Fate: Unbalanced Scales

by SomeWritingGuy

Become a Hero of Justice or protect his family? A question one man answered confidently each time it was asked. When the war he had been preparing his entire life for finally arrives, the question changes into a choice: Be the monster everyone believes him to be or watch his family die one by one. [Pre F/Z to post F/SN] (The long-awaited return, thank you for waiting!)

42. The Magician and The Hound

Hello again folks, as per usual I was brought back from the dead to release another chapter for you. Know that I appreciate all the kind reviews you leave and read them often in an effort to reignite my passion for this project. As I've said before, I won't be leaving this with a whisper, you'll all be made aware when I step away for good so until you hear that, trust that a new chapter will arrive. Eventually.

I hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope I'm able to produce the next one quickly for you all. Also, make sure to thank Talndir for his continued diligence as my beta through thick and thin, 20k words per week and 20k words per year.

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His suspicions had been partially correct.

The letter and its heraldry hailed from Finland, from one Annalliina Edelfelt. Suffice to say, and rightfully so, she was upset over the loss of her sister, but simultaneously she invited him to her family's manor to have a dialogue, providing two plane tickets — a round trip slated a little over a week away, almost right after the Tournament — for him to use.

The return ticket was a nice gesture, but he'd be a fool to take the offer expecting anything but a trap that ended in his death. A setup that would finally net the Edelfelt family the revenge they sought. What else could he possibly expect from a family of mercenaries?

Still, he fully intended on going. Not because he was a suicidal idiot, but because there was a chance to end things peacefully. As slim as it was, there was a possibility Annalliina would forgive him if he explained himself before her.

If that didn't work, he could always demonstrate exactly why throwing assassins at him was a fruitless venture. He'd give the option for the carrot or the stick, leaving the decision in her hands.

Tucking the envelope away for later use, Shirou leaned back, allowed his head to gaze up to the ceiling and crossed both arms over his forehead in a languid stretch.

One problem at a time. He needed something to defeat Lectra that wouldn't kill her or blow a hole through the arena. Then, he could worry about the Edelfelt sister and everything else that seemed to be coming to a head.

Drawing his arms away and opening his eyes, he stared quietly at the ceiling, recognizing that his short-term goals were simple in comparison to what awaited him.

He needed to kill a magician.

Not just a novice with a month and change of training, a serious magician that was once regarded as the greatest magus within the Clock Tower, someone not even Tokou would or could even deal with.

Was it devotion to his sister that compelled him to accept such a request? Or, was it blind stupidity? In the end — which was bound to come quickly seeking out such a goal — he would get a taste of what it took to fight magic with magecraft in the coming days.

Images of Lectra, buried behind the mask of her inky demonic suit, flickered in the blank canvas that was the ceiling tile.

Was this…

Doubt?

… … …

… … …

His plan had worked to the letter. Not only had Shirou willingly agreed to play a part in the Tournament, but the department heads had even cleared his requests. Pulling a few strings to inject Shirou Emiya into the finals without having to deal with the other magi was a two-fold boon. Not only had it lessened the request on the suddenly averse to fighting Shirou, it had lessened the threat to other competitors and retained most of the total applicants.

Having the First Magician climb through to the finals from the bottom was bad enough to admission rates that Shirou having to do the same would drive numbers quickly toward zero. Either outcome wasn't beneficial for him in the slightest.

The goal was exposure.

Some of the department heads made bets on Shirou or Lectra, analyzed what facts existed about the two, compared data. He decided to take the easier route: Fix the game and modify its conditions so that the victor was needless, that he won regardless of the outcome.

Which of the two claimed victory in the tournament was trivial as the mere fact both of his students had claimed the highest poll positions would garner him the necessary attention.

The attention to both himself and Lectra would accelerate their status in the Tower tenfold. While he himself lacked the expertise and exemplary knowledge required to move into Pride, Lectra could very well reach Brand or even acquire a color.

To think, people claimed that navigating a genetic-socio-economic political hierarchy with a distinct lack of everything in all four fields would be difficult. Perhaps plotting, scheming and a touch of backstabbery were more up his alley than he first believed. So far, it couldn't have worked better for him.

He'd need to plan. Not only for what needed to be done in the next coming weeks, but for the next coming year. If he wished to continue his chain of successes, he'd need to find ways to further warp the system in his favour. Lectra and Shirou were both lynchpins to that goal, but he needed to discover how best to leverage them both.

Being careful about his planning was a priority, however. After all, he was almost directly playing with fire. Were he to upset Shirou Emiya enough, he didn't doubt that the man would come for him. Any blade bent far enough would eventually snap after all.

Opening the drawer to his desk, he looked upon a half-smoked cigar, considered it at length, then closed the drawer and opened another. Collecting the small wooden box from within, he parted the two halves to see the small patch of crimson silk laid gently atop the boxes' cushioned velvet. He'd worked hard to get to where he was, it would only take another year or two before he could claim to have fulfilled his obligation as retainer to Iskandar, to his king. A year or two until he could stand beside him, proud of his accomplishments.

… … …

… … …

Rin crouched and picked up fragments of sword that lay scattered around the floor. Examining them, they faded away into sparks between her fingers.

"I don't think you have much of an option anymore. There's only two days before the finals and you haven't made any progress," she concluded. Standing upright, she looked toward his defeated form lying flat on his back. It was a mutual feeling, especially when she had watched him struggle for the past three hours. "Either your weapons penetrate the ether and everything beyond or they shatter on impact."

Inhaling deeply, the back of his hand landed on his head. "Thanks for telling me what I already know."

Sighing, Rin walked over to the man and kneeled at his side. "You agreed to this, so you can only be frustrated with yourself. You knew how strong Lectra was and there's no doubt she's grown stronger. If you didn't have a plan on how to do this without noble phantasms, why did you accept it in the first place?"

He was silent for a while, though his breath paused and resumed randomly. He was trying to explain himself, but he couldn't find the right words to use. "I wanted to handicap myself," he settled on. Removing his hand, he turned his head and looked at her with a face that nearly asked another question. "Am I crazy?"

"Yes," she thought absently. Closing her eyes and huffing out a breath, she considered his few options. "Time Alter is still on the table. You've been using it less since you have better options, but it would help."

"Would it be enough?" He asked, doubt equal to the question in his tone.

Rin shrugged. "There's only one way to find out," she answered honestly. Lectra was a powerful foe, but even she had limits. Her reactions couldn't possibly match Shirou at double his already impressive speed. "If I know anyone that can pull a win through sheer improvisation, it's Shirou Emiya." Offering a grin to further cheer him up, she was met with a strained huff of neutrality. Rolling her eyes she bent at the hip to place her lips against his forehead, softly pecking him before reeling back and standing upright. "I need to get back to my classes. I'd like my bodyguard to be with me since that's what I pay him for-"

"I get paid?"

"-but I can understand you being a tad late to recover your strength." She carried on with her statement, entirely ignoring his remark but noting it mentally regardless.

Grumbling, he agreed to resume his duties in a bit, which she accepted wordlessly by leaving him in the training room. As the door closed behind her, she released a shaky breath. Her vision began to collapse inward and to keep herself from falling over, she crouched down and leaned against the wall, focusing on breathing with her eyes closed.

They were both monsters.

Shirou had designed the exercise around Lectra's capabilities. Rin was there to make bounded fields that were a reasonable facsimile of Lectra's clumps, the one she used as a personal suit of armour.

The Tohsaka had no idea just how impressive the hidden magician had grown. It took a considerable effort to create something with bounded fields alone that was as durable as Lectra's ether supposedly was. That, coupled with the pace Shirou set in his training, meant Rin was wiped. Out of mana, with barely enough strength to keep herself upright, it was a miracle she'd been able to walk out straight without passing out.

Slowly opening her eyes as the swirling nausea died down, she gradually stood upright to prevent a rush of blood from draining out of her head. The goal was to stand, not fall back down, after all.

Bracing herself against the wall with one arm, the swirling gradually eased and passed. She was grateful to have made it long enough not to show her moment of weakness. After all, how could she be expected to keep up with him if she couldn't even finish a training exercise?

Confident she could remain steady on her feet, she pushed off the wall and took a few tentative steps to find her legs responding well. Perhaps it was in her best interest to forget trying to keep up. She was a better magus than a fighter, she knew that much. She couldn't take on servants and trying to keep up with Shirou was a fool's errand beyond comprehension. She knew her abilities in combat were far beneath even an injured and disadvantaged Shirou, but she still needed to try, right?

At the very least, she desperately wanted to be useful. Being incapable of helping with training was certifiably not useful. She doubted Shirou would look at her the same if he knew just how exhausting generating the bounded fields he needed was. Inhaling deeply to calm her quickly beating heart, she began walking toward her classroom.

While she might not have been the most blessed of magi when it came to her abilities, genetics or heritage, she was more than capable and prepared to work hard so that she could at least put up a fight.

Traversing the halls, she rounded a corner and nearly bumped into a large figure that reacted to the near miss with a small exclamation alongside a tight grip of Rin's shoulders to steady them both. Drawing back, Rin had to awkwardly look up at the woman, gauging she was around Shirou's height.

"Sorry about that, I wasn't paying too much attention," the woman admitted with a dazzling smile. There was a great deal of strength within her, evident by the firm steadying grasp that practically rooted the Tohsaka in place. Rin's weakened state may have aided in an illusion of strength.

Caught off guard, Rin blinked a few times before coming back to herself and responding in kind. "I wasn't either, so I have to take some of the blame."

She was an admittedly good-looking woman with smooth, honey-coloured skin and curled dark-brown hair draped over her shoulders. Her expression was genuine enough to reach her dark almond-shaped eyes which was an uncommon distinction amongst the fake emotions of the common magus. Equally as uncommon was her attire, which consisted of a tight-fitting underlayer in black with a cropped red jacket covering her arms. Her pants matched the black underlayer completely, accenting her toned figure. Rin would be lying if she claimed not to be jealous.

Releasing her grasp before it grew awkward for the both of them, the woman took a half step backwards. "Nice of you to forgive and forget, it isn't something a lot of folk 'round here seem to be interested in."

Definitely not a magus. At least, not one native to the Clock Tower or its patrons. "You must be new here."

She nodded. "I've been here before but never committed to the idea of staying."

"Something changed?"

The woman's smile creaked wider. This time, it failed to reach her eyes. "You could say so." Finishing the sentence, her head twitched in a telltale sign of remembrance. Extending a hand in greeting, she offered the name "Ophelia, Ophelia Dimakos."

Responding in kind, Rin accepted the handshake, noting how the woman's grip was distinctly reserved as if trying not to hurt her. She likened the experience to how Shirou and Bazett handled her - like she would break if they didn't hold themselves back.

"A name like that tells me you aren't a Brit yourself. From one foreigner to another, maybe you could show me around a bit?"

