Chapter 9 : Fem's Casa Final part.

The gentle rocking of the luxurious cruise ship was barely noticeable as Shirou stepped onto the deck, flanked by Millarca, Valerie, and Kuroka. The vessel was an opulent marvel of engineering and design, shimmering in the light of the late afternoon sun. Its exterior was sleek and modern, but the interior—visible through the wide glass doors leading to the ballroom—was a lavish display of wealth and taste.

Shirou adjusted his collar, slightly uncomfortable in the tailored suit Millarca had insisted he wear. It was dark and fitted perfectly, giving him an air of sophistication he didn't quite feel he could pull off. Beside him, Millarca glided with an effortless grace, her deep crimson gown hugging her form elegantly and glittering with subtle embroidery. Valerie, on the other hand, looked as if she had stepped out of a fairy tale. Her pale blue dress flowed like water around her as she twirled slightly, marveling at the ship's grand design. The youngest of the group couldn't stop gasping in awe, her crimson eyes darting from one gilded detail to the next.

Kuroka, of course, was as unbothered as ever. She hadn't even tried to conform to the event's formal dress code, still donning her usual revealing black kimono that exposed her shoulders and accentuated her curves. Her twin tails swayed behind her as she walked, a lazy smirk playing on her lips.

"You know," Millarca began, her tone casual but laced with curiosity, "I'm surprised you decided to come, Kuroka. You made quite the fuss about sitting out the last two rounds."

Shirou turned his head slightly, echoing the unspoken question with a raised brow. Kuroka waved a hand dismissively, as if the answer was too obvious to require explanation.

"Oh, don't look so surprised, nya~," she teased, her golden eyes glinting mischievously. "It's not every day you see a little human like him"—she pointed lazily at Shirou—"make waves in a place like this. I've been watching, and I gotta admit, I'm curious. You're my new boss, after all. Gotta see what you're really made of, Shirou."

Shirou frowned, a little put off by the way she so casually tossed the word "boss" around. He hadn't exactly agreed to that title, but Kuroka seemed determined to use it anyway.

"And besides," she added, stretching her arms above her head in an exaggerated motion that drew a few stares from nearby attendants, "those devils who were crawling all over this tournament are gone. Without their prying eyes, there's nothing keeping me from tagging along. Lucky you, huh?"

"Lucky," Millarca echoed dryly, crossing her arms. She shot a glance at Shirou as if to say are you really okay with this?

Valerie, oblivious to the tension, practically skipped ahead of the group, her excitement bubbling over. She leaned against the glass railing of the upper deck and pointed enthusiastically at the intricate carvings on the ballroom doors.

"This place is amazing! It's like something out of a dream!" she exclaimed, her voice high with delight. "Did you see the gold trim? And the chandeliers—oh, they look like they're made of stars!"

Shirou couldn't help but smile at her wonder. Her joy was infectious, and for a moment, the weight of the tournament ahead felt lighter. Thought, Shirou has to admit it as well. Even though he has been here twice, the ship's fancy and exotic interior still managed to make him admires them.

Their admiration of the ship was interrupted by the sound of slow, deliberate clapping. Turning toward the sound, they were greeted by the unmistakable figure of Van Fem.

The tall man descended the spiral staircase leading down from the higher deck, his presence commanding as ever. Dressed in a three-piece suit that seemed to radiate power and confidence, he looked every bit the enigmatic gambler Shirou remembered. His broad smile was warm, but his sharp red eyes held an edge that hinted at the calculating mind beneath.

"Ah, Shirou Emiya," Van Fem greeted, his deep voice rich with amusement. "You've arrived at last. Welcome to the final round of my Casino tournament. And you've brought more company, I see."

Shirou stepped forward, bowing slightly in polite acknowledgment. "Van Fem. Thanks for greeting us."

Millarca, ever the noblewoman, dipped into a graceful curtsy, her gown fanning out like liquid silk. "A pleasure to see you again, Van Fem. Allow me to introduce our new companions." She gestured toward Valerie and Kuroka, who stood side by side in stark contrast to one another.

"This is Valerie Tepes," Millarca said with a small smile, "and Kuroka, a... well, let's call her our new ally."

Valerie beamed, bowing her head politely. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Van Fem. Your ship is incredible!"

Van Fem's expression softened as he turned his attention to Valerie. "Valerie Tepes," he said, his tone gentler. "I've heard of your recent trials. You have my deepest condolences for what you've endured."

Valerie's smile faltered for a brief moment, but she nodded gratefully. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Then Van Fem's gaze shifted to Kuroka, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "And you... I must admit, I didn't expect to see you here. I thought criminals usually preferred to avoid the limelight."

Kuroka's smirk widened, and she placed a hand on her hip, unfazed by the thinly veiled jab. "Oh, don't mind me, Van Fem. I'm just here as Shirou's loyal underling. Wherever he goes, I go." She leaned in slightly, her tone dropping to a playful purr. "Gotta keep an eye on my new boss, after all."

Van Fem chuckled, clearly entertained by her audacity. "Well, Shirou, you've certainly assembled an interesting entourage. I admire your courage—or perhaps your tolerance."

Shirou sighed, already anticipating the headaches to come. "Yeah, it's... a work in progress."

Van Fem's laughter echoed warmly through the deck. "I'm sure it is. I wish you luck in the tournament, Shirou. I'll be watching with great interest. Especially the third game... That's when things will truly become entertaining."

With a final nod, Van Fem excused himself, leaving the group to take in the grandeur of the ship on their own.

Shirou glanced at his companions—Millarca, poised and elegant; Valerie, still marveling at the surroundings; and Kuroka, radiating her usual mischievous energy—and couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease.

This was going to be a long night.

The grand ballroom aboard Van Fem's cruise ship had been transformed into a high-stakes arena, radiating an aura of tension and excitement. Its gilded arches and crystal chandeliers now served as the backdrop for a deadly game: The Mirror's Gambit. A polished black marble table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by an array of intricately framed enchanted mirrors, their surfaces shimmering unnaturally, as if alive.

Shirou stepped forward, taking his seat at one end of the table. His expression was steady, betraying none of the anticipation building inside him. At the opposite end, his opponent strolled in—a young man with messy blond hair and an air of casual cheerfulness.

The young man flashed Shirou a bright smile. "Hey there!" he greeted, sliding into his chair. "Looks like we're up for this match. Pretty exciting, huh?"

Shirou blinked, slightly thrown off by his opponent's exuberance. "Uh, yeah," he replied cautiously.

The young man grinned wider and leaned forward. "Name's Flat Escardos. Just a regular mage looking for a good time! And you?"

"Shirou Emiya," Shirou said, studying Flat. He seemed harmless enough, but something about his carefree attitude made Shirou uneasy. People like this were often full of surprises.

"Well, Shirou, looks like we'll be squaring off," Flat said, leaning back in his chair. "Hope you're ready, because I've got no plans to lose."

Shirou raised an eyebrow at the declaration. "We'll see about that."

