FATE/Blood

Fate/Stay Night x Bloodborne Crossover

Chapter 6: Bloodfilled revelations

Shirou's grip tightened on the Saw Spear as he stared down the monstrous form of the giant monster, her fur bristling and glowing under the faint light of the cathedral. Her eyes, once human, now radiated pure ferocity. She was no longer a person, but a beast driven by madness and instinct.

Her claws tore into the ground as she reared back with a deafening roar. Shirou's body tensed—he knew her size didn't mean she was slow. He prepared himself, every muscle coiled for the inevitable strike.

With shocking speed, the beast lunged, her massive arm swinging in a wide arc. Shirou sidestepped just in time, the sound of claws scraping stone ringing in his ears. Her strength was immense—had he hesitated, he would've been crushed.

"Think ahead. Always be ahead."

The monster recovered almost instantly, her other claw coming down with devastating force. Shirou raised his spear horizontally, attempting to block the blow, but the sheer impact sent a jolt through his arms, forcing him back. His boots slid across the floor, barely keeping him upright.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed back, swiping at her with the spear in quick, precise strikes, aiming for her exposed limbs. His blade sliced through fur and skin, drawing thick, dark blood. The giant lupine beast let out an enraged howl, her eyes glowing with fury as she staggered, but the beast only grew more frenzied.

Before he could retreat, it swung again, catching him by the side. The force of her attack sent him crashing into a nearby pillar, pain flaring through his body. Gasping for breath, Shirou forced himself up. The battle had only just begun, and he couldn't let his guard down.

He quickly retrieved a Blood Vial, injecting it into his arm. The warm sensation of healing spread through him as his wounds closed just enough to get him moving again. The beast, sensing weakness, charged at him, her claws outstretched.

"Ten steps ahead. Read her moves. Survive."

Shirou dodged to the side, her claws barely missing his chest. He spun around, slashing at her leg with the Saw Spear. The serrated edge tore through flesh again, the fire from earlier embers still clinging to the blade. Vicar Amelia bellowed in agony, raising both arms to slam down on him.

Shirou's eyes widened. Too fast—!

He jumped back, but Vicar Amelia's arm struck the floor, sending shockwaves that rippled through the ground. The impact knocked him off balance, and before he could recover, her other arm swiped across, hitting him square in the chest. The air was knocked from his lungs as he flew backward, skidding across the stone floor.

For a moment, everything was a blur, the pain clouding his thoughts. But he couldn't stop. Pushing through the agony, he grabbed another vial and injected himself. His body screamed for rest, but his mind focused on survival.

The monster roared again, her body towering over him as she lunged forward, claws slashing downward. Shirou barely managed to roll out of the way, the ground cracking where her claws dug in. He got to his feet, his breath ragged but steady.

"Constantly think ahead… read the oncoming attacks…"

The words echoed in his mind as she swung at him again. This time, Shirou anticipated it. He ducked low, pivoting under her outstretched arm, and slashed his spear at her side. The weapon connected with a satisfying hiss as the fire reignited, searing her flesh.

She howled, staggering back, her body trembling with rage. Shirou pressed the attack, darting in and out with swift, measured strikes. His spear cut into her legs and sides, flames licking her wounds.

She retaliated, her movements growing wilder. She raised both arms and slammed them down, aiming to crush him beneath her weight. But Shirou was ready. He dashed to the side, narrowly avoiding the devastating blow, and countered with a powerful thrust to her back.

"Read, parry, strike back… seconds matter…"

He kept moving, refusing to let her pin him down. Each second was a battle for survival, each strike a desperate gamble. The monster's claws swiped at him from all sides, but Shirou moved with precision, slipping past her monstrous strength and retaliating with calculated strikes.

But she wasn't finished.

With a roar, she swung her arm in a wide arc. Shirou tried to parry it with a well placed shot, but the force and speed of her attack was too much. Her claws slammed into him, sending him crashing into the ground. His body ached, and his vision blurred, but he forced himself up once more.

"Don't let up… don't fear…"

He lit another Fire Paper and charged forward, determination burning in his eyes.

Shirou dashed forward, his spear blazing with renewed intensity as the Fire Paper crackled, enveloping the blade in fiery light. Vicar Amelia's monstrous form loomed ahead, her breath coming out in ragged, bestial snarls. He couldn't afford to lose momentum now—every second he hesitated would give her a chance to crush him.