"I'm not too sure." If her estimate of the time was anywhere close, she didn't have any to spare before the start of her next class. Then again, would missing a lecture in herbology really be the end of the world? Sighing, and drawing her hair behind her shoulders, she planted her fists on her hips. "Alright, but just a quick tour."

… … …

… … …

Flexing his hands and rubbing at his knuckles, Shirou peered into the arena from the spectator box with a sense of anxiety. He wasn't concerned about Lectra's first match-up in the semi-finals. He'd closely watched every competitor in the Tournament and they didn't stand a chance against her or himself. As predicted, Lectra barely needed to move for her opponent, Roman Novikov, to fall. It seemed he was aware of the disparity of power as he'd been calling himself the third-place winner in the halls long before the semi-finals began.

Breaking conventional rules due to Shirou's interjection and El-Melloi the Second's meddling in the background, the Tournament was somewhat broken in two and Shirou began the Tournament effectively in third place. The beginning of the Tournament was as it had been years prior, a one-on-one knockout system. With third place already filled, the Tournament would proceed until only two finalists remained. Shirou would then need to challenge them to claim victory. If he lost in his first match, calling his initial third place standing to question, he'd need to match with the fourth place contestant to decide his final position.

El-Melloi the Second had assured him that, despite the confusing set of rules, it was in everyone's best interest to conduct the Tournament as such.

Overall, the entire Tournament had been lacklustre from his perspective. It wasn't that the efforts of the competitors had been inferior. There was simply a lack of mystic codes that he could make use of. Worse still, there were fewer competitors overall compared to his first run through the Tournament, though that might have been a result of the First Magician being a competitor and the Magus Killer being involved at all. It was painfully obvious that Lectra was holding herself back, refusing to reveal her more elaborate tricks prior to their fight. She remained outside of her ether, allowing her more mundane creations to do the heavy lifting. Unfortunately for her opponents, none had prepared themselves or their abilities to battle a literal army of creatures, though nobody could blame them.

When the day of the finals arrived, Shirou donned his provided outfit and awaited his signal to enter the arena. His outfit had changed from how he remembered. Looking at himself, the bodysuit resembled the coloration and design of Archer's outfit, with black and silver taking up the majority of his torso and all of his legs. The arms took on the crimson shade of the servant's jacket. Unique to himself, black and silver ribbons accented his body both at the joints and the musculature of his torso. He was fit enough to have defined abs but the suit was doing him far more justice than deserved.

Lectra's attire had also evolved since he first saw her. It still retained a vertical gradient but the colour had changed from green to purple. Now, a deep violet began at her feet and turned to a lavender around her neck. Amidst her body were bubbles of various sizes and slight changes in shade, each of which seemed to shift and swirl about with her movements. Whether it was an optical illusion or they were genuinely changing, Shirou couldn't tell, but the effect was interesting overall.

Their respective garb displayed the fact that both of them had evolved. They'd both undergone drastic changes in a short amount of time with Lectra's being tenfold his own.

Those changes were exactly why he was so nervous. Lectra wasn't a wide-eyed novice stranger he had struggled to train. She was a magician, a powerful combatant and a friend. All of these things worked against him. The fact she could summon an army wasn't all that great a problem for him, however when that army paired with a formidable single target like Lectra herself, he couldn't handle one without neglecting the other. But that was actually the least of his worries. Above all, he didn't want to hurt Lectra. He'd trained with Rin specifically to determine the exact strength he needed to penetrate her ether shell without outright impaling her or blowing her to bits. Her powerful abilities and hunger to improve meant he had to find the fine line of winning that lay between doing nothing, and killing her.

When the announcement was made for him to enter the arena, he hardly even noticed. He couldn't draw his thoughts away from the fight that would follow, the fight against the First Magician. His body moved on auto-pilot at the call of his name. Passing through the bounded field into the arena, he strode to his indicated position across from his opponent mindlessly. Even moments away from engaging in this fight of formality, he couldn't drag his mind away from the battle that would come next.

The call to begin finally broke Shirou's fixation. He was yanked to the present where he instinctively flared out his arms to begin projecting his favoured blades. Before they could even conceptualize in his mind, his opponent lifted their hands in surrender.

Displaying a small, sad smile, he lifted his arms higher when Shirou hesitated in confusion. "I'm not so proud as to believe I can win against the Magus Killer. I know I'll be called a coward, but your eyes tell me this is the right decision."

Shirou allowed the tension to ease out of his body, releasing a breath as he did. "You're not a coward. In a real battle, running could be the difference between life and death." Shirou shook his head. "And there's no shame or cowardice in living another day."

His competitor's smile was genuine yet sad. It was expected for him to be disgruntled when the deck was stacked against him from the beginning. After a pause, the announcer returned to offer an explanation. "An unexpected turn of events to be sure, but it seems that Roman Novikov has forfeited the match and his chance at second place." As his words echoed around the empty arena, a doorway opened to reveal a miserable sight to Shirou.

Lord El Melloi the Second strode into the arena, bringing an array of questions into Shirou's mind. He'd only ever seen medical attendants or vice-directors step from that passage. What reason could such an intervention possibly be required? As with everything the man jammed his head into, it wasn't bound to be good.

Offering a glance and simple nod toward Shirou, the man stood within the center of the arena, cleared his throat and began to speak, voice amplified undoubtedly by magecraft. "I apologize for the interruption, but I must inform all spectators and competitors of a change affecting the Tournament's final matchup." And so it was as he'd expected, the man was present to throw a wrench into the mix. "With the finalists settled, it was unanimously deemed a safety risk to have both combatants fight within the current arena given their abilities and techniques. To eliminate all risk and potential hazards, the final fight will be held within one of the better-reinforced training rooms." Turning to Shirou directly, he offered a small bow. "I understand this may be a disturbance but I hope you are willing to accept this change. If either of you hold any objections, we'll unfortunately be forced to cancel the finale and name both of you equal victors."

Offering a grimace, Shirou released a huff through the nose and nodded. He wasn't interested in exchanging words with the man, especially when it would serve no purpose. Lectra undoubtedly agreed. Being that fighting him was her entire goal, there was little in the world that could have possibly dissuaded her.

Over the next hour, Shirou was escorted through the halls of the Tower by the medical team into one of the largest exercise rooms where Lectra awaited on the opposite side, flanked by her own group chattering in her ear. Once cleared, he was given a small metallic bracelet and informed of its function as a monitoring device. He learned this much himself with a simple trace, along with a feature the medical team hadn't mentioned: the ability to dampen the wearer's magic circuits via remote signal.

Shirou wasn't certain who was in control of the bracelet, but he assumed it was a safety backup to avoid another death during the Tournament. Curious was the fact that he hadn't been given the mystic code in the prior fight, but perhaps there had been advanced warning of the forfeit. Things were, in retrospect, seemingly too streamlined. If it had been spur-of-the-moment, there would have been a greater delay in scheduling a room and positioning the familiars with which the fight would be broadcast. Alternatively and more insidious was the thought that it could be used to rig the fight in one side's favour. As a precaution, he spared the mana to trace a copy of the key used to lock the device on. He'd be able to quickly project the key in his hand and slip it into his shoe once alone.

Finished with their examination, the medical teams exited and closed the door with a clatter that echoed through the empty chamber. Even without a crowd shielded behind bounded fields, Shirou could feel eyes from every angle. The familiars placed in the corners, on the ceiling, the pillars and the walls were all prepared to capture this match in detail. A thought arose, a question on whether or not what was viewed could be used against him by an enemy in the future. His technique and methods could be learned and countered if one had a mind to.

The pair were left in awkward silence staring at each other. To take advantage of the time, Shirou bent down and began to adjust his shoe as if something had worked its way inside. Once there, he slid the key toward the front of his shoe. Far from the most comfortable thing, at least he wouldn't be caught by surprise if someone were to try and rig the fight. Standing aright, the disembodied voice of the announcer returned. "On behalf of the organizers, I'd like to apologize to those viewing for the inconvenience." The formal apology was rather jarring, but like a switch the announcer's tone gained energy. "With everyone safe, we can now return to what will undoubtedly be the most exciting Tournament finals for many years to come: A battle between the newfound wielder of the First Magic and the bonafide Son of the Magus Killer. Will mystery beyond magi conception prevail? Or will the boogeyman's son, near victor of a Tournament past, show us exactly how he came to gain his infamy? Finalists, show us the outcome!"

Staring across the room, Shirou eyed Lectra cautiously. Neither had changed their stance and he couldn't detect any ether constructs being created. He noted her distance of seventy-five feet for the future before clearing his throat. Opening his mouth to speak, Lectra beat him to the punch with an apology that bewildered him. "I know I couldn't speak to you much since I started training." Crossing both arms over her chest and tucking her hands away, her gaze was cast off to the side, toward the floor. "I couldn't even talk to Flat," she murmured softly. Despite the volume, her words were clear in the stagnant chamber. Lifting her head to match his eyes, her jaw and features set in determination. "But you gave me a goal and I committed myself to meeting it." He could fill in the blanks without questioning her. He'd seen the same fire in her eyes during their previous spars; she was out to prove herself, this time against him.

Furrowing his brow, Shirou extended his right hand and projected Bakuya in his grasp. Squeezing the leather-wrapped grip, Archer's knowledge and strength coursed through him. Familiar, yet foreign, right and wrong, equal and opposed just as the two blades themselves. While the married blades were a noble phantasm, their reputation, rank and appearance would be easily overlooked by any spectator. After all, their only real effect of self-homing could be replicated by the most basic of mystic codes. Ambiguous to all, it was the only phantasm he'd be comfortable with using. Ironic, especially with them technically being his. "This is your best chance, considering the handicap," he offered.

The girl flinched as if recognizing his disadvantage for the first time. Screwing up her face in frustration, inky black spewed out from beneath her bodysuit to shroud her form, creating the demonic four-armed figure he'd witnessed before. This iteration had traded the pair of horns for a set of spear-like appendages that originated from somewhere around her shoulder-blades and hovered menacingly over her head. "I won't accept it," she denied, voice distorted through the ether coating. "I'll force you to show me! Force you to show me the heights you've achieved!"

Flaring both arms outwards, ether poured from her wrists, staining and spreading across the ground to give rise to an endless army. Five, ten, twenty, forty, each second seemed to garner a near exponential growth. Trying to count without tracing became impossible in moments, far beyond his expectations.

Cataloging an array of basic weaponry, an equal number for each clump began to form overhead. His abrupt load on his circuits scorched his body from the core outwards. Weapons launched as quickly as they formed toward the birthplaces of their respective ether soldiers. While they were halfway formed, the blades impaled and pinned the clumps to the ground, disrupting their process. As expected, this was only a minor setback to them since the clumps migrated the pinned portions of their bodies, freed themselves and continued to rise from the ground. He estimated his efforts only gave him a half second of time. Had he the luxury, he would have liked to play more defensively to slowly but surely breach Lectra's defences without going overboard, but such a tactic would be too risky. He had no way of telling how much she had grown since their last spar. Exhausting her mana to the point of loss of consciousness wasn't likely to work a second time. If her army's rate of growth continued as forecasted, she'd long overwhelm him before that time came.