Before the banter could continue, Van Fem stepped forward, his presence commanding the room. His usual air of refinement was tinged with an undercurrent of excitement. "Gentlemen, welcome to the Mirror's Gambit. Allow me to explain the rules."

Van Fem gestured to the enchanted mirrors surrounding the table. "Each of these mirrors is attuned to your subconscious mind. They will reflect not just your physical actions, but your thoughts, emotions, and strategies. The game is simple in premise: use your reflection to outwit your opponent. But beware—these mirrors are unforgiving. A wrong move, hesitation, or even a moment of weakness will be reflected back at you... with dire consequences."

Shirou's gaze hardened. "Dire consequences?"

Van Fem smiled faintly. "Ah, yes. Should your reflection turn against you, you will feel the psychic backlash—a force that strikes deep into the soul. Depending on the severity of your misstep, you could lose a portion of your lifespan... or worse."

Flat's grin faltered slightly, though his eyes sparkled with intrigue. "So, basically, don't mess up, huh? Got it."

Van Fem chuckled. "Indeed. Now, let us begin."

The mirrors began to hum softly, their surfaces rippling like water. Symbols etched themselves into the table—a glowing, rotating array of runes that served as the game's central mechanism. Shirou felt a subtle tug at the back of his mind, as if the mirrors were already probing his thoughts.

"Your first move, Shirou Emiya," Van Fem announced.

Shirou's hand hovered over the runes on the table, each one corresponding to a choice or strategy. The challenge was apparent: every move he made would be reflected and scrutinized by the mirrors, forcing him to think several steps ahead. But it wasn't just about strategy—it was about maintaining control of his emotions and focus. Any hesitation or doubt would be amplified.

He selected a rune marked with a simple design—a starting position. The mirrors responded instantly, their surfaces flickering before displaying a version of himself. The reflection smirked, its expression eerily confident.

Flat leaned forward, studying the reflection. "Oh, that's interesting. Looks like your mirror self is already trying to intimidate me."

Shirou ignored the comment, focusing on the game. The mirrors shifted again, now displaying possible outcomes of his move: paths of success, failure, and even stalemates. He had to choose carefully, balancing offense and defense.

Flat's turn followed. The young mage tapped a rune without hesitation, his carefree nature making the process look almost casual. His reflection appeared in the mirrors, but unlike Shirou's, it was grinning widely, almost mockingly. Flat chuckled. "Looks like my reflection's having a good time. Guess that's a good sign?"

The first round passed without incident, both players cautiously testing the waters. But as the game progressed, the stakes grew higher. The mirrors began to react more aggressively, their surfaces warping to show distorted versions of Shirou and Flat.

Shirou found himself sweating as his reflection turned hostile, glaring at him with a malevolent gleam in its eyes. A single mistake during the fifth round had given it an edge, and now it loomed over him like a shadow. The psychic backlash hit him like a wave of ice, seeping into his bones. He clenched his fists, pushing the pain aside.

"Careful, Shirou," Van Fem warned. "The mirrors will exploit your doubts if you let them."

Shirou took a deep breath, forcing his mind to focus. The mirrors weren't invincible—they were only as strong as the weaknesses they could exploit. He adjusted his strategy, opting for a bold move that forced his reflection into a corner.

Flat, meanwhile, was faring better than Shirou had expected. The young mage's unconventional thinking allowed him to navigate the game's twists and turns with surprising ease. At one point, he deliberately triggered his reflection's hostility, using the backlash to bait Shirou into an overextension.

"Gotcha!" Flat exclaimed, his grin widening as Shirou's reflection faltered briefly.

Shirou gritted his teeth, impressed despite himself. This guy's smarter than he looks.

The final phase of the game was a test of endurance. Both players were evenly matched, their reflections becoming increasingly aggressive. The psychic strain was immense, but neither Shirou nor Flat showed any signs of giving up.

In the end, Shirou managed to outmaneuver his reflection, trapping it in a paradoxical loop. The mirrors shimmered, their surfaces clearing as they acknowledged his victory.

But to his surprise, Flat's mirrors also cleared.

"What?" Shirou muttered, looking up.

Flat scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish but proud. "Looks like I won too. Guess we're tied!"

The room fell silent for a moment before Van Fem's laughter echoed through the hall. "A most unexpected outcome! Truly, both of you are remarkable players."

The buzz of conversation and the soft clinking of glasses filled the lavish lounge aboard Van Fem's cruise ship. Shirou wandered through the room, his hand wrapped around a glass of sparkling water. The warm amber light of the chandeliers above reflected off the polished mahogany tables and the elegant crystal glasses scattered across them. It was an atmosphere of indulgence and calm, a stark contrast to the tension of the first game.

Shirou exhaled slowly, letting himself relax for a moment. The Mirror's Gambit had left him both mentally drained and quietly impressed by his unexpected opponent. Still, there was no time to dwell on it. He had to stay sharp for the rounds ahead.

As he surveyed the room, his gaze landed on Millarca seated in a nearby booth. She was lounging with one arm draped casually over the back of the plush velvet seat, a half-filled glass of red wine held delicately in her fingers. Her posture was relaxed, almost nonchalant, but her crimson eyes carried a faraway look, as if her thoughts were elsewhere.

Shirou approached her table and set his glass down. "Drinking already? The night's still young."

Millarca blinked, her focus snapping back to him. A small smile tugged at her lips. "Ah, Shirou. Taking a break too?" She swirled the wine in her glass, watching the liquid catch the light. "And for the record, I can handle my liquor just fine. Unlike you, I imagine."

Shirou smirked faintly and slid into the seat across from her. "I'll stick with water, thanks. Someone's got to stay sharp."

"Suit yourself," Millarca said with a light chuckle. She took a sip of her wine, her sharp fangs glinting briefly against the glass.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the soft hum of the lounge wrapping around them. For once, Millarca seemed at ease—no playful teasing, no sharp remarks. It was a rare moment of quiet between them.

"So," Shirou began, breaking the silence, "you seem… distracted."

Millarca's smile wavered. She set her glass down carefully and leaned back, her fingers absently tracing the rim of the glass. "Just thinking," she admitted, her voice softer than usual. "About everything that's happened. About what's next."

Shirou tilted his head. "What's next? For you and Valerie, you mean?"

"Exactly." She let out a small sigh and crossed her legs. "You already know I'm in hot water with the Carmilla Faction after Monaco. And now, showing up here with you?" She laughed quietly, but there was no humor in it. "Let's just say I'm not exactly earning myself any points with them."

Shirou frowned. "You think they'll try to punish you?"

"Try?" Millarca's eyes flicked to him, her tone suddenly bitter. "Oh, they'll do more than try. Best-case scenario, I'm forgiven after receiving a harsh punishment. Worst-case… well, let's not dwell on that."

"And Valerie?" Shirou asked.