With a growl of his own, Shirou thrust the spear forward, aiming for the soft flesh of her leg. The blade connected, searing through fur and skin, and the huge beast howled in pain. But she didn't falter—her massive arm swung down again, and this time Shirou was ready. He leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow, and twisted mid-air to land another slash along her exposed side.

"Constantly think ahead. Read the oncoming attacks." His mind raced as he dodged another wild swing from her. He ducked under her massive claws, rolling back on his feet as the ground trembled with her fury. He knew she wouldn't stop—not until one of them fell.

The beast bellowed, her golden fur matted with blood, her frenzied eyes locked on Shirou with murderous intent. She raised her arms to slam the ground once again, but this time, Shirou didn't retreat. He rushed forward, spear held high, and struck before she could bring her arms down.

The spear pierced her shoulder, and Vicar Amelia's roar shook the cathedral walls. She reared back, staggering from the blow, but before Shirou could press his advantage, her other hand came crashing down. It slammed into his side, sending him skidding across the floor.

Pain erupted through his body as he hit the stone wall. Gasping for breath, Shirou reached into his coat, retrieving a Blood Vial and quickly injecting it into his arm. The familiar warmth spread through him, mending his wounds just enough to keep going.

This beast was relentless, closing the distance between them in seconds. Her claws swept down with brutal force, and Shirou barely managed to roll out of the way. His body screamed in protest, but his mind remained sharp, focused on one thing: survival.

"Counterattack ahead of time... prolong survival by even a few more seconds…"

He gripped the spear tighter, blood pumping in his ears. Another swipe came from her—this one aimed at his head—but Shirou ducked, moving with precision. He lashed out with the spear, slashing at her arm. Fire met fur and flesh, sending sparks into the air.

But this monster's size and power made it impossible to bring her down quickly. Her wild attacks kept coming, each blow threatening to overwhelm him. Another swing connected, hitting him in the back and sending him crashing to the ground once again. His vision blurred with pain, but he refused to give in.

Through gritted teeth, Shirou forced himself to his feet, using another vial to heal his battered body. The beast's breathing was labored now, her movements slower, but her rage hadn't diminished. She charged at him with a desperate fury, and Shirou met her head-on.

With a swift movement, he coated the spear in fire once more and lunged. The blade sank deep into its chest, and a shockwave of heat burst from the impact. She howled, thrashing wildly, but Shirou held firm, twisting the spear and driving it deeper.

Blood splattered the ground, and her cries echoed in the cathedral as she finally began to falter. With one last powerful swing, she tried to knock him away, but Shirou anticipated the move. He sidestepped, avoiding the blow, and in a final burst of energy, slashed the spear across her throat.

The monstrous Vicar stumbled, her form collapsing to the ground. Her heavy breathing slowed as the fire from Shirou's weapon burned through her injuries. With one last shudder, she fell still.

Shirou stood there, breathing hard, his body trembling from exhaustion. The air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke, and the cathedral fell into an eerie silence. His spear still glowed faintly, the fire paper's light slowly dying down.

"No fear. No hesitation. Just keep fighting."

He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked down at the fallen creature. Whoever she had once been, there was no saving her now.

With a final plunge towards its head he ended the life of the beast.

He might have an immortal body, but pain is pain, and he never would know if the being who gave him this would rescind or even have a limitation.

Shirou trusted the words of the Doll, just not from WHERE the information came from.

As Vicar Amelia's monstrous form crumbled into stillness, Shirou stood over her, breath ragged, his muscles screaming in protest. The air felt heavier than usual, thick with the remnants of her fading life, and then it came—the surge of blood echoes flowing into him, a rush of foreign power that always followed after such a victory. But this time, there was something different.

Alongside the usual flood of strength came visions—fragments of memories that weren't his own. Disjointed, sharp, and filled with a sense of sorrow and despair. As the echoes filled him, Shirou's vision swam, and he stumbled back, trying to make sense of the overwhelming sensation coursing through his veins.

He caught sight of a small, golden pendant glinting on the ground. Kneeling, he picked it up, the weight of it in his hand heavy with significance. Yet, just like with the echoes, there was something more. As he clutched the pendant, a deep ache welled up inside him, a sadness he couldn't fully comprehend. There was a story behind this trinket—a story of loss.

Then, the world around him shifted. His surroundings blurred, and the familiar pain of Insight struck, searing into his mind like a brand. Shirou gasped, falling to one knee as the visions intensified. Images—unknown, terrifying—flashed before his eyes. Fields of endless swords, stark against the horizon. The air was thick with tension, the clang of steel resonating in his ears. And there, amidst the sea of blades, a figure emerged.

