Chapter 10: Howls and Slythers Part 1
Nestled deep in the heart of Namur Province in Bulgaria, hidden by dense forests and cradled within the embrace of a tall hill, lay a fortress that few would ever stumble across. The Rook, as it was now known, sat perched on the edge of the hill, overlooking a breathtaking waterfall that spilled into a tranquil river far below. From the outside, it looked almost medieval, like a relic of a long-gone era with its towering stone walls, iron gates, and a pair of watchtowers that stood sentinel over the forest.
But looks could be deceiving.
The Rook had once been something entirely different: a grim, utilitarian base of operations for the KGB during the Cold War. It was meant to be invisible, functional, and thoroughly uninviting—a shadowy retreat where secrets were buried and forgotten. By the time Shirou Emiya had come into possession of it, the place was a decaying husk, its reinforced doors rusted, its floors strewn with debris, and its once-sophisticated security systems little more than outdated relics.
Now, it was unrecognizable.
Shirou had poured time, resources, and no small amount of effort into its transformation. The outside retained its fortress-like appearance, an intentional choice meant to dissuade intruders, but the interior had been completely redone. Walking into The Rook was like stepping into the home of a noble magician: grand, elegant, and practical in its design.
The main hall greeted visitors with polished oak floors that gleamed in the morning light filtering through arched windows. The staircase at the center was wide and regal, its railings carved with intricate patterns resembling magical sigils. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, each enchanted to emit a soft, warm glow. The walls were a blend of old stone and fine wood paneling, adorned with tapestries depicting mythical battles and intricate runes that hummed faintly with protective magic.
Despite its opulence, The Rook wasn't all for show. Its true secrets lay beneath its surface. Hidden rooms and concealed passageways were scattered throughout, accessible only through specific enchantments or mechanisms known solely to Shirou. One such room, nestled behind a false wall in the east wing, served as Shirou's personal workshop.
The workshop was a fascinating contradiction of old and new. The left side was dominated by a traditional smithy, complete with an anvil, a roaring forge, and racks of tools for shaping steel. On the right, shelves of alchemical equipment sat alongside vials of mysterious liquids and neatly arranged magical tomes. The faint scent of molten metal mingled with the sharp tang of herbs, creating an atmosphere that felt alive with creativity and experimentation.
As the first hints of dawn began to creep over the horizon, the mansion remained quiet, its other occupants—Millarca, Valerie, and Kuroka—still sound asleep. In his room, Shirou stirred awake. His body moved almost on autopilot, honed by years of discipline. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he stretched briefly, rolling his shoulders before slipping into a plain but functional training outfit.
He moved silently through the mansion, careful not to disturb anyone as he stepped outside into the brisk morning air. The forest was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind and the distant roar of the waterfall. Shirou inhaled deeply, savoring the clean, earthy scent of the woods before setting off on his morning jog.
The trail he followed wound through the trees, the ground uneven and speckled with fallen leaves. Each step crunched softly beneath his feet as he ran, his breaths steady and controlled. The path was familiar to him now, a part of his daily ritual, and it wasn't long before he arrived at his favorite training spot—a secluded clearing nestled between tall pines.
Here, Shirou began his routine. Push-ups, squats, pull-ups, and sit-ups, each exercise performed with methodical precision. He didn't count out loud, but his mind kept track, driving him to complete every set of one hundred repetitions. Once his body was sufficiently warmed up, he moved on to the next phase.
Drawing two swords he had forged himself, Shirou stepped into the center of the clearing and began a series of katas. Each movement was deliberate, a seamless blend of grace and lethality honed through years of practice. The blades danced through the air, their edges glinting faintly in the soft morning light.
After his swordsmanship drills came archery practice. He had set up targets at varying distances along the treeline, crude but functional. Nocking an arrow, Shirou took aim, his breathing slowing as he focused. The bowstring creaked softly as he pulled it back, and with a quiet thrum, the arrow flew, striking the bullseye with unerring accuracy.
But today, Shirou wasn't content to stop there. After completing his usual regimen, he turned his attention to his Sacred Gear, Innovate Clear. He had been experimenting with it more and more lately, pushing its limits, seeking ways to wield it effectively in battle.
He began with something simple—a basic bounded field. Concentrating, he extended his magic outward, weaving the threads of the field into existence. A faint shimmer surrounded him as the boundary took shape, its structure clean and precise. He examined it critically before dissolving it and starting again.
Each attempt grew more complex. Shirou began layering concepts into the field, imbuing it with properties that would give him an edge in combat. The air around him grew charged, heavy with magical energy, as the bounded field expanded and shifted. It wasn't easy—each new addition required intense focus, and even the smallest mistake could unravel the entire construct.
Finally, after what felt like hours, he succeeded in creating something truly remarkable. The bounded field shimmered with a life of its own, its structure intricate and near-flawless. Within its boundaries, the environment subtly shifted, the ground firming beneath his feet, the air feeling sharper and more responsive.
Shirou released the field with a heavy breath, watching as it faded back into nothingness. His body was drenched in sweat, and his magical reserves were nearly half-depleted. Though tempted to push further—particularly with Innovate Clear's ability to create near-perfect living beings—he knew his limits. For today, he had done enough.
The sun was fully risen by the time Shirou made his way back to The Rook, its golden light streaming through the trees. Though his muscles ached and his mind was fatigued, there was a quiet satisfaction within him. For now, the world was still. But deep down, Shirou couldn't shake the feeling that this peace wouldn't last forever.
