Fate/Hijacked

Chapter 22

As the day dragged on, the sound of metal clashing and projectiles slicing through the air reverberated in the backyard of the Emiya estate. Shirou stood panting, sweat dripping from his brow, and his breath ragged as he faced down Archer once more. The sparring session had been brutal, and every bone in his body screamed in protest, but he refused to back down.

Archer, standing with his arms crossed, watched Shirou with a mix of innate irritation and reluctant approval. "You're still standing," he muttered, more to himself than to Shirou. "But if you want to stand a chance against that King of Heroes, this is where you'll need to step up."

Shirou gritted his teeth, determination flooding his veins. He knew Archer was right. Gilgamesh was not just any Servant—he was by and large considered to be the strongest of Servants, a being who could summon an infinite arsenal of legendary weapons at will. There would be no room for mistakes, and the slightest misstep could cost him his life.

Suddenly, the ground beneath Shirou shifted as Archer chanted his aria. The familiar surroundings of the Emiya estate began to dissolve, replaced by a barren, endless wasteland of countless swords. Shirou stumbled back, eyes wide with shock. Unlimited Blade Works, Archer's reality marble. The infinite horizon of weapons stretched out before him, swords embedded in the ground like gravestones, an oppressive sky hanging above.

Archer's voice echoed through the steel-tinged air. "Here, in this place, there's no escape. No cover. Only weapons, all pointed at you." Without warning, swords began to rise into the air around Shirou, the air buzzing with mana as they aimed directly at him. "Now, get ready," Archer ordered, a smirk playing on his lips. "This is how Gilgamesh fights, and if you can't handle this, you're as good as dead."

With a snap of Archer's fingers, countless additional blades materialized overhead. Then, as if the sky itself had turned against him, the weapons rained down on Shirou like a deadly storm.

The redhead young man moved as fast as his exhausted body allowed, reinforcing his limbs with prana, narrowly avoiding the rain of blades. His thoughts raced, trying to find some way to counter this overwhelming attack as he continuously, endlessly, dodged and parried. Each impact sent jolts of pain through his arms, and every step took more out of him than the last, but he refused to fall. He could see Archer, calm and unwavering, watching him with that inscrutable gaze.

"You won't have time to think when you face him," Archer taunted. "You'll either act, or die."

Desperation fuelled Shirou as he reached deep into his own magic circuits, his prana pulsing through him like fire. He tried to trace the swords around him, instinctively analysing their structure, composition and history into his mind. Slowly but surely, he started to move more fluidly, the barrage of weapons growing less overwhelming. His instincts sharpened, and his movements became faster, more precise.

Back inside the house, in a guest room turned temporary workshop, Illya felt a sudden shift in the air. She paused in her work, glancing up as her body shuddered from the mana drain. "What the—? Is Archer using Unlimited Blade Works right now?"

Lady Avalon, bent over her workbench with an amused smirk, glanced up briefly before returning to her task. "It's for Shirou's sake. He needs to be prepared for what's coming."

Illya snorted, placing a hand on her hip. "You know, most people just use normal training methods. But I suppose nothing about you is 'normal.'"

The half-succubus laughed softly, her voice dripping with playful mischief. "Thank you for the compliment, my dear Illya. And thank you for all the mana you've been supplying. It's been quite helpful in finishing this little project."

Illya, leaning against the workbench, shot her a snarky look. "You mean, thanks for being your personal mana battery while you worked on whatever this is?" She crossed her arms, but there was no real malice in her words, only mild exasperation.

Lady Avalon chuckled, her pink eyes twinkling with amusement. "But it's all for Shirou, so that makes it fine, doesn't it? Besides, now you'll be less strained. I've made sure of it."

Sighing, Illya shook her head but allowed a small, genuine smile to break through. "You really are shameless, you know that?"

The half-succubus's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I prefer to call it resourceful, darling."