Millarca's expression softened at the mention of the young vampire. "She's innocent in all of this," she said firmly. "She doesn't deserve to be dragged back into their politics or their cruelty. That's why I don't regret what I've done, even if it paints a target on my back."

Shirou studied her quietly. This was a side of Millarca he rarely saw—vulnerable, reflective. She wasn't just the sharp-tongued aristocrat he'd come to known ever since he met her for the first time nearly a year ago. Beneath the sarcasm and charm, she genuinely cared about Valerie's well-being.

"I can't say I've come to understand about your world," Shirou said after a pause. "But if you need help, you just have to ask."

Millarca blinked, surprised. Then, slowly, a sly smile curved her lips. "Help? From you? Shirou Emiya, offering assistance to a poor, helpless vampire like me? That doesn't sound like you at all."

Shirou rolled his eyes. "Don't make me regret it. I'm serious."

She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "Oh, I know you are. That's what makes it so amusing." Her smile softened. "But seriously… why? What do you gain from helping me?"

Shirou shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "I don't have to gain anything. You helped me in Monaco. You've stuck around, even when you didn't have to. Consider it… paying you back."

Millarca tilted her head, studying him closely. "You've got a funny way of showing gratitude. Still, it's sweet in its own way."

"Sweet?" Shirou raised an eyebrow, his tone dry. "I think you're confusing me with someone else."

She laughed softly. "Oh no, I'm quite sure it's you. Beneath that brooding exterior, there's a kind heart buried somewhere. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

Shirou sighed, shaking his head. "And here I thought we were having a serious conversation."

"We were," Millarca said, her tone turning sincere. "And I appreciate what you're offering, Shirou. Truly." She reached for her glass again, but this time, there was a hint of warmth in her eyes. "I'll keep it in mind. But for now, let's focus on surviving this tournament. One thing at a time."

"Fair enough," Shirou said, rising from his seat. "I should get ready for the next game."

Millarca gave him a small wave, her smile returning to its usual playful lilt. "Go on, then. And Shirou?"

He paused, glancing back at her.

"Good luck," she said softly.

Shirou nodded, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Thanks."

As he walked away, he couldn't help but feel that their relationship had shifted, even if only slightly. Millarca might still tease and challenge him at every turn, but beneath it all, there was a sense of trust growing between them—a fragile yet genuine connection in the midst of the chaos surrounding them.

The air inside the tournament hall grew heavier as the participants for the second arcane game gathered around the centerpiece of the stage: a massive, ornate wheel that seemed to shimmer and pulse with otherworldly energy. It was made of dark, polished wood inlaid with glowing runes, its circumference divided into countless sections, each marked with arcane symbols and sigils of varying complexity. At the very center of the wheel was a glowing gemstone that seemed alive, shifting through a spectrum of colors as if it were observing those who dared to approach.

Shirou stood near the edge of the group, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the wheel. Even from where he was, he could feel its strange pull, a mix of curiosity and dread that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Next to him, Flat Escardos appeared as excited as ever, his eyes gleaming with a mix of fascination and nervous energy.

The room quieted as Van Fem stepped forward, his commanding presence effortlessly silencing the murmurs among the contestants and the crowd alike. "Welcome to the second game of the evening: The Wheel of Eternity." His voice carried a certain gravitas, making every word feel significant. "This game will test not only your luck but also your ability to endure the consequences of failure. For each turn of the wheel, the stakes will rise, and the risks will grow ever more perilous. Are you ready?"

A murmur of affirmation rippled through the group, though a few participants looked visibly uneasy. Shirou's eyes narrowed as he watched the wheel spin slowly on its own, the symbols blurring into streaks of light.

Van Fem gestured toward the wheel. "Each of you will step forward in turn and spin the Wheel of Eternity. The result will dictate both your challenge and the penalty should you fail to meet it. Some challenges will test your mind, others your body or soul. And remember: failure is not just a loss of chips. There are fates worse than death embedded within this wheel."

The crowd's murmur grew louder at that, and Shirou glanced around at the remaining contestants. Most looked steeled for the challenge, though a few were already starting to sweat.

Flat leaned closer to Shirou, grinning nervously. "This is going to be fun, isn't it?"

Shirou gave him a sidelong glance. "That's one way to describe it."

The first participant, a seasoned magician in a dark cloak, stepped forward and placed his hand on the wheel. As he spun it, the wheel began to glow brighter, the runes along its edge flaring one by one until it finally stopped on a blood-red sigil.

Van Fem smiled faintly. "Your challenge: The Trial of Shadows. Escape the grasp of your own shadow before it consumes you."

The magician's face tightened, but he nodded resolutely. As he stepped back, his shadow began to writhe unnaturally, rising up from the floor like a living entity. The crowd watched in hushed awe as the shadow took on a monstrous form, lunging at the magician with inky claws.

The magician fought valiantly, weaving spells and summoning barriers to fend off the shadow's relentless assault. But after several minutes, his movements faltered, and the shadow enveloped him completely. A collective gasp rippled through the room as the man disappeared, leaving only a faint black stain on the floor where he had stood.

Shirou clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. 'So, this isn't just a game. This is a death sentence for some.'

Van Fem turned to the remaining participants, his tone as calm as ever. "Next."

One by one, the contestants approached the wheel, each facing their own unique challenge. A young sorceress was tasked with solving an arcane riddle within a limited time. When she failed, her body froze in place, and she was turned into a crystalline statue, her expression locked in eternal panic. Another contestant was forced into a battle of wills against a glowing sphere of light. Though he fought bravely, his screams echoed through the room as his mind was shattered, leaving him a hollow shell of his former self.

When it was finally Shirou's turn, he stepped forward with steady determination, his eyes locking onto the glowing wheel. He gripped the edge firmly and spun it, the wheel emitting a low hum as it turned. The runes flared brightly, and the wheel slowed until it stopped on a golden sigil resembling an eye.

Van Fem's voice carried a hint of intrigue. "Your challenge: The Paradox of Kaleidoscope. Face your past, present, and possible future. Only by accepting the truth of your existence can you endure."

Shirou stepped back, and the gemstone at the center of the wheel pulsed with blinding light. The world around him shifted, and he found himself standing in an endless expanse of white. Before him, three figures materialized—each one a reflection of himself.

The first was a child with short red hair and amber eyes, clad in the tattered clothes. His wide, innocent eyes were filled with confusion and pain. In the depth of his memory that he inherited through his perfect Synchronization with EMIYA when he was battling Julian's puppet. He recognized him as a version of his youngerself who have lost everything in an incident called the Great Fire of Fuyuki. However, this incident never occurred in his life, only in the life of Heroic Spirit EMIYA.

The second was a young man in his late teens that looks identical to himself. But, unlike him, the young man in front of him has fire and strong determination in his eyes. He looks exactly like how he was when he was still aspiring to be a Hero and walk in the same path as Kiritsugu. Before he forsaken both his dreams, his ideals, himself, and even the entirely world for the sake of saving his sister and his sister's happiness.

