Chapter 8 : Fem's Casa Part 8
The sun dipped low over Monte Carlo, casting long shadows that stretched across the empty streets and silent buildings. A breeze drifted lazily by, carrying the salty tang of the Mediterranean, a brief respite in the charged atmosphere between Shirou and Jester. They stood facing each other in the fading light, surrounded by quiet, the world beyond seeming almost too distant, too detached. It was as if they were locked in their own bubble, a space where only two opposing forces existed.
Shirou could feel his heart pounding in his chest, though his face remained calm. His eyes didn't leave Jester, studying every twitch, every subtle shift in posture, gauging how his opponent might move. Jester, on the other hand, stood unnaturally still, wearing that same unnerving grin, his posture relaxed in a way that seemed almost dismissive despite the injuries on his body.
"Just us, then?" Jester mused, his tone dripping with mockery. "How gallant of you to send your allies away. Though I suppose it's only fitting for a knight to stand alone in the face of death."
Shirou's expression remained calm, unphased. "If you think you can walk away from this, you're wrong," he replied, his tone cold as ice. "The only thing waiting for you at the end of this fight is the finish line."
Jester laughed again, the sound hollow and grating. "How very confident of you. But you see, I'm not so easy to kill." He moved forward, albeit slower than his usual speed, the weight of his injuries clearly taking their toll. Yet, even in his weakened state, there was a terrifying determination in his eyes, a resolve that seemed impossible to break.
Shirou watched him closely, every sense alert, knowing that Jester's words were more than bravado. He was dealing with an opponent who had survived against all odds, who had clawed his way back from death itself, and who would not hesitate to use any means necessary to achieve his twisted goals.
Jester then touch the bright red mark on his chest which resembles the cylinder of a revolver, he twisted the red mark where the position the cylinder containing a good heart right on his left chest.
Shirou's eyes narrowed as he watched, his instincts screaming that this wasn't just for show. He didn't know exactly what the device was, but every fiber of his being told him it was dangerous. Deadly, even.
"Watch closely, now," Jester taunted, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Let me show you what I truly am."
With that, he gave the chamber a swift, decisive twist, the action accompanied by a soft, mechanical click that seemed to resonate in the silence. Shirou braced himself, feeling his pulse quicken as he kept his eyes trained on Jester. He could sense the shift almost immediately. There was a sudden surge of energy, something dark and twisted, emanating from Jester's chest and spreading outward in thick, pulsating waves.
A low growl escaped Jester's lips as his body began to change. His form seemed to ripple, his skin taking on a strange, unsettling sheen as his figure began to morph. It was like watching a person shed their skin, every movement fluid yet unnaturally smooth. The years seemed to melt away, the lines of age and wear fading from his face, replaced by something younger, sharper, and far more lethal.
His eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, his grin morphing into something sinister as he straightened, standing taller, more confident. The shift was subtle, yet palpable, a transformation not just in appearance but in presence, in aura. Where before there had been a twisted but restrained energy, now there was an unrestrained malevolence, something that radiated pure threat.
"Well?" Jester said, his voice now carrying a youthful edge, vibrant and filled with dark anticipation. "Do I look a little… rejuvenated?"
"Once I'm done with you. I'm going to kill that Vordenburg girl and that fucking stray devil." Jester stated while grinning sinisterly.
Shirou's eyes narrowed as he assessed this new form. There was something deeply unsettling about it, as if he were looking at a reflection twisted in some warped mirror. He could feel the intensity of Jester's gaze, see the barely-contained glee in his expression, and it sent a chill down his spine.
"Is that some kind of… trick?" Shirou muttered, his voice steady but wary.
Jester chuckled, a low, mocking sound. "A trick? No, Phantasmal Killer. This is the real me. The part of me that's been suppressed, held back, waiting to be unleashed. What you're seeing now is power in its truest form."