As the sun steadily dipped lower in the late afternoon sky, Shirou's sparring session finally came to an end. He collapsed onto the grass, drenched in sweat, utterly exhausted from the ordeal. Archer, standing over him with his arms folded, gave a mocking smirk.

"You might survive if Gilgamesh takes pity on you," Archer said sarcastically, though there was a hint of approval hidden in his tone. "You're rapidly improving. At this rate, you might actually be able to manifest your own reality marble. But you'll need a substantial amount of mana to pull it off."

Shirou, still gasping for breath, managed to give a weak nod. He knew that being able to utilise his own reality marble was the next big step and would provide him with a viable trump card, however the challenge of gathering enough mana to fuel such power was another hurdle entirely. Especially with his recovering but still atrophied magic circuits.

Lancer stepped up to the pair with an amused smirk on his face as he looked down at Shirou. "Not bad, kid," Lancer said approvingly, though his grin was laced with his usual cocky edge. "But take it easy now. You're no good to anyone if you burn out before the real fight."

"Yeah, I know," Shirou replied wearily, wincing from the soreness all over his entire body. "I'll clean up and rest."

Meanwhile, inside the kitchen, Rin and Sakura were quietly working together, preparing dinner. Their relationship, still strained from years of misunderstandings and a lack of any real interaction, was slowly but surely improving. There was an awkwardness between them, but it was no longer as distant or painful as it once had been.

Rin, slicing vegetables with an uncharacteristic level of intense concentration for such a simple task, glanced over at Sakura, trying her best to make casual conversation. "Are you feeling better?" she soon asked, her voice tentative.

Sakura gave her older sister a small, appreciative smile. "Yes, I'm feeling much better. Thank you, Nee-san."

Rin blinked, momentarily startled by the use of the term "Nee-san." But her heart warmed at the simple word, and she quickly hid her fluster behind a hasty nod. "Good. That's… good." The small smile adorning her face, however, remained for the rest of their cooking session.

Later that evening, as everyone gathered around the dinner table, the atmosphere was warm and comfortable. Shirou thanked Sakura for her help with the meal and praised Rin's cooking, causing the Tohsaka heiress to blush slightly and wave it off. "I-It's nothing special," she mumbled, though it was clear she was pleased with the compliment.

Illya and Lady Avalon, however, shared a knowing glance before grinning mischievously. "But Shirou's cooking is better," they said in unison.

Rin snapped back instantly, her face turning red with a mixture of embarrassment and irritation. "I wasn't trying to compete!"

The rest of the table chuckled, and the lighthearted teasing continued throughout the meal.

After dinner, as the others were clearing the table, Lady Avalon caught Shirou's attention with a playful smile. "Shirou, darling, I've finally finished what I've been working on. Come with me to the workshop. I have a gift for you."

Curiosity piqued, Shirou followed the half-succubus to the room she had been using for her own purposes. Inside, Lady Avalon presented him with a crystalline flower, shimmering with an ethereal light.

"This," she began with a proud smile, "is your gift. It's a unique conceptual Mystic Code attuned to you and me alone. It can absorb and store ambient mana from the environment and even steadily produce its own. Consider it a personal reservoir of mana for when you need it most, especially for something like… oh, I don't know, Unlimited Blade Works."

"It's beautiful," Shirou murmured, captivated by the delicate petals that seemed to pulse with a faint glow. He stared at the crystalline flower in awe. "You made this for me?"

Lady Avalon nodded, her expression softening as she pressed the flower to his chest. The crystal seemed to dissolve into his skin, connecting to his magic circuits with a gentle tingling. Shirou felt a sudden rush of warmth spread through him as the Mystic Code fused with his body.

As the process finished, Lady Avalon dramatically fell back onto her futon with a deep, exaggerated sigh. "You have no idea how much effort this took," she murmured, her tone tired yet tinged with satisfied amusement. "I even filled it with as much mana as I could before giving it to you." She gazed up at him with faux innocence. "I've put so much effort into creating this for you, Master," she cooed, her voice taking on a slight teasing lilt. "You'll need to give me something in return."