The aroma of sizzling oil and fragrant spices wafted through the corridors of The Rook, signaling the start of another one of Shirou's morning rountine.
After Shirou return to The Rook from his work out spot at the hill and take a quick shower. He move to work on making breakfast for himself and his companions just like what he had been doing in the past four weeks after the events from Monaco.
Shirou stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and a focused expression on his face as he prepared breakfast. The kitchen, like much of The Rook, was an elegant blend of practicality and luxury. Gleaming countertops of dark granite reflected the warm light from the overhead fixtures, and the walls were lined with shelves filled with both mundane cookware and magical tools. A modern stove stood alongside an enchanted pantry that hummed softly, its magic keeping every ingredient inside fresh and perfectly preserved.
On the stove, several woks hissed and popped as Shirou worked with practiced ease. Today's menu was a selection of elaborate Chinese dishes he had learned over the years: Xiaolongbao, delicate soup dumplings steamed to perfection; Mapo Tofu, silky cubes of tofu swimming in a fiery red sauce laced with Sichuan peppercorns; Chow Mein, stir-fried noodles tossed with fresh vegetables and a savory sauce; and a pot of Congee, simmering gently with tender slices of pork and century eggs. The table was already set, a testament to Shirou's meticulous nature, with bowls and chopsticks laid out neatly.
Millarca was the first to appear, drawn to the kitchen by the irresistible aroma. She sauntered in, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
"Smells amazing, as always," she said, leaning casually against the doorframe. "You really spoil us, Shirou. I might never leave at this rate."
"Good," Shirou replied without looking up from his work. "That means I won't have to cook for fewer people."
Millarca chuckled, taking a seat at the table. She propped her chin on her hand, watching him work with a curious gaze. "You know, you could've been a chef in another life. Ever thought about opening a restaurant?"
"Not really," Shirou said, plating the Xiaolongbao with careful precision. "Cooking is relaxing, but I don't think I'd enjoy doing it for strangers."
The sound of shuffling footsteps announced Valerie's arrival. She appeared in the doorway, her blonde hair slightly tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep. She clutched a thick book in one hand and a pillow in the other, her movements slow and deliberate.
"Morning," she mumbled, sliding into a seat beside Millarca.
"Morning," Millarca greeted with a small grin. "Rough night?"
"Studying," Valerie murmured, placing the book on the table. "I got lost in the chapters about magical energy flow and didn't realize how late it was."
Before Millarca could respond, Kuroka made her entrance, her usual swagger on full display. She was dressed in a loose kimono-style robe exposing her shoulders and large part of her breasts, her black ears twitching as she sniffed the air.
"Finally, breakfast is ready," she said, walking straight to the kitchen counter. "I'm starving."
"Don't touch that," Shirou warned, swatting her hand away as she reached for a dumpling.
"C'mon, just one," Kuroka teased, grabbing a piece of Chow Mein instead and popping it into her mouth before Shirou could stop her. "Mmm, perfect as always."
"You're impossible," Shirou muttered, shaking his head as he carried the dishes to the table.
The four of them sat down together, the spread of food a testament to Shirou's effort. Conversation flowed easily as they ate, the clinking of chopsticks and the occasional burst of laughter filling the room.
Millarca smirked as she glanced over at Valerie, who was quietly nibbling on a piece of steamed dumpling. "Valerie, you know, I heard you sneaking around the library last night again. Let me guess—another all-nighter trying to figure out that old grimoire Shirou gave you? I'm surprised you didn't turn into a bat from lack of sleep."
Valerie looked up from her plate, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly as a faint blush crept up her pale cheeks. "I wasn't up all night," she said softly, though her voice lacked conviction. "It was... just a little past midnight. Besides, I made progress on decoding it."
Millarca chuckled, clearly enjoying the opportunity to poke fun. "Progress? Or are you just using that as an excuse to avoid actual sleep? You're like a vampire trying to live up to the stereotype."
Kuroka, leaning lazily on her chair, tail flicking back and forth, took the opportunity to chime in. "You wanna talk about stereotypes, nya? Shirou's the real workaholic around here. That guy's training routine makes even devils look lazy." She shot a mischievous grin at Shirou, who raised an eyebrow but didn't stop eating. "Honestly, Valerie, you've got nothing on this guy."
Shirou sighed, setting his chopsticks down for a moment. "I'm sitting right here, Kuroka. And if I'm strict, it's because someone around here has to set an example."
Kuroka snickered. "Set an example? Oh, please. You're just lucky Valerie hasn't collapsed yet trying to keep up with you. Though," she added with a mock-thoughtful expression, "that might be because she's too stubborn to let anyone think she's weaker than the rest of us."
Valerie, still composed despite the teasing, took a sip of her tea before responding. "And you, Kuroka, shouldn't talk about discipline. Weren't you the one who disappeared for hours yesterday while we're in the middle of doing house chores without telling anyone?" Her tone was calm, but the pointed remark made Kuroka freeze mid-bite.
Kuroka's ears twitched, and she quickly waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, well, you know... that's just part of my charm, nya. Gotta keep you all on your toes!"
Millarca laughed outright at Kuroka's weak excuse, while Valerie returned to her food with a small, victorious smile. Shirou shook his head, muttering something about "old children" under his breath, but a faint grin tugged at his lips as he watched the banter unfold.
As they continue to eat, the TV in the corner of the room played softly in the background, tuned to a local news channel. The cheerful anchor's voice shifted to a more serious tone as a breaking news segment began.