A man, clad in red, his back turned. There was something haunting about him, something that struck a chord deep within Shirou's soul. He had never seen this man before, but it felt like he knew him—like they were connected in a way that defied explanation.

Then the voice came, cold and bitter:

"I̧̳͡ ̲͏͠s͘͢h̢̠͈́o͞u͉l͕͞d̳͏͝ ͢h͉͉͜a̵v̡͡e̖̹͜͠ n̴ev̵̘͢ȩ̶͈̲r͏ ͟beco͙m̴e ̥̤a̟͙ ͡͠h͍͙e̤̝͞r͈̀ơ̯."

The words hit Shirou like a blow to the chest. The regret, the anger, the exhaustion—it was all wrapped up in that one sentence. Shirou's breath caught in his throat as the vision intensified. The man in red stood alone, his back straight, but his aura radiated loneliness, weariness. And then, as the vision warped, Shirou saw him—saw that same figure—being led to a gallows.

The scene was haunting, surreal. The man's hands were bound, a noose was put around his neck. He was being hung—executed—by unseen forces. For what crime? Shirou couldn't fathom. But the bitterness in the man's heart was palpable.

"Who is this...?" Shirou thought, his heart pounding. "Why do I feel like I should know him?"

The pain in his head sharpened as more images flooded his mind—noble phantasms, unfamiliar and yet somehow familiar, filling his mind in a chaotic swirl. He saw swords—hundreds of them—being summoned, wielded with impossible precision, each one more deadly than the last. But the man in red didn't wield them with pride. He wielded them out of necessity, each blade a symbol of survival, of something forced upon him.

"What is this…?" Shirou groaned, clutching his head as the pain intensified. The knowledge, the insight—it was too much, too fast. The world spun, and he collapsed to his knees, barely managing to keep his focus. And through it all, the voice rang out again, that same bitter tone laced with despair.

"I̧̳͡ ̲͏͠s͘͢h̢̠͈́o͞u͉l͕͞d̳͏͝ ͢h͉͉͜a̵v̡͡e̖̹͜͠ n̴ev̵̘͢ȩ̶͈̲r͏ ͟beco͙m̴e ̥̤a̟͙ ͡͠h͍͙e̤̝͞r͈̀ơ̯"

Shirou's hand trembled as he reached out, trying to push away the visions, trying to make sense of the flood of emotions crashing through him. Who was this man? And why did he seem so… familiar? The swords, the sorrow, the resentment—they all felt like pieces of a puzzle he hadn't yet solved.

A chant began:

"I̟͘͘ ̸̦̝ḁ͈m̲͈ ̡̕th͠e̶̥ ́b̨̰̪o̷͉̘̕ne̵͜ ̫o̹͘f̢ ̢̤̝my͍ ̹̩s̴̠̪ẁo͏́rd̟̬…͠"

The words reverberated in his skull, each syllable echoing with a weight that dragged Shirou further down into the depths of the vision. But he refused to give in. He pushed against it, forced the images away, and after what felt like an eternity, the vision began to fade.

"S͇̲t͎è̖͝e̛̙͖l̠ ̴̝̫i̡̮̪͟s̴̢͖̰ ̲́͡ṃ̹͝y̘̮ ̴b̢͈̻͟ǫ̪̝dy̠͉ a̴n̨͇͟d ̯̱͏f̞͔͏i͜͜r̲͘e͡͝ i͜͞s̴͢ ̥͍͝m͕͉͠y͝ ̞so̱̲u̧̞̲l̤̫͠"

With a final, gasping breath, Shirou fell forward, catching himself on his hands as the last remnants of the insight ebbed away. He was back in the cathedral. The golden pendant still clenched tightly in his fist, his body drenched in sweat, trembling from the strain. His mind was still reeling, the echo of that voice—of that regret—lingering in his thoughts.

Slowly, he forced himself to stand, his legs shaky but steadying with each breath. He looked down at Vicar Amelia's still form, the silence of the cathedral pressing in around him. Whatever he had just seen, whatever those flashes of memory were, he knew they were significant. That man in red—whoever he was—had a connection to this nightmare, or maybe even to himself.

But Shirou refused to let it stop him. He tightened his grip on the pendant and squared his shoulders. He wasn't going to let this nightmare break him. Whoever that man was, whatever his regret, Shirou had his own path to walk.

"I won't end up like him," Shirou thought, determination burning through the lingering pain. "I won't regret becoming a hero."