Shirou projected a nameless Noble Phantasm and grips its handle tighter, taking a slow breath as he steadied himself. This was no ordinary transformation; it was something darker, something that felt distinctly… wrong. But he couldn't let it rattle him, couldn't afford to show even a hint of doubt.
"Let's see if that power of yours is as impressive as you claim," Shirou shot back, his voice firm.
Without another word, he raised the nameless Noble Phantasm, its blade gleaming with a faint, ethereal glow as he channeled his energy into it. In one swift motion, he lunged forward, swinging the blade in a powerful arc aimed directly at Jester's chest.
But Jester was faster than he'd anticipated. In a blur of movement, Jester sidestepped the attack, his movements smooth and effortless, as if he'd anticipated Shirou's every move. He didn't even look fazed, his grin widening as he dodged, his eyes gleaming with that same mocking amusement.
"Is that it?" he taunted, his voice dripping with contempt. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to keep up with me, Phantasmal Killer."
Shirou gritted his teeth, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. He could feel the weight of Jester's gaze on him, could sense the challenge in his words. But he wasn't about to back down. Taking a step back, he steadied his breathing, focusing his mind as he projected another Noble Phantasm, this time summoning a spear in his left hand.
Without missing a beat, he launched the spear toward Jester, the weapon slicing through the air with deadly precision. But Jester merely smirked, raising a hand as if to swat it away. And to Shirou's shock, the spear seemed to lose its momentum, its energy dissipating in mid-air as it came within inches of Jester's outstretched fingers. It was as if some invisible force had nullified its power, rendering it useless.
"What…?" Shirou murmured, his mind racing as he tried to process what had just happened.
Jester's smirk deepened. "Oh, did I forget to mention? Your Noble Phantasms are nothing but relics here. In my world, in my presence, they hold no power. They're mere illusions, shadows of the past, and I…" He leaned closer, his voice a mocking whisper. "I am reality."
A flicker of doubt crept into Shirou's mind as he processed Jester's words. He'd faced powerful opponents before, beings who wielded unimaginable strength. But this… this was something else entirely. Jester wasn't just strong—he was defying the very nature of Shirou's weapons, twisting the rules of their existence to suit his own twisted will.
But Shirou wasn't one to give in so easily. Steeling himself, he projected another sword, this time a curved blade imbued with fire. With a determined glare, he closed the distance, slashing the blade toward Jester with renewed ferocity. Flames trailed behind the blade as it arced through the air, aimed squarely at Jester's side.
Yet once again, Jester moved with an almost inhuman speed, his form blurring as he dodged the attack. The flames dissipated, leaving nothing but a faint scorch mark on the ground where they'd landed. Jester chuckled, his expression one of pure delight.
"Come on, Phantasmal Killer," he sneered, his tone laced with mocking impatience. "Is this really the best you can do? I was hoping for a bit more excitement."
Shirou clenched his fists, frustration boiling over as he took a step back, his mind racing. He needed a new approach, something that could catch Jester off guard, something that could cut through whatever twisted defense he was using. But even as he considered his options, a nagging worry began to settle in the back of his mind.
For the first time, he wasn't sure if he could win.
The battle rages on as the sun steadily setting on the west as thr sky gets darker on every passing minutes.
Shirou took a step back, his breathing coming in shallow, uneven bursts as he assessed the situation. Jester's laughter echoed through the stillness, the dark humor laced with that same unsettling confidence. Every weapon, every strategy Shirou had thrown at him, Jester had countered with ease, defying every Noble Phantasm Shirou projected as if they were mere illusions.
But this time, Shirou had something different in mind.
For a moment, he closed his eyes, steadying his breath, clearing his thoughts. Jester watched with an eyebrow raised, smirking as if already anticipating another failed attempt. Shirou, however, paid no attention to the mocking gaze boring into him; he was focused entirely on the sword he now visualized, one he knew might finally bypass whatever twisted magic Jester wielded.