Before Shirou could respond, she playfully pulled him down beside her and wrapped her arms around him. "Now, how about a little reward?" she whispered seductively, the smirk adorning her lips turning sultry as she gazed into his eyes. "I think it's time for you to 'fill me up' completely, darling~."

Shirou's face flushed a deep red despite himself and despite how many times a similar event had already occurred with his Servant, and he sputtered incoherently. Lady Avalon snuggled closer, clearly enjoying his flustered state while a soft blush gradually overtook her own face. Completely at odds with the hungry, no predatory, gleam in her enchanting pink eyes.

His thoughts scattered as he tried to process what she'd just said, although in reality he already knew where this sequence of events was headed. "W-What are you—"

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean," she teased, pressing herself closer as her lips twitched into a victorious smirk. "Now let's get those pesky clothes off of you, my darling Shirou~"

Omake

Throne of Heroes: Artoria's Wrath, Part 22

In the celestial splendour of the Throne of Heroes, Artoria Pendragon—King of Knights and ruler of Camelot—stood rigid, her gaze fixed upon the display of Shirou Emiya's current predicament. Or, more precisely, the predicament involving that woman. Her gauntlet clad fists trembled at her sides as Lady Avalon, in her usual brazen fashion, snuggled up to Shirou, all too eager to initiate yet another so-called "mana transfer." Although, the once-and-future King's intensity was far less than previous instances, before Alaya had made it quite apparent that "she" had no issue with Proto-Merlin courting this Shirou.

"Unacceptable," Artoria muttered, her voice low yet filled with simmering wrath. "Completely unacceptable."

Nearby, her Knights of the Round Table sat huddled together, paying little attention to their king's rising fury. The group was deeply engrossed in animated discussion about Shirou's progress, particularly his potential to manifest a reality marble, akin yet divergent to Archer's own Unlimited Blade Works.

"It's a fascinating concept," Tristan said, his melancholic tone laced with genuine admiration. "An infinite field of blades, each embodying the memory of a weapon he's seen or fought against. A power that shall grow alongside him as he develops through battle. Truly poetic."

Gawain nodded eagerly, his eyes shining. "And Sir Shirou is so close to achieving it himself! Such a feat would be an honour to witness."

Bedivere offered a contemplative nod. "Indeed. It would be the pinnacle of his development as a warrior, and as one who walks the path of the sword."

"Can't believe the kid's come this far, honestly," Mordred remarked, leaning back with her arms crossed. A faint grin tugged at her lips. "Guess that Archer's training is good for something after all."

Gareth's soft voice broke through. "I wonder what kind of appearance his version of Unlimited Blade Works will take. How will it be different from Sir Archer, his alternate future self?"

Lancelot raised a hand to stroke his chin. "Regardless of the specifics, it will sure be a spectacle in its own right. Sir Shirou's tenacity is unmatched for a modern day human, having put up with such gruelling training."

Their collective admiration was interrupted by a loud, frustrated groan. "This is not the time for such discussions!" Artoria snapped, her teal eyes blazing with indignation. She pointed furiously at the events currently taking place within the confines of the Emiya estate. "Can none of you see the true travesty unfolding here? That conniving succubus has ensnared Shirou again!"

Mordred glanced lazily at the jealous King of Knights. "Give it a rest, Father. Shirou doesn't seem to mind. In fact, it's pretty clear by this point that he actually enjoys her nightly company."

Artoria's jaw dropped, aghast. "Enjoys her—?! Impossible!"

Lancelot offered a weary sigh. "Your Majesty, it may be time to acknowledge the truth. This instance of Sir Shirou has clearly formed a bond with Lady Avalon. Resisting it further would only bring you needless frustration."