The third was none other than his potential futureself who made a pact with Alaya to become a Counter Guardian. A Tall man with white hair and tanned skin donning a red and black armor.

The three figures spoke in unison, their voices echoing in his mind. "Who are you? What do you seek?"

Shirou clenched his fists, his teeth gritting as he felt their collective gaze pierce through him. Memories that doesn't belong to him. Memories of EMIYA's past flooded his mind—the fire, the screams, the betrayal of his ideals as a Counter Guardian.

These memories. These three figures that stand in front of him. Although, they look like him, but in reality they're not exactly him. They're the figures of another version of himself, who lived a similar yet different life as him. So, to answer their question, there's only one thing that he can say.

"I'm no one," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the silence. "And I don't seek anything except for one person's happiness and to meet her again. That's why I must keep moving forward."

The figures flickered, their forms wavering. The boy, the alternate present Shirou, and even EMIYA dissolved into light.

But then, another figure appear. This figure stood in the shadows, its presence oppressive and suffocating. As it stepped into the light, Shirou's breath caught in his throat.

This figure... has a similar appearance as Heroic Spirit EMIYA, but has a more shaven hair-style, a duller skin tone, and golden eyes. His outfit consists of black sleeves with golden accents ending in thick metal manacles, black pants with a weave pattern, and white boots, rather than the red overcoat Mystic Code of his counterpart. He also lacks his counterparts torso armor.

Shirou's body tensed. His instincts screamed that this thing—this monstrous version of himself—was dangerous.

"Who are you?" Shirou asked, his voice sharp and cold.

The figure said nothing but projected a version of Kanshou and Bakuya that appears to have been Modified into their more modern appearance. Although their design is quite impressive, the sight of them made Shirou's stomach twist, as his structural grasping magecraft told him of the unforgivable crimes and malice that he have committed in the name of Justice.

The figure raised its weapons and pointed one at Shirou, its golden eyes narrowing as it spoke in a low, echoing voice. "You don't deserve to exist. You're weak. A fraud. Let me end you."

Shirou's eyes burned with fury, his hand instinctively reaching for the familiar weight of Kanshou and Bakuya as they materialized in his grip. The words from the twisted figure struck a chord deep within him, igniting a sudden and overwhelming urge to kill.

"Whatever you are, you're worse than I could ever be," Shirou growled. "I'll erase you here and now."

The two clashed in an instant, their blades meeting with a deafening clang. The impact reverberated through the endless expanse, the force of their strikes shattering the ground beneath them into jagged fragments.

The black figure moved with brutal precision, its strikes carrying a weight and speed that pushed Shirou onto the defensive. Each swing of its blades seemed to cut through the air with deadly intent, forcing Shirou to react with everything he had.

But Shirou wasn't going to back down. He sidestepped a heavy downward slash and countered with a swift strike of his own, his twin swords slicing through the air in perfect unison. The dark figure parried with ease, its crimson eyes glowing brighter as it pressed its attack.

"You think you're better than me?" Shirou spat, gritting his teeth as their blades locked again. "You're just a hollow version of what I've fought to become!"

The figure's lips twisted into a cruel smirk. "And you're just a fool clinging to empty promises and ambition."

Shirou was staggered momentarily as his words just now have resonated a certain truth that he's trying so hard to burried deep within his heart.

Deep down, a part of him know of the possibility that what he's doing in this world is meaningless. That actively hunting the people that Zelretch asked him to eliminate and preventing ORT's awakening was a meaningless thing to do. And there's also a possibility that Zelretch might not keep his ends of the deal. He knew all that.

However, he had no other choice. Going after the people that Zelretch asked him to kill and preventing ORT from waking up and destroying this world is his only reason for being in this world. This is the only path that's currently available for a dimensional traveler like him in this world. And if he have to stray from this path when there's yet an alternative path for him to take, then he's afraid that his existence in this world will become meaningless.

And he can't let that to happen. He can't let his worst alternate version's words to influence him. He will keep on fighting him and he will eliminate this abomination version of himself from his sight.

Their blades separated, and the figure lunged forward, its speed nearly overwhelming. Shirou barely managed to block the strike aimed at his throat, his muscles straining under the pressure. He countered with a sweeping kick, creating enough distance to launch a flurry of slashes. Kanshou and Bakuya glowed faintly in his hands, their inherent balance and harmony guiding his movements.

For a moment, it seemed as if Shirou was gaining the upper hand. His strikes were calculated and precise, forcing the dark figure to retreat slightly. But then the figure's aura darkened, and with a burst of energy, it unleashed a devastating counterattack.

Shirou was flung back, his body skidding across the broken ground. He winced as he pushed himself up, blood trickling from a shallow cut on his cheek. The figure advanced slowly, its blades dragging across the ground and leaving scorched trails in their wake.

Despite the pain, Shirou's grip on his swords tightened. His eyes burned with determination as he stood his ground.

"You're not going to win," Shirou said firmly. "Because I'll never give up on who I am."

The figure stopped, its crimson eyes narrowing. For the first time, it hesitated, as if Shirou's words had struck something deep within it.

Seizing the moment, Shirou poured his remaining strength into his blades. With a roar, he charged forward, his swords gleaming as he struck with all his might. The clash of steel was deafening, the force of the impact causing the ground beneath them to shatter completely.

When the dust cleared, Shirou stood alone, breathing heavily. The dark figure was gone, its form dissolved into fading wisps of black smoke.

The endless expanse began to fade as well, the white void replaced by the familiar setting of the tournament hall. Shirou staggered slightly, his body trembling from the intensity of the encounter.

The crowd watched in stunned silence as he returned to his place among the remaining contestants. Van Fem's voice broke the stillness, his tone laced with faint approval.

The crowd erupted into murmurs, and Van Fem gave him an approving nod. "Well done, Phantasmal Killer. You may proceed."

Shirou stepped back, his hands still trembling slightly. He glanced at the remaining contestants, noting that only a handful had survived their challenges.

When it was Flat Escardos's turn, the young mage spun the wheel with a dramatic flourish. It landed on a sigil resembling a blazing sun.

"Your challenge: The Fire's Embrace. Endure the flames of purification without faltering."

Flat's grin faltered slightly, but he stepped forward with surprising confidence. A circle of golden flames erupted around him, growing higher and hotter with each passing moment. The heat was intense enough that even the spectators could feel it, but Flat stood his ground, his face a mix of determination and stubbornness.

Minutes passed, and just as it seemed the flames would consume him, they abruptly vanished. Flat staggered slightly but remained standing, his clothes singed but his smile intact.

The crowd erupted into applause, and Van Fem's smile widened. "Impressive. You, too, may proceed."

By the end of the game, only two participants remained standing: Shirou and Flat. As the others were escorted out—some unconscious, others visibly broken—Van Fem addressed the room once more.

"And so, we have our finalists," he announced, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "The third and final game awaits. But first, let us take a moment to appreciate the bravery and skill of those who remain."