"We bring you an update on the mysterious massacres that have plagued the region," the anchor said. "Last night, another incident occurred in the town of Saint-Aubin, just thirty kilometers from here. Authorities remain baffled, as the scenes of the crimes bear no signs of conventional weapons or human perpetrators. Locals have reported strange howls and an overwhelming sense of unease in the area."
Shirou paused mid-bite, his attention drawn to the screen. Millarca and Valerie exchanged uneasy glances, while Kuroka leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful.
"I was in Saint-Aubin yesterday," Kuroka said casually, breaking the silence. "The whole town reeked of snakes and wolves. It was… odd."
"Snakes and wolves?" Shirou repeated, setting down his chopsticks.
Kuroka nodded. "Yeah. Not your usual wildlife smells either—this was different. Almost unnatural."
Shirou's eyes narrowed slightly, his mind already working. "Did you notice anything else unusual?"
"Not really," Kuroka replied, shrugging. "But whatever's going on there, it's not normal. If you're thinking about checking it out, I'd say you're on the right track."
"I might," Shirou said, his tone thoughtful.
The room fell quiet for a moment as they processed the news. Then, Millarca broke the tension with a lighthearted comment about not wanting to visit any towns with creepy howls. The conversation shifted back to more mundane topics, but Shirou's mind lingered on Kuroka's words and the news report.
As breakfast wound down, he made a mental note to investigate Saint-Aubin. Whatever was happening there, it was too close to ignore.
The library at The Rook was a testament to Shirou Emiya's meticulousness. The room stretched wide and high, its walls lined with shelves brimming with knowledge—encyclopedias, rare magical tomes, and ancient scrolls that had seen centuries of history. A faint golden glow from the chandelier above softened the space, while the crackle of a nearby fireplace lent a cozy warmth. It was a haven for quiet study, the kind of place where time seemed to slow down.
Shirou stepped inside, his boots making soft thuds against the polished wooden floor. He carried a small stack of notes and a single, well-worn journal tucked under his arm. This wasn't the first time he'd spent hours in here unraveling mysteries, and he doubted it would be the last. Placing his materials on a large oak desk near the center of the room, he sank into the leather chair with a faint sigh, already bracing himself for the long hours ahead.
Earlier during breakfast, Kuroka's offhand comment about the town of Saint-Aubin smelling like snakes and wolves had struck a chord. It wasn't just her words but the weight behind them—her keen sensory abilities rarely led her astray. If something in Saint-Aubin reeked of predators, it was likely tied to supernatural beings. Shirou wasn't the type to take chances, so here he was, poring over his collection of books in search of answers.
He began flipping through the pages, each one an intricate tapestry of illustrations and handwritten text. After nearly three hours of research, Shirou leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair in thought. He'd narrowed down one of the culprits to werewolves—Kuroka's mention of wolves and their association with unnatural danger made it the most logical conclusion. However, the serpentine presence eluded him. Two possibilities lingered in his mind: a basilisk or a lamia. Both were deadly in their own right, and either could spell trouble for anyone in the town.
The creak of the library door broke his concentration, and he glanced up to see Valerie stepping inside. She carried a small stack of papers and a leather-bound grimoire under her arm, her soft features illuminated by the dim light of the room.
"Sorry to disturb you," Valerie said quietly, her voice almost lost in the room's vastness.
"You're not disturbing me," Shirou replied, his tone calm but warm. "Feel free to join me."
Valerie nodded and made her way to a nearby desk. She placed the grimoire down with a soft thud and opened it with deliberate care. The faint hum of magical energy emanating from the book didn't escape Shirou's notice. Valerie had been delving deeper into her studies lately, and it was evident she was taking her training seriously.
A few minutes later, the door swung open again, this time with less subtlety. Millarca strode in, her crimson eyes alight with curiosity. She paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of Shirou buried in books and Valerie hunched over her grimoire.
"Well, isn't this a cozy little study session?" Millarca teased, her voice carrying a playful lilt.
Shirou glanced up, smirking faintly. "If you're here to distract me, you're too late. I'm already deep into this."
Millarca chuckled and sauntered over to Valerie, peering over her shoulder at the grimoire. "Need a hand?"
Valerie shook her head but offered a small smile. "I think I've got it, but thank you."
Millarca plopped into the chair beside her, leaning back with an air of casual confidence. The two fell into a quiet rhythm, with Millarca occasionally asking questions or making observations about the text. Despite her playful nature, she had a sharp mind and a surprising depth of knowledge when it came to the arcane.
The quiet however was soon shattered by a dramatic yawn as Kuroka entered the room, stretching lazily. Her golden eyes scanned the space, and she let out an exaggerated sigh. "What a boring day," she announced, her golden eyes scanning the room. She prowled along the shelves, occasionally pulling out a book and flipping through it before tossing it back. Finally, she found a comfortable-looking armchair and sprawled across it, one leg dangling lazily over the side.
"You know, Shirou," she drawled, "if you're gonna hog all the fun research, the least you could do is share the highlights."
Shirou shot her a dry look but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. "I'll let you know when I find something exciting."
Kuroka grinned, clearly amused, and settled into her chair, flipping through a random book.
It wasn't long before the quiet hum of activity turned into a full conversation. Millarca, ever the curious one, was the first to notice Shirou's stack of notes. "So, what's all this about?" she asked, nodding toward the pile.