When Shirou opened his eyes, there was a gleam of determination there—a spark that Jester couldn't quite ignore. In his hand materialized the hilt of a familiar blade, one that radiated a faint, golden glow, cutting through the dusk like a beacon of hope. Caliburn, the Sword of Selection, the blade that had once crowned a king.
Jester's smirk wavered ever so slightly, his expression shifting from amusement to something approaching unease. He could sense it—the difference in this weapon, the way it seemed to hum with a power that felt ancient and pure, something he couldn't quite dismiss as easily as before.
"Ah… So, you're finally showing me something real," Jester drawled, though there was an edge of tension in his tone. "But I wonder… do you really think that sword of yours will make a difference?"
Shirou didn't respond. Instead, he tightened his grip on Caliburn and stepped forward, his movements fluid, measured. He could feel the weight of the blade in his hand, the warmth of its energy coursing through him, bolstering his resolve. This was no ordinary weapon—it was a symbol of unyielding will, a reminder of the legacy it carried, of the countless battles it had endured.
In a single, swift movement, Shirou lunged forward, Caliburn poised to strike. Jester reacted, his movements as quick as ever, but there was a split-second hesitation, a flicker of doubt that Shirou caught. And in that moment, he knew he'd found his opening.
With precise aim, Shirou thrust Caliburn forward, its gleaming blade piercing through Jester's defenses. The blade found its mark, sinking deep into Jester's chest, right where his heart should be. For a brief, breathless moment, there was silence, the world seeming to still as the glow of Caliburn's light seeped into Jester's body, his form trembling as the sword's power coursed through him.
Jester's eyes widened, his mocking expression twisting into something closer to shock, even fear. He staggered back, clutching at the wound, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he struggled to process what had just happened.
Shirou watched, his grip on Caliburn steady, though his own heart pounded with a mix of exhaustion and relief. He'd finally managed to break through, to land a blow that Jester couldn't simply shrug off. For the first time, it seemed like victory was within reach.
"Is that it?" Shirou murmured, his voice low, almost disbelieving. "After everything… was that really all it took?"
But even as the words left his lips, a creeping sense of unease settled over him. Something about Jester's reaction didn't sit right, the way he still managed to keep that twisted grin, even as blood trickled from his mouth. There was no panic, no real sign of defeat—only that same, unshakable confidence that made Shirou's skin crawl.
Jester chuckled, a low, guttural sound that sent a shiver down Shirou's spine. "You… really thought it would be that easy, didn't you?" he rasped, his voice strained yet laced with dark amusement.
Before Shirou could react, Jester's hand shot up to his chest, gripping the revolver-like chamber embedded there. With a crazed gleam in his eyes, he twisted it once more, the device clicking into place as it activated something deep within him.
In an instant, a surge of dark energy erupted from Jester's body, spiraling outwards in waves that distorted the air around them. Shirou staggered back, shielding his eyes as he felt the pressure of it, an overwhelming force that seemed to warp reality itself.
As the energy pulsed and swirled, Jester's form began to change again. His skin took on an unnatural hue, a sickly, almost demonic shade that seemed to pulse with a malevolent life of its own. His eyes glowed with an eerie light, burning with an intensity that made Shirou's blood run cold.
When Jester finally looked up, there was something distinctly inhuman in his gaze, a twisted amalgamation of cruelty and power that seemed almost alien. The transformation had altered him, taken him beyond the realm of human or even vampire, something monstrous and unbound by mortal limits.
"Behold, Phantasmal Killer," Jester intoned, his voice a guttural growl, thick with malice. "This… is the heart of Goetia, I extract it from Goetia's corpse. This is my counter measure in case someone like you tries to destroy Goetia's corpse just like what happen to Goliat's corpse. Turning myself into Goetia itself, that's my counter measure. You're not facing a mere Dead Apostle now. You're facing something far beyond your understanding."
Shirou took a cautious step back, his grip on Caliburn tightening as he braced himself. The change in Jester wasn't just physical—there was an aura about him, a sense of dread that seemed to permeate the very air, suffocating and oppressive. And there was something else, too, something more insidious.