The ether stain continued its growth along the floor until the tile below was totally eclipsed. The inky darkness of the floor gave the appearance that they were standing amidst a bottomless pit into an abyss. The fluid crawled upwards along the pillars and outside walls, blurring the edges of the clumps and rendering them invisible against their background. The lights, mostly embedded in the walls, could not penetrate the curtain of darkness. Had he not been capable of tracing the environment and locating all present, he'd be surrounded with no way of seeing the enemy, an effective tactic against anyone else.

Surrounded on all sides, ether clumps began to encase him in a sea of artificial creatures. There was no escape in any direction beyond upwards. Even that last direction would be consumed by the ether in short order.

Were it not for Lectra's blazing white eyes acting as a distinct marker amidst the darkness, he wouldn't have even bothered to keep his eyes open. Stepping forward through the darkness, he found his feet slightly sticking to the floor as the fluid tried to lock him in place.

To say she had dramatically improved since their last battle would be understating her improvement severely. Even while retaining his "sight" he was growing worried. This eclipsed the amount of ether she could produce before. He'd need to throw away his expectations; everything about her now was entirely new and unpredictable.

Creating soldiers, upkeeping her own defensive armour, expanding her zone of influence and trying to lock him down meant she was either hemorrhaging mana or sacrificing the quality of her other offensive elements. Would she be capable of repairing her clumps if he continued to damage them?

Ripping his feet through the feebly grasping tendrils of the floor, Shirou pressed onwards through the darkness. Most of his projections were devoted to pinning or temporarily disabling the invisible clumps trying their best to swarm him. The remainder were brought to his hand so that he could handle those which neared too close and demanded more attention. Unhindered and possibly aided by the ether floor, clumps assailed him from all angles. Pivoting on one foot to avoid the overhead slash of one sent him dangerously close into the wide swing of another.

Traipsing through an unending number of invisible blades, he struggled to move even ten feet toward Lectra. Jamming Kanshou through the neck of the closest clump, he gripped the humanoid by the head and used its body to directly intercept a rising swing. Clueless to whether it would be effective at all, Shirou sensed the incoming blade strike and pass through its ally. Undamaged, he likened it to trying to swing a bat through syrup. While using another as a shield wouldn't save him entirely, it would spare him the worst.

Twitching his head so his left ear tucked against his shoulder, a spear-tip grazed alongside his neck. Throughout the trudge onward, he'd gained a number of nicks and scrapes.

Thankfully for him, Avalon would-

His mind vacated. Kicking a clump directly in the chest and sending it sprawling through the crowd behind, he closed his eyes to look inward and find the gold light of King Arthur's sheath.

It wasn't present.

The only word for it was panic.

Amidst the hustle leading up to the Tournament and after giving it to Gray, he'd failed to recover Avalon before the fight.

Gritting his teeth, projecting another set of married blades and Riesenarm, Shirou beheaded one clump and was surprised as the rest of its form collapsed into the floor below. Flicking the blades forward as projectiles, the wild careless throw left one to bounce harmlessly off a clump by the handle while the other struck true. Nearly the same instant, the floor beneath quaked as Riesenarm landed behind him. Noting the apparent death of a clump, he shifted, gripped onto Riesenarm's handle and began to swing the oversized weapon like the giant hammer it practically was.

Not strong enough to swing without skimming the floor, it only struck at the figures' legs. While far from lethal, the clumps that were struck had their legs explode like powdered snow in the wind. Without support, they collected on the ground and were swiftly annihilated on the second pass of the halberd.

The third pass left every muscle in Shirou's body ablaze and his lungs empty. Releasing the weapon, it quickly struck the ground and violently tumbled into the crowd of clumps.

A moment of breathing space gained, Shirou gulped in what oxygen he could. Without Avalon, the fight had gone from bad to worse. No longer could he spare glances and minor wounds. Nor could he prolong the fight as a backup, he had to crack Lectra's ether shell. He'd need to wade directly into the belly of the beast. Foolish as diving headfirst into the center of a limitless army sounded, it was his only option.

His blades, Archer's blades, returned to his grasp once more. Keeping as many as he could off his back with projectiles from above, Shirou worked on carving his way straight through to Lectra. He'd killed one with a beheading but could that be replicated? Testing his hypothesis, he parried an incoming spear, tossed Kanshou up into the air and used his freed hand to grip the spear and drag the ether close. One swift slice by Bakuya was enough to behead the clump before him. Like the first, the rest of its body dissolved into the ground below.

Changing his approach, he reached into Archer's memories to recover a technique that could aid him in his situation. Snatching Bakuya from its fall, Shirou funneled mana into the married blades, transmitting with it an image of a weapon better suited to great numbers. Crackling and screeching echoed through the chamber as Kanshou and Bakuya elongated, nearly doubling in length. Along the spine of the blade, crystalline-like metal splinters burst free from emerging cracks in the metal. Significantly heavier, the speed was impacted, but the increased weight and length allowed him to behead and bisect clumps with ease. Over a dozen clumps were struck and the same dozen died on the floor. Bringing both weapons around, the next wave of clumps were struck before they could get into proper range.

Unlike the first, these ones retained their shape. As one head was parted from its neck, another grew into its place, or didn't grow at all.

Instead of perishing, the severed head grew into another clump, doubling the overall number. Cursing to himself, he dumped more mana into the augmented married blades and threw both overhead in the direction of Lectra. When they landed, striking one amongst the masses, both erupted as the mana infused within lashed out. Interestingly, the explosion seemed to strip away the ether covering the floor, revealing the original white tiling below. As quickly as it had appeared, the hole was filled and inky darkness returned.

Continuously tracing his environment, the number of clumps exceeded one thousand. At the end of the room, the ether creeping along the wall neared the ceiling. Soon, the entire room would be encapsulated, but for what purpose? There'd be only one way to stop the assault and it lay somewhere behind a pair of glowing white eyes.

Twenty feet away, Lectra practically read his thoughts and stepped forward, closer to where he could make a move. If she got within striking range, he'd be able to pierce her shell. Projecting another pair of swords, he caught an overhead strike and unbalanced the clump the appendage was attached to. Rearing back, his instincts forced him to shuffle backwards, barely avoiding two thrust spears that would have impaled his collarbones and killed him.

The delay in his strike gave Lectra enough time to advance far enough. Leaning forward, the spear-like appendage snapped toward him with an audible crack. Hardly able to bring up his guard, the pointed tip struck and penetrated Kanshou, stopping just as the tip pricked his chest.

Ripping the weapon from his grasp as it drew backwards, the other appendage fired like the first. Aimed lower, the awkward angle and his positioning meant his grip wasn't good enough to hold the blade after blocking the strike. Flying from his hand, the spear tip slipped along his abdomen. Projecting Kanshou, he struck at the spear-like appendage and was shocked as his weapon recoiled and sent a vibration through his arm into his shoulder.

Thinking foolishly, he abandoned the fresh weapon and gripped onto the spear with both hands as it retreated to its owner. Strong enough to carry him off his feet as if he didn't exist, he was half-flung directly onto Lectra. Projecting another pair of swords in a reverse grip, he stabbed them both into the ether shell as he collided with Lectra. As expected, the married blades were sufficient enough to penetrate, eliciting a sharp, warbling cry from the woman within.

The ether was likely thickest where he'd stabbed, but he had at least gotten through. Struggling to find purchase in the surprisingly slick surface, he withdrew, hoisted himself and re-stabbed his blade in order to climb, provoking another noise of pain. The spear-like appendages were dangerous, far more than he'd expected. While their striking surface seemed hardened, there was a chance that where they joined on her back had been left softer.

Unfortunately, he'd never get the chance. A clawed hand wrapped around his torso, dragging him off Lectra like he was little more than a flea. Flung off, the fall was long enough for him to rotate in preparation for the landing. Bowling over more clumps, he wasn't given a moment of rest as blades and spears lashed out the moment he landed. Well-prepared himself, projected blades descended from above, striking and upsetting the trajectory of each attack made against him, rerouting the blows to narrowly miss instead of strike true.

Rising through the cage of swords he had made around himself, he projected a new weapon from his arsenal, the light-firing lance from his first venture into the Tournament. Jamming it directly into the nearest foe and funneling mana into the weapon, white light bloomed in the clump's chest before erupting into a disco-like array of beams. The array struck more clumps, leaving behind molten holes that failed to repair themselves. Lucky not to be hit himself, Shirou withdrew the weapon and used it to clear himself some space and garner time to digest the battle so far. Could he extend even a brief respite? Nobody had said anything when he'd been under its effects as Blade.

Time Alter: Double Accel!

The world slowed around him, giving him much needed time to process. A number of small, inconsequential wounds covered him. Close calls, near misses and mistakes had given him each and every one. The sharpened ether claws of Lectra had been enough to slice through the reinforced suit, but failed to make much more than surface level cuts in his skin.

He'd fought servants, he'd fought mages and he'd fought himself, but this was different still. It was a combination of all three that continually evolved as he tried to react. His opponents had changed tactics, but there's always been a fundamental flaw that couldn't be augmented. With Lectra, she was constantly countering his every move. Beheading worked, then they started to grow back. Kanshou and Bakuya worked, then specific regions were hardened in order to penetrate through them.

She was adapting, flowing alongside him nearly perfectly. She offered no quarter for him to do his own adapting, keeping up the pressure to prevent him from thoroughly analyzing and discovering a weakness, a flaw, a mistake.

Surrounded, restricted, blinded, unable to think and caught without Avalon, his options dwindled. The only boon to being without Saber's sheath, the lack of side effects associated with his reality marble, couldn't even be accessed.

He would lose. It was a mere eventuality that struck him square. The limitations and her capabilities were too great to eke out a victory. His only option was to continue the same assault and near melee range where he knew she could be harmed.

Though, was winning what he wanted? He'd already forfeited in the Tournament once and truth be told, the title meant nothing to him. Beyond that, it was quite clear to him that Lectra deserved to claim victory.

Body writhing beneath the pain imposed by Time Alter, he dropped the effect and returned to the full-speed fray. Huffing out a breath and projecting another pair of blades, he found Lectra amidst the sea of clumps once again. She hadn't remained idle while he'd thought. Instead, she was cautiously shuffling back, conjuring larger, more formidable clumps the same size as her form to keep him back.

Casting a glance directly upwards, Shirou watched as the last portions of unclaimed tiling were consumed by inky ether. Fully immersed, dimensions and directions became meaningless and impossible.

Instincts screaming out a warning, Shirou pivoted ninety degrees, feeling the movement of air as an unseen blade skimmed just along his chest. Stepping on the blade to keep it pressed down, he used the lance to bore a hole through the clump and destabilize its form.

After the most recent assailant fell apart, his instincts quieted. The army around him had stepped back, leaving him in the middle of a ring of clumps, gnashing adn scuttling at an invisible edge they weren't allowed to pass.

Accepting the break, he remained prepared while considering the best route toward Lectra. Prior to moving, he was interrupted by a hundred voices from every direction. "I'm sorry it took so long," they spoke in unison.

Confused by the crowd that spoke out to him, Shirou locked eyes with the only set gleaming out in the darkness. To ensure he wasn't simply going insane with all of his senses numbed, he asked if he was still talking to Lectra.

"The very same," the voices called out again. "As you might have noticed, I've been learning a lot of new things."

"You don't say," he murmured under his breath. "So are you forfeiting already then?"

Like a comedian before a crowd, laughter erupted on all sides. "Still confident, even surrounded and unable to use your best weapons?"

"I'll find a way." He wasn't so hopeful himself, but she didn't know that.

"So I did all this work to try and level the playing field for nothing." Despite the diverse inflection and tones reverberating within the chamber, the pouting sarcasm came through clear as day. Even voiced a hundred-fold, it was still Lectra in the end.

"Dumping me into darkness is your idea of an even fight?"

"Not quite," the voices ominously chanted before allowing the clawing silence of the chamber to overtake them. His heartbeat pounded in his ears clear and strong. If he sought deeper he could hear his own blood as it surged beneath the surface of his skin. Changing directions outwards, his trace roiled along the ether-clad ground, through every construct, and along the boundary that marked the walls and ceiling.

Uniquely though, his trace moved no further.

It ended with the ether coating, closing him off from the outside world. For the first time in his life, Shirou felt almost claustrophobic. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he didn't know what to expect from Lectra at all anymore. "That's right," she interjected. Despite her apparent thoughts, he hadn't come to any sensible conclusion of any sort. "I've separated us from the spectators."

"Visually, obviously." His tracing couldn't pierce the veil, but other magecraft potentially could.

"In every way and in every sense. Unless someone comes by and tries breaking through, interfering with the Tournament, we're in total privacy here."

Gluing the pieces together in his mind, he nodded. "So you want me to go all out, to use everything I can against you."

"That's the plan," the voices carried a cheery demeanour despite the intention.

"Aren't you worried you'll be hurt?"

"That risk comes with the territory. I wanted to see why everyone seems so scared of you, to see how I can stack up. I've heard stories and caught glimpses, but I've never been on the receiving end. At least, not for real. You can't deny there's not a difference either, I saw it for myself when you went up against Svin."

"One was practice, the other was a fight for my life. It wouldn't make sense to try comparing the two."

"This hasn't been a fight for your life?"

He'd admit he was fighting hard, he'd admit he was nearing the end of his current capacity, but he couldn't admit that this fight risked his life, at least, not in the same manner.

There was a small pause. Then, throughout the room and one by one, beady white lights — sets of eyes — illuminated in every direction. Without depth or dimension, it looked as if a single, slightly shifting white line had been painted in a perfect circle around him. A few sets sat a full body length above most of the others, betraying where exactly the larger clumps had been made. Even while they were talking, she'd continued to make more, taking advantage in every situation she could just like he'd taught back then. "Well then, Shirou, I suppose I'll let you know that Annalliina Edelfelt hired me to kill you in this Tournament."

Her remark, so casually made, caused his mind to stutter for half a heartbeat, before the ludicrous meaning became apparent. "Weak bluff," he passed off without a thought, queuing up a number of weapons in his mind. Such a story had too many holes to begin being plausible. What reason would Lectra have to accept such an offer even if it were made? He refocused on the fight. Fighting through had worked, albeit slowly. Perhaps he could build a platform to reach Lectra directly?

"Think what you will. You know, she's a very vengeful woman, but after you murdered her sister, who can really blame her? After you, she wants to take revenge and wipe out your entire family, which means I'll have to kill Illya too." Shirou furrowed his brow. More empty threats, they had to be. "That'll be easy, since everyone will chalk this up to another unfortunate accident, just like Kiara. Illya'd never know she was next."

Tightening his grasp on the lance, it was only when he questioned what the strange noise in his ears was that he noticed just how hard he'd clenched his jaw. The ringing came from his spiking blood pressure. He knew she was likely trying to get a rise and nothing more, but there was a chance she was telling the truth. Stranger things had happened in his life before. It would make the letter he received strange, but perhaps a personal meeting was simply her backup, should Lectra fail. Or, a diversion that expected him to assuage his suspicions.

A small chance.

Yet, he allowed a small chance to go unchecked during the Grail War. That insignificant chance had gotten Illya killed. Now, he was directly being told of events that would transpire. If she did truly kill him and carried out this alleged plan, he'd never be able to forgive himself in whatever afterlife lied beyond. There would be no need for hell, as he'd run himself through it for the rest of eternity.

The plans he had for disabling Lectra without unnecessary harm vanished from his mind. Plans to put an end to a potential danger were rapidly taking their place. What shackles had bound him in the fight had fallen apart. If nobody could see through her ether, he was free to use every weapon at his disposal, to use every possible avenue to victory.

"I am the bone of my sword." The words spilled freely from his mouth, circuits warming his entire body and boiling the sweat that had accumulated. Alongside the blooming heat was a breeze and the scent of freshly worked steel.

There wasn't enough time amidst the ocean of clumps for him to project a noble phantasm that could do any damage. Were he to make space to squeeze one in, Lectra would triple her soldiers' efforts to halt him. He needed instantaneous creation or some space to himself. Thankfully, his marble would provide both.

Recognizing the abrupt change in his demeanor, Lectra's stance shifted and her clumps advanced, closing the iris of the ether storm he found himself in.

Shutting his eyes, an uncountable number of swords filed through the darkness, being traced for use and steadily filling with mana. Tracing pulses of his surroundings timed to his heartbeat relayed just enough information to direct the weapons where needed, hearing the telltale shink as steel passed through ether bodies.

He didn't need sight to see, there was no need to keep his eyes open when all it could do was distract him. Concentrate on creating weapons as fast as possible. Quality doesn't matter, it's only to slow them down.

"Steel is my body and fire is my heart." The breeze clawed at his hair, a distant clang echoed through the room and fire licked at the edges of the forming projections within his mind. Despite his best efforts, he would still be overwhelmed. Archer's blades returned to his grasp, a motion growing as familiar as breathing. A straggler that broke through found its weapon deflected to the side. Sliding along its length, Shirou severed both arms in one motion. Unexpectedly, the clump dissolved into nothing.

"To protect the ones I love." Two more neared striking range from opposed angles, sandwiching him in between. Flourishing both blades into a reverse grip, Shirou allowed the flat edge to rest against his forearm and with the increase in maneuverability, flared both arms, twisted, and struck out at the incoming swords to halt their swing entirely.

Striking true with an upward swing from below that tossed the light creature in front of him backwards, a sharp pain bloomed in his abdomen as something pierced his body and ran entirely through. Not bothering to spare a glance downward, he projected a larger, unwieldy sword the size of six men above the offender at his back and allowed it to fall. Slicing its appendage, the excessive weapon tipped over and crushed what remained, along with several others behind.

"I'll throw myself away, and disregard the cost."

An experimental step forward told him all he needed. Continuing to fight with such an injury would spell a quick demise. If he could finish the aria, he wouldn't need to move at all. Switching to full defensive, he kneeled and bowed his head, allowing swords to hail around and embed into the ether below. Entombed within a conical pyramid of blades, he reinforced the weapons and continually added to the layers. The clumps pried at the latticed blades, their weaponized appendages unable to find good purchase.

"With hands stained red and mind stained black." Using one hand, he gripped the protruding end of the severed spear that had punctured him and began to force it back out in the direction it entered. Impossible to tell within the darkness, it almost felt as if it were barbed. Each movement ripped and tore at flesh, constantly bringing about breathlessness and lightheadedness. It was a relief like no other when it was finally dislodged. Normally he would leave an implement where it was, but he wasn't certain of ether's toxicity or its effects on the body.

A loud clang rang through his ears as something struck — and glanced off— his head. Reeling from the impact and pressing his back against the other side, he could see the glaring eyes of Lectra through a breach in his makeshift structure. He knew she was capable of piercing his projections but he hadn't expected her to react so quickly. Spall from the destroyed blades had spewn through the interior of his makeshift shelter, peppering and slicing the side of his head. He could already feel warm blood drip down the side of his face.

Shutting his eyes tight, Shirou redoubled his efforts on the aria. "I'll tie our fates together and save them all with–"

A crackling noise echoed around him. Lectra had adapted her clumps to counter him again. No longer was she the sole one amidst her army that could destroy his weapons. The pulsing traces told him he was surrounded by well over a hundred clumps, each furiously working their way through his blades. Lectra herself was rearing back for another attack, one that would shatter the remains of his barrier and him along with it.

He'd be dead in four seconds.

Thankfully, he only needed two.

"Unlimited Blade Works!"

As it had before, a searing white light dominated both the inside and outside of his eyelids. A sudden, baking wind and the scent of ashen steel rushed across his face. Sunlight warmed his skin and prickled against his stinging wounds. The ashes floating about the hot air collected against the fresh blood, clotting and disrupting its flow.

Surrounded by an ocean of ether clumps, his reality marble had given him space by placing him atop the only small rise among the otherwise desolate, flat plane. Twenty feet lay between him and the nearest clump and Lectra stood amongst them, bemused by her new environment. It seemed that the ether clumps were similarly uncertain of their next move.

While she and her army were occupied, Shirou took a moment to examine the hole in his abdomen. It'd missed the important organs and left him with a viewing window to his intestinal tract. Placing a hand overtop to keep in what needed to stay in, he resumed staring at Lectra, who finally spoke.

"What the hell did you just do?"

"What you asked," he growled over the pain, wind carrying his voice. "You wanted a fight," he remarked, gesturing with his free hand to their surroundings. "You wanted me to fight you for real." Patting the wound on his head to gauge the severity, he passed it off as a minor injury. Smearing the blood back, he tilted his head such that any further bleeding wouldn't get a chance to find its way into his eye. "Wish granted," he scoffed.

"When you fight for real you change the scenery?" Lectra's stance deepened, building energy in her legs to rush forward. "Can't see how it'll help." On cue, the thousands of clumps surrounding him marched onwards through the ash, stumbling and jamming into the back of each other.

It took nothing more than a thought.

In an instant, spears and blades from across ages and nations shot upwards through the ash-coated ground. Not a single clump-creature encircling him was spared from being gored with weaponry and the aftermath was like that of a shrike's habitat. Stopped in their tracks, it would take them a moment at the least to dislodge themselves and another to maneuver through the artificial forest of weaponry.

