The capital city of Veludylun basked in the golden light of the afternoon sun. A peaceful, serene kingdom, Veludylun was the heart of prosperity and culture, where cobblestone streets brimmed with life and laughter. Market vendors called out to passersby, the rich scents of roasted meats and spiced fruits filling the air. Children darted through the crowds, their joyous cries blending with the sounds of ringing bells and clinking armor as knights marched through the city's square, heading toward their daily drills.
At the heart of the city stood the king's grand palace, its white towers stretching proudly into the sky, an emblem of strength and peace. Citizens looked to it with reverence, knowing that their ruler, kind yet firm, had nurtured this tranquil life for decades. Nearby, the young knights of Veludylun, dedicated and passionate, trained tirelessly in the castle's courtyard, hoping to one day uphold the kingdom's legendary might. Among them were Saria Blance, Arena Alseif, Mea Hartlean, and Rize Mknest—four talented knights, each one filled with ambition, bravery, and the desire to protect their homeland.
But fate had other plans for Veludylun.
The skies, once clear and endless, darkened without warning. Heavy, oppressive clouds rolled in, and an eerie silence fell over the city. Then came the roar. It was a sound unlike any other—a deep, guttural howl that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth. Windows rattled, and the citizens of Veludylun froze, their gazes shifting upwards in terror as a massive shadow blotted out the sun.
It came swiftly, descending upon the capital like a storm. The red dragon, a beast of legend long thought to exist only in myth, was real. Its wings, wide enough to eclipse the palace itself, beat furiously, sending powerful gusts of wind that toppled carts and sent people scrambling for cover. Its scales shimmered with the glow of fire, a deep crimson hue that spoke of ancient power and unrelenting rage.
With a single powerful exhale, the dragon released a torrent of flame, the likes of which had never been seen. The fire consumed entire buildings in seconds, the once-beautiful stone structures crumbling under the heat. The screams of terrified civilians filled the air, blending with the sickening crackle of burning wood and stone. Those who could ran for their lives, but many were caught in the beast's initial strike—men, women, children, all reduced to ash as the dragon's fury raged on.
The city guards, brave but unprepared, charged toward the beast. Their swords and shields, though crafted with care, seemed insignificant before the dragon's size and power. The beast met their efforts with brutal efficiency, sweeping its tail across the square and sending knights flying like ragdolls. Its claws tore through armor as though it were paper, and its fiery breath reduced seasoned warriors to nothing more than smoldering remains.
Amid the chaos, Saria Blance and her fellow knights, Arena, Mea, and Rize, stood their ground. The sight of their beloved city falling into ruin spurred them into action. They knew they had to fight back, no matter how hopeless the odds seemed.
"Saria, we need to regroup!" Rize shouted over the deafening roar of the flames and the dragon's growls, her dark hair whipping in the wind as she unsheathed her sword. Beside her, Mea stood ready, gripping her twin short swords tightly, her gaze locked on the towering beast. Rize's sharp eyes scanned the battlefield, calculating, looking for any possible weakness.
"We need to draw it away from the civilians!" Saria commanded, her voice filled with determination. She was the leader of their group, a knight with a heart of steel. Her long red hair flowed behind her as she charged forward, brandishing her sword. "If we can keep it busy, the others can evacuate the people."
The knights moved as one, rushing toward the dragon with the full force of their training and skill. They knew that they couldn't defeat the dragon alone, but if they could at least slow it down, there was a chance to save what was left of the city.
Their swords clashed against the dragon's scales with a sound like metal on stone, sparks flying from the impact. But no matter how hard they struck, the dragon seemed impervious. It swiped at them with massive claws, and they narrowly dodged, their reflexes honed from years of discipline and combat. For every move they made, the dragon was faster, stronger—relentless in its assault.
As the battle dragged on, the dragon let out another roar, more furious this time, and took to the skies once more. It circled the capital, its shadow casting doom over what remained of the city. The knights below could only watch as it prepared for another onslaught.
"We can't keep this up," Mea muttered, her breath labored as she wiped sweat and blood from her brow. "It's too strong."
"There has to be a way," Arena replied, her voice steady despite the growing despair in her chest. "We just need time..."