With that resolve, Shirou turned and made his way out of the cathedral. There was still so much left to uncover, and so many more lives hanging in the balance. He would fight, not for himself, but for those who couldn't. For the people trapped in this twisted world, and for the ones waiting for him back home.

Shirou staggered, his knees buckling as the rush of Insight hit him like a wave crashing down. The overwhelming visions, the snippets of a man hanging from a gallows, regretful words echoing in his mind—"I should have never become a hero."—tore through him, shaking his resolve. His breath hitched, and a sharp ache pulsed at his temples. He had never heard those words before, yet they resonated with him in a way that sent a shiver down his spine.

He collapsed against the cold stone floor, clutching his head. The flood of unfamiliar images—techniques, weapons, strategies—all bombarded his mind. They weren't his memories, but they clung to him, their weight dragging him down into a spiral of confusion. The sheer force of it made his limbs tremble, his vision dimming at the edges.

And yet, amidst the pain, something began to change.

He didn't notice it at first—the small, invisible golden motes that seemed to flicker in the air around him, faint and nearly imperceptible. They floated toward him, almost drawn to his suffering. As they touched his skin, there was no flare of light, no dramatic display of healing. Instead, the motes quietly, gently eased the pressure within his mind.

The splitting headache slowly dulled, like a fog lifting. The sharp, jagged edges of the visions that had torn at his psyche began to soften, their intensity lessening. The weight of the foreign knowledge still lingered, but it no longer suffocated him. His breathing steadied, and the trembling in his limbs subsided.

He sat there, unaware of the golden motes that continued to fade into him, working quietly to stitch together the damage from the Insight. His thoughts cleared, and the overwhelming nausea began to settle.

Shirou pushed himself up, shaking off the lingering exhaustion. Though the intensity of what he'd seen remained in the back of his mind, the oppressive pressure that had threatened to overwhelm him was gone. He didn't know why the pain had receded so quickly, but for now, he was simply grateful for the reprieve.

He exhaled slowly, his body feeling lighter as if the weight pressing down on him had been lifted ever so slightly. Bracing himself, Shirou stood up once more, steadying his resolve. The visions might haunt him for a while, but he couldn't let that stop him. There was still much to do.

Shirou stood panting, his body aching from the fierce battle with Vicar Amelia. The beast had fallen, leaving only a stillness in the cathedral that felt unnatural. He wiped a streak of blood from his cheek, scanning the now-quiet chamber. The immense, grotesque form of Amelia lay motionless before the altar, her golden pendant still clutched in his hand.

The pendant glimmered faintly in the dim light, but Shirou's attention drifted past it to the altar ahead. He hadn't noticed it before, its presence overshadowed by the monstrous beast that had guarded it. Now, in the eerie quiet, it seemed to call to him, its surface marked with symbols that stirred a sense of unease deep in his gut.

Cautiously, Shirou stepped forward, his boots echoing softly on the cold stone floor. He approached the altar, the pendant still in his grasp, and for a moment he hesitated. It was as though something was waiting to happen, the air itself holding its breath.

His fingers brushed the surface of the altar. The stone was cool under his touch, but the moment he made contact, a subtle tremor ran through the ground. He pulled back slightly, watching as faint light danced across the altar's surface, illuminating the strange symbols etched into it.

Suddenly, the room around him began to darken. Shirou's eyes flicked to the cathedral's high windows, expecting to see the warm afternoon sun that had greeted him when he entered. But the golden glow of late day was gone. In its place, the deep blue and violet hues of twilight had set in, the world outside now shrouded in night.

"How…? When did it turn to night?" Shirou thought, blinking in surprise. He couldn't recall seeing the sun lower as he fought, the light remaining constant even as the battle dragged on. It was as though time had been suspended, the daylight waiting for something—waiting for this moment.

The darkness outside seemed thicker than it should have been, oppressive and cold, pressing against the stained glass. His sense of time felt distorted. Hours could have passed without him realizing it, or perhaps mere moments. But now, with the light fading and night claiming Yharnam, something had shifted.

Shirou turned back to the altar, feeling the weight of the moment settle heavily on his shoulders. Whatever had just occurred, this place—this altar—was more than it seemed. He couldn't shake the sense that his path forward had changed, and that whatever awaited him in the deepening night was going to test him even further.

He closed his hand around the pendant, steeling himself for what lay ahead.

Shirou stepped away from Vicar Amelia's fallen form, still catching his breath after the brutal fight. The great beast had been relentless, but now the cathedral stood silent once more, save for the soft echo of his footsteps. The eerie altar ahead caught his eye, a strange pull drawing him towards it.

