Fate/Hijacked

Chapter 25

Shirou could feel the weight of the battle bearing down on him, the pressure mounting as Gilgamesh unleashed volley after volley of weapons from the Gate of Babylon. Each strike was an assault of overwhelming force, and he knew that he only had so much mana and time before the golden king eventually wore them down. But even in the face of such overwhelming might, Shirou had no intention of giving up. He remembered Lady Avalon's gift, the Mystic Code with the appearance of a crystal flower, which she had conceptually pressed into his chest. It glowed like a beacon within his mind and senses with its stored mana, a reservoir of readily available energy, waiting to be drawn upon.

Beside him, Archer's eyes flickered with the same steely focus and determination. The two of them moved in unison, their motions synchronized as they parried, dodged, and countered the endless barrage of weapons fired by Gilgamesh's golden portals. Each swing, each clash, felt like a rehearsal of a deadly dance they had both mastered countless times before. As if reciting from the same script, they began to chant, their voices blending into one.

"I am the bone of my sword…"

The air around them began to shimmer as the mana that surