͒҉̽҉̋҉̒҉̇҉̆҉͋҉͚҉̰҉͈҉̟҉͜҉͈҉̦҉̦҉̮҉̙҉͍҉.҉̸҉̿҉̆҉͆҉̫҉͔҉ͅ҉̤҉̫҉̜҉͖҉̱҉̮҉̗҉[

…

"EMIYA-SAN!" A voice pierced through the haze.

Shirou's eyes fluttered, his vision hazy and indistinct, slowly regaining focus. His head was pounding with a sensation that felt like hundreds of tiny needles were stabbing into his brain. His ears rang with a blinding, numbing white noise that made it impossible for him to hear himself think.

"Shirou! Snap out of it!" Touch Me's worried voice cried out. The paladin's hand on his shoulder was a gentle comfort, an anchor to ground him back to reality as his friend shook him, urging him to come back.

"T-touch… Me?" Shirou said, his voice incredibly raspy.

It took his mind a moment to realize that he was crouching on one knee, his right hand clutching his face tightly.

He looked at his friend, seeing his reflection reflect off of Touch Me's helm.

Blood dripped down the corner of his right eye, as well as his nose, forming a small puddle under him. His right pupil dilated and contracted erratically, while his left pupil bounced around, refusing to remain focused.

Though disoriented, he caught a glimpse of something retreating across his sclera - a slithering blackness that quickly disappeared.

'Ww-what was that…?'

His mind struggled to comprehend, and yet his soul knew, even if he did not.

"Hey! Now's ain't the time to be spazzing the fuck out." ShikiHime called out. "Get your shit together, man!" She hurried.

"Now, now, Hime-chan, no need to lose your cool." Said Duskindal. "The fact that the boss hasn't attacked yet means it's a Passive Boss, which gives some time and breathing room." Despite his casual words, his eyes never left the Servant, his body tensed, and his hands gripped his swords tightly.

The other World Champions were in a similar state, with their weapons drawn and their defenses alert. All but Luciferno, who remained aloof to it all.

Shirou slowly and shakingly stood up, with help from his guildmate.

'Focus!' His mind screamed, regaining enough of his mental facility to look back at the Servant.

The magus fought back a wince as the buzzing white noise flared in his head, but it was more manageable this time. He avoided looking at Excalibur M̶̷̸̗͎̻̞͓̖̏̚͜ǒ̷̷̷̜͇̦̟͎̠̬͛r̴̷̷̢̺̩̰̩̮̓̑̈́͑̅̚͜g̵̷̵̲…

Saber Alter - Lvl: 375 - [The Tainted Tyrant of Camelot]

She possessed a higher level than Berserker, who was an End Boss at level 250, but just below that of the level-breaking World Enemies at level 500.

His eyes narrowed as he steeled himself for the battle to come.

He had no idea what Zelretch's plans were or his intentions for bringing this… dark reflection of the King of Knights, but it didn't matter.

No matter the similarities or differences, this would be no different from the other Servant Bosses he'd fought until now.

And like the Servants that came before, he would overcome the challenge.

However, before he or any of the other World Champions could spring into action, Saber Alter acted first.

She spoke!

"Tell me." She began, her empty gaze focused solely on him.

"By your appearance, do you still go by Shirou Emiya, or have you abandoned your name and dignity to become Alaya's dog as EMIYA?"

Her head tilted ever so slightly, a simple nuisance, but it was all the more uncanny coming from the dark doppelganger.

Shirou was too stunned to speak, staring at the blackened Servant in a daze as he felt his heart stutter.

This wasn't some scripted NPC dialogue like with his Servant NPC, nor was it simply a Boss quote. Her words flowed with intelligence and purpose. She spoke of her cognizance and will, and the way she addressed him said it all.

"I suppose it doesn't matter, does it?"

Her grip on Excalibur Morgan tightened, and an explosion of intense black-red mana burst forth. The mana clung to the sword, pulsing with an otherworldly power, and the surroundings darkened around her.

"Perish."

With a stomp, the ground cracked and the air trembled, and Saber Alter dashed forward.

The true final match of the 9th World Champion Tournament begins!