Such a number of even simple weapons made him feel as if he had plunged straight into lava. His entire body smouldered, an effect amplified by the baking sun overhead. Vision blurred and body partially collapsing, he managed to catch himself and regain his composure.

He couldn't squander the moment he had. Struggling against the ether army was futile, he needed to deal with Lectra herself. Abandoning the wound in his abdomen, he extended his hands so Archer's bow could fill in the void. Seamlessly as he entered his stance, the spiral shape of Caladbolg landed against the nocking point. Drawing, the weapon extended in preparation and his body strained to obey his command. The nicks and cuts were minor, but the tugging and strain against the new hole he'd acquired made controlled breathing impossible. It was nothing but hopeful thinking to assume he'd be anywhere near as accurate as he'd like but with Caladbolg, accuracy hardly mattered. Mana raced through his body to fill the projection, creating crackles of crimson light as the rate of transmission exceeded the capacity of his circuits and the weapon.

Lectra was caught in a moment of indecision as she watched, hesitating between lunging forward through the forest of blades to attack and leaping back to avoid what was to come. Wisely, she chose the latter and abandoned her army.

The string slipping from his fingers, the explosive recoil of the reinforced bow limbs and the violent burst of energy all happened in the same instant. The wave of pressure incited a reactionary blink, causing him to miss the projectile's passage through the air. What he couldn't miss, however, was the visible trail of collapsing superheated air and the resulting explosion that consumed the foreground.

The vacuum ripped clumps and blades from the ground with no more difficulty than the ash, absorbing them into the rapidly expanding sphere of destruction that rippled through his entire reality marble. Ash disturbed, but not consumed by the weapon's destruction, fell to the ground like snow, blotting the sun and casting a dim shadow across the sun-scorched land. Some clumps had survived by being lucky enough to enter the swirling mass of mana as it diminished, leaving whatever portion of their body that hadn't entered its influence struggling to regain itself and rejoin the fight along the ground.

The recoil from the bow had been excruciating but nothing he couldn't handle. Dropping one hand from the bow to guard and press against his injury, he watched the destruction settle, gauging the effect. He estimated a quarter of the army surrounding him had been consumed and rent apart. Dealing with clumps wasn't his main goal, however.

Lectra wasn't to be seen but sensed. Closing his eyes and seeking amongst his inner world, he found her in moments. She'd shifted outside the range of the blast and was continuing her retreat, a warranted response to transpiring events. It was likely the first time she had ever had her clumps disintegrated at such a rate.

As the ash disrupted by Caladbolg finally settled, Lectra's figure revealed itself, prowling in the distance and undoubtedly working out her strategy after such a drastic shift in their dynamic. Immediately, black ichor poured from the ends of her hands, laying low so it could shift and crawl its way outwards beneath the layer of ash like a swarm of voracious vermin.

Within his reality marble, Shirou could almost feel the ether roil along the ground as if it were against his own skin. Shivering at the sensation — and wincing at the shiver — he examined his armoury, seeking a cheaper weapon that could still affect a large area. After a couple of seconds, he found his stockpile lacking. He made a note to seek something out to fill the niche in the future. Perhaps a weapon that could conduct electricity between multiple copies of itself?

Weaponless, he elected to forgo searching and simply deal with the ringleader of the coming circus. Taking the defensive capabilities and distance of Lectra into account, one weapon leapt to mind, perfect for the situation. Better still was that it didn't require accuracy either.

Readying the bow once more, Shirou winced as stabbing pain from his abdomen raced through his body. While sword-flesh wasn't a problem now that he was lacking Avalon, bleeding out definitely was. He reasoned there were two short minutes before he lost consciousness and a little longer until he died outright. Hopefully this noble phantasm would spell a swift end to the fight before time became his enemy.

A weapon from the ancient annals of Sweden, the modified blade of Beowulf, Hrunting, solidified itself in Archer's bow. A glossy, black hand-and-a-half sword with a single helical design swirling around a dense, tapered core.

Formed, a hum vibrated the limbs of the bow, one which changed frequency and intensity as Shirou adjusted his aim to land on Lectra, gaining a higher pitch as if acquiring its target. Overloading the noble phantasm with mana as he drew the string, the blade elongated much like Archer's iteration of Caladbolg. The draw was mind-numbingly painful. As his core flexed to handle the draw weight of the bow and hold steady, his vision collapsed and his breathing struggled to hold. Willing his body to retain the brace, he reached the end and eased the muscles of his fingers.

Immediately as the string slipped off his fingers, what little air was left in his lungs was forcibly exhaled as a wave of pressure blasted across his face. He couldn't even claim to have seen his projectile travel. Far too fast for his perception, nothing more than an already fading red light remained, painting the trajectory to its desired target through the air.

Tracing the vanishing beam to its end point, he spied Lectra grasping at her abdomen as ashes rained down atop her from behind.

Bleary eyed, Shirou made a mental note of the weapon's effectiveness. It had easily penetrated both the front and back of Lectra's hardened ether shell without detonating. Only once it collided with the ground a fair distance behind her did it erupt in an admittedly small — yet concentrated — discharge of the stored mana. It would only deliver its devastating payload to a sufficiently hardened target.

Despite protecting the new wound, Lectra remained standing. She stumbled backwards once, taking another moment to examine her wound with more care. The ether shell had donned a dulled shade of crimson at its front as the mana mingled with her blood. In the end, she was still standing. They both shared a wound, but she could easily halt the bleeding with ether. However, one more, one with better accuracy, would finish the fight for good.

Fueling his projection once again, the form of Hrunting materialized within the bow's rest. Tilting his head and sucking in a breath to prepare for another draw, a voice from two separate directions cried out, "Wait!" One source originated ahead, from Lectra, but another manifested within his own head.

Dropping the weapon to avoid the pain of holding it aloft, he noted Lectra had extended her hand toward him before raising it upwards. Slowly settling onto one knee, the outstretched hand lifted to remain just above her head in surrender. "I'm sorry," she began. "I took it too far and I shouldn't have said all that." Shifting and producing restrained noises of pain, the layers of ether gradually receded, exposing the full form of Lectra as the black ooze disappeared beneath her unitard. Down on one knee amidst the ash, it was clear to see he had punctured her stomach. He'd struck more organs than her clumps, yet it was far from mortal. "I understand," she groaned, lifting her hand to examine the wound. There was blood, but less than he would have expected. "I understand what you mean now, about you taking the fight seriously."

Suspect of the wound's severity, Shirou once again shivered at a foreign sensation. Tracing the soil below his feet, he found snake-like lines of ether softly trundling along the ground toward him. Projecting swords above Lectra and the snaking ether, he fired upon both without hesitation.

Expectedly, the ether that had slithered beneath her clothing flooded forth in response, coating her in a dense layer that easily deflected the mundane projectiles. With a sheepish, ashamed and awkward laugh, over a dozen ether snakes lifted out of the ash, tips skewered with weaponry. "You got me, for real this time." Once more, the ether receded beneath her unitard. Removing the hand favouring her injury, he was stunned to find no wound remained. The thin, unmistakable hole through her had been plugged. Not even blood remained to stain her skin. Instead, a swirl of shifting black ether occupied the void.

The hairs on Shirou's neck prickled, provoking a sense of unease. His instincts were on edge, as if he were still in danger despite her surrender. "You don't look hurt," he replied casually.

Keeping her hands raised, the woman peered down at herself. "It looks better than it is. The ether keeps me alive, but if I run out of mana to feed it while it's inside a wound like this, well," she trailed on, offering a wrist flare in lieu of a shrug. With a small struggle and obvious pain, she stood upright, keeping her motions slow and deliberate.

Shirou clued into her meaning. There were similarities between their abilities. Where Lectra's ether devoured her body in search of mana for sustenance, his reality marble consumed his body as the world within his mind sought to actualize itself how it could. As if reminded by his thoughts, Shirou cast a glance downward at his own injuries.

Mildly sickening, parts best kept inside were working their way out. Disregarding his body to fire the bow hadn't done him any favours and he was likely to either pass out or be otherwise incapable of continuing the fight in short order. He needed to decide what to do with her, fight or forgive. "What's your proposal?"

"This is a reality marble, right? Then you probably don't want people to know about it." Furrowing his brow was enough of an answer for her. Did she plan on blackmailing him now? "You'll have to trust me and put this world away so I can pull back the ether that's shielding us. After that, I'll admit defeat and you can win the Tournament or whatever."

"And forget about what you said?" Shirou was level and calm. At least, outwardly. Inside, he was contemplating his next move and debating whether he should use the arrow he'd readied or let it dematerialize. His body was screaming for an end either way, but his mind couldn't discard the threat made against Illya.

Lectra hadn't expected the response, visibly flinching. "I didn't mean it, you know that," she excused in a softer tone. "I-I was just trying to get a rise out of you so you'd actually put some effort into this." Another flare of her wrists and a small tilt of her head. "It worked, but maybe a little too well."

He got himself into the situation by refusing to accept chances, he'd committed to the idea of halting any potential danger immediately as he saw it, but maybe leaping to murder wasn't the best idea. After all, he was in the center of the Clock Tower, heavily injured and surrounded by spectators.

If he did kill Lectra, he wouldn't be able to escape without dying himself, or, at the very least, face severe consequences. It'd also mean he'd lose the ability to reclaim Avalon. Beyond all else, that was the most heinous of consequences. Thankfully, there was one option that remained.

"A geass," he spoke aloud.

A pause, a twitch of the head. "I don't really have one in my back pocket. Didn't know you wanted to win that badly, either."

Shirou shook his head. "I don't care about winning any Tournament. All I want to do is keep Illya and Rin safe."

Lectra's expression turned to bewilderment and her hands slowly drifted downwards to a more comfortable position. "That's what you fixated on? I know it was uncalled for and I'm sorry but you can't be serious."

To exemplify just how serious he was, Shirou began drawing back the bowstring. The act provoked searing pain from his abdomen as the adrenaline from the battle had already faded. Crackling as the sword charged with mana and elongated, his eyes landed on the girl's forehead.

He wouldn't take chances.

Throwing her hands forward to re-emphasize her surrender, she shook her head with obvious panic. "Alright, alright, we can work something out." Taking a deep breath with closed eyes, she took a moment to compose herself. One which brought about steadily increasing agony to Shirou himself. "I apologize, truly. It was stupid and selfish of me to try and force you into this and it's obvious now that what I said wasn't acceptable by any means. I shouldn't have made light of a potentially serious matter." Hanging her head low and looking upwards toward him, she appeared to genuinely regret her misdeeds.

"I'm not taking another chance," he repeated, now aloud, holding the bowstring where it was. Tears welled in the corner of his eyes and Lectra turned into little more than a coloured blur.

Her apologetic look shifted from confusion to anger. "A geass has to be written up on a piece of skin, the whole process takes like an hour and you expect me to bring one with me into the Tournament? If I promise to sign one once we're back at the Tower is that good enough?"

