Fate/Hijacked

Chapter 12

The Einzbern Castle's grand entrance hall erupted into chaos the moment Illya gave the command. Heracles, the giant Servant known as Berserker, roared with unbridled ferocity and charged toward them with terrifying speed, his colossal axe-sword raised high. The force of his presence was overwhelming, his every step shaking the very foundation of the hall.

Shirou instinctively flinched, the sheer size and power of Berserker sending a chill down his spine. Even though he had faced dangerous enemies before, the raw physicality of Heracles was something else entirely. It felt like the mountain itself was bearing down on him.

"Scatter!" Rin yelled, instinctively taking command of the situation. Shirou barely managed to leap aside as the ground where he had been standing was obliterated by Heracles' strike, sending chunks of marble flying through the room. The sheer power behind the blow was terrifying; one wrong move would result in instant death.

Archer, however, was already moving. He dashed forward, his twin swords, Kanshou and Bakuya, forming in his hands with a flash of steel. He parried the first blow from Berserker's monstrous weapon, but the sheer force behind it caused his blades to shatter instantly. Archer's reflexes were quick enough to avoid the follow-up strike, leaping back with a graceful agility that defied the tension of the moment. As he landed, the shattered remains of his swords dissolved, only to be reformed instantly in his grip as if they had never been broken.

Shirou could barely follow the exchange. Every time Archer's blades shattered, they reappeared in his hands with the same fluid motion. But even to Shirou's untrained eyes, it was clear that Archer was on the defensive—narrowly evading Berserker's onslaught, only a few inches away from a killing blow at every moment.

"Berserker's relentless," Shirou muttered under his breath. "How is Archer even managing to keep up with him?"

"Barely," Lady Avalon remarked beside him, a playful smile on her lips. "But don't worry, Shirou. I won't let our dear Archer fall just yet."

She raised her hand, and a soft glow of magical energy enveloped Archer. It was almost imperceptible at first, but Shirou noticed the subtle shift in Archer's movements. His strikes were faster, more precise, his dodges sharper. Lady Avalon's support magic was bolstering Archer's abilities, giving him the extra edge he needed to hold his own and stay alive in this deadly dance.

Rin, who had been observing the battle from a distance, clenched her fists in frustration. "Damn it, Berserker's too strong. Even with Archer's skill, we're not going to last much longer at this rate."

"Well, I do have a suggestion," Lady Avalon chimed in, her tone light but serious. "You could always use one of your Command Seals to give Archer the boost he needs."

Rin shot her an incredulous look. "You expect me to waste a Command Seal now? He hasn't even revealed his full power yet!"

Lady Avalon simply smiled. "True, but wouldn't you rather see him unleash that full power now instead of waiting until it's too late? Berserker is no ordinary opponent. If you want a chance at victory, now might be the time to give Archer the push he needs to use his Noble Phantasm. Besides," she added with a wink, "I have a feeling you'll want to see what he's been hiding."

Rin hesitated. She was still sceptical, but deep down, she knew Avalon was right. Berserker was too powerful to take lightly, and Archer's current strategy of evading and parrying would only work for so long. With a frustrated sigh, Rin held up her hand, where the crimson Command Seals pulsed with energy.

"Archer!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the hall. "By my Command Seal, I order you—use your Noble Phantasm! Unleash your full power!"

Archer, mid-dodge, glanced back at her. There was a moment of hesitation in his eyes, but he quickly nodded, understanding the gravity of her command. He leaped back, gaining distance from Berserker, and for the first time, his demeanour shifted. No longer was he on the defensive—there was a dangerous confidence in his stance now, his twin blades crossed in front of him as he began to speak the incantation.

"I am the bone of my sword."

The air around Archer shifted. Shirou could feel the weight of his words, each one imbued with an almost tangible power. He watched, wide-eyed, as the space around them seemed to distort, reality itself bending to Archer's will.

"Steel is my body, and fire is my blood."

Lady Avalon's eyes sparkled with amusement as she watched Archer, her hands folded in front of her as she stood beside Shirou. "Ah, here we go. Isn't this exciting?"

Berserker roared, sensing the change, but Archer continued his chant, unfazed.

"I have created over a thousand blades."

The ground beneath them trembled, the air crackling with energy. Shirou could feel the pull of Archer's magic now, a power that felt eerily and innately familiar, almost too familiar.

"Unknown to death, nor known to life."

Illya, watching from her perch, frowned slightly. "What… is this?" she murmured, the sight of Archer's growing aura sparking confusion.

"Have withstood pain to create many weapons."

As the chant neared its completion, a strange, almost suffocating energy began to fill the room. The very fabric of reality around Archer seemed to warp and twist, as though a new world was on the brink of being born.

"Yet, those hands will never hold anything."