Then, an idea sparked in Saria's mind—a desperate, dangerous idea. "The trebuchet," she whispered to herself before turning to the others. "We need to hit it with the trebuchet!"
Arena's eyes widened. "Are you serious? That thing hasn't been used in years—there's no guarantee it'll work!"
"We don't have a choice!" Saria snapped. "We can't beat it head-on. But if we can distract it long enough and aim for its head..."
Rize and Mea exchanged glances before nodding. They didn't have any better options.
With a hurried command, the knights split into two groups. Saria and Arena would draw the dragon's attention, keeping it focused on them while Rize and Mea would rush to the old trebuchet stationed near the city's walls. It was a relic of past wars, large and powerful, but it had not been used in battle for many years.
As the dragon prepared for another fiery attack, Saria and Arena shouted and waved their swords, taunting the beast, daring it to chase them. It worked. With another roar, the dragon swooped down, its deadly focus locked on the two knights.
Meanwhile, Rize and Mea reached the trebuchet. The old mechanism groaned as they worked together to reload it, every second feeling like an eternity. They managed to load a large stone and aimed as best they could at the dragon's head, waiting for the perfect moment.
"Now!" Rize shouted as she released the lever.
The massive stone shot through the air with a thunderous sound, cutting through the smoke and flames. The dragon, distracted by Saria and Arena's taunts, never saw it coming. The projectile struck its head with a sickening crack, and for the first time, the dragon faltered. Its wings flapped erratically as it let out a deafening roar of pain, staggering mid-air.
Saria and Arena, breathless and wounded, watched as the dragon, dazed and injured, rose into the sky one last time before retreating into the mountains. The beast had been driven off, but at great cost.
The city of Veludylun lay in ruins, its once-beautiful streets reduced to rubble, its people left broken and grieving. Yet amidst the ashes, the four knights stood tall—alive, bloodied, but victorious.
As the dust settled and the red dragon's deafening roar faded into the distant mountains, the capital of Veludylun lay smoldering in the aftermath of the battle. The once-proud city was now a shadow of its former self—its streets, lined with charred rubble, and its people, mourning their dead and tending to the wounded. Though the citizens of Veludylun had been spared complete destruction, the devastation was still raw.
But amid the ruin, there was a sense of solemn triumph. Against all odds, the dragon had been driven off, and that victory was owed in large part to the bravery and quick thinking of four young knights. Saria Blance, Arena Alseif, Mea Hartlean, and Rize Mknest stood together at the heart of the city square, their faces streaked with ash, their armor dented and scorched, but their spirits unbroken. They had endured a battle unlike any they had ever faced before—and they had survived.
Word of their actions spread swiftly through the city. The people whispered of their heroism, how they had faced down the monstrous beast with courage and determination, how they had used the ancient trebuchet to strike the dragon and force its retreat. These tales reached the King himself, and he wasted no time in summoning the four knights to the palace.
As the sun set on the ruined capital, casting a warm orange glow over the broken towers and scorched earth, the knights made their way to the palace, escorted by what remained of the city guard. The mood was somber but hopeful, a fragile feeling of relief beginning to take hold.
The King awaited them in the grand throne room, a vast chamber that had somehow survived the dragon's rampage. Tall, marble columns stretched toward the ceiling, adorned with banners bearing the kingdom's emblem—though many of them were now singed and tattered from the battle. The knights stood before their sovereign, their heads bowed in respect, as the King rose from his throne.
King Veludylun, a man of imposing stature with a long silver beard and wise, battle-hardened eyes, gazed down at them. His expression was one of deep gratitude, but there was a weight in his voice as he spoke.
"My people suffered greatly today," he began, his voice echoing through the hall. "Our city was burned, our homes destroyed, and many lives were lost. But amidst this tragedy, we found hope. Hope in the form of four brave knights who stood against the darkness when all seemed lost."
The knights raised their heads as the King continued, his tone softening with respect. "Saria Blance, Arena Alseif, Mea Hartlean, and Rize Mknest—your actions saved this city from complete annihilation. You fought not just with your swords, but with your minds, devising a strategy that brought down a force far greater than any one knight could face alone."