Bedivere nodded in agreement, his expression gentle but firm. "It would be best to admit defeat with dignity, my king. Sir Shirou has chosen his path."

Artoria's shoulders slumped as her knights' words struck home. "Dignity?" she echoed, her voice a mix of disbelief and despair. "Where is the dignity in watching the person you… care about be stolen away by a—a shameless harpy?!"

Tristan strummed his harp absentmindedly. "Perhaps it is fate, Your Majesty."

Artoria glared at her knights, her cheeks puffing slightly in a rare, childish pout. "Fate is unkind," she mumbled, tears welling in her eyes.

As her loyal knights continued their discussion about Shirou's budding Unlimited Blade Works, Artoria sat back on her throne, sulking and mumbling under her breath about the injustice of it all. In the mortal plane below, Lady Avalon giggled seductively as she leaned closer to Shirou, causing the King of Knights to bury her face in her hands.

"Unfair," Artoria whispered, her voice muffled. "Utterly unfair…"

A floral breeze swept through the air, carrying the amused laughter of Merlin. "Don't be so greedy, my dear King. You already have a Shirou who is completely devoted to reuniting with your true self in Avalon."

Then, a small ring of flowers formed a screen in front of her, showing Artoria the series of events for another world, where things followed the "proper" timeline and Shirou summoned herself as his Saber; they fought together, grew closer and even fell in love.

Slowly, the blonde's mouth morphed into a gentle smile as she watched, even offering a silent thanks to her often troublesome court mage.

Omake 2: Alternative; the Pinnacle of Envy

The usually serene domain of the Throne of Heroes was anything but peaceful. Artoria Pendragon stood with her arms trembling as she stared at Lady Avalon's latest escapade with Shirou. Her knights, previously absorbed in their discussions of Shirou's potential to manifest his reality marble, paused mid-conversation as an oppressive tension filled the air.

"Your Majesty…" Bedivere began hesitantly, stepping forward. "Perhaps we should—"

"Silence."

Her voice was cold and sharp as steel, freezing Bedivere in his tracks. Artoria's entire body was trembling now, not from mere sorrow or frustration but something darker. The aura surrounding her grew dense, heavy with malice, as her teal eyes glowed faintly with an unsettling light.

"Shirou is mine." Her voice was low, dangerously calm, before it erupted into a roar. "MINE!"

A shockwave of energy surged outwards, crackling with black and red streaks of malevolent power. The force sent her knights flying like leaves in a storm. Lancelot and Gawain tried to shield the others, but even they were hurled back almost effortlessly.

"Your Majesty, stop this madness!" Gareth cried out, only to be drowned out by the deafening roar of power surging from Artoria.

Her knights could only watch in horrified disbelief as their once-noble king became engulfed in a shroud of darkness. With a final burst of energy, Artoria disappeared, leaving the Throne entirely and her knights in scattered disarray.

The atmosphere in the caverns beneath Ryuudouji was thick with tension as Shirou and his companions cautiously advanced. Archer's steel grey eyes scanned their surroundings, his every muscle tensed in preparation for an ambush.

"Stay on your guard," Archer murmured. "Gilgamesh and Kirei won't give up the Greater Grail without a fight."

Illya walked beside him, her expression serious. "I can feel something off," she said softly. "The mana here… it's warped."

As they entered the main chamber, they stopped in their tracks. Before them lay an unexpected and unsettling sight: Kirei Kotomine's lifeless body was impaled on a jagged, black-red spike that had erupted from the ground. Nearby, Gilgamesh's form was fading into golden motes of mana, his proud expression replaced by a rare look of shock and disbelief. The once-mighty King of Heroes muttered something incoherent, his voice barely above a whisper. Shirou strained to hear but caught nothing before Gilgamesh dissolved completely.

"What the hell happened here?" Lancer muttered, his usual bravado replaced with unease.