Jester raised his hand, and in that instant, time itself seemed to ripple. The world around them blurred, colors shifting, shapes twisting as if reality itself were bending to Jester's will. Shirou felt the ground beneath him shift, as though he were standing on unstable footing, caught in a space where time no longer held meaning.
"Surprised?" Jester sneered, his voice echoing strangely in the warped space. "This is the gift that Goetia bestowed upon me—power over time itself. I can bend it, break it, make it my own. And you, Phantasmal Killer… you're nothing more than a relic in my hands."
Shirou's mind raced as he struggled to process the new threat, the implications of Jester's transformation. This wasn't the same opponent he'd faced moments ago; this was a force of chaos, a being unbound by the rules of time and space.
But even as dread settled in his chest, Shirou refused to let it paralyze him. Gritting his teeth, he steadied his stance, preparing himself for the fight ahead. Caliburn glowed faintly in his hand, a reminder of his resolve, of the reason he couldn't back down now.
Jester's mocking laughter filled the warped air around them, a sound that grated against Shirou's nerves, igniting a spark of defiance within him. He'd come too far, endured too much to let himself be cowed by this twisted, monstrous version of his opponent.
"Time manipulation or not," Shirou muttered, his voice steady, determined, "you're still just another obstacle. And I've already beaten one impossible opponent today. What's one more?"
Jester's eyes gleamed with dark amusement as he lifted his hand, beckoning Shirou forward. "Then come, Phantasmal Killer. Show me what you're truly made of… if you can keep up."
Shirou barely had time to catch his breath before Jester was on him again, the air around them crackling with the weight of Goetia's dark energy. The shift in Jester's power was undeniable, his movements now impossibly fast, the edges of his form blurring as he seemed to slip in and out of time itself. It was as though Jester were moving within a reality all his own, bending time to his whim, while Shirou struggled to even keep track of his opponent's shifting form.
Jester's laughter echoed around them, warped and unsettling. "What's wrong, Phantasmal Killer? Finding it hard to keep up?"
Shirou tried to respond, but Jester moved in a blur, vanishing from sight only to reappear a split second later, his fist connecting hard with Shirou's side. The force of the blow sent Shirou sprawling, gasping as pain flared up his ribcage. He scrambled to his feet, gripping Caliburn tightly, but Jester was relentless, his attacks coming faster and faster, each one timed with chilling precision.
It wasn't just speed that Jester had gained. He was controlling the very fabric of time itself, accelerating his movements, then suddenly slowing them, slipping in and out of Shirou's perception as though he were a specter. Every time Shirou thought he had a read on Jester's position, the vampire would warp forward, striking from an angle Shirou hadn't anticipated.
Shirou gritted his teeth, trying desperately to keep up, but the strain was taking its toll. His vision blurred as he swung Caliburn in wide arcs, each strike missing its mark, each moment leaving him more drained, more vulnerable. His heart pounded, a cold sweat clinging to his skin as he realized just how outmatched he was.
And then, with one final burst of speed, Jester appeared directly in front of him, his hand raised, dark energy coiling around his fingers like tendrils of smoke. Shirou barely had time to react as Jester drove his hand forward, striking Shirou square in the chest with a force that sent a shockwave through his entire body. Pain exploded within him, his vision flashing white as he staggered back, blood spilling from his mouth.
Jester's twisted smile was the last thing Shirou saw before his legs gave out, the ground rushing up to meet him as his vision went dark.
When Shirou opened his eyes again, he wasn't lying on the cold ground, nor did he feel the brutal pain of his injuries. Instead, he found himself standing in a vast, snow-covered expanse, an endless field stretching out in every direction, the ground blanketed in a layer of pure white.
His Reality Marble. It was the same place he'd seen countless times before, his inner world made manifest—a landscape that reflected his soul, the endless fields of blades standing in stark contrast to the peaceful blanket of snow that coated them.