He stepped down from his throne, walking toward the four women. The hall was silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. As he approached them, his gaze softened. "For your valor, for your cleverness, and for your unwavering commitment to protecting this kingdom, I hereby grant you a new title. From this day forward, you shall be known as the Dragon Knights, defenders of Veludylun."
At his words, there was a collective gasp from the court. The title of Dragon Knight was one of great honor, reserved for only the most exceptional warriors in the kingdom's history. It was a title steeped in legend and prestige—one that had not been bestowed upon anyone in generations.
The King motioned to one of his advisors, who approached with four ornate badges, each shaped like a dragon's head and forged from gleaming silver. He presented one to each of the knights in turn.
"Saria Blance," the King said, handing her the first badge. "Your leadership and courage guided your comrades through the flames."
Saria bowed her head as she accepted the badge, her heart swelling with a mixture of pride and humility. She had always dreamed of protecting the kingdom, but never had she imagined she would be honored in such a way.
"Arena Alseif," the King continued, moving to the second knight. "Your strength and bravery in the face of the dragon's fury inspired all who fought alongside you."
Arena accepted her badge with a quiet nod, her usual fiery confidence tempered by the gravity of the moment.
"Mea Hartlean," the King said, addressing the third knight. "Your wisdom and calm under pressure were instrumental in this victory."
Mea, ever composed, bowed gracefully as she received her badge, though even she could not hide the flicker of pride in her eyes.
"Rize Mknest," the King finished, handing the final badge to the fourth knight. "Your strategic mind and quick thinking helped turn the tide of this battle."
Rize took her badge with a firm nod, her calculating gaze betraying a hint of satisfaction. She had always valued precision and intellect above all else, and this recognition was a testament to her skills.
As the King stepped back, the four knights stood tall, their new badges gleaming in the fading light. The court erupted into applause, and for a moment, the weight of the day's tragedy lifted. In the midst of the destruction, these four women had risen to become the defenders of their kingdom—a new hope in dark times.
The King raised his hand, and the hall fell silent once more. "But this is not the end," he said, his voice somber. "The dragon may have been driven off, but it will return. When it does, we will need you—the Dragon Knights—to stand against it once more. And this time, we will be ready."
The gravity of his words settled over the hall. The dragon had been wounded, not defeated, and its return was inevitable. But now, with the Dragon Knights standing at the forefront, there was hope. Hope that, when the time came, Veludylun would be ready to face the beast once again.
As the knights bowed before their king, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ruined city. The battle had been won, but the war was far from over.
The endless expanse of steel and swords stretched out before EMIYA, as vast and eternal as the number of regrets that haunted his existence. The sky above was an empty hue, stained by a crimson glow that reflected the twisted nature of his Reality Marble—his personal domain, an endless field of weapons and destruction. Here, time itself felt meaningless. Here, he was alone, awaiting his next duty as a Counter Guardian.
He sat atop a cold, jagged rock, his form motionless save for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. In this timeless void, the waiting was unbearable. His entire existence had been reduced to this—waiting for Alaya's summons, waiting to be called upon to kill, to destroy, all in the name of humanity's survival. The irony was not lost on him. The ideals that once fueled his younger self, the naive, burning desire to save others, had been perverted into a nightmare.
Still, in this fleeting moment of stillness, his mind wandered back to the past. It always did. Even after countless missions as a Counter Guardian, the memories of the Fifth Holy Grail War remained vivid, etched deep within his soul.
He closed his eyes and let himself be taken back to that moment in time—to the day he was summoned as Archer by Rin Tohsaka. The day he saw *her* again, his old friend, brimming with the same confidence and fiery will she had always possessed. When he was first summoned, he had been disoriented, his memories a fragmented mess, as though his past and future were scattered fragments of broken glass.
But slowly, piece by piece, his memories had returned. With each battle fought during the Holy Grail War, with each Servant he faced, he remembered more. And with those memories came the bitter weight of his choices.
The one memory that stood out the most, the one that still haunted him even now, was his confrontation with his younger self—Shirou Emiya.
'That boy…' EMIYA thought, his lips curling into a faint, almost wistful smile. 'He was always so stubborn.'