Heracles let out a primal roar, lunging at Archer with unstoppable force. But this time, Archer did not retreat.

Archer's voice rang out one last time, the final line of the chant reverberating through the air with a sense of finality. "So as I pray… Unlimited Blade Works!"

The entire battlefield was engulfed in a blinding light as Archer's Unlimited Blade Works reality marble manifested. When the light faded, they were no longer standing in the ruined Einzbern hall, but in a vast, endless expanse of barren desert, littered with countless swords. The sky was ablaze with a fiery hue, and massive gears slowly turned in the heavens above them.

The sheer number of swords, many of them a replica of a Noble Phantasm, was staggering. Every weapon imaginable lay embedded in the ground, waiting to be summoned by Archer's will.

Rin and Shirou stood in awe, their eyes wide with disbelief. Even Illya, normally so composed, couldn't hide her shock. "What… what is this?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Archer stood at the centre of it all, surrounded by countless replicas of legendary weapons. He looked at Berserker with a cold, resolute gaze, his twin swords once again forming in his hands. "These," he said, his voice steady and unwavering, "are some of the finest blades throughout history. And nothing less deserves to be used against Heracles, the greatest of all Greek heroes."

Shirou was speechless, his mind reeling from the sheer magnitude of Archer's power. But beside him, Lady Avalon giggled softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She leaned in closer to Shirou and whispered, "I look forward to seeing you achieve something similar, Shirou. And don't worry, I'll give you all the support you need… in whichever form you require." She whispered that last part directly into his ear, her tone suggestive and teasing.

Shirou blushed furiously, his mind spinning between the battle unfolding in front of him and the barely-concealed innuendo in Lady Avalon's words. Her words sent a shiver down his spine, not just from their suggestive undertone, but from the genuine promise they carried. Lady Avalon winked at him, as if sharing a secret only the two of them understood, before turning her attention back to the battlefield.

"But for now," she said with a smile, "I think it's time I showed off a little too."

With a graceful flick of her wrist, a gust of wind began to swirl around her. The air thickened, and suddenly a powerful, shimmering barrier of wind enveloped Archer. It was Lady Avalon's Noble Phantasm, Winds of Avalon, a protective force that would strengthen Archer's defences and enhance his abilities further.

"There," she said, looking quite pleased with herself. "That should help him hold his own against Berserker for a little while longer."

Archer, now bolstered by both Lady Avalon's magic and Rin's Command Seal, raised his blades with newfound confidence. He stared down Berserker, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Let's see if the greatest hero of Greece can withstand the might of a thousand blades."

Omake

Throne of Heroes: Artoria's Wrath, Part 12

Back in the Throne of Heroes, Artoria Pendragon was fuming, again.

"Why… why does she have to make everything sound so suggestive?" Artoria paced back and forth, her face flushed with a mixture of indignation and embarrassment. "If she truly wants to help Shirou, then why can't she just do it without all the flirting?!"

It was one thing to see Proto-Merlin flirting shamelessly with Shirou day in and day out, but to outright say that she would support him in "whichever form required" in a manner that was clearly hinting at obscenity? Artoria could hardly stand it.

Around her, the Knights of the Round Table sat on their ethereal thrones, watching their king unravel with a mixture of sympathy, amusement, and, in a few cases, sheer confusion.

"She's been like this since she saw Lady Avalon make her entrance," Lancelot whispered to Gawain, shaking his head.

"Can you blame her?" Gawain replied, his voice hushed yet serious. "That Merlin—er, Lady Avalon—has been nothing but mischief since the beginning."

Mordred, leaning on her sword with a smirk, chuckled. "Flirting in the middle of battle, though? Bold. Almost respect it."

"Disrespectful, if you ask me," Bedivere added, ever loyal, his eyes filled with concern for Artoria's honour. "A warrior should not take such liberties in a serious fight!"

Tristan, melancholic as always, plucked at his harp with a sigh. "Ah, but is it not the way of certain hearts, so drawn to beauty that even in war they seek love's fleeting touch? How tragic."

"More like obnoxious," Mordred muttered.

As if on cue, the voice of Merlin drifted through the Throne of Heroes, sounding suspiciously amused. "Ah, Artoria, you're getting worked up again. Can't you just enjoy the show? I, for one, find it rather entertaining."

"Merlin!" Artoria shouted, her anger intensifying. "This is no time for your jokes! Proto-Merlin, your female counterpart, is corrupting Shirou, and you think this is entertaining?!"

"Well, she's certainly helping him grow as a magus," Merlin replied, his tone light and teasing. "In more ways than one, I'd say."

Artoria could practically hear the grin in his voice, and it only made her angrier. She growled like a lioness under her breath. "If you have nothing useful to add, kindly disappear."