Shirou eased the tension back from the bowstring and allowed his bow and its arrow to dematerialize. Simultaneously, the edges of the reality marble began to waver and shift. Hurtling toward unconsciousness, he allowed his inner world to recede back where it belonged. The sun above flickered and faded, bringing about a sudden chill while the ashes sunk into the cracks of the baked clay below.

Behind the sunlit sky and ashen ground was inky black ether. Like a timelapse video of day to night, he was once more plunged into inescapable darkness. His vision returned as quickly as it was taken once the ether began to withdraw and the enclosure broke down. On the outside, the now blurry surroundings of the impromptu Tournament arena took its rightful place.

Shirou could no longer focus his eyes and his body felt unnaturally light. A voice that sounded as if it were distant and muffled shouted something but he couldn't convert the sound his ears were receiving to words his brain could understand. Not long after, he was staring up at the bright lights of the ceiling and people crowded around him.

He'd originally thought his consciousness to be waning, but it seemed to stagnate at this peculiar tipping point allowing his mind to sluggishly process his situation.

Had he lost too much blood? No, he'd lost plenty of blood and never felt the same way before. This was something new, something different.

What was happening to him?

… … …

"Ether poisoning."

Two words were enough to make Lectra's head snap like she'd been shot. Eyes widening at the phrase, the true gravity of its meaning settled in.

Flat, staring forward with a distance expression, shrugged, made a dismissive noise and leaned forward to rest his chin in his hand. "Probably not, I'm just sorta saying things."

Annoyed, Lectra pushed at his shoulder, swaying the boy and grabbing his attention in one motion. "Don't say things that scare me like that!" Looking to the other row of seats, she found a very irritated-looking Illya staring back at her. "I'm sure Shirou will be fine, he just lost a lot of blood."

There was no verbal response. The albino woman's eyes continued boring straight through Lectra with a ferocity never before seen. Averting her eyes, chuckling awkwardly and rubbing the back of her neck, Lectra released a breath of tension.

It hadn't been that long since the Tournament ended, a half hour or so. After forfeiting, Shirou stumbled and fell onto his back. It wasn't long before medical personnel were tending to him, thankfully. Apparently, they'd been waiting for the ether barrier to fall so they could appropriately respond to whatever lay on the other side. The entire fight had nearly been called off when Lectra's ether covered, then consumed, the familiars in the arena. The only reason it hadn't was due to El-Melloi's direction and the strange bracelets first put on them before the match. It had been the medical team's only way of monitoring what was going on during the battle. After being stabilized, they'd quickly carted him off before offering any explanation. Lectra was briefly examined by a single medic before all attention was directed to her opponent. The end of that fight was such a whirlwind of events, the announcer hadn't even declared a victor.

Reflecting on the Tournament brought her back to that hellscape he had conjured. She hadn't been within its bounds long enough to begin to understand what it represented, or the full extent of its — or even his — capabilities.

"This is your best chance, considering the handicap." A phrase he claimed toward the start. She hadn't understood it then, but she certainly did afterwards. Had he opened with one of those arrows or plunged them both into that world from the very start, she wouldn't have been able to get so much as a word in edgewise.

Still, despite what the announcer had called a loss, she claimed a personal victory. She'd seen the heights she could reach and already identified one of the many steps to reach it. A fancy title from some random tournament meant nothing to her. Even beating Shirou, as gratifying as it would be, hadn't been her goal. Getting him to take their fights seriously, was. It'd damaged their relationship, but hopefully she could fix that with time. It'd also served to identify a glaring fault in her abilities: she had almost nothing to deal with ranged combatants beyond her clumps. If an enemy could pierce her ether armour or handle her clumps, she was a sitting duck.

Eyeing Illya again, Shirou's uncharacteristically hollow request echoed in her mind. Her goading had gone too far, but was he adamant about making her sign a geass? She'd been taught of them, but never expected to ever sign one herself.

"He can't stay here." The annoyed tone of one Rin Tohsaka was clearly identifiable within the otherwise quiet waiting room. "Just let me speak with him, I'm sure he thinks the same."

Turning to look over her shoulder, Lectra watched the conversation. She couldn't hear what the receptionist was saying, but by Rin's face it wasn't what she wanted to hear. Cheeks flushing, she seemed one moment away from causing a genuine scene. Before she could, her eyes flickered toward Lectra's direction, somewhere behind the girl herself.

Peeking back, Illya was waving her over, and the silent gesture superseded the building rage. Excusing herself, the dark haired girl stormed over to her silver haired counterpart. The first question was a blunt, "What happened?"

Illya quickly pointed to Lectra. "What usually happens to Shirou."

Feeling like a prey animal beneath Rin's icy glare, the Tohsaka thankfully stared for a few seconds before resuming her conversation with Illya. "You didn't ask to get him out of here?"

A furrowed brow, a look of perplexity. "Why would I?"

Gesturing to her own chest with incredulity, it took a moment for Illya to understand whatever the motion meant. Eyes widening, the girl shuffled in her seat and cast a glance deeper into the facility. Whatever they'd both grown so concerned over was a mystery to Lectra. Maybe Shirou was secretly a woman and had been hiding his, or rather her, breasts all this time?

Unlikely, but it was all she could hypothesize. "I'm sure the doctors will take care of him," she tried to console.

The expressions both girls wore as they focused on her clearly portrayed that she had said the wrong thing. Thankfully, before any beration could be made, Rin's eyes flickered toward a new target.

"Illya," a soft voice addressed. Turning back a second time, Lectra found yet another concerned face, now owned by Gray herself. Was everyone aware of this mysterious secret Gray except her? "I need to speak with you in private, about Shirou."

"Anything you can tell her you can tell me," Rin injected.

"Stop being upset and let's hear what she's got to say." Lifting herself from her seat, the smaller woman gripped Rin's wrist and began trailing behind Gray as the entire trio vacated the waiting room.

Blinking a few times, Lectra faced forward, struggling to make out what just happened. To no-one in particular, she asked, "Did you understand any of that?"

"Sure," Flat intoned as if the matter was elementary. "I understand that I'll never understand a woman's mind."

Without looking, Lectra threw out her hand to lightly smack his chest. Unfortunately, it didn't feel or sound like she'd been successful. Reeling back with a noise of pain, Flat reached up toward his face while Lectra shuffled to console and apologize for backhanding her boyfriend.

… … …

He felt awful.

Stirring from unconsciousness, he wanted to slip away back into the conversely blissful nightmare of Fuyuki's Great Fire.

He was never that lucky.

His abdomen was missing the gaping hole left by Lectra's clumps, but the soreness of his body was almost magnified tenfold. It felt like he'd just finished planking for hours straight. Even breathing provoked screaming pain, leaving him to either focus on controlling his breathing to be as slow as possible, or softly breathing in small cycles.

Peering about the room with his eyes only, he found himself alone. Finding a clock on the wall, he noted that only an hour had passed. Despite the short time, he'd been healed almost completely, undoubtedly through magecraft. It seemed as if, while it could keep a magus from death, magecraft healing did little to ease the pain.

It was still difficult for him to believe that he had forgotten Avalon in Gray's hands.

He'd been so busy and had his mind on so many things, he'd skimped on retrieving the relic from Gray after their trip to Blackmore. Each time he'd reminded himself to collect it, she'd been busy and he'd made do by simply projecting a copy. Most of the time, he didn't even bother with a projection. Being without Avalon was hard to remember when it was a part of him for so long. Silently cursing the lapse in memory, he continued surveying the room.

Eventually, he concluded that not having Avalon had likely spared him from a worse fate. If he'd been healed by a magus, they'd undoubtedly have found the peculiar item inside his body and there was no telling how many questions would be asked in response.

He might not have ever woken again. Or, if he did, it would have been inside a jar.

He would have shuddered at the thought had he not reminded himself of the pain doing so would have caused. Instead of lamenting Saber's prized sheath, he continued examining his surroundings, waiting for someone to come through the door. That someone came, eventually, though it wasn't for twenty minutes. Even then, it was simply a staff member that came to check up on him. A man of average build, five feet, eleven inches tall with black hair, light brown eyes and a pair of square glasses. Shirou wasn't familiar with the dress coding for the medical staff of the Clock Tower, so telling what role the man filled wasn't possible. On age alone, Shirou would place him as a nurse.

"I'm surprised you're awake," he admitted, pausing to write in a small notepad. "Though I was more surprised seeing you live through those injuries in the first place."

"I hear that a lot."

"I'm sure," he replied seamlessly, as if the comment was something heard daily. "Any pain, discomfort, aching?"

Shirou did his best to suppress an involuntary chuckle as the resulting pain blurred his vision. "Everything, everywhere, all over."

"Sounds about right." Another note on his pad. "It's interesting that you won the Tournament with such grievous injuries when your opponent was completely fine." The comment was offhand, performed while he was busy writing more notes. "Unfortunate that nobody could see anything, it must have been quite a battle." Raising one eyebrow and offering a questioning look, Shirou picked up on the subtle, unspoken statement. "Everyone thinks there was some shady agreement made out of sight."

With what little information spectators would have seen, the conclusion was easy to make. "Pretty intense, yeah," he lied, hoping the pain and discomfort would hide any evidence of his lies. Had he started with his reality marble, he wouldn't have been injured at all.

The man hummed passively, leaving Shirou unable to discern whether he believed him or not. "At any rate, since you're awake, I'll go over some basic questions to ensure your mental faculties weren't damaged if you're feeling up to it." The tone of his voice meant the comment wasn't much of a question, but the pause that followed implied he was waiting for some sort of prompt. To answer, Shirou merely lifted his wrist with the smallest nod of his head. The man asked a few basic questions regarding Shirou's name, the current date and the last thing he remembered. Answering appropriately, the man continued making small additions to his notepad.

"No damage," the man remarked. "Well Mr. Emiya, you have two options here. If you're feeling up to it, you can voluntarily leave and resume doing whatever your position as a bodyguard demands, or you can stay here and recuperate a little longer." Just before Shirou was about to answer, the man held up a finger. "Though, it might sway your decision if I let you know that you've got a half dozen people badgering the staff for your release."

He'd be lying if he said the knowledge was unexpected. Rin and Illya were always worried about him, especially if he got himself injured. Testing the mobility he had to gauge the resulting pain, trying to lift his upper body so much as an inch was physically impossible. His body simply didn't allow him to move any further. Catching his breath in a moment, the attendant watched on neutrally. "Tell them I'm fine, that I'll be out when I can move."

"Very well," the man intoned. "I'll come back shortly with some water in case you get thirsty." Up until it was mentioned, Shirou hadn't realized how dry his mouth was. Offering thanks as he left, Shirou relaxed his body and shut his eyes. If he took a nap, maybe he'd wake up in a couple hours and be able to move. At least enough to reclaim Avalon and speed up the process. Projecting Avalon to use in lieu of the real deal didn't seem like an effective plan either. Not only was it bound to be excruciating to fire up his magic circuits after such severe damage, but it wasn't particularly good at preventing muscle soreness and pain related to said soreness. Beyond that, if he was examined again or if someone was watching into the room, he'd be found out immediately.