He remembered their clash at the Einzbern Castle. The battle had been as much of a conflict of ideals as it was of swords. EMIYA had attacked relentlessly, using every weapon at his disposal—both physical and philosophical—to shatter the naive dreams of his younger self. He wanted to crush the ideal that Shirou held so tightly—the same ideal that had ultimately led EMIYA to his eternal torment.
A Hero of Justice. A title that Shirou believed in so strongly, so foolishly.
EMIYA had tried to make him see the truth: that such ideals were nothing but a fairy tale, a fleeting dream that could never be achieved. He had wanted to show Shirou the path of regret, the endless cycle of killing, the compromises, and the pain that came with the title. He wanted to prove that the dream of saving everyone was impossible.
And yet, Shirou had not wavered.
Despite EMIYA's blade cutting down his words, despite the cruel reality that stood before him, Shirou had stood firm in his beliefs. His younger self had fought back with every ounce of strength he possessed, matching EMIYA blow for blow, not only with his sword but with his conviction. It was infuriating—and yet, inspiring.
In the end, Shirou's stubbornness had won. It wasn't his skill with a blade or his magic that had turned the tide—it was his unshakable belief in his ideals. EMIYA had forgotten what that felt like, what it meant to truly believe in something, no matter how impossible it seemed. And in that moment, standing before his younger self, he remembered.
He had once held those ideals too. He had once dreamed of being a Hero of Justice, of saving others at any cost.
'That boy...' EMIYA thought again, the bitterness in his heart softening. Shirou's stubborn idealism had reignited something long lost within him. For a fleeting moment, EMIYA had found hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't all for nothing. That even if his ideals were impossible to achieve, they were still worth striving for.
But that moment of clarity had come and gone, as fleeting as the wind.
And now… here I am* EMIYA mused, his fingers tightening into a fist against the cold steel of the rock beneath him. His life as a Counter Guardian was far from the heroism he had once dreamed of. His duty now was simple—kill, destroy, and repeat. There was no salvation in this endless cycle, no hope for redemption. But still, he persisted. Because that was all he knew.
As if on cue, the familiar presence of Alaya stirred within his Reality Marble.
He could feel her, the embodiment of humanity's collective will to survive, her presence vast and indifferent. She did not appear in a physical form—she never needed to. Her voice echoed around him, a cold, distant whisper that reverberated through the endless field of blades.
"Your next mission awaits."
EMIYA let out a sigh. He knew what was coming. There was no point in resisting it—he had tried before, and it had only led to more destruction. His role as a Counter Guardian was a contract bound by the very nature of his existence. He couldn't refuse.
"And what is it this time?" EMIYA asked, his voice tinged with resignation. "Another corrupt civilization? A massacre to prevent? Or maybe another so-called hero who needs to be silenced?"
There was no emotion in Alaya's response, only cold, calculated words. "A red dragon has attacked the capital city of Veludylun. You are to eliminate the threat."
EMIYA raised an eyebrow. 'A dragon?' That was different from his usual assignments. Most of the time, he was sent to wipe out rogue mages or stop calamities that threatened humanity's future. Dragons were rare, even in the most chaotic timelines.
"Veludylun?" he asked, curiosity creeping into his voice. "Which timeline is this?"
"A world outside the conventional flow of time," Alaya replied curtly. "You will not need to concern yourself with the details. The only thing that matters is that this dragon poses a significant threat to humanity's survival."
EMIYA sighed again. Of course, she wouldn't give him more information than necessary. She never did. He stood up, brushing the dust from his black and red cloak as he mentally prepared himself for yet another battle.
"So, I'm slaying a dragon, then," he muttered to himself. "Wonderful."
There was a pause before he asked, "And this dragon? What makes it so special that it requires *me* to deal with it?"
Alaya's response was as vague as ever. "You will understand when you arrive."
With that, EMIYA felt the familiar pull of Alaya's power as it began to drag him from his Reality Marble, tearing him away from the eternal field of swords. The cold air around him shifted, and the crimson hue of his personal domain faded into darkness.
He clenched his fists, bracing himself for whatever was to come next. No matter how much he tried to prepare, there was always an unease that came with these missions—a sense that he was being thrown into the unknown, a pawn in a much larger game.