Shirou glanced up, his expression turning serious. "I've been looking into the massacre in Saint-Aubin. Kuroka's earlier comment about Saint-Aubin smelling like Snakes and Wolves and that it doesn't smell like natural wild life points to supernatural involvement in this Massacre."
At the mention of wolves, Valerie's hands froze mid-turn of a page. Her gaze flicked to Millarca, who met her eyes with a knowing look.
"Werewolves," Millarca said quietly. It wasn't a question.
Shirou nodded. "Most likely. But the snake aspect... I haven't been able to pin that down yet."
Millarca frowned, her playful demeanor fading. "If it's Werewolves, this won't be a simple investigation. You know they don't take kindly to... people like us."
Valerie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers tightening around the edges of her grimoire.
"I know," Shirou said, his tone calm but firm. "That's why I'm doing my homework. If we're dealing with something this dangerous, I need to be prepared."
Kuroka, who had been quietly observing the exchange, suddenly leaned forward, her golden eyes glinting with amusement. "Sounds fun," she said. "I'll come with you, Shirou. You're gonna need someone with good senses and tracking skills, after all."
Shirou raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. "You're volunteering because you're bored, aren't you?"
"Maybe," Kuroka admitted, her grin widening. "But I'm also right, aren't I? You'll need someone like me if you want to sniff out these Werewolves and whatever snake thing is lurking around."
Shirou sighed, conceding her point. "Fair enough. But no unnecessary risks, Kuroka."
She placed a hand over her heart in mock sincerity. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Valerie hesitated before softly speaking up. "I'd like to come too. Millarca and I... we can help."
Shirou turned to her, concern flickering in his eyes. "Are you sure? Werewolves are no joke, especially for vampires. If we run into an Alpha-class Werewolf, things could get dangerous."
Millarca quickly interjected, her voice firm. "We'll be fine, Shirou. Valerie's improved a lot in her training. She can handle herself against lower-class threats. Besides, we're not going to let you face this alone."
Shirou studied her for a moment before nodding. "Alright. But if things get out of hand, I want you all to retreat to The Rook immediately. No heroics."
"Of course," Millarca said with a small smile.
Valerie nodded earnestly. "We promise."
Kuroka, however, couldn't resist teasing him. "Aw, is someone worried about us? Careful, Shirou. Keep this up, and we might start thinking you actually care about us."
Shirou, ever oblivious to her playful tone, answered matter-of-factly. "I do care. You three are part of my group now. That makes you all my responsibility."
His straightforward response left the three women momentarily speechless. Valerie blushed faintly , Millarca's smirk softened into a genuine smile, and even Kuroka seemed momentarily taken aback, her golden eyes studying him with a newfound intensity.
As Shirou gathered his notes and prepared to leave, he paused at the door, turning back to give them a final instruction. "We leave for Saint-Aubin tonight. Get some rest before then."
The three women exchanged glances as he exited the room. Millarca grinned knowingly, Valerie seemed lost in thought, and Kuroka stretched lazily, though the glimmer in her eyes suggested she wasn't as nonchalant as she pretended to be.
For a moment, the library was quiet again, save for the crackle of the fire. Then, Millarca broke the silence with a chuckle. "He really doesn't get it, does he?"
Valerie didn't respond, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her grimoire. Kuroka, meanwhile, let out a soft laugh, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Nope. But that's part of his charm, isn't it?"
And with that, the three women returned to their work, each with their own thoughts lingering on the man who had unknowingly won their admiration.
The air shimmered faintly with energy as Kuroka completed her teleportation spell. A pulse of magic rippled through the space around Shirou and his companions, distorting their surroundings like heat waves on a summer road. One moment, they stood within the fortified walls of The Rook, and the next, they were somewhere else entirely.
The change was instant but jarring. Shirou staggered slightly as his feet hit uneven cobblestone, his stomach lurching violently. A wave of nausea overtook him, and he instinctively reached out to steady himself against a nearby lamppost.
"Ugh..." he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought the unsettling sensation. "That... was horrible."
Kuroka, who appeared perfectly unaffected by the teleportation, smirked as she watched him struggle. "What's the matter, Shirou? Can't handle a little teleportation magic?" she teased, her golden eyes gleaming mischievously. "You look like you just got off the world's most cursed roller coaster."
Shirou shot her a flat, unimpressed look, though the slight pallor of his face betrayed him. "I've never teleported before," he muttered. "Give me a second to adjust."
Kuroka leaned closer, her tone dripping with mock concern. "Aw, poor Shirou. First time's always the hardest, huh? Maybe next time I'll slow it down for you. Wouldn't want our fearless leader getting sick all over the place."
Shirou clenched his jaw, biting back a retort. He could feel Valerie's concerned gaze and Millarca's barely-contained laughter behind him, but he opted to stay silent. What could he say, anyway? It wasn't like he had a clever comeback ready, and any argument would only encourage Kuroka to keep teasing him.
"You done?" he finally asked, standing straighter and brushing imaginary dust off his coat.
"For now," Kuroka said, a sly grin still tugging at her lips.
Valerie stepped in with a gentle smile, her voice soft and reassuring. "Teleportation magic can be overwhelming the first time. Don't worry, Shirou, you'll get used to it."
"Yeah," Millarca chimed in, a playful edge to her voice. "But until then, maybe pack a sick bag next time?"
"Very funny," Shirou deadpanned, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering queasiness.