The sound of Merlin's laughter echoed through the Throne of Heroes, and Artoria, her face flushed with both anger and embarrassment, swore that the next time she saw him, she would give him a piece of her mind.

For now, though, she could only glare at the scene below, seething in silence. Still… the half-succubus' remark about helping Shirou achieve his own reality marble had caught her interest. "Could Shirou truly develop and utilise such a powerful technique for himself? And how would it differ from... Archer's?"

Gareth, the youngest of the knights, couldn't help but let out a gasp of amazement. "Do you think that Shirou would also summon a field of countless swords?"

Mordred leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, grinning ear to ear. "Yeah, that was one hell of a show. Unlimited Blade Works, huh? Not bad, not bad at all. Kid's got potential if the female Merlin thinks he can pull off something like that."

Sir Bedivere, the most composed of them all, nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, a Reality Marble is no small feat. Archer's display was extraordinary. To command so many weapons at once... I have to admit, I was impressed. If Shirou were to develop something similar, it could shift the balance of the war in his favour."

Artoria bit her lip, now caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On one hand, she hated that Lady Avalon was the one giving Shirou this potential. On the other hand, the prospect of Shirou surpassing his own limits, forging something as powerful as Archer's Unlimited Blade Works, was undeniably compelling.

"An entire world of swords…" Percival muttered in awe, his wide eyes shining. "It was like stepping into a legend of its own. So many Noble Phantasms..."

Mordred grinned wickedly. "He'd better have something as cool as those giant gears in the sky. Gotta admit, that part was badass."

Artoria crossed her arms, trying to retain her regal demeanour. "Still," she muttered under her breath, "if I were there instead of that... that... Merlin-in-disguise, Shirou wouldn't need this Reality Marble. My Excalibur would be enough."

Sir Bedivere's voice was calm but firm. "Perhaps, my king, but do not forget, this journey is Shirou's. He must grow into his own legend."

Artoria's anger softened into contemplation. She looked toward the distant view of the Grail War. Maybe... perhaps... Lady Avalon's guidance will allow Shirou to surpass Archer. She grudgingly acknowledged the potential value in Lady Avalon's support, but that didn't quell her irritation entirely. "But if she flirts with him one more time in the middle of battle, I will find a way to remove her myself!"

Omake 2: "U.B.W"

Shirou Emiya's eyes drifted over the dusty shelf in Kiritsugu's old storage room, a forgotten corner of the house he'd never dared to fully explore. His fingers brushed against something cold and metallic, and as he pulled the case from the shadows then opened it, he found himself staring at a weapon that was as foreign to his world as it was fascinating.

There, lying snugly inside the case, was a gun. A sleek, black Thompson Contender, polished and gleaming despite its age, accompanied by a small set of bullets. Shirou's heart skipped a beat. Guns had always fascinated him—he admired their efficiency and there was something innately 'cool' about them. But this wasn't just any firearm.

"Whoa…" Shirou muttered, the sleek design of the handgun captivating him. There was a strange allure to its simplicity, but also something deeply intimidating about its raw, mechanical nature. Guns were so different from the weapons he knew—the elegant swords he'd seen Archer wield and intimidating spear Lancer used. But in its own way, this handgun was just as lethal.

Something stirred deep within him. He couldn't shake the feeling that this gun held a story, a purpose, perhaps as much as any blade he could trace. The moment Shirou touched it, something inside him clicked. Without thinking, he activated his tracing magecraft, his mind instinctively connecting to the object in his hands.

And then, it hit him.

Memories—no, history of this gun—began flooding into his mind.

The moment Shirou connected with the weapon, he was plunged into the vivid, violent past of Kiritsugu Emiya. He saw flashes of a younger Kiritsugu, the grim figure who had raised him, standing in the shadows, eyes cold and calculating. The Thompson Contender was always at his side, a symbol of his brutal efficiency as the Magus Killer. And the Origin Bullets—crafted from his very bones, infused with the power to shatter magic circuits—resonated in Shirou's soul with a terrifying sense of finality.

Shirou gasped as the memories overwhelmed him. Kiritsugu's life was a far cry from the ideals Shirou had always associated with the man. Instead of heroism, there was bloodshed. Instead of honour, there was ruthless pragmatism. And yet… there was purpose. Each shot, each mission, each cold execution was a step toward Kiritsugu's impossible dream of peace.

Shirou stumbled back, breath catching in his throat. "Guns… I thought Kiritsugu was just—" He shook his head, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him. The boy who had idolized his adoptive father as a righteous hero was now grappling with the truth of the man who had raised him: a man who had sacrificed everything for the greater good.

But there was more than shock. As the memories settled, another feeling began to rise in Shirou's chest—admiration. Kiritsugu wasn't a swordsman or a knight, but he was still Shirou's saviour, his hero. The man had still fought for a better world, and he had still won. With a gun.