But this time, something was different.
In the center of the snowy field, standing tall and majestic against the backdrop of the pale, overcast sky, was a tree—its branches bare, yet emanating a soft, gentle glow that filled the air around it with a warmth Shirou couldn't quite explain. He'd never seen this tree before, had no idea how it had come to be here, and yet… it felt familiar, as though it had always been a part of him, waiting in the shadows.
Curiosity overcoming caution, Shirou took a step forward, then another, the snow crunching softly beneath his feet as he approached the tree. There was something about it, a presence that drew him in, a sense of calm that settled over him the closer he got. And then, as he reached out, his fingers brushing against its bark, a voice echoed in his mind—a voice soft and warm, like a whisper carried on the wind.
"Welcome, Innovator, Shirou Emiya."
Shirou froze, his hand still resting against the tree's trunk as he looked around, searching for the source of the voice. But there was no one there, only the tree, its branches swaying gently in a breeze that he couldn't feel.
"Who… are you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze fixed on the tree. "How did you get in here?"
The voice seemed to chuckle softly, the sound filling the air around him. "I've been in your Reality Marble for quite a while now. But I am not part your world. I am something… different."
Shirou frowned, confusion settling over him as he tried to make sense of her words. "Different… how?"
"I am known as the Principal of Creation that inhabits the Innovate Clear," the voice replied, her tone calm, almost motherly. "Or rather, I am the consciousness of a power that resides within you—a Sacred Gear that grants you the power of creation, the ability to shape worlds within dimensions."
Shirou blinked, his mind struggling to process the words. "Sacred Gear…? Creation…?" He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "You're talking like I'm some kind of god."
The tree seemed to glow a little brighter, as though amused by his reaction. "Not a god. But you do possess a power that is rare, one that few in your world could comprehend. Innovate Clear is not simply a tool; it is a living force, an extension of your very soul. It exists to create, to bring forth worlds and life itself."
Shirou listened, a strange sense of wonder filling him as he absorbed her words. He'd always known there was something unique within him, something that set him apart, but he'd never considered the possibility of a power like this. A power that went beyond his Reality Marble, beyond his ability to project weapons. He wonders if this is the extra tools that Zelretch gave him when he sends him to this world. He have tried many Methods to awaken this tool in the past, but none comes to work
"But… why now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you… speaking to me now?"
The tree's branches seemed to shift, almost as if she were sighing. "Because you have finally awakened this power within you. The synchronization of your Reality Marble with Innovate Clear has allowed me to reach out to you, to guide you in this moment of need. You have already seen glimpses of this power, have you not? The fields of blades, the weapons that appear at your command… these are but a fragment of what you can accomplish."
Shirou's eyes widened as he realized what she was saying. The projections, the weapons he summoned—they weren't just tools of combat. They were manifestations of a power that went beyond simple imitation. It was creation, the ability to bring forth objects from nothing, to mold reality itself to his will.
"You're saying… I could create more than just weapons?" he asked, a hint of awe creeping into his voice.
"Precisely," the tree replied, her voice soft yet firm. "You have the potential to create beings, to shape worlds within dimensions, to craft entities of power. But this is not a gift without consequence. To wield such a power requires understanding, a balance between your will and the responsibility it entails."
Shirou nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed on the tree as he processed her words. It was a lot to take in—a power that could rival the gods themselves, a force that granted him the ability to reshape reality. But he knew, deep down, that this wasn't something he could use recklessly. It was a gift, yes, but also a responsibility, one that he would have to wield with care.
"So… if I have this power, how do I use it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How do I… fight with it?"
The tree's glow seemed to pulse, her presence filling him with a renewed sense of strength. "You already know what you must do. You have felt the knowledge within you, the instinct guiding your hand. Trust in yourself, Shirou. Trust in the power that lies within you. When you return to the waking world, focus on the creation within your mind, the entity that will aid you in your fight. Forge it with your will, and it shall take form."
