Fate/Hijacked
Chapter 13
The battle against Berserker raged on in the vast, seemingly endless expanse of Archer's Unlimited Blade Works. The air hummed with tension, crackling with the friction of clashing wills and colossal power. Above, the sky burned a deep amber, reflected in the endless array of gleaming swords that hovered in a deadly formation. Each weapon was a testament to Archer's experience, a record of the countless battles and heroic struggles that made up his existence. All of them ready and waiting to answer the call of their creator, to fire off towards his enemy with lethal precision.
In the centre of this desolate landscape, Archer and Berserker clashed in a titanic struggle. Every swing of Berserker's axe-sword roared with an unbridled fury, the sheer force behind each strike shaking the very air. Yet Archer, nimble and precise, danced around the towering Heroic Spirit, his twin blades, Kanshou and Bakuya, flashing as they met each of Berserker's monstrous blows. Sparks flew as steel met steel, but while Archer's weapons shattered again and again under the strength of Berserker's god-like power, they reformed in his hands almost instantly every time.
Despite the crushing power of Berserker, Archer remained composed, his movements a fluid blend of offense and defence. He wasn't simply trying to overpower the mighty Heracles—he knew such an effort would be futile. Instead, Archer focused on precision, seeking out the moments where he could exploit even the smallest opening in Berserker's defences. His sharp eyes followed every movement of the giant warrior, calculating, analysing. His strikes, though seemingly futile, were methodical, chipping away at the indomitable Heroic Spirit. Berserker's God Hand—the divine protection that made him virtually immortal, capable of reviving him from death multiple times—was not perfect. And Archer, with his vast arsenal of weapons and strategies, was determined to exploit its weaknesses.
Archer fought relentlessly, pouring everything into his strikes, empowered not only by his Master Rin's Command Seal but also by Lady Avalon's buffs. The countless and endless floating sword were constantly supporting him, supplementing his strikes or interfering with Berserker's attacks. His twin blades, seemed to hum with energy as he alternated between various approaches, all in an effort to outmanoeuvre Heracles' monstrous endurance and God Hand.
But now, Archer changed tactics. As he faced Berserker's towering frame, he altered his twin swords into their 'Trace Overedge' state, elongating the blades into monstrous curved swords resembling serrated wings. The transformation was sharp and almost elegant, the new forms of the swords conveying a sense of power.
Lady Avalon's buffs continued to bolster Archer's speed and strength, allowing him to match the fearsome Heroic Spirit, even as the unrelenting Berserker swung his axe-sword with bone-crushing force. The clash between the two titans of strength and strategy created a whirlwind of pressure, almost making it hard for Shirou to breathe as he watched from the sidelines.
Archer's expression was grim but focused. He summoned hundreds of blades from Unlimited Blade Works, launching them like a torrent toward Berserker in a continuous barrage, each weapon striking with precision. Berserker roared in defiance, his God Hand's legendary invulnerability absorbing the brunt of the onslaught. But even his divine defence was not impenetrable—Archer was working tirelessly to exploit the gaps in his immortality.
Multiple copies of the married blades were projected and launched towards Berserker, spinning in the air with deadly grace. With a fierce cry, Archer unleashed the Triple Crane Wing technique, a flawless and firm offensive manoeuvre that assaulted an enemy with a series of rapid, coordinated strikes. Berserker's colossal form wavered under the pressure as Archer's blades landed with perfect timing and deadly precision, chipping away at Heracles' unyielding form.
Shirou watched in awe, his eyes glued to the sight before him. His mind absorbed every detail, every technique, and every movement. His gaze was locked onto Archer, unconsciously tracing each weapon summoned, each swing of the blade, and each calculated dodge. His mind, like a sponge, absorbed the details of every weapon that appeared in the battle. He could feel something deep within himself stirring—a resonance with the weapons Archer employed, a connection to his own nascent reality marble. Unconsciously, Shirou began cataloguing the blades and their structures within his mind, adding them to the ever-growing arsenal within his soul.