A crushing presence emanated from deeper within the cavern, sending chills down their spines. Archer's eyes widened in dread, his hand tightening on his married blades Kanshou and Bakuya. "No… it can't be. Did we… did we get here too late? Has Angra Mainyu already begun to manifest?"

Lady Avalon's expression darkened, her playful demeanour gone entirely. "No," she said quietly. "This isn't Angra Mainyu. This… this is something far worse."

Without another word, the group pushed onward, determination warring with fear as they approached the heart of the cavern.

The vast chamber housing the Greater Grail was unrecognisable. Black and red tendrils pulsated across its surface, oozing with dark energy. At the centre stood a figure that none of them could have anticipated.

It was someone who resembled a human woman, yet it wasn't anything close to an ordinary person. Her once-golden hair was now a pale, ashen blonde, cascading wildly down her back. Her eyes, once a serene teal, were now piercing yellow with crimson slits for pupils. Curved horns, black as night and glowing with ominous lines of crimson and purple, jutted from her head. What appeared to be armour was revealed to be draconian scales, shimmering with an unnatural sheen. Her hands and feet ended in razor-sharp claws, and a long, powerful tail tipped with bladed spines swayed behind her.

The air around her was suffocating, heavy with a primeval curse that sent a deep fear coursing through everyone present.

"Impossible," Archer breathed, his voice trembling. Being a Counter Guardian of Alaya, he could instinctively sense what this entity before them was. "She's… this can't be real. This is…"

Lady Avalon let out a long sigh, clutching her staff tightly. "Oh dear," she muttered grimly. "This is worse than I feared."

Artoria's lips curled into a wide, predatory smile, revealing unnervingly sharp teeth. Her voice carried a distorted, inhuman echo. "Shirou," she purred, stepping forward with deliberate slowness. "You've come to me at last."

The group cautiously stepped back, their weapons raised. Archer dismissed his blades in favour of summoning and aiming his bow, though his hands shook slightly even as he notched a Broken Phantasm.

Lady Avalon's grip on her staff tightened as she whispered to Shirou, "Don't engage her, darling. Not yet. This form… it's nascent, but I can sense it. She's on the verge of becoming a Beast-class entity."

"A Beast?!" Rin asked sharply, her voice tinged with panic.

"A budding 'Evil of Humanity'. A juvenile Beast," Lady Avalon clarified, her tone grim. "And if she fully matures, we won't stand a chance."

Artoria's gaze locked onto Shirou, her smile twisting further into something disturbingly possessive. "There is no Angra Mainyu here, fear not. I have consumed the grail's corruption and made it my own sustenance. All for you."

Shirou's breath hitched, his mind racing to process what he was seeing. "Why..?"

Her eyes burned with intensity as she responded. "Because you are mine, Shirou Emiya. Mine to protect. Mine to claim. Mine… to love."

The oppressive aura grew heavier, leaving the group paralysed with fear and uncertainty. The wide, cavernous chamber echoed with her final words as her possessive smile widened further, into something truly draconic and bestial.

"And no one will take you from me."

Omake 3: A Queen's proposal

The sparring session had been nothing short of grueling. Shirou stumbled back into the Emiya estate, drenched in sweat and feeling like his limbs were made of lead. Archer's words still echoed in his ears: "You're rapidly improving. At this rate, you might actually be able to manifest your own reality marble." High praise, perhaps, but it came with a hefty caveat: "You'll need a substantial amount of mana to pull it off."

No sooner than he had finished washing himself clean and stepped out of the bathroom, a sharp voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Master. Come with me."

Shirou turned, startled, to see Morgan le Fay standing in the hallway, arms crossed and eyes shining with a cold gleam that told she would accept no refusals. She was dressed in her usual black gown, the outfit as dangerous and elegant as its wearer.

"Morgan?" Shirou asked hesitantly, unsure of what she wanted.

"You've wasted enough time on that red-clad fool," she declared imperiously, turning on her heel. "Follow me to my workshop. Now."