Shirou closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he felt the weight of her words settle over him. He could feel it—the knowledge, the understanding of what he needed to do. The memories, the fragments of legends and myths that had shaped his Reality Marble, they were all there, waiting to be called upon.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself back in the snow-covered field, the tree's presence a warm, comforting glow at his side.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.
The tree's branches swayed gently, her voice a soft murmur in his mind. "Go, Shirou. Show him the strength that lies within you. Show him the power of creation."
With a final, lingering look at the tree, Shirou felt himself fading, the snowy field dissolving around him as he slipped back into consciousness.
Back in the real world, Shirou's eyes snapped open, his body jolting with renewed energy as he pushed himself up, Caliburn still clutched in his hand. The pain from Jester's attack had faded, his wounds healed as though they'd never existed.
Shirou stood, his breathing calm, a newfound sense of purpose grounding him. The harsh Monte Carlo twilight seemed softer now, the sounds of the world around him somehow more vivid, more alive. Jester, who had turned away, sensing his victory, froze when he heard Shirou rise, his twisted grin faltering for the first time since their clash began.
"Well, well," Jester sneered, although there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "The Phantasmal Killer has some resilience after all."
Shirou met Jester's gaze steadily, feeling that strength within him, a balance between his Reality Marble and the mysterious essence of Innovate Clear. He took a steadying breath, tightening his grip on Caliburn as he felt its weight, not just in his hand, but as an extension of his will.
Jester's laugh echoed in the dim light, sharp and mocking. "You still don't understand, do you? I wield the heart of Goetia itself—a power that bends time, that warps the laws of existence itself. Your feeble imitations are nothing against me."
But Shirou only nodded, his eyes focused, clear. This time, his understanding went beyond his typical projections, beyond creating and replicating weapons.
Shirou met his gaze calmly, no longer unnerved by Jester's intimidation tactics. Instead, he felt a steady strength, his vision sharpening, his stance solid. He focused on Innovate Clear, drawing its power forth, feeling it course through him like a surge of clear, focused energy.
"I'm not done," Shirou replied quietly. His voice was steady, the confidence undeniable. He extended a hand, and the space around him began to shift subtly, a faint aura emanating as Innovate Clear's influence expanded.
Jester's eyes narrowed, sensing the change. "What's this? Another trick?"
But as he lunged forward, intent on unleashing his time-bending powers again, he found himself… stopped. His movements no longer blurred through time. The manipulation he'd relied on felt distant, unresponsive. Shirou had created a conceptual barrier, a space where Jester's manipulation of time was neutralized.
"Impossible!" Jester snarled, struggling against the invisible confines of Shirou's conceptual space. "You think some cheap magic trick can stop me?"
Shirou held his ground, his gaze unwavering. "This isn't just a trick," he said. "It's a world where your power doesn't bend the rules."
Without giving Jester another moment to regain his bearings, Shirou raised his hand, reaching deep within his Reality Marble. He felt the essence of a legend, of unwavering power and judgment, and with a focused breath, he brought forth a near-perfect replica of King Hassan, the Old Man of the Mountain.
The colossal, armored figure materialized beside him, towering and stoic, the embodiment of death's finality. King Hassan's presence was overwhelming, his shadow stretching over Jester like a harbinger of doom. The silent, unyielding gaze of the warrior met Jester's frenzied eyes.
"Wh-what is this…?" Jester stammered, taking an involuntary step back. His cockiness wavered, fear threading into his expression as he looked upon the silent executioner.
Shirou stood firm, channeling his power to sustain King Hassan's form. "Meet someone who's not affected by your tricks."
King Hassan didn't waste a second, his massive blade raised high as he advanced on Jester. The weight of his presence bore down, each step measured, every movement purposeful. Jester's bravado crumbled, his composure slipping as he struggled to avoid the executioner's strikes.