As the void consumed him and reality began to shift, EMIYA allowed one last thought to cross his mind.
'Shirou… you'd probably try to save the dragon, wouldn't you?'
With a wry smile on his lips, he vanished from the Reality Marble, ready to face the next battle.
EMIYA materialized at the edge of a barren field, a gust of wind sweeping through the overgrown grass as he stood still, surveying the desolate landscape around him. The sound of rustling leaves was the only indication of life in this otherwise quiet stretch of wilderness. This place felt empty, hollow, as if something had long since sapped the life from the land itself.
For a moment, EMIYA remained motionless, allowing his surroundings to settle into his mind. His gaze trailed across the horizon, noting the distant shapes of mountains that stood like watchful sentinels, while far ahead, the faint outline of a village emerged through the haze.
His first realization, however, was not of the scenery but of himself. There was something… off. He flexed his hand, the feel of his fingers moving and the way his muscles responded felt strangely different. He wasn't wearing the usual spectral form of a Counter Guardian; instead, it seemed he had been summoned into a human body—flesh and blood, bound by mortal limitations.
His brow furrowed. Instinctively, he tried to shift into his spirit form, the intangible state that allowed him to move through physical space unseen, but nothing happened. He frowned, testing his physical capabilities, only to find that his strength and agility remained intact. Despite the restriction on his ethereal abilities, his stats were untouched.
'Strange…' EMIYA thought, glancing down at his hand again. 'It seems I'm in a human body, yet I retain my strength. What is Alaya up to?'
As he let out a slow breath, the reality of his new mission crept back into his thoughts. His purpose here was simple—slay the red dragon. That was the task. He had no reason to care for anything else.
He sighed, letting the wind carry away his thoughts. *But first… I need information.*
With no map and only the vague knowledge that Alaya had provided him—he knew nothing of this world beyond the city of Veludylun and the threat of the dragon. If he was to face this beast, he would need a better understanding of the world he'd been thrown into.
His gaze shifted to the small village in the distance. It was the most logical place to start.
Without another word, he set off toward the village, his steps deliberate and quiet as he crossed the uneven terrain. The closer he got, the more a sinking feeling began to settle in his gut. Something was wrong.
As he approached the outskirts, the faint scent of blood filled the air, carried on the wind. He paused, narrowing his eyes. His instincts flared, sharpening his senses as the village came into clearer view. It was worse than he had imagined.
The sight that greeted him was nothing short of horrific.
The village had been ravaged, its once modest homes burned or broken. Scattered across the ground were the bodies of villagers—men mostly, their throats slit, their bodies twisted in pools of blood. Some had tried to fight back, their hands still clutching makeshift weapons, but it was clear they had stood no chance.
Further in, the sounds of weeping and cruel laughter echoed from what remained of the village square. EMIYA's sharp gaze followed the source of the sounds, his expression hardening.
Women—dozens of them—were being brutalized, their cries barely audible over the grunts of the bandits who ravaged them. The sight of their deadened expressions, the way some had detached from reality to cope with the horror, twisted something deep within EMIYA's chest. And then, there were the children—locked away in wooden cages, their faces smeared with tears, their eyes wide with terror.
His hands curled into fists. This kind of scene… he had seen it before. Many times.
The bandits moved about the village, their ill-gotten spoils of war slung over their shoulders, laughing among themselves as they further violated the villagers. To them, this was nothing more than another raid—a display of power over the weak, a means to indulge in cruelty without consequence.
EMIYA turned his back to the scene momentarily, closing his eyes.
This wasn't his mission. His target was the dragon, and wasting time here would only delay him from completing his task. These people were not part of his duty, and as a Counter Guardian, his priorities lay in preventing large-scale calamities, not small, senseless violence like this. He had no obligation to intervene. None.
And yet, as the cries of the children filled his ears again, something in him stirred.
He knew he should walk away. There was nothing to gain by involving himself in this mess. This world, these people—they weren't his concern. But in the deepest recesses of his mind, something tugged at him. A voice from long ago, one he had once lived by, echoed faintly.
'I want to be a Hero of Justice.'