A fire lit in Shirou's eyes.

In the Einzbern Castle, Berserker's titanic form loomed above them, his every step shaking the battlefield. Archer's Unlimited Blade Works raged around them, swords clashing against Heracles' monstrous strength. But for all its grandeur, Shirou felt something new stirring inside him—a different vision.

As Lady Avalon stood beside him, her voice soft and teasing, she leaned close. "I look forward to seeing you achieve something similar, Shirou," she purred. "And don't worry, I'll give you all the support you need… in whichever form you require."

But this time, Shirou wasn't flustered. His gaze was steady, determined. He knew exactly what he needed. He glanced at Lady Avalon, his voice clear. "Actually, I already have an idea."

"Oh?" she replied, intrigued. Her eyes sparkled with interest as she stepped closer. "And what might that be?"

Shirou envisioned the Contender clearly within his mind, his resolve firm. "I need to borrow your prana. I'm going to try something… new."

A slow smile spread across Lady Avalon's face. "My, my. How unexpected. Very well, Shirou. If that's what you require…" She wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her body against his in an intimate embrace. Her prana flowed into him, warmth spreading through his limbs as she whispered in his ear. "Take as much as you need, my dear Shirou."

Shirou closed his eyes, focusing on the new power coursing through him. His mind raced as he recalled the incantation he had pieced together, a chant that now felt so natural after learning of Kiritsugu's past and just recently witnessing Archer. He steadied his breathing and began the aria.

"I am the bone of my gun."

The air around him began to distort, similar to when Archer was calling forth his reality marble, but there was no clang of steel or gleam of swords. Instead, the metallic scent of oil and gunpowder filled the air.

"Lead is my body, and brass is my blood."

Shirou could feel the energy building around him, each word carrying the weight of his new path. His hands trembled, but it wasn't fear—it was anticipation. For the first time, he truly felt that he could follow in Kiritsugu's footsteps.

"I have created over a thousand rounds.

Unknown to blades, nor known to magic.

Have withstood recoil to create many firearms.

Yet, those triggers will never fire on their own.

So as I aim… Unloaded Bullet Works!"

Reality itself seemed to shudder, and the world began to shift. The battlefield around him faded, and a new space took its place. With a final surge of energy, the entire landscape was bathed in light, and when it cleared, Shirou stood at the centre of a vast armoury.

Countless firearms surrounded him, each one ready to be summoned, to be fired with lethal precision. This was his world now—Unloaded Bullet Works, a realm where guns, not blades, reigned supreme. An expansive, industrial landscape, littered with rows upon rows of guns. Rifles, handguns, sniper rifles, submachine guns—they were scattered across the barren ground, their forms sleek and deadly.

Before him, a series of legendary firearms materialized—each one forged with his tracing magic, their designs based on the mythic armaments he had learned from Archer and Kiritsugu's memories. Swords? No. These were weapons of a new kind. Guns that could rival the greatest Noble Phantasms. A long-range rifle crafted from the concept of Gáe Bolg, a semi-automatic imbued with the power of Caliburn, even a pair of sleek gunblade pistols modelled after Kanshou and Bakuya.

High above, in the sky where Archer's gears once turned, were now massive bullet manufacturing devices, churning out ammunition endlessly. They crafted bullets that could be imbued with the properties of Noble Phantasms or Mystic Codes, ready to adapt to any combat scenario.

Rin, standing beside Archer, stared in disbelief. "Shirou… what the hell…?"

Lady Avalon laughed softly, her arms still around him. "Oh, Shirou, you really are full of surprises." She glanced around at the countless firearms, eyes glittering with amusement. "This is quite the twist on Archer's little trick, don't you think?"

Shirou didn't respond immediately. His mind was focused, attuned to the power coursing through him. With a flick of his wrist, a rifle materialized in his hand, its barrel shimmering with a dangerous glow. This was his world now—a world of firearms, a battlefield of bullets.

Berserker charged forward with a guttural roar, his axe-sword raised high. But this time, Shirou didn't flinch. He aimed his rifle, infused with the properties of a legendary weapon, and pulled the trigger.

A thunderous crack echoed across the barren field as the bullet flew through the air. It wasn't just any ordinary round—it carried with it the force and precision of Kiritsugu's Origin Bullets, amplified by the power of Noble Phantasms. The shot tore through the air with unstoppable force, colliding with Berserker's weapon in an explosion of sparks and shattering marble.

Shirou smirked. "Guns are pretty cool, right?"

Archer balked, his face scrunching up. "Damn it… I want that…"

Lady Avalon, still clinging to her Master playfully, whispered into his ear, "I look forward to seeing how far you can take this, my dear. After all, we're just getting started."