King Hassan's blade came down with decisive precision, forcing Jester on the defensive. Every swing was a calculated blow, each strike grazing Jester's form, leaving deep, searing cuts that weakened his monstrous body. Jester's desperate attempts to manipulate time failed within Shirou's conceptual space, leaving him vulnerable to King Hassan's assault.
With each blow, Jester's monstrous form grew weaker, his strength sapped by the relentless attacks. King Hassan's final strike cleaved through him, and with a howl of agony, Jester stumbled back, clutching a severe wound, blood seeping from his chest.
Shirou didn't waste the opportunity. He focused his energy, channeling it through Caliburn as he held the blade high, a fierce determination burning in his gaze. His mana surged, merging with the holy energy of the sword, creating a brilliant aura around the blade as he prepared for his final attack.
Jester's wild, desperate eyes locked onto him, fear evident in his twisted expression. "No… this can't be how it ends… not by your hands!" he screamed, struggling to rise.
But Shirou wasn't swayed. With one last powerful swing, he unleashed a Mana Burst through Caliburn, the radiant energy cutting through the air like a beacon of pure, unstoppable force. The strike met Jester head-on, the sheer impact obliterating him in a blinding flash of light. The force shattered his form, leaving nothing but a fading echo of his cries as he was consumed by the overwhelming power.
As the light faded, Shirou lowered Caliburn, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The strain of the fight and the intensity of his attacks had drained him. He felt his energy waning, the adrenaline ebbing away to leave a heavy exhaustion settling over him. But it was over. Jester was gone, his twisted power extinguished.
Shirou stumbled, his vision blurring slightly, but he managed to steady himself, forcing his weary body to move. He had to get back—he needed rest, to regroup before facing the next challenge.
Making his way back to the hotel felt like a distant journey, his footsteps heavy, his mind numb.
As Shirou stepped back into the lobby, the warmth of the familiar setting settled over him, contrasting sharply with the cold intensity of his recent battle. He felt a flicker of relief, like stepping out of a storm into shelter. But the moment of peace didn't last long. Kuroka, Millarca, and Valerie were there, waiting, their faces a mixture of relief, worry, and curiosity.
Kuroka's golden eyes zeroed in on him, and she didn't waste any time. "Shirou, you look awful," she said, her usual teasing replaced by genuine concern. "What on earth happened out there?"
Millarca stepped closer, her quiet gaze studying him intently. "Yes, you've clearly been through something intense… That wasn't just a regular fight, was it?" she asked, her voice softer but carrying an unmistakable weight.
Valerie tilted her head, her curiosity barely masked. "And I can't help but notice you're… different somehow." Her eyes sparkled, catching the faint aura still clinging to him, almost like she sensed the power of his newly awakened Sacred Gear.
Shirou took a deep breath, trying to appear more composed than he felt. "It was… more complicated than I expected," he admitted, choosing his words carefully. "Jester was full of surprises. But in the end, I got what I came for."
"Just like that, huh?" Kuroka pressed, folding her arms. "You come back all roughed up, and that's all you're gonna say?"
Shirou gave a small, almost apologetic shrug. "I wouldn't say it was easy, but he's gone now. And that's what matters." He chose his words with care, leaving out the parts about nearly collapsing and struggling to keep up with Jester's overwhelming power. He didn't want them to worry—or to know just how close he'd come to his own limit.
But Millarca's brow furrowed, unsatisfied. "And this power I can feel… It's something different, isn't it? I mean, I don't remember you having this kind of energy before."
There was no avoiding it. Shirou nodded slowly. "Yeah, you're not wrong. It turns out that, somewhere in the middle of the fight, my Sacred Gear finally… woke up." He paused, letting the words settle as he noticed their eyes widening slightly. "It's called Innovate Clear."
"Innovate Clear?" Valerie repeated, interest flaring in her gaze. "So, what can it do?"
Shirou hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "To be honest… I don't know yet. All I know is that it gave me a boost when I needed it most. Beyond that, I'm still figuring things out." It was half-true; he didn't want to delve into the strange encounter with the tree in his Reality Marble just yet, not until he could make more sense of it himself.