His teeth clenched. That ideal was nothing but a distant memory now, something he had long since cast aside, and yet…
He exhaled slowly, his breath steadying. He couldn't save everyone. He knew that. But he could still make a choice here.
'Fine' EMIYA thought, his eyes narrowing as he turned back toward the village. 'One last time.'
With silent resolve, he began to move, his body a blur as he entered the village. His pace quickened, but his steps remained quiet, a shadow in the chaos. The bandits were unaware of his presence until it was too late.
The first man didn't even have time to react.
EMIYA's hand flashed out, grabbing the bandit's throat from behind, cutting off his air before the man could cry out. With a sharp twist, EMIYA snapped his neck and dropped him to the ground, dead before he even realized what had happened.
The others turned, startled by the sudden presence of the stranger.
"Who the hell are you?" one of them growled, drawing a blood-stained sword as he advanced. "You want to die, too?"
EMIYA said nothing, his eyes cold and unyielding as he drew his twin blades—Kanshou and Bakuya—from thin air. The bandits hesitated for a moment, confused by the sudden appearance of weapons, but it didn't take long for their bloodlust to overtake their caution.
Three of them rushed him at once.
In one smooth motion, EMIYA sidestepped the first bandit's swing, his body moving with effortless grace. He spun, his blades flashing through the air in a deadly arc. The first bandit's sword arm was severed cleanly at the elbow, his scream of pain cut short as EMIYA drove Kanshou through his throat, silencing him forever.
The second bandit came at him from the side, trying to catch him off guard. EMIYA didn't even look as he deflected the blow with Bakuya, his movements fluid and precise. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent the man's sword flying from his hand before slashing across his chest, cutting deep into flesh and bone.
The third bandit hesitated, his confidence shattered by the sight of his comrades falling so easily. He turned to run, but EMIYA was faster. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, driving his blade through the man's back with lethal precision.
One by one, the bandits fell, their lives snuffed out with cold efficiency. To EMIYA, this was just another battle, another series of targets to eliminate. His mind was calm, his emotions numb.
But the bandits, emboldened by their numbers, still didn't grasp the threat they were facing. More of them charged at him, thinking they could overwhelm him with sheer force.
EMIYA met them head-on.
His twin blades moved like a storm, cutting down anyone who dared to approach. His swordsmanship was flawless, every strike calculated, every movement efficient. He flowed between his opponents, dodging, parrying, and countering with inhuman speed. The bandits were skilled enough to overpower helpless villagers, but against a man like EMIYA, they were nothing.
The sounds of clashing steel and dying screams filled the air as the battle raged on. One bandit managed to land a blow, his sword grazing EMIYA's shoulder, but it was a minor wound—barely worth acknowledging. In retaliation, EMIYA disarmed him with a flick of his wrist and followed up with a brutal slash across his abdomen, spilling blood onto the dirt.
The remaining bandits, seeing their comrades slaughtered with such ease, began to falter. Fear crept into their eyes, and one by one, they turned and fled, leaving their ill-gotten spoils behind in their haste to escape.
But EMIYA wasn't finished.
With a grim expression, he chased down those who ran, cutting them down without mercy. By the time he was done, the village was silent once more, save for the quiet sobs of the surviving villagers.
Breathing heavily, EMIYA surveyed the aftermath. Bodies littered the ground, the once-boisterous bandits now reduced to lifeless corpses. The villagers—those who had survived—stared at him with a mixture of awe and fear, too shocked to speak.
EMIYA turned his gaze toward the cages where the children were still trapped. Without a word, he approached them, shattering the locks with a quick swing of his blade. The children stared up at him, wide-eyed, but as the cages opened, they rushed out, running toward their mothers and what few family members remained.
The villagers, mostly women and children, gathered around EMIYA, their expressions a mixture of relief, gratitude, and lingering fear. The few men who had survived the initial assault also stepped forward cautiously, some clutching crude weapons, though they no longer saw EMIYA as a threat. Slowly, the reality of their situation seemed to settle in.
One of the women, her face streaked with dirt and tears, stepped forward, her voice shaky. "Thank you... Thank you for saving us," she whispered, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her hands trembled as she reached out, though she hesitated before actually touching him, as if afraid he might disappear as suddenly as he had appeared.