I wonder what this is… he thought, as he walked toward the altar.

Resting atop the altar was a large, ancient-looking skull. Without thinking, his hand reached out and touched it. As soon as his fingers made contact, a flood of visions and whispers filled his mind, clouding his thoughts with unsettling images and voices.

Fear the Old Blood… a voice echoed in his mind, distorted and ancient.

Shirou pulled back, a strange shiver running down his spine. He glanced toward the tall windows of the Grand Cathedral. Outside, the glow of late afternoon had deepened into dusk. He hadn't realized just how long he had been fighting—it was as though time itself had been held at bay until that very moment. The sky, which had been bathed in fading sunlight, now surrendered to the encroaching darkness.

Steeling himself, Shirou turned and made his way back to the Cathedral Ward, taking the familiar route that led past the Oedon Chapel. The streets were eerily quiet now, the earlier frenzy of beasts subdued, as though they too were awaiting something.

When he reached the gate on the far left side of the Cathedral Ward, he found it still shut, the same door that had blocked him before. He hesitated for a moment, recalling the words from the vision. He approached the door cautiously, half expecting nothing to happen. But as he got closer, a voice from the other side called out, low and grave, "What is the password?"

For a moment, Shirou stood still, startled. The words that had been forced into his mind now rose to his lips.

"Fear the Old Blood," he said, his voice steady.

There was a soft, creaking sound, and the heavy door slowly opened before him. On the other side, a figure slumped lifelessly in a chair. It took Shirou a second to realize it was a corpse. It seemed whoever had been asking for the password had been long dead.

He stepped past the body and into the dimly lit tunnel beyond. The air grew colder, and a dense fog hung in the air as if the very land ahead was drenched in secrecy. Ahead of him, winding paths and twisted trees loomed in the distance, marking the entrance to a new area—the Forbidden Woods.

Shirou tightened his grip on his weapon, the unsettling chill of the place sinking deep into his bones.

This place… it feels different, he thought as he moved forward. Whatever lay ahead, he could sense that things were about to become even more dangerous.

But he had no choice. He had to keep moving. Whatever nightmare was unfolding in Yharnam, he needed to unravel it, piece by piece.

The Forbidden Woods were unlike anything Shirou had seen before in Yharnam, a vast, foreboding wilderness that seemed to sprawl endlessly in every direction. Dense, ancient trees reached skyward, their twisted branches forming a dark, tangled canopy that blotted out much of the fading light, casting everything in a murky gloom. The air here was thick with moisture, carrying the earthy scent of decaying leaves and damp soil, mixed with something more acrid—the stench of blood and death that lingered over the land.

The ground beneath his feet was uneven, littered with jagged rocks, exposed roots, and patches of thick, wild underbrush that clawed at his legs as he pushed forward. Mist clung to the forest floor, swirling around his ankles like tendrils of smoke, hiding the uneven terrain and the treacherous pitfalls that dotted the landscape.

Everywhere Shirou looked, the woods seemed to shift and twist, as if the very trees themselves were alive, bending and warping under some unseen influence. Narrow paths wove through the forest, but they were little more than thin trails, barely visible beneath the encroaching foliage. It felt like a labyrinth, with no clear direction and countless ways to lose oneself in the undergrowth. It was like the maze of Minos, except there was no Ariadne to guide him out of the twisted paths ahead.

The only sounds were the creaking of branches in the wind and the distant rustling of leaves, though every now and then, a low growl or the snap of twigs underfoot hinted at the presence of something far more dangerous lurking in the shadows. Shadows themselves seemed to shift unnervingly, sometimes forming the shapes of creatures not fully seen, only adding to the pervasive sense of dread.

The deeper Shirou went, the more unnatural the woods became. Strange, crude wooden cages hung from the trees, some empty, others filled with decaying remains. Stone altars and makeshift shrines were scattered along the path, covered in old bloodstains and overgrown with vines. And then there were the traps—rusted bear traps, tripwires, and other brutal contraptions hidden among the foliage, waiting to ensnare the unwary.

Despite the oppressive atmosphere, Shirou pressed on, his senses sharp and his weapon ready. This was a place of danger, filled with the unknown. Every step felt like a risk, every rustle of leaves a potential threat. He knew he couldn't afford to let his guard down. Whatever lay ahead in the Forbidden Woods, it would be another test of his endurance, his skill, and his will to survive.

Chapter end.