With that, he turned his attention to their surroundings. Saint-Aubin was a far cry from the relative safety of The Rook. The small town was shrouded in darkness, the only illumination coming from the pale light of a waxing moon. Narrow streets twisted and turned between rows of old, weathered buildings, their facades cracked and worn from years of neglect. Shadows stretched long and deep across the cobblestone paths, and an eerie silence hung in the air, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the cold night breeze.
The oppressive atmosphere was palpable, and even the usually bold Kuroka grew quiet as she scanned the area.
"This place is... unsettling," Valerie murmured, her crimson eyes darting to every shadow as if expecting something to lunge out at them.
Shirou nodded, his expression grim. "Stay sharp. Whatever's infested this town could be watching us already."
He took a deep breath, then turned to face his companions. "We need to cover as much ground as possible, but we can't afford to take unnecessary risks. We'll split into two teams to investigate different parts of the town. Kuroka, you and Millarca will take the southern area. Valerie and I will head north."
Kuroka arched an eyebrow, her tail flicking lazily behind her. "Splitting up, huh? Bold move. You sure about this?"
"It's the best way to cover more ground quickly," Shirou replied. "But we're not here to fight. If you encounter anything you can't handle, retreat immediately. Find me or head back to The Rook. No heroics, understood?"
Millarca gave a quick nod, her usual playful demeanor tempered by the gravity of the situation. "Got it. We'll be careful."
Valerie, standing beside Shirou, hesitated before speaking. "And what if we can't retreat? What if..."
"That's not an option," Shirou said firmly, cutting her off. His voice softened slightly as he met her gaze. "You're not alone in this, Valerie. None of us are. If something goes wrong, call for help. We'll come for you."
Kuroka smirked, crossing her arms. "Aw, so protective. Starting to think you care about us, Shirou."
He shot her a sharp look, but there was no real heat behind it. "I do. That's why I'm saying this."
For a moment, Kuroka's teasing expression softened. She gave a casual shrug, her tail flicking again. "Fine, fine. No unnecessary risks, retreat if it gets too dangerous. Got it."
Satisfied, Shirou nodded. "Good. Let's move."
With that, the group split up. Shirou and Valerie headed north, their footsteps echoing faintly against the cobblestones. Kuroka and Millarca took the southern route, their figures disappearing into the shadows.
As Shirou and Valerie walked in silence, the weight of the town's oppressive atmosphere pressed down on them. Every creak of wood, every rustle of leaves set their nerves on edge.
"Do you think we'll find anything tonight?" Valerie asked quietly, breaking the silence.
"Probably," Shirou said, his tone cautious. "But let's hope it finds us on our terms."
Meanwhile, Kuroka and Millarca moved with feline grace through the southern streets, their senses sharp and alert.
"This place gives me the creeps," Millarca muttered.
Kuroka smirked. "Creepy's an understatement. But hey, at least we've got each other. Just don't scream if something jumps out at you, okay?"
Millarca rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. "I'll try not to."
The investigation had begun, and the night is still long. Whatever mystery that's currently infesting the town of Saint-Aubin, they will uncover it sooner or later.
The southern area of Saint-Aubin was a labyrinth of narrow alleys and overgrown pathways, the buildings leaning at odd angles as if the weight of time had pushed them askew. The faint glow of the moon filtered through cracks in the clouds, casting pale light on the uneven cobblestone streets. Kuroka and Millarca moved cautiously, their footsteps muffled by the damp ground beneath them.
"This place is dead quiet," Millarca murmured, her crimson eyes scanning the shadows warily.
Kuroka, walking a step ahead, let out a soft hum. "Quiet, yeah. But not empty. I can feel it—something's watching us."
Millarca frowned, her grip tightening on the small dagger she carried for close combat. "Comforting thought."
The two continued down the street, their senses on high alert. Every creak of a wooden beam, every rustle of the wind through broken shutters made Millarca's heart race just a little faster. Kuroka, on the other hand, seemed relaxed—almost too relaxed, as if the oppressive atmosphere of the town didn't bother her at all.
Then Kuroka froze mid-step, her ears twitching. She sniffed the air, her golden eyes narrowing.
"What is it?" Millarca asked, her voice hushed.
Kuroka didn't answer right away. She took another deep inhale, her tail flicking behind her. "Snakes," she said finally, her tone thoughtful.
Millarca blinked. "Snakes? In a place like this?"
"Yeah," Kuroka replied, her voice sharper now. "It's faint, but it's there. A smell like this doesn't belong in a place like Saint-Aubin. Definitely not natural."
Millarca frowned, glancing around nervously. "And you think we should follow it?"
Kuroka smirked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What's the matter? Scared of a little snake hunt?"
Millarca bristled, narrowing her eyes at the Nekomata. "I'm not scared," she shot back. "I'm being careful. You know, that thing responsible people do?"
"Sure, sure," Kuroka said, waving a hand dismissively. "But sometimes, being too careful means you miss out on the fun."
"Or end up dead," Millarca countered. "You've heard the saying, haven't you? Curiosity killed the cat?"
Kuroka rolled her eyes dramatically. "Please. I've been a cat long enough to know that curiosity also finds all the good stuff." Without waiting for Millarca's approval, she turned and started following the scent.
Millarca sighed, muttering under her breath. "Why do I always get paired with the reckless ones?" She reluctantly followed, keeping a close watch on their surroundings.
The trail led them to a secluded area of the southern district. The buildings here were in worse shape than the rest of the town, their walls crumbling and their windows shattered. The cobblestone streets gave way to dirt paths overrun with weeds, and the air felt heavier, almost oppressive.