Following a dreamless slumber that lasted a little over four hours, he was awoken by a number of attendants who briefly checked on his condition. Feeling marginally better, Shirou forced his body to rise and discharged himself from care.

Thankfully, whatever group had been awaiting him outside was no longer present. They couldn't do much regardless, so Shirou was happy to see they weren't wasting their time waiting.

Walking the halls back to Rin's room was a monumental challenge. Beginning the trip cursing the distance between the two, he eventually focused on occupying his mind away from the pain by trying to work out whether he could use projections to create some sort of mechanism to do the walking for him. Unfortunately, despite the plans he worked out, all but one were impractical or impossible. Even then, projecting a heavy weapon like Riesenarm, firing it forward and trying to grab hold of it mid-flight was bound to do more harm than good.

Keeping his thoughts dynamic allowed the journey to pass a little faster. Beyond the lingering pain, no issues prevented him from eventually reaching Rin's dorm and allowing him to knock. After a moment, Rin opened the door, donned a look of surprise and threw out her arms to draw him into an embrace. Preemptively preparing himself for the pain with a sharp inhale, Tohsaka's quick reflexes stopped her just short, prompting a sigh of relief from Shirou himself.

"I can't believe they let you walk out of there in this kind of shape."

The start of a laugh slipped through his lips before the abdominal pain forced him to stop. Noting their positioning, Rin backed up and allowed him to enter and close the door behind him. "I wanted to leave as quickly as I could. They told me they couldn't stop me if I could stand without collapsing." Hobbling forward a few steps, his mind absently noted how good collapsing sounded and sent a wobble to his legs.

Inside, he found two other women, Illya and Gray, staring at him with shared concern. Wordlessly, the latter of the two flared an arm and revealed a gleaming, mirror-polished sheath which they laid upon the table.

"Is that where I left that?" Shirou joked half-heartedly, trudging forward to lay a hand on the table. At that moment, he couldn't recall ever telling Rin about the artifact, but Gray's nonchalance in revealing it and the lack of reaction told him somewhere along the way she'd learned of its existence.

Illya laid a hand on the relic and tugged it closer to herself, out of his reach. "I don't know whether you're lucky or stupid."

Taking the movement as a sign she would only allow him to reclaim the relic at her leisure, Shirou played along. "Considering my history, I'd lean toward stupid."

Gray's much softer voice began. "If you'd had-"

"I'd have become a test subject for the Clock Tower, I know," he stated with annoyance. Hissing in a breath through his teeth. "But, if I had it in the first place, I probably wouldn't have wound up in that state to begin with."

"We're just worried, like always." Rin clarified, gently laying a hand on his shoulder.

Peering back at her, his annoyance faded away into a miserable sense of shame. It was obvious the pain and soreness was getting to him, especially considering how he had just interrupted Gray with hostility the woman didn't deserve. Closing his eyes a moment he took a deep breath before murmuring, "I know, I'm sorry." Gathering himself, he opened his eyes and set his brow. "I can only promise that it won't happen again."

"I've heard that before," Illya said dryly.

"This was different," he blurted out without thinking. Knowing well an explanation was expected — or rather demanded if expression was any clue — he relented without prompt. "I made a mistake and I should have known better."

"What sort of mistake?" Rin asked genuinely, approaching from behind.

Looking her in the eye for a moment as he decided how to phrase his thoughts, he decided on, "A mistake in who I choose to keep close."

Baffled, a fitting term for both Rin and Illya. Gray, on the other hand, sheepishly tucked tighter into herself, hiding beneath her cloak. "I didn't mean to keep Avalon for so long," she murmured.

Calming from the miscommunication, he assuaged her assumptions and explained that it wasn't Gray, but Lectra. He detailed his thoughts going into the fight, during it and the moment the circumstances changed, the threats she made against Illya and Rin. Partway through, the pain in his abdomen demanded he sit down or faint outright. Holding such a long conversation was growing painful, but he persevered to the end where Illya softly slid the scabbard back in his direction.

"You're really going to make her sign a geass? Isn't that an overreaction? She had to have been joking," Illya suggested, watching as Shirou returned Avalon to its place within his core. It didn't seem to provide any quantifiable benefit, but it never was a fast-acting remedy. "Lectra's been a close friend, why would she stab us in the back?"

"People change," Rin claimed monotonously. "It wouldn't be the first time."

There wasn't need to speak Luvia's name aloud. The moment of silence which followed was more than enough.

Eventually, Illya returned to her bargaining. "Haven't you said that you think a geass is one of the worst curses known to magi?"

Rin nodded. "This could be serious and Lectra is a magician. Nobody knows what she's truly capable of, and she grows stronger by the day." She used one hand to gesture towards Shirou, then looked at him directly. "Who's to say that she couldn't have killed Shirou in that fight? Maybe she couldn't, but she might have learned something that could help her next time."

There was still a glimmer of optimistic hope in Illya's eyes. "But-"

"If she was lying and never had any intentions of betraying us, she'll sign it. The only reason she'd have a complaint is if she planned on following up." Rin's words were steadfast and unflinching, as if she were moment away from forcing Lectra into signing at that very moment.

"I think I've heard that argument before, but I'm not sure where," Illya idly wondered.

"It'll be done tomorrow," Rin interrupted, focusing entirely on Shirou. "You said you didn't want any more risk, right? That you would eliminate the smallest possible chance." Rin made it seem like making Lectra sign a geass was the same as signing away her life. "If you want to do that without killing her, a geass is the only way."

When she put it like that, her life was hanging in the balance. Weighing the decisions once more, he arrived at the same conclusion as he had then. "Lectra is a friend, but we have to make sure of it." His agreement cleverly left out a point he hadn't considered until that moment: Lectra was now a magician, she was one of a mere few and every spotlight in the Tower was on her. Murdering her wasn't a possibility unless he went as far underground as Touko herself.

Rin let out a breath of relief. "That's good. I really didn't want to be hunted by the Mage's Association for the rest of my life." Cooled by several degrees, Rin locked eyes with Gray for a moment. "Should she have been here for all of this?"

"It's fine," Shirou passed off, struggling for a moment to stand. "She knows most of my secrets anyway." Once he was stable and upright, he shuffled off in the direction of his bedroom. He didn't realize how tired the journey through the Clock Tower had really made him and despite just waking from a nap a little while ago, he was almost yearning to hit a pillow. "I trust her as much as the rest of you."

… … …

After whatever remained of the day, Shirou awoke and found himself in a better state. While far from perfect or ready to enter a fight, he could activate his circuits and conduct basic activities without wracking his senses. Preparing himself for the day, he checked on the time, a quarter to twelve. He'd have just enough time to find the others and join them for lunch. He hoped to find them in the main cafeteria, but if they weren't he'd find out on his way to the El-Melloi club room regardless.

Opening the door to leave, he almost failed to notice a letter affixed to the inside of the door. Taped up around eye level, he saw his name and recognized the penmanship as being from Bazett.

Interested, he materialized an opener and seamlessly sliced the top to access the letter within. Alongside a written note was a thick, blank piece of cardstock a little larger than a business card with a number of seemingly erratic punctures throughout its surface.

Hey kiddo,

Came to visit but heard you were laid up after a fight. Wish I could have watched a magician in a real fight but my boss is a jerk haha!" He might have rolled his eyes, but he understood the desire. "Anyway, like I said before, the Association didn't say anything when I brought your name up so I took that as permission to give you a referral. You should have found another piece of paper, make sure you keep hold of that, it's the referral. Bring it with you to Millieune Carillon's secretary and they'll take it from there.

At the bottom was a mess of swooshes and curves which he assumed to be Bazett's signature.

He didn't recognize the name she mentioned. Nor did he know the name of their secretary. New information to discover at a later date. Examining the referral closer allowed him to see indentations within the center barely visible unless he took advantage of the room's light. Tracing it gave him a more exact view, revealing formalcraft pressed a precise one thousandth of an inch into the paper. Aware of its uniqueness and intricate construction, Shirou carefully set the slip in his room where it wouldn't be damaged and, more importantly, where it wouldn't get tossed out or written on.

Afterwards, he made his way to the cafeteria where he found Illya and Gray seated beside one another pouring over an open notebook. Once his presence was noted, Illya stood and threw out her arms for a soft hug, expressing how good it was to see him moving around again.

"It's only been a few hours, not days," he remarked, settling into his own seat. "Where's Rin?"

Illya shrugged. "Busy I guess." A look toward Gray got him a near identical shrug.

He searched his mind for Rin's schedule for a moment. "She doesn't have any upcoming exams, she wouldn't be studying."

"Maybe she's leading her new friend around. We're obviously just yesterday's paper." Illya shrugged passively, focusing the majority of her attention on her studies.

Shirou furrowed his brow. "New friend? I haven't seen her with anyone new."

Illya turned a page, compared a passage in her notebook, then by Gray's correction erased it so that it could be replaced. "I wasn't being serious. She mentioned having to lead a new student around, that's all." She paused to look up at him without lifting her head. "Are you jealous?"

"Of course," he lied, one easily seen by his sibling. "I just wanted to do my job. I'm supposed to be a bodyguard, not sick in bed. Rin's on my case enough with how often I leave her alone. She'd also let me know how far along she is on completing that geass."

Gray donned a sad gaze. "You truly wish to go through with that? I'd like to believe you're overreacting."

"No risk," Shirou defied coldly, simply. Even if nobody appeared to be listening in, he'd prefer leaving as little information out for anyone to grab hold of.

She could see it was an uphill battle and elected to quit early with a sigh. "I can only hope the terms aren't too invasive."

An awkward silence consumed the table. Gray slowly returned to studying over Illya's shoulder. If nothing else, it gave him time to think. Time to worry. It wasn't like Rin to miss lunch, she enjoyed food as much as Illya and even fervent study for an important exam could be interrupted by one of his dinners.

It didn't sit well with him, but he assuaged his own doubts by reaffirming Rin's strength and intelligence. She was a capable woman, she didn't need him to worry about her like a doting mother. He was growing anxious for no reason, she was bound to turn up come evening.

Listening to the events of Illya and Gray's day made lunch pass quickly. The following afternoon was left for recovery and testing. Testing of his current limitations and the condition of his body. Running through a light exercise routine, he placed his mobility around seventy percent. By the same time tomorrow, he'd be back to peak condition and it wouldn't be a moment too soon. Being vulnerable in any capacity sat wrong with him, but he imagined that was a sentiment shared by any.

Returning to Rin's dorm toward early evening, he found it empty. He waited an hour before Illya arrived and his concern rose. Questioning whether she had seen Rin and receiving the same negative response as earlier, his paranoia returned in full force.