Too tired to argue and honestly curious, Shirou complied, trudging after her as she swept through the estate with regal precision. They arrived at a room Morgan had claimed as her own shortly after her summoning. The space was as intimidating as its occupant—lit by eerie, flickering blue light, with shelves lined with tomes comprised of arcane notes and various magical implements.

Morgan strode to a black velvet cloth draped over a pedestal in the centre of the room. With a theatrical flourish, she pulled it away to reveal an ornate black ring, its band engraved with glowing blue fae inscriptions. The air around it shimmered faintly with mana.

"Behold," Morgan said, her voice softening with a touch of pride. "A masterpiece of my own design. This ring will not only assist you in using your reality marble but will also compensate for your… other shortcomings as a magus."

"Shortcomings?" Shirou repeated, frowning.

"Yes, your shortcomings," she snapped, rolling her eyes. "Your magic circuits are pitiful, barely functioning things. But with this, you'll have a reservoir of mana and a means to channel it properly. Consider it a gift."

Shirou's eyes widened as he stared at the ring. "Morgan, this is incredible. You made this for me?"

A flicker of pink graced Morgan's pale cheeks, though she quickly masked it with a haughty smirk. "Of course. Who else would go to such lengths for you, Master?"

"Thank you," Shirou said earnestly, reaching for the ring.

Morgan's hand shot out, stopping him. Her sharp blue eyes locked onto his, and her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. "Not so fast. There's a price."

"A price?"

"Yes," she purred, stepping closer. Her other hand rested lightly on his chest, her gaze unwavering. "You will be mine, Shirou. Mine alone. Even after this farce of a war ends, you will belong to me. Body, soul, and heart."

Shirou blinked, stunned by the intensity of her words. Morgan, with all her pride and aloofness, had rarely been this direct.

"I—" he began, but Morgan's smirk softened into something almost tender.

"No need to answer now, Master," she said, sliding the ring onto his finger with deliberate care. "You've already accepted, whether you realise it or not. Our summoning contract was merely the unspoken start."

The moment the ring settled on his hand, Shirou felt a surge of cold, yet not uncomfortable, energy flow through him. A quiet, contained darkness that reminded him of his Servant herself. It was as if the ring had become a part of him, seamlessly integrating with his circuits. He glanced back at Morgan, whose cool expression was now tinged with satisfaction.

"Thank you, Morgan," Shirou said again, his voice sincere. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Morgan's haughty exterior wavered, and her pale cheeks flushed faintly once more. Her lips curved into a smile—not the smug or mocking one she often wore, but something softer, genuine. "Good. Because I won't ever let you go."

Shirou laughed lightly, a sound that caught Morgan off guard. "I think I can live with that."

The Ruler Servant stiffened for a moment, then narrowed her eyes. "Perfect. Now, kiss me."

Shirou blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"You heard me," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "I've done you a great service. It's only fair that I receive a proper reward. Kiss me, Master."

Shirou stammered, his face reddening. "I—I don't think—"

Morgan stepped closer, the black crown atop her head casting an ominous shadow over her eyes. Her voice dipped, dripping with sultry menace. "Are you denying me, Shirou?"

Shirou sighed in defeat, scratching the back of his head. "Alright, alright…"

Leaning forward, he pressed a quick, chaste kiss to her cheek.

Morgan stared at him, her expression unreadable, before she clicked her tongue in irritation. "Pathetic," she declared, grabbing him by the collar. "I suppose I'll have to educate you myself."

With that, Morgan closed the distance, her lips capturing his in a searing kiss that left Shirou too stunned to respond. When she finally pulled back, a victorious smirk adorned her face, though her own cheeks were dusted with pink.

"There," she said smugly. "Much better."

Shirou, dazed and blushing furiously, could only nod.

Morgan chuckled softly, her possessive yet affectionate gaze never leaving his. Mine alone, she thought with satisfaction. Forever.