At first, everything was eerily quiet. The only sounds were the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional creak of a distant door swaying in the wind.
Then they heard it—a low, almost imperceptible hissing sound.
Millarca froze, her eyes darting around. "Did you hear that?"
Kuroka nodded, her ears swiveling to pinpoint the source. "Yeah. Sounds like we're not alone anymore."
The hissing grew louder, and the shadows around them seemed to shift and move. Kuroka's tail flicked, her body tensing as she prepared for a fight.
Suddenly, shapes emerged from the darkness. Slithering forms with gleaming scales glided into view, surrounding the two women. Their upper bodies were unmistakably human—female, with flawless skin and sharp, predatory eyes. But their lower halves were serpentine, covered in shimmering scales that glinted in the moonlight.
There were ten of them, their movements synchronized as they formed a loose circle around Kuroka and Millarca. One of the creatures, larger and more imposing than the rest, slithered closer, her forked tongue flicking out as she spoke.
"Well, well," she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain. "What's this? A Japanese demon and a vampire, wandering into our territory?"
Kuroka and Millarca exchanged a glance, neither seeming particularly fazed by the creature's presence.
"Think they're the ones responsible for the smell?" Kuroka asked casually, her tone light as if they were discussing the weather.
"Probably," Millarca replied, matching her nonchalance. "But the question is, do we stay and fight, or do we listen to Shirou and run?"
The serpent-woman's expression twisted into a snarl, her sharp fangs glinting. "Are you ignoring me?" she demanded, her voice rising in anger.
"Not ignoring," Kuroka said with a shrug. "Just deciding if you're worth our time."
The comment clearly struck a nerve. With a furious hiss, the serpent-woman lashed out, her tail whipping toward Kuroka with incredible speed.
Kuroka and Millarca jumped back in unison, narrowly avoiding the attack. The force of the strike cracked the ground where they had been standing moments before.
Millarca landed gracefully, her crimson eyes narrowing. "Looks like we're staying."
Kuroka smirked, her claws extending as she crouched into a fighting stance. "Yeah. Can't let them think they can push us around."
The serpent-women hissed in unison, their eyes glowing with predatory intent as they closed in. Kuroka and Millarca stood back-to-back, their expressions calm but focused.
"Ready?" Millarca asked, her dagger glinting in the moonlight.
"Always," Kuroka replied, her grin widening.
The two of them poised to fight, the tension in the air crackling like a storm about to break.
The northern district of Saint-Aubin was quieter than Shirou had expected. The buildings here were in slightly better shape than those in the southern area, with intact roofs and doors that still hung on their hinges. The streets, however, were no less eerie. The air felt heavy, laden with the scent of damp earth and decay. A soft wind whispered through the alleyways, carrying with it the faint rustle of unseen movements.
Shirou walked with steady steps, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. Valerie stayed close beside him, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. Despite her unease, she carried herself with a quiet determination, the kind that spoke of someone growing more confident in their abilities, even if the fear hadn't entirely left them.
"So," Valerie began, breaking the silence, "how's your progress with Innovate Clear? It's not every day you meet someone who can manifest an entire dimension with their Sacred Gear."
Shirou glanced at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's... coming along. I'm still working on controlling the expansion rate and maintaining stability. The more I practice, the more I realize how delicate the balance is. One mistake, and the whole thing collapses on itself. It's not exactly forgiving."
Valerie nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. A Sacred Gear that can create a pocket dimension isn't something you can master overnight. Still, it sounds like you're making progress."
Shirou tilted his head toward her. "What about you? How's it going with the Sephiroth Graal? Have you been able to tap into its full potential yet?"
Valerie sighed, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "Not quite. It's… complicated. The Graal isn't just a tool—it feels like it has a will of its own sometimes. It's like trying to steer a ship through a storm while the ship itself is deciding where it wants to go. But I'm getting better at channeling its power without losing myself in the process."
"That's good," Shirou said, his tone encouraging. "Control is key. Power without control is more dangerous to yourself than to your enemies."
They walked in silence for a moment before Valerie tilted her head curiously. "By the way, why are you so invested in this massacre case? I mean, I know it's important, but you seem... personally bothered by it."
Shirou slowed his pace, his expression thoughtful. "Saint-Aubin's one of the places in Bulgaria where I get a lot of clients for my mercenary work. It's quiet, usually. Stable. I don't like the idea of some supernatural creatures tearing it apart and scaring people away. This town's been good to me, and I'd rather not see it turned into a hunting ground."
Valerie raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on her lips. "Is that really the only reason? Or is there a part of you that just can't help but get involved when something like this happens?"
Shirou sighed, shaking his head. "That's the only reason. I'm not some Hero of Justice who goes around saving everyone. Those days are behind me."
Valerie chuckled softly. "If you say so."
Before Shirou could respond, a sudden noise cut through the stillness—a guttural snarl followed by the unmistakable sound of a struggle. Both of them froze, their senses sharpening as they tried to pinpoint the source of the commotion.
"That way," Shirou said, nodding toward a narrow alley. Without hesitation, the two of them moved toward the sound, their footsteps silent on the cobblestones.
They emerged into a small courtyard, partially illuminated by the pale moonlight. The scene before them was both chaotic and horrifying. A lone werewolf stood in the center, its massive, muscular frame covered in coarse gray fur. Its claws dripped with blood, and its eyes glowed with a feral intensity. Surrounding it were five serpent-like creatures, their human upper bodies twisted with rage and desperation, their snake-like lower halves coiling and uncoiling as they prepared to strike.