Missing lunch could have been excused in a multitude of harmless ways. Yet, when combined with an absence in the evening, he didn't need his instincts to tell him something was wrong.

Despite Illya's protests, Shirou already set his assumptions and began looking into Rin's whereabouts. Dragging his sister along as a precautionary measure to ensure she wasn't kidnapped as well, the two scoured the halls of the Clock Tower, speaking with professors for Rin's major classes to isolate the exact last moment she was seen.

The last time she was seen by anyone Shirou could find was leaving her first class in curses. According to the professor, one irritable senior woman named Verity Payne, Rin was last seen speaking to and escorting a woman that met her outside the class.

Unfortunately, that was as far as the details went. The strange woman's clothing, appearance or any physical features beyond "tall" were forgotten. Though, considering how difficult it was to make her remember Rin, that didn't come as a surprise.

Using Illya to ask straggling students scattered through the halls gathered no further details. He was operating as close to entirely blind as possible, but that wouldn't stop him from finding Rin.

He worked from the beginning, questioning himself on who would be a likely suspect. Obviously, the only hypothetical leads came from his own enemies looking at a way to get back at him. Working on a worst-case basis to determine just how quickly he needed to move, he settled on Annalliina being the perpetrator, and torture being the effect to Rin. That being the case, moving quickly was too slow, warp speed was the only setting.

Even though Tohsaka lacked a traceable mana signature like Illya, there were still a few potential sources for information he could question for more clues. First and foremost on his list was Octavia, someone with fantastic memory who would be keen on everyone magus entering and exiting the Tower. If Rin walked out, Octavia would have seen her. As he neared the front desk, he received a strange look and the notice of a pending message for him.

"From who?"

"Sender unknown," Octavia replied seamlessly. Furrowing his brow at the unexpected answer, she divulged more detail. "I turned around and a note was sitting on my desk." Shirou waited for her to hand him this note, but the moment never came. Cluing in, she explained that the note itself no longer existed. "I'd set it down over there," a notion accented with a point toward a dark spot staining an otherwise unblemished page. "Then it caught on fire, which was nice." The sarcasm did not go missed, but it did leave Shirou with a question.

"How'd you know it was for me?"

"It was opened already so I read it before it decided to spontaneously combust, thankfully. Don't miss your flight, Shirou was all it said."

He spared a look over his shoulder toward the enforcer nearest the entryway. Locking eyes, the man tilted his head partially. Shirou asked if he'd seen anything, assuming he'd missed the conversation despite being within earshot. He shrugged passively, offering nothing of input until Shirou questioned him further, asking for anything strange at all. "Gust of warm wind nearly ripped the door out of my hand when I was coming in, probably a storm later tonight." Useless, but it was ambitious to think he'd have any information at all.

Even the most clueless couldn't call recent events a coincidence. The cryptic message and the plane tickets were from the same person. His suspicions were now undeniable, the Edelfelt family had taken Rin. Whether their plan was to simply force him to attend their arranged meeting or to use her as a bargaining chip, he'd find out. Until he was certain, he had to assume they would hurt or kill her.

He thanked Octavia and started walking back to Rin's dorm while thoughts and plans swirled his mind. Did he trash the tickets and fly out to Finland immediately? What was their plan with Rin? If he waited-

A few steps behind, Illya tugged at the back of his suit. "Did you figure it out?" When all he responded with was a nod, she tugged at him with more force. He couldn't quite vocalize the events, his mind was moving too fast trying to determine his next moves to hold a conversation. "Then she's been kidnapped. Shouldn't we let the Tower know about this?"

"I don't know," he admitted. It'd been a thought, but he had to consider how effective that would even be. She might have been almost everything to him but to the Tower, Rin wasn't important. Beyond that, it was unlikely for them to mount any sort of force against another magus family unless their actions directly interfered with the Mage's Association itself. That abstinence from any and all drama allowed the Association to avoid getting into inter-family wars, but it clearly failed to aid innocent bystanders. "I think we'll need to handle this on our own."

"Do we have a plan? You still haven't even told me who stole her!"

Directly tying thoughts to mouth, he rattled the current summary. "Annalliina Edelfelt. She's forcing me to attend a meeting she'd already arranged. She'd been paying off magi to mess with me but I never thought she'd do something like this right in the Tower."

Illya released her grip and continued following behind. "So we're going?" It was an understandably heavy decision. Storming the manor of a mercenary magus family suspected of kidnapping his loved one would be extremely dangerous for himself, let alone for anyone with him. At the same time, if he left Illya alone, who was to say the kidnapper wouldn't return to take her? Worse would be the waning chance that Annalliina wasn't the perpetrator and he lost the two most important people left in his life. Following a pause of thought, he nodded. "Then I can go get Lectra and Gray, we-"

"No," he quickly interrupted. To keep some notion of privacy, he switched from English to speak in Japanese. "If you aren't close to me, there's a chance they could take you too. Besides, I can't trust Lectra right now."

Switching languages to match, Illya's tone became incredulous. "You're not even going to tell them?"

"For all I know, Lectra was a part of this entire plan. If I'd been there with Rin doing my job, this never would have happened. Taking advantage of the one day that I can't be there had to have been planned." He was naive to think the Tower would be insulated from any of their enemies. More naive to forgive someone who had, at one point, been an enemy.

"Ok, alright," Illya maneuvered to his side, finding it difficult to match his pace. "Then we're going on a flight together to wherever this Annalliina is-" He interjected with the missing detail, already working out that part of the plan in his head. "Finland, wherever, but we're going alone, without any help into what's absolutely a trap to get you killed?"

"The Edelfelt family has a long history of mercenary work; all of their money comes from it. If I don't go, they'll kill Rin."

"All the more reason to bring backup like, you know, the First Magician? If not her, then Gray, Flat, Svinn or Bazett!"

Of all the names, one jogged his memory. Someone he could trust that also had plenty of experience. He'd need to see how constrained she was with her other duties. The odds weren't favourable but they were better than not reaching out at all. Rather than try to justify his reasoning, he switched angles to make her see it from his perspective. "What if Lectra was a part of this and we brought her along?"

A pause. "She'd backstab us, but-"

"So it'd be worse than just the two of us," he concluded.

A strong pull at his wrist compelled him to stop, turn and face his sister. Staring up with wide eyes, her next words were obvious. "I'm scared."

"I promised the old man that I would protect you. I promised myself that I'd protect Rin." Speaking the words aloud, he realized he'd never vocalized such a promise to the woman herself. Beyond that, he realized that he might never be able to say it to her at all. He wasn't certain which part of that made him feel worse. If fortune smiled on him for once in his life, he'd make sure she knew once she was safe. He pulled his wrist away from her so he could grab her by the shoulders. "I'm not going to break either, but you need to trust me and help me make sure I don't."

After a moment of thought, she nodded. "I'll help you get Rin back, we can do it together."

Thankful she'd made what he believed to be the correct choice, he offered a fleeting grin. "Leave the worst of it to me." Releasing his grip on her, the two continued down the hall.

"What if they kill her? What if she's already dead?"

He'd considered it but tried to avoid fixating on it. Until he discovered it, he could hope and pray for it not to be the case. Summoning rage to force away the unease and fear, he clenched both fists tight. "I'll blow a chunk out of Finland and hunt down every single blood relative of the Edelfelt clan."

… … …

… … …

… … …

Closing the car door once his sister had exited, Shirou turned to face the nipping wind that howled across the beginning of the driveway. Squinting, he traced the winding paved path up to the imposing stone manor that sat at its end. Châteauesque, burgeoning with intricate glass work across four stories and proudly donning the bright green oxidation of a copper roof. To Shirou, only one word would be fitting to describe the emotion such a building exuded: Uninviting.

As he'd expected, Bazett had been occupied. Despite how important the matter as a whole was, she adamantly declared that it would be impossible for her to arrive in time. Her following remark regarding the nearing end of her task was of little consolation. He understood her obligations, but he had to question why he was paying her if he couldn't rely on her. It would be a point he'd need to make once he returned to London with Rin.

"It's eerily familiar," Illya announced. "Reminds me of the Einzbern castle."

"I've never been," Shirou replied offhand, grimacing at both the hostile Aura and the weather.

The girl shrugged and stuffed her hands into her furred coat. "It was similar, only sharper, taller. The roof was blue and everything was covered in snow all the time."

Shirou furrowed his brow. "If it was covered in snow, how did you know the roof was blue?"

The response was as automatic as breathing, as if it came from a disconnected part of her. "Acht made certain the grounds were kept spotless."

"Maybe they do the same." Ahead, some ten feet away beyond the shoulder of the approach, sat a large iron gate, closed but not impassable. "So much for being invited guests," Shirou murmured, walking toward the gate. Arm's reach away, he traced the structure and found a bounded field at its threshold. Taking the time to dissect its purpose and construction, he dubbed it as a simple alarm-type field.

"No dinner then?"

He shook his head and tried to open the gate, finding it locked or otherwise stuck in place. "We'll have to jump over and walk. They'll know we're coming."

Looking at him as if for confirmation, Shirou nodded his head toward the gate. "I'll help you over."

While she approached, he slid his hand between the pickets to skim the bounded field, activating its effect. As anticipated, nothing tangible occurred. Throwing Illya over without confirming seemed foolish. Once near, he lifted her up and guided her over the gate onto the other side. He was quickly after, marking the start of their hike to the Edelfelt manor. Along the way, he traced both the suit Bazett had made for him and the gloves donned by the woman herself. If they'd be ambushed, he'd prefer being prepared.
After ten minutes of walking they neared the front door; a grand double door display of affluence featuring intricate frosted glass work and skilled carpentry. Admiring the architecture and preparing himself, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he reflexively threw out his arm to shield Illya behind himself.

The doors produced a soft click and swung inwards, revealing a casually suited man. Tieless, wrinkled with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow to reveal colorful tattoos. Wild, untrimmed hair parted by a pale scar that ran halfway along the top of his head. "Don't try anything kid." What was everyone's inflation with calling him a kid? "You're being watched, but that's not what you should be worried about."

Twitching his head to the side, a familiar figure stepped out from behind him into view.

Gritting his teeth, anger boiled within Shirou's chest and warped his face. The puzzle pieces began to fall into place one by one. "Hali, or should I say, Amber?"

---

I know if I were you, I'd hate to be left on such a cliff hanger. Hopefully for you, I'll get my ass in gear and produce something before the new year! Maybe if I impose a deadline for the next chapter for myself, it might inspire me to actually get something out before I break my promises. Problem with that might be that I release something of worse quality than usual to fit the time constraint...

Oh well, we'll see how it goes and if it gets too long, I'll set a deadline.

As usual, please remember to favourite, follow, thank Talndir and leave a comment questioning how "The Hound" acquires his name and if you'll see its origin in the next chapter or not!