Kuroka raised an eyebrow, looking unconvinced. "You don't know, or you're just not telling us?"
He chuckled lightly, deflecting her question with a shrug. "I'm just as clueless about this as you are, believe it or not."
Millarca seemed satisfied enough to move on, though her gaze lingered on him with curiosity. "Well, at least you're back safe. That's what counts."
Valerie stepped forward, holding her Sephiroth Graal with an encouraging smile. "Here, this will help." She tipped the grail forward, and a thin stream of green liquid filled a small glass she'd prepared, the faint glow of its energy hinting at its restorative properties. "Drink up. It'll restore your stamina and magical energy."
Shirou took the glass, giving Valerie a grateful nod before downing it in one go. The liquid was cool and refreshing, and he could feel its effects immediately, a soothing warmth spreading through his body, reinvigorating him.
"Thanks, Valerie," he said, setting the glass down. "I really needed that."
He let out a tired sigh, stretching out the lingering tension in his shoulders, already looking forward to some well-deserved rest. He was just about to excuse himself when Millarca spoke up, her tone a little too cheerful for his liking.
"Oh, don't think you're getting off that easy," she chimed, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
Shirou raised an eyebrow, already feeling a sense of dread creeping in. "What do you mean?"
"You've still got another engagement tonight," she reminded him with a casual shrug. "The final round of Fem's Casa Tournament is waiting for you."
Shirou blinked, the memory of the tournament slipping back into his exhausted mind. He groaned, feeling the weight of his fight with Jester settle heavier. "Do I really have to go? I already got what I wanted… Jester's gone."
Millarca shook her head, crossing her arms. "I don't think it works like that, Shirou. You can't just walk out of Van Fem's tournament. Besides, if you bail now, he might take it… personally. And you don't want to deal with that."
Shirou grimaced, the thought of tangling with yet another Dead Apostle unsettling. He had barely managed to handle Jester, and he definitely wasn't in the mood for another confrontation. "Great. So I'm stuck with it, huh?"
Millarca's smile softened, though there was a playful glint in her eyes. "Consider it a last hurdle. And besides, it's not every day you get an invitation to something like this. Might as well see it through, right?"
Kuroka, who had been listening with her usual smirk, nudged him lightly. "Oh, come on, Shirou. Think of it as… a way to unwind. Compared to Jester, this'll probably be a walk in the park."
Valerie offered a quiet nod, her gentle expression reassuring. "And we'll be there to watch. You won't be alone."
Shirou sighed, resigned to his fate. There was no getting around it; they were right. If he backed out now, it could lead to more trouble, and after everything he'd been through tonight, the last thing he needed was to provoke Van Fem.
"All right, all right," he muttered, raising his hands in surrender. "I'll go. But if things get out of hand, don't blame me if I just walk out."
Millarca chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Wouldn't dream of it. Now go on, freshen up. We've got a ship to catch."
Shirou gave a final, tired nod, heading toward his room to get ready, feeling a mix of weariness and reluctant anticipation.
To be Continued.
Another chapter has been updated. This is probably the trickiest chapter that I've written, I hope that I don't messed up the description of how the fight went on between Shirou and Jester. Finally, Shirou has awaken his Sacred Gear and with it he managed to defeat Jester. It took me a lot of research to write the battle scene because I want to be as realistic as possible of how Shirou would fight against a Dead Apostle. You would be surprise of what people said about it. Also, I know that some people might protest of how I portray the replica of King Hassan in this chapter, I admit that it's probably not as good as I hope for, even I don't give him any conversation line. This is mainly because I couldn't understand his personality nor can I write old English accent. Which is why I only have him fight in this scene.
Anyways, the next chapter would be the final chapter for Fem's Casa arc. A tournament where Shirou will face Van Fem himself begins. This is it for now, don't forget to leave some comments and I'll see you again in the next chapter.