"Those must be the ones responsible for the massacres," Valerie whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
"Most likely," Shirou agreed, his tone calm but edged with tension.
They watched as the werewolf lunged at one of the serpent-women, its claws tearing through her flesh with terrifying ease. The creature let out a shriek before collapsing, her lifeless body hitting the ground with a sickening thud. The remaining serpent-women attacked in unison, their movements swift and coordinated, but the werewolf was faster. It dodged and countered with brutal efficiency, ripping through its enemies with a savagery that left Valerie pale and speechless.
Within moments, the courtyard was silent again. The werewolf stood amidst the carnage, its chest heaving as it surveyed its handiwork. Blood pooled around its feet, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of death.
Valerie swallowed hard, her hands trembling. "That was… brutal."
Shirou's expression was grim. "We should get out of here. Quietly."
But as they turned to leave, the werewolf's ears twitched. It lifted its head, its glowing eyes locking onto them. A low growl rumbled in its throat as it crouched, ready to pounce.
"Damn it," Shirou muttered, stepping in front of Valerie. "Stay behind me."
The werewolf lunged, its claws aiming for Shirou's throat. In an instant, Shirou's twin blades, Kanshou and Bakuya, materialized in his hands. He crossed them in front of him, blocking the attack and forcing the werewolf back with a powerful shove.
The creature snarled, baring its teeth as it circled them, looking for an opening. Shirou held his ground, his blades at the ready.
"Looks like we're not getting out of this without a fight," he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.
Shirou tightening his grip on his swords, his eyes fixed on the werewolf as he prepared for the inevitable clash.
The grand hall of the Clock Tower was unusually quiet for once, its air heavy with an undercurrent of secrecy. A meeting of considerable importance was taking place, attended by some of the most influential magi in the Association. They had gathered to discuss a most peculiar and unsettling phenomenon—the confirmed emergence of a werewolf in Bulgaria.
To the magi present, this was not merely a fascinating occurrence; it was an anomaly that threatened the very foundation of their understanding of supernatural ecosystems. Werewolves, after all, were thought to have been wiped out centuries ago, their existence relegated to dusty tomes and the whispered tales of old hunters. Yet here was proof of one stalking the shadows of a modern world.
It was meant to be a private discussion, safeguarded by the most intricate Bounded Fields to ensure secrecy. And yet, there he was—Flat Escardos, sitting in the back of the room, his face alight with the kind of giddy enthusiasm that made seasoned magi roll their eyes and grumble under their breaths.
Flat hadn't been invited. Of course not. But for a magus like him, invitations were merely formalities. His curious nature had driven him to "hack" through the layered Bounded Fields protecting the meeting—a term he proudly thought of as modern and ingenious, though his teacher would undoubtedly call it reckless and idiotic.
As the discussion progressed, Flat's excitement only grew. He was enthralled by the very idea of a werewolf still existing in the world, and the thought of seeing one in person made his heart race. When the meeting finally concluded, he didn't linger. No, Flat had a mission now, and there was only one person he trusted to help him take the first step: his teacher, Lord El-Melloi II.
The office of Lord El-Melloi II was as cluttered as ever, books and papers piled high on every available surface. Waver Velvet, better known to his students as El-Melloi II, sat at his desk with a cup of tea that had long gone cold. He was reviewing yet another mountain of reports when Flat burst through the door without so much as a knock.
"Professor!" Flat exclaimed, his voice carrying an almost childlike glee.
Waver didn't even look up. "Flat, if you're here to tell me about some nonsense you've stumbled upon, I'm not in the mood."
"But this isn't nonsense!" Flat insisted, bounding up to the desk. "It's about the werewolf!"
Waver finally looked up, his eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about?"
Flat grinned. "The werewolf in Bulgaria! You know, the one that was discussed at the secret meeting just now? I was there."
Waver's expression darkened. "You what?"
"I hacked the Bounded Fields," Flat said proudly, as though it were an accomplishment worth bragging about.
Waver pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh. "Flat, do you have any idea how many rules you've broken just by being in that meeting? And you're telling me this so casually?"
Flat shrugged. "I was curious. And now that I know about the werewolf, I want to go to Bulgaria to find it!"
The declaration was met with stunned silence. Waver stared at his student, his irritation momentarily replaced by disbelief.
"You want to go to Bulgaria?" he repeated slowly.
"Yep!" Flat said, his grin widening. "I mean, think about it, Professor! A werewolf, alive in the modern age! Don't you want to know why it decided to show itself now? It's fascinating!"
"Fascinating," Waver muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Flat, do you have any idea how dangerous a werewolf is? They're not the romanticized creatures you see in films. They're killers, pure and simple."
Flat nodded enthusiastically. "I know! That's what makes it so exciting! Imagine what we could learn from it. Maybe it's different from the ones in the past. Maybe it can be reasoned with. Who knows? Maybe I could even befriend it!"
Waver stared at him, utterly speechless. "Befriend it?"
"Sure! Why not?" Flat said. "Everyone deserves a chance, right?"
Waver shook his head, trying to suppress the growing headache Flat always seemed to induce. "You're insane. Completely and utterly insane."
"Come on, Professor," Flat said, leaning forward on the desk. "You have to admit, it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You should be excited too!"
"I'm not excited," Waver said flatly. "I'm concerned. For you, mostly, because you seem to lack even the most basic sense of self-preservation."