EMIYA shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. He wasn't used to this. His role as a Counter Guardian was usually to eliminate threats, not to receive thanks for it. The gratitude of those he saved only served as a reminder of the ideals he had long since abandoned—ideals that had once driven him to become a hero in the first place. He had learned the hard way that such ideals were often impossible to fulfill.
"I only did what was necessary," EMIYA said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He stepped away from the woman, his gaze sweeping over the village once more. The bodies of the dead still lay where they had fallen, a stark reminder of the brutality that had taken place here. He could hear the soft sobs of the women who had survived, many of them cradling their children, holding on to whatever fragments of normalcy remained.
One of the surviving villagers, an elderly man with a hunched back, hobbled toward him. "Please, stay a while," the man said, his voice strained with age and exhaustion. "We owe you our lives... we could offer you shelter, food, whatever we have left."
EMIYA shook his head. "I don't need anything," he replied firmly. "I did what I had to do. Nothing more."
The man frowned, his eyes clouded with a mix of confusion and understanding. "Still... it would bring us some comfort, knowing there's someone like you out there, someone willing to stand against... monsters like them."
At the word "monsters," EMIYA's expression hardened. He had fought monsters of many kinds—some born from human cruelty, others from forces beyond human comprehension. In the end, the difference didn't matter. The world was filled with both, and his role, whether he liked it or not, was to eliminate them. It was all he knew now.
"I can't stay," EMIYA said finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. "There's something else I have to deal with. Something far more dangerous."
The man nodded slowly, sensing that there would be no changing his mind. "I see," he murmured. "Then we won't keep you. But there's surely something that we can offer you as sign of our gratitude."
EMIYA hesitated, considering his options. He didn't need material wealth, but if he was to fulfill his mission, he needed more information about this world—its geography, its history, and the political climate that surrounded Veludylun.
"I need information," EMIYA said after a pause. "A map of the country and whatever history you have on Veludylun."
The old man blinked, then quickly nodded, motioning toward one of the few remaining intact houses. "Yes, yes, we have some old maps and records... they're stored in the village elder's house. I'll fetch them for you."
The man hurried off, and a few moments later returned with a worn leather satchel. Inside, EMIYA found a rolled-up map and a thin, weathered book detailing the history of Veludylun.
"Thank you," EMIYA said, tucking the items into his cloak. "This will suffice."
"Are... are you leaving already?" one of the women asked, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and fear. "Won't you stay, just for a little while longer? We don't know what we'll do if more of them come back."
EMIYA glanced at the villagers, but he didn't offer them any comfort. He couldn't afford to stay. The red dragon was still out there, and every moment he lingered was a moment lost in his true mission.
"Like I said, I have something else to take care of," he said firmly. "But you'll be safe for now. They won't be coming back."
"If you say so. Still... We thank you for saving us from those savages." The woman said.
EMIYA gave a slight nod in return, though he said nothing. The words felt hollow, a distant echo of the kind of gratitude that had once meant something to him. Now, it was just part of the cycle—save the people, move on, repeat the process. It was a never-ending chain of missions, each more grueling than the last, and yet none of them ever seemed to bring him any closer to... what? Redemption? Peace? He wasn't even sure anymore.
Without further a due, EMIYA turned away and began walking toward the village's outskirts. His path was clear—armed with the map and information he needed, his next destination was the Capital City of Veludylun itself. Since the dragon attacked that city just recently, perhaps he can get a clue to where it went off after attacking the city.
Somewhere beyond the distant mountains, the red dragon awaited him. That was his true mission. Everything else was just a distraction.
He took one last look at the village—a brief moment of stillness before the chaos of his next battle. Then, without another word, he left the grateful villagers behind. His path was clear, his mind set.
The red dragon wouldn't escape him for long.
Another crossover project that I've been looking forward to write. A few years ago, I used to play the Ryuukishi bloody saga VN when I have a free time because it was the first VN that I have ever played. And after getting to know the Nasuverse through the Fate Stay Night visual novel, I've been trying to write a crossover story between these two series. And finally, I've a developed a plot that act as a bridge to write this story. Not sure if this will get noticed, but it does get noticed then please tell me what you think of the prologue.