Shirou exchanged a glance with Flat, who gave him a cheerful thumbs-up despite his disheveled appearance. Shirou couldn't help but smirk faintly.

'This isn't over yet, one more game to go.' he thought, his resolve hardening. The real challenge was yet to come.

The casino lounge was a symphony of noise—clinking glasses, the chime of slot machines, and the murmur of conversations blending into a lively ambiance. Dimmed golden lights cast an opulent glow over the room, highlighting polished mahogany tables and plush velvet chairs. After facing a disturbing challenge at the game of The Wheel of Eternity, Shirou decided to take another short break, his eyes scanning the crowd for familiar faces. It didn't take long to spot Valerie and Kuroka at a Craps table near the back.

Valerie sat stiffly on the edge of her seat, her small hands clutching a pair of dice as if they were about to explode. Across from her, Kuroka leaned back with an air of lazy confidence, a sly smirk playing on her lips as she idly tapped her fingers on the table. A small pile of chips sat in front of her, significantly larger than Valerie's meager stack.

Shirou approached, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. "How's it going?" he asked casually, pulling up a chair to sit beside Valerie.

Valerie sighed deeply, her crimson eyes darting to the meager pile of chips in front of her. "Terribly," she admitted. "I've lost almost every round. I think I'm just bad at this."

"Eh, don't sweat it," Shirou replied, his tone light. "It's just a game."

Valerie shook her head, her expression a mix of frustration and guilt. "But it's your money, Shirou. I'm wasting it."

Shirou waved a hand dismissively. "I wouldn't have given it to you if I couldn't afford to lose it. Besides, these kinds of games are more about having fun than making money."

Kuroka snickered, leaning forward to scoop up her winnings from the latest round. "Speak for yourself, boss. Some of us are here to win." She winked at Shirou, tossing a chip in the air before catching it deftly.

Shirou arched an eyebrow at her growing pile of chips. "You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself."

Kuroka grinned, flashing her sharp canines. "What can I say? Lady Luck likes me. That, or I'm just better at reading people than they are at hiding their tells."

Valerie groaned, placing her dice back on the table. "I think Lady Luck hates me. Every roll I've had is awful."

"Let me see," Shirou said, leaning over to inspect the game setup. "It's not just luck. There's strategy to these things too. Show me how you've been rolling."

Valerie hesitated but eventually picked up the dice again, her small hands trembling slightly. She threw them onto the table, and they clattered to a stop: two and three.

"See?" she said, her shoulders slumping.

Shirou chuckled softly. "Okay, first thing—relax. You're overthinking it. When you're too tense, you can't focus properly. Try holding the dice a little looser, like this." He demonstrated with an empty pair of dice from the side of the table, rolling them effortlessly. They landed on six and five.

Valerie's eyes widened. "You make it look so easy."

"It's all about the angle and force," Shirou explained. "Here, give it another shot. This time, don't grip so hard."

Valerie nodded, mimicking his grip as she rolled the dice again. They landed on four and five—still not a win, but noticeably better than her earlier attempt.

"See? Improvement already," Shirou said with a nod of approval. "Keep practicing, and you'll get the hang of it."

Valerie offered a small smile, her cheeks tinged pink. "Thanks, Shirou. I'll try."

Meanwhile, Kuroka continued to rake in chips, her wins coming with unnerving consistency. She didn't seem to be trying very hard, yet every hand, every spin, and every roll seemed to work in her favor. Shirou finally turned his attention to her, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Alright, what's your secret?" he asked. "Nobody's this lucky."

Kuroka chuckled, lazily stretching her arms behind her head. "What, you think I'm cheating?"

"I'm not ruling it out," Shirou replied dryly.

Kuroka leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she regarded him with an amused glint in her golden eyes. "No tricks, boss. Just years of experience. You think I spent all my time in those brothels twiddling my thumbs? Casinos were my favorite hunting grounds. Plenty of naive men looking to show off, thinking they could win big."

"And you let them lose big instead," Shirou said flatly.

Kuroka shrugged, unapologetic. "It's not my fault they were bad at the game. Besides, I don't need to cheat. I read people, study their habits. Most of them give themselves away without realizing it."

Shirou shook his head, though he couldn't help but smirk a little. "Fine. Just don't get too greedy. I don't want you losing everything in one bad bet."

Kuroka snorted. "Please. I've already tripled your money, boss. By the time I'm done, you'll be able to buy this ship."

Shirou rolled his eyes but didn't press the issue. "Just don't push your luck too far." He stood, brushing off his jacket. "I'm heading back to get ready for the final round. Try not to burn the place down while I'm gone."

Valerie gave him a shy wave. "Good luck, Shirou."

Kuroka smirked, waving a chip at him. "Don't worry about me, boss. Worry about yourself. That final round's going to be incredibly difficult I heard."

Shirou didn't respond, but as he walked away, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of gratitude for the odd little group that had formed around him.

The final game was set at the center of an ominous chamber hidden deep within Van Fem's luxurious cruise ship. Dim, flickering light emanated from black iron chandeliers, casting dancing shadows across the dark velvet walls adorned with esoteric symbols. The atmosphere was heavy, almost suffocating, as if the room itself were alive, watching, waiting.

Shirou sat on one side of the triangular table, his gaze locked on the ornate deck of cards lying in the center. Each card seemed to hum faintly with raw energy, its surface swirling with shifting images too fleeting to grasp. Opposite him sat Flat Escardos, who fidgeted with nervous excitement, his youthful face alight with curiosity. Van Fem completed the trio, his calm, regal demeanor unwavering as he casually shuffled his deck with an almost theatrical elegance.

The dealer, an ethereal, robed figure that seemed more shadow than substance, spoke in a voice that echoed without a source. "Welcome to the Tarot of the Abyss. The rules are simple: draw a card, and let fate decide your move. Victory lies in strategy, adaptability, and courage. But beware—this game feeds on your fear, your greed, your soul. Each misstep brings you closer to the abyss."

Shirou clenched his fists under the table. He had faced death before, fought enemies far stronger than himself, but this game—this thing—felt fundamentally different. It wasn't just a test of skill or bravery. It was a test of willpower, one that threatened to strip away everything if he faltered.

The shadowy dealer extended an arm, motioning for the players to begin. "Van Fem, as the host, you draw first."

With a flourish, Van Fem drew a card and placed it face up. The Tower.

The card erupted in golden flames, projecting a vivid illusion of a crumbling castle, its inhabitants screaming as they fell into a fiery chasm. Van Fem, unfazed, placed a glowing red chip onto the table. "A sacrifice," he said, his voice smooth. "To rebuild stronger."

The flames twisted and transformed, morphing into a magnificent palace rising from the ashes. His chip multiplied, spreading across his side of the table in an impressive show of dominance.

Shirou narrowed his eyes. Of course Van Fem would start strong. This wasn't just a game to him—it was a performance, a declaration of his supremacy.

"Your turn, Flat," the dealer intoned.