"He's quite something, isn't he?" Lady Avalon whispered softly, her voice tickling the nape of Shirou's neck. She had moved behind him, her slender arms wrapping around his chest in a gentle, almost tender embrace. The warmth of her body against his back was strangely comforting, and her soft breath against his ear sent a shiver through him. "But you know Shirou, all of this—everything you're seeing right now—is within your reach, too." She whispered encouragingly. "This is part of what it means to be a hero. To fight with everything you have, to use all the experiences and tools you've gained along the way. Take in these moments, these battles. Store them within you. All these experiences," she continued, her lips close to his ear, "are stepping stones for your growth. Take them in, Shirou. Absorb them. Let them fuel your path to becoming a hero."
Shirou felt a strange mix of comfort and determination from her words. Her presence behind him was intimate, almost too close, yet somehow reassuring. His face flushed slightly at her words, but he couldn't deny the resolve building within him. He nodded, his eyes never leaving the battle in front of him.
Archer's relentless assault had finally taken its toll on Berserker. With a final, devastating strike, Archer drove a veritable storm of blades into Heracles' body from various angles, shattering through the giant's defence with sheer quantity. Berserker's massive form collapsed to the ground with a thunderous crash. His sixth life had been taken, and for a moment, silence filled the area.
Shirou's hands trembled as he watched, feeling the awe of a spectator but the calling of a participant. Lady Avalon's voice giggled again, low and sweet, like honey against his ear.
Illyasviel's voice broke through the tension. "Stop!" she cried, her small hands balled into fists as she glared at Archer. There were tears in her eyes. "Please stop! I… I'll agree to your alliance! Just don't hurt Berserker anymore!"
Archer, still holding his stance, hesitated for a moment before lowering his blades. With a sigh of relief, he dispelled Unlimited Blade Works, the countless swords surrounding them fading into nothingness. The barren wasteland of the reality marble vanished, returning them to the grand entrance hall of the Einzbern Castle.
Shirou exhaled, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His gaze shifted from Archer to Illya, then to the hulking form of Berserker as the giant warrior began to stir. Slowly, Berserker's body repaired itself, his sixth life spent but the divine power of God Hand working to restore him.
Illya rushed to Berserker's side as the giant revived and turned to her. The massive warrior let out a low rumble from his throat. Illya quietly placed a hand on his arm. "Thank you, Berserker," she whispered. "You've done enough."
With the battle concluded, Rin stepped forward, her posture tense but controlled, ready to discuss the terms of their alliance. Shirou felt a pang of sympathy for Illya, but before he could approach her, Archer's voice rang out with a sharp urgency.
"Everyone, take cover!"
Without warning, the ceiling above them exploded in a shower of rubble and debris, sending shockwaves through the hall. A barrage of golden weapons, each one a gleaming artefact of ancient power, punched through the roof like spears raining from the heavens. Dust and smoke filled the room as the group scrambled to avoid being impaled by the deadly projectiles.
When the dust settled, a lone figure descended gracefully through the newly formed hole in the ceiling. He landed with an air of casual arrogance, his golden hair gleaming in the dim light of the hall, his red eyes filled with disdain. He was dressed in black pants, a white shirt, and a black jacket, his casual attire starkly contrasting the overwhelming pressure he exuded. His presence alone felt suffocating, his aura radiating dominance and authority.
"Well, well," the figure said, his voice smooth yet dripping with contempt. "What do we have here? A gathering of mongrels."
It was Gilgamesh.
Omake
Throne of Heroes: Artoria's Wrath, Part 13
In the ethereal realm of the Throne of Heroes, Artoria Pendragon—King Arthur, once revered as the mightiest and most noble king of Britain—fumed with jealousy and indignation, her green eyes blazing like wildfire.