Flat chuckled. "That's why I have you, Professor! You're the Great Big Ben London Star, after all!"
Waver groaned, his face turning a shade redder. "Stop calling me that ridiculous nickname!"
"But it suits you!" Flat insisted.
"Flat, if you don't stop, I'm going to—" Waver stopped himself, taking a deep breath. "Never mind. Just tell me why you're so determined to do this."
Flat's expression turned surprisingly serious. "Because I want to understand. Why now? Why would a werewolf show itself after all this time? There has to be a reason, and I want to find out what it is."
Waver studied him for a moment, his irritation giving way to reluctant respect. As reckless as Flat was, his curiosity was genuine, and his desire to understand the world was one of the few things Waver couldn't fault him for.
"Fine," Waver said at last. "But I'm not helping you find it."
Flat's face lit up. "That's okay! The most important thing I need is the information to find the Werewolf anyway."
Flat's enthusiasm was infectious, though Waver was doing his best not to let it get to him. As his student leaned over the desk, eyes gleaming with excitement, Waver crossed his arms and fixed him with a stern glare.
"Professor," Flat said again, his tone almost wheedling, "you've read all those ancient texts, right? You must know how the magi of the past dealt with werewolves. You could tell me, couldn't you? You're practically a walking encyclopedia!"
Waver sighed. "Flat, even if I did know—and I'm not saying I do—why on earth would I tell you? Do you have any idea how dangerous a werewolf is? It's not something you can just walk up to with a friendly smile and a handshake."
"But I don't plan to fight it," Flat said quickly. "I just want to see it! Maybe talk to it. Maybe understand it."
Waver rubbed his temples. "Talk to it. Flat, werewolves are not misunderstood creatures waiting for someone to come along and befriend them. They are apex predators. They hunt. They kill. That's what they're made for."
"But that's just it!" Flat countered. "Why would one show itself now? If they've stayed hidden for centuries, why break the pattern? Doesn't that intrigue you even a little bit?"
"No, it doesn't," Waver said bluntly.
Flat tilted his head, undeterred. "I think it does. You're just pretending it doesn't because you're worried about me. That's sweet, Professor."
"I am not sweet," Waver snapped, his irritation growing. "And I'm certainly not going to give you information that will make it easier for you to get yourself killed."
Flat clasped his hands together as if in prayer. "Please, Professor! Just tell me how the old magi used to find them. I promise I'll be careful. You're the best teacher ever! The Great Big Ben London Star, the Invincible Wizard of Westminster, the—"
"Flat, stop it!" Waver barked, his face flushing with both embarrassment and annoyance. "I've told you a hundred times to stop calling me those ridiculous nicknames!"
"But they're accurate," Flat said innocently. "And besides, the other students came up with them, not me. I'm just the messenger."
"Well, stop delivering the message!" Waver snapped, though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his struggle to suppress a smirk. He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. You want to know how the magi of the past dealt with werewolves? I'll tell you. But only because I know you'll find some other way to figure it out if I don't."
Flat's eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly. "Thank you, Professor! You're the best!"
Waver groaned but continued. "In the past, magi would lure werewolves by using bait—typically something that would appeal to their heightened senses. Fresh blood, meat, things like that. Once the werewolf was drawn in, they'd use specialized traps, usually laced with silver or enchanted restraints to subdue it. Silver is toxic to werewolves, so it was the most effective weapon against them. But even with all of that, capturing one was never easy, and many magi lost their lives in the process."
Flat listened intently, his excitement only growing. "That's amazing! I mean, not the losing their lives part, but the ingenuity of it all. It's like a real-life adventure story!"
"This is not a story, Flat," Waver said sharply. "This is reality. And if you're planning to use this information, you'd better understand that you're walking into a situation where the slightest mistake could mean your death."
"I understand," Flat said solemnly, though the grin on his face suggested otherwise.
"No, I don't think you do," Waver muttered. "But you're too stubborn to listen to reason, so I suppose it doesn't matter."
Flat beamed. "Thanks, Professor! You're the best teacher ever!"
Waver rolled his eyes. "Just don't make me regret this."
"Don't worry, I won't!" Flat said cheerfully, already heading for the door. "Oh, and by the way, I booked my flight yesterday. It leaves this afternoon, so I'll be out of your hair soon!"
"What?!" Waver exclaimed, standing so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor.
"Thanks for the info, Professor!" Flat said cheerfully, heading for the door. "I'll let you know what I find!"
"Flat, wait—" Waver began, but it was too late. Flat was already gone, leaving Waver standing in the middle of his office, speechless.
After a moment, Waver sighed and grabbed his coat. "I swear, that boy is going to be the death of me."
With that, he stormed out of the office, determined to stop his student before he got himself killed.
"Flat Escardos! you are not getting on that plane!"
To be Continued...
Hello readers! Glad to meet you again. After several weeks, I've finally finished creating the draft for this story. It took me a while to find the materials to create this draft and it also wasn't easy to make it, especially if it's an idea that you actually make on your own from scraps. Anyway, we have officially entering a new Arc which I will personally call it as the Howls and Slythers Arc, because it involves Werewolf and Lamias.
Anyway, that's all that I can share with you at the moment. I hope that the first chapter of the second arc managed to keep you entertain in this upcoming Christmas. Please leave me some reviews. I accept any suggestions and critics that can help this story gets more interesting.
Good bye and see you soon on the next chapter!