Flat grinned nervously but drew a card with steady hands. The Fool.

A jester appeared, prancing around the table in a chaotic dance. Flat laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "Well, that's fitting, isn't it?"

The jester tossed a handful of golden coins into the air, each one landing on Flat's side of the table. The coins sparkled brightly, but the shadowy dealer's warning echoed ominously: "The Fool is unpredictable. Beware its tricks."

Flat's grin wavered, but he nodded. "Got it. I'll play it safe."

Finally, it was Shirou's turn. He reached out hesitantly, the weight of the deck pressing against his senses. His fingers brushed the top card, and he flipped it over. The Hanged Man.

Immediately, the air around him grew cold, and he felt an invisible force constricting his movements. A ghostly figure hung upside down from a spectral tree, its lifeless eyes staring directly at him.

"The Hanged Man tests your resolve," the dealer intoned. "Endure the trial, or forfeit your place."

Shirou's vision blurred, his pulse quickening as the room seemed to tilt and sway. A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him, but he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright. He couldn't afford to show weakness—not here, not now.

The ghostly figure faded, and Shirou placed his chip on the table. It glowed faintly, signaling his survival.

Van Fem smiled thinly. "Impressive, Mr. Emiya. But endurance alone won't win this game."

Shirou didn't respond, his focus already shifting to the next round.

The game intensified with each passing round. The cards grew more volatile, their effects more severe. Van Fem continued to dominate, his moves calculated and precise. Flat's unpredictable style kept him afloat, though it was clear he was skating on thin ice. Shirou, meanwhile, found himself struggling to keep up.

On one turn, he drew the Moon, and illusions of haunting memories filled his mind—faces he had failed to save, promises he had broken. He nearly faltered, but the thought of Valerie, Millarca, and even Kuroka waiting for him spurred him on.

Van Fem drew the Sun, flooding the table with blinding light that scorched the chips of his opponents. Flat countered with the Wheel of Fortune, spinning it to redirect some of Van Fem's winnings to himself.

But the true danger came when Shirou drew the Devil.

The card's image twisted and warped, transforming into a grotesque, horned beast that towered over the table. Its deep, guttural laugh sent shivers down Shirou's spine.

"The Devil demands a price," the dealer said. "Will you pay, or will you fall?"

Shirou's hand twitched, and for a moment, he hesitated. The price wasn't just his chips—it was his very essence. He could feel the weight of the beast's gaze, the promise of power laced with the threat of ruin.

"No," he muttered.

The beast lunged, claws extended, but Shirou reacted instinctively. His circuits flared to life as he projected a radiant blade, its edge cutting through the illusory creature. The Devil's roar echoed as it dissolved into black smoke, leaving Shirou drained but alive.

Flat whistled, his expression equal parts impressed and terrified. "Man, you really don't do things halfway, huh?"

Shirou didn't answer, his focus solely on the table.

The final turn came, and the tension was palpable. Van Fem drew the Judgment card, and a massive angel descended, its fiery sword wiping away the chips of both Shirou and Flat. The vampire leaned back, his smile triumphant.

But Flat wasn't finished. His last card, the Magician, summoned a glowing figure that began rearranging the table's remaining chips. With a flick of its wand, the Magician transferred enough chips to Flat's side to push him into the lead.

Shirou, out of options and out of time, could only watch as the game ended.

"The winner," the dealer declared, "is Flat Escardos."

Flat blinked, stunned. "Wait, me? Seriously?"

Van Fem's expression darkened for a brief moment before he regained his composure, clapping politely. "Congratulations, Mr. Escardos. It seems fortune truly favors the bold."

Shirou exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping. He had lost, but for some reason, he didn't feel defeated. Flat's victory was unexpected, but it was hard to begrudge someone who had played so fearlessly.

As the room began to fade back into normalcy, Shirou stood, ready to leave. The final battle might be over, but something told him the show is not yet over.

The roar of applause echoed through the chamber as the dealer formally announced Flat Escardos as the winner of the Fem's Casa tournament. Shirou stood quietly to the side, arms crossed, his thoughts distant. The room buzzed with excitement, participants and spectators alike murmuring about the young mage's unexpected victory. Flat himself looked overwhelmed, glancing around sheepishly as if he couldn't believe his own triumph.

Shirou exhaled softly, his focus shifting away from the celebratory atmosphere. Winning had never been his goal—it was just a means to an end. Jester Karture was gone, and that was all that mattered.

As the crowd began to disperse, he felt a familiar tug at his sleeve. Turning, he saw Millarca, Valerie, and Kuroka approaching. Millarca's crimson eyes studied him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Valerie, meanwhile, clutched her hands together, her face tinged with guilt, while Kuroka strolled up with her usual feline grin.

"Shirou, you okay?" Millarca asked softly.

"I'm fine," Shirou replied, his voice steady. "It's over, isn't it? The rest doesn't matter."

Valerie frowned. "But you lost. Doesn't that bother you? After everything you went through?"

Shirou shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Not really. The tournament wasn't the point for me. Jester's out of the picture, and that's what matters. Besides…" He glanced back toward the stage where Van Fem stood with Flat, handing over the gilded prize. "I think things turned out just fine."

Kuroka chuckled, tilting her head. "Well, aren't you the sentimental type tonight? Don't tell me you're getting soft on us, Shirou~."

He shot her a sidelong look, unimpressed by her teasing. "Hardly. Just putting things into perspective."

Millarca smiled faintly, her voice teasing yet warm. "Perspective or not, you've earned some rest after that. How about we enjoy what's left of the night? There's still plenty of Monaco to see."

The group lingered at the edges of the tournament chamber, watching as Van Fem stepped forward to formally congratulate Flat. His voice boomed with theatrical flair, as if he were addressing a royal court rather than a small room of exhausted gamblers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you our champion, Flat Escardos!" Van Fem gestured grandly toward the young mage, who looked like he wanted to crawl under a table to avoid the attention.

"Uh… thank you?" Flat mumbled, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

Van Fem chuckled, clearly amused by Flat's discomfort. "Now, as promised, you may claim your reward. Speak your wish, young man, and I shall grant it—within reason, of course."

Flat hesitated, his usual energetic demeanor subdued. His gaze flickered to Shirou briefly before he whispered something to Van Fem. The vampire's expression remained impassive as he listened, then he nodded slowly, as if weighing the implications of the request.

"Very well," Van Fem declared, his voice as smooth as silk. "Come with me, and we shall discuss the finer details."

Flat glanced back at Shirou one last time, offering a sheepish wave before following Van Fem into a concealed passage behind the stage. Shirou watched him go, a flicker of curiosity sparking in his mind. What kind of wish would someone like Flat make? But he shook the thought away—whatever it was, it wasn't his concern.

Shirou and the girls eventually made their way to the casino lounge, where the vibrant energy of Monaco's nightlife was still alive and well. Neon lights reflected off polished surfaces, and the sound of slot machines and cheerful chatter filled the air.