She had been watching the unfolding events in the mortal realm with mounting irritation, her patience already thin from the previous incidents with Proto-Merlin. But when the half-succubus draped herself around Shirou, whispering in his ear and embracing him from behind whilst on a literal battlefield, Artoria's irritation once again turned to outright fury.
"Why is she always so touchy with Shirou?!" Artoria fumed, pacing back and forth in the Throne of Heroes. "It's bad enough that she flirts with him constantly, but this? Wrapping herself around him in the middle of a battle? And during a battle against Heracles no less! Is she out of her mind?!"
Her faithful Knights of the Round Table had gathered off to the side, cautiously avoiding their king's wrath. Sir Lancelot was leaning on his sword, Mordred sat cross-legged on the ground, while Gawain scratched his chin with a thoughtful expression and Bedivere was simply stood by them politely. By now, the knights were no strangers to Artoria's temper (and jealousy) in regards to the actions of Lady Avalon. They had long given up on trying to calm her down.
"I knew something was up when Archer manifested his Reality Marble,'" Lancelot muttered under his breath. "But this was…"
"A spectacle!" Gawain interrupted with a grin. "Did you see how Archer performed that technique he calls Triple Crane Wing? I must admit, the man fights with a certain elegance amidst his calculative and overwhelming manner when he has the correct support in place." He looked to the others, eager for their agreement.
"I must say," Bedivere commented, "the way that Archer conjures and commands a literal storm of blades within his reality marble is rather impressive. He seems to have mastered the use of his swords with tactical precision."
Mordred nodded vigorously. "Yeah, no kidding! If I had that kind of ability, I wouldn't even need to swing my sword! I'd just let the swords do all the work for me."
Lancelot, nodding at the conversation, smiled. "It's a fascinating technique, isn't it? Makes you wonder how he'd fare against a real knight—someone with skill, not just brute force."
Suddenly, a gentle floral breeze swept through the Throne of Heroes, signalling yet another "screening" by the infamous mage. A swirl of flowers and magic formed a screen in front of them, and the image of Shirou cornered by Lancer in the shed appeared, as usual. Artoria groaned, already bracing herself for Merlin's ridiculous alterations.
But this time, something was different. Lancer wasn't able to land his final blow. Instead, he was blasted away by a barrage of golden weapons, each one gleaming with ancient power. And then, stepping into view was a woman with long, flowing golden hair and sharp red eyes, dressed regally but with an unmistakable air of arrogance.
"Rejoice, boy," the woman purred, smirking haughtily. "For you have been deemed worthy of my, the Queen of Heroes Gilgamesh, attention." Her crimson eyes regarded him with a particular gleam. "A living sword truly is such a rarity, but I will ensure that you are refined into a blade worthy of being amidst my treasures."
For a brief moment, there was absolute silence. Artoria stared at the screen in disbelief. And then she exploded—figuratively, of course.
"THE QUEEN of Heroes?!" Artoria shouted, her voice reaching an almost hysterical pitch. "Gilgamesh... as a woman?! And flirting with Shirou too?!"
Her knights winced at the sheer force of her indignation, Lancelot cautiously taking a step back while Gawain raised a curious eyebrow.
"Merlin!" Artoria raged, throwing her hands in the air. "Is this some kind of sick joke? How much of this madness are you going to force me to witness?! First, a nightmare where Shirou gets bewitched by my sister Morgan, then an absurdity where Avalon itself becomes a woman, and now this—this!"
Artoria collapsed back into her seat, her fingers rubbing her temples as she muttered to herself. " What's next? A flirty Cú Chulainn? Or will Merlin himself somehow swoop down and start giving Shirou 'encouraging' shoulder rubs during the War whilst putting absurd notions into his head?"
For a long moment, the Throne was silent. And then, of course, the Knights of the Round couldn't help but release snickers of restrained laughter.
"Let's not give Merlin any ideas," Lancelot chuckled, patting his liege on the shoulder.