Valerie tugged at Shirou's sleeve again, her expression shy. "Shirou… I know you said the outcome doesn't matter, but I still feel bad. If only we'd been able to help you somehow…"

He raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk forming. "Help me? By what—betting on every table and losing all my money?"

Valerie's face turned scarlet, and she stammered an apology, but Shirou waved her off with a chuckle. "Relax, Valerie. I'm just messing with you. Besides, what's a little money compared to getting through all this alive?"

Kuroka leaned on his shoulder, her golden eyes gleaming mischievously. "Well, since you're feeling so generous, how about letting me handle the gambling for the rest of the night? I'll make back every chip you lost and then some."

Shirou gave her a skeptical look. "Don't think I didn't notice how 'lucky' you were earlier. Are you counting cards or something?"

She grinned, fangs flashing. "Who, me? Would I do something so dishonest?"

Millarca snorted, taking a sip from her glass of wine. "Oh, please. Kuroka's been scamming casinos since before she could walk, I bet. But hey, if it works…"

Kuroka clapped her hands together, feigning innocence. "See? Millarca gets it. Now, Shirou, trust me—I'll return your money by six fold of the amount you lend me by tonight."

Shirou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Just don't get us thrown out."

"Cross my heart~."

For the next few hours, the group indulged in the luxuries of the casino. Valerie, despite her nervousness, managed a few small wins with Shirou's guidance, her confidence growing with each roll of the dice. Millarca stuck to the bar, occasionally joining in on the games but mostly observing with an amused smile.

Kuroka, true to her word, raked in a steady stream of winnings at the poker table, her sharp instincts and cunning demeanor making her a force to be reckoned with.

Shirou, for once, allowed himself to relax. He knew their time in Monaco was coming to an end, and the weight of what lay ahead still loomed over him. But for now, surrounded by allies who had become something like friends, he decided to savor the moment.

The night stretched on, and the lights of the casino burned brightly against the dark waters outside.

The evening glow of the Mediterranean horizon painted the ship's deck with hues of amber and violet as Shirou and the girls strolled leisurely toward the disembarkation area. The hum of the cruise ship's engines mixed with the distant murmur of departing guests, their laughter and chatter carrying a final echo of the Fem's Casa tournament's spirited energy.

Millarca walked at Shirou's side, her crimson eyes scanning the scene with a faint, satisfied smile. Valerie lagged a step behind, her cheeks puffed out in mock frustration as she counted the last of her dwindled chips. Kuroka, as ever, moved with a casual swagger, tossing a coin idly into the air.

"Well, this was fun," Kuroka drawled, catching the coin and slipping it into her pocket. "Shame you didn't win, Shirou, but hey, at least we cleaned up at the tables after!"

"Speak for yourself," Valerie muttered, holding up her empty purse. "I think I lost everything Shirou lent me."

Shirou chuckled softly. "Don't worry about it. It was meant to be spent. You had fun, didn't you?"

Valerie nodded reluctantly. "Yeah… but I still feel bad."

"Then win it back next time," Kuroka said with a wink.

As they approached the exit, a deep voice cut through the evening air. "Shirou Emiya."

The group turned as one, and there stood Van Fem, his towering form silhouetted against the golden sky. His coat billowed slightly in the breeze, and his ever-present smile held an unusual weight tonight—less playful, more deliberate.

"Lord Fem," Millarca greeted, arching an elegant brow. "Come to see us off?"

"Not quite," Van Fem replied smoothly, his gaze fixed on Shirou. "I'd like to borrow your companion for a private word. If you'll indulge me, of course."

Shirou frowned slightly, exchanging a glance with the girls. Kuroka shrugged. Millarca gave a faint nod, and Valerie muttered something about not keeping them waiting too long.

"Alright," Shirou said finally, stepping forward. "Lead the way."

Van Fem's office was as opulent as one would expect from the Dead Apostle Ancestor. Heavy, dark wood furniture gleamed under the warm light of ornate chandeliers. Shelves lined with ancient tomes and rare artifacts dominated the walls, while a decanter of wine sat atop a polished desk, its contents catching the light like liquid rubies.

Van Fem gestured for Shirou to sit, taking his place across the desk. For a moment, the vampire simply regarded Shirou, as if weighing his words carefully. Then, he spoke.

"You've impressed me, Shirou Emiya," Van Fem began, his voice calm yet laden with authority. "Few possess the tenacity and cunning you've shown in this tournament. Even fewer manage to best me, even in a single game. For that, you have my respect—and my gratitude. You've made this event far more entertaining than I anticipated."

Shirou leaned back slightly, his arms crossed. "I didn't join the tournament to entertain you."

Van Fem chuckled, the sound rich and deep. "No, you didn't. But that doesn't change the outcome. As a token of my appreciation, I've decided to offer you a reward—a single wish, within reason, to be granted as a mark of your achievement."

Shirou's eyes narrowed. "A wish? I didn't think Dead Apostles were in the business of granting favors."

"Only to those who've earned them," Van Fem said, his smile sharpening. "You are one such individual."

For a moment, Shirou considered refusing outright. He wasn't in the habit of accepting favors from powerful, enigmatic beings. But then, a thought struck him—a rare opportunity to gain insight into the figures he would inevitably face.

After a pause, Shirou leaned forward slightly. "Alright. If that's the case, I want information."

Van Fem's smile widened. "Oh? And on whom, pray tell?"

"Levionese Nebiron, Rizevim Livan Lucifer, Altrouge Brunestud, and Daybit Sem Void," Shirou said, his tone steady.

Van Fem's amusement faltered, replaced by a flicker of surprise. He regarded Shirou carefully, his fingers steepled before him. "An ambitious request," he murmured. "And a dangerous one. Tell me, Shirou Emiya—why do you seek knowledge of these individuals?"

Shirou's gaze didn't waver. "The same client who hired me to eliminate Jester Karture also tasked me with taking them down."

Van Fem let out a low, thoughtful hum. "Intriguing. Very well, I shall grant you information on one of these targets. That is the limit of our deal."

Shirou nodded, his mind racing. He considered his options carefully. Of the four, the one he knew the most about was Altrouge Brunestud—thanks to EMIYA's memories. From what he had seen, Altrouge was not just dangerous but nearly untouchable, possessing the embodiment of Beast V as her familiar. If she was anything like the version EMIYA had fought, Shirou preferred to avoid her for now.

"Daybit Sem Void," Shirou said finally. "Tell me about him."

Van Fem's smile faded, replaced by a look of genuine intrigue. "Ah, a fascinating choice. Daybit is not a name one hears often, nor lightly. Very well. I shall tell you what I know."

The vampire leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he began. "Daybit Sem Void is no ordinary man. He wields a Longinus-class Sacred Gear—Telos Karma. It is a relic of unparalleled power, granting its user absolute control over fate and destiny. With it, Daybit can manipulate probabilities, bend reality to his whims, and ensure outcomes that defy all logic. In essence, he is a man who cannot lose, not unless he wills it."

Shirou's expression hardened, his fists clenching at his sides. "A Sacred Gear like that… how do I fight him?"

Van Fem's smile returned, this time more somber. "With great difficulty, I'm afraid. But you are not without hope. Your own Sacred Gear, Innovate Clear, holds tremendous potential. Innovate Clear is also a potential rival for Telos Karma. If you can master it to a conceptual level, you may stand a chance against Daybit. Innovate Clear can reshape the very fabric of reality, creating entirely new worlds and possibilities. The key lies in unlocking its full capabilities."

Shirou absorbed the information silently, the weight of it pressing down on him like a heavy shroud.

"Mastery of a Sacred Gear is no easy feat," Van Fem continued. "It requires not only strength of will but also trust—trust in yourself and in those who stand beside you. You cannot face someone like Daybit alone. If you are to succeed, you must rely on your companions. They are your greatest asset."

Shirou's mind flashed to Millarca, Valerie, and Kuroka, their faces vivid in his memory. He didn't respond immediately, instead lowering his gaze to the polished surface of the desk.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said finally. "Thank you."

Van Fem inclined his head, raising his glass in a mock toast. "May fortune favor you, Shirou Emiya. And remember—destiny is not always set in stone. Even Telos Karma has its limits. And remember, don't shoulder this burden alone."

Shirou stood, his resolve solidifying with every step toward the door. He had much to prepare for and even more to learn. But for now, he was ready to face whatever came next.

As he left the office and rejoined his companions, the ship's lights seemed brighter, the air clearer. The journey ahead would be perilous, but Shirou was determined to see it through—no matter the cost.

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the distant sounds of cars and revelers drifting up from the streets of Monte Carlo. Shirou sat in a simple chair near the window, his eyes fixed on the city's glittering skyline. The vibrant nightlife painted the darkness with flashes of color, yet Shirou's thoughts were far from the dazzling view.

Van Fem's words replayed in his mind like a mantra, each sentence heavy with meaning. "Do not shoulder this burden alone… Innovate Clear's potential rivals of Telos Karma…" The implications weighed on him more than he cared to admit. The journey ahead promised danger, challenges that would push him beyond his limits. Could he truly trust others to walk this path with him?

A soft knock at the door broke through his reverie, followed by a familiar voice.

"Shirou? It's Millarca. Can I come in?"

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Standing, he walked to the door and opened it to find Millarca waiting, her crimson eyes glimmering in the hallway's soft light. Her usual playful demeanor was absent, replaced by a quiet, uncertain expression.

"Come in," Shirou said, stepping aside to let her pass.

Millarca entered the room, glancing around before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She smoothed her dress absently, her movements subdued. Shirou returned to his chair by the window, leaning back slightly and waiting for her to speak.

At first, their conversation was lighthearted, drifting from their earlier casino games to Valerie's knack for losing every bet she made. Millarca even teased Shirou about how serious he looked while playing poker.

"Honestly, Shirou," she said with a small laugh, "you've got the best poker face I've ever seen. If this mercenary thing doesn't work out, you could make a killing as a professional gambler."

Shirou smirked faintly. "I'll keep that in mind if I ever need a career change."

But as the conversation flowed, the air between them began to shift. The humor faded, replaced by a quiet tension that Millarca finally broke.

"Shirou," she began softly, her voice steady but tinged with hesitation, "there's something I need to tell you."

He tilted his head slightly, giving her his full attention.

"I've been exiled," she said, her words landing like a stone in the quiet room.

Shirou's brows furrowed. "Exiled? From the Carmilla Faction?"

Millarca nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands clasped in her lap. "Yes. I just happened to received the information from my family's familiar. I suspect Elmenhilde orchestrated it—framed me for the incident with Valerie and everything else that happened. I have no proof, but it all lines up too perfectly. She's always been waiting for a chance to get rid of me, and now…"

Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the city below.

"I see," Shirou said quietly. "So, what are you going to do now?"

Millarca hesitated, biting her lip. Then, with a deep breath, she looked up and met Shirou's eyes. "I've been thinking about what you said back at Van Fem's Private cruise ship… about helping me if I ever needed it. I didn't want to take you up on it, but now…" She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Now I don't have anywhere else to go. So, I'm asking—can Valerie and I stay with you? At least until I can settle things with Elmenhilde and clear my name."

Shirou leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing as he considered her request. She hurriedly added, "I promise we won't be freeloaders. I'll help you with your mercenary work. I can fight, you know that. And Valerie… well, she's still learning, but she can pull her weight too."

Her words came out in a rush, as if she feared he might refuse. Shirou didn't respond immediately, his mind turning over the implications. On one hand, taking them in would complicate things. On the other, Van Fem's words lingered: "If you are to succeed, you must rely on your companions. They are your greatest asset."

After a long silence, Shirou sighed and gave a small nod. "Alright. You can stay with me."

Millarca blinked, her expression shifting from surprise to joy. "Really?"

"Yes," Shirou said. "But on one condition—you're not just tagging along. If you're staying with me, we work as a team. No holding back, no secrets. Agreed?"

"Agreed!" Millarca said quickly, a wide smile breaking across her face. Without warning, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Shirou in a tight hug.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice soft and genuine.

Shirou stiffened slightly at the unexpected gesture, but after a moment, he relaxed, letting her hold him. After a few seconds, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and eased her back.

"You don't need to thank me," he said, his tone calm but firm. "We're still close acquantance. That means we help each other out. Simple as that."

Millarca nodded, her smile never fading. She stood, brushing her dress down. "Well, I'd better let you get some rest. It's been a long day."

As she moved toward the door, Shirou spoke again. "One more thing."

She paused, glancing back at him.

"We're heading to my main base in Bulgaria soon," he said. "I'll explain the details tomorrow, but that's the next step for all of us. Be ready."

Millarca's eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and excitement. "Understood. Goodnight, Shirou."

"Goodnight," he replied.

As the door closed behind her, Shirou leaned back in his chair, his gaze returning to the window. The city's lights still glittered, but now they seemed a little less distant, a little more connected to the path he was carving.

For the first time in a long while, Shirou felt a faint sense of familial bonds after he had lost everyone that he loved.

A/N: Another chapter has finished. This is the second time I've written a long chapter that reach 10,000 words. Finally, the first arc has come to an end. Also in this chapter an interesting character from Nasuverse, Flat Escardos, have been introduced. Recently, I just read a summary for the story plot of Lord El Melloi II Adventure that revolve around Fem's Casa. After reading it, I think the first arc of this story won't feel complete without introducing him in this arc even though he only appears at the end of the arc. His appearance in this chapter is also not without a cause, his appearance in this chapter Will act as a briedge for his involvement in Shirou's adventure in the second arc. And Flat himself Will have an active role on the second arc itself.

Anyway, that's all I can say for now. Please give me some reviews and I'll see you guys again on the next chapter which marks the beginning of the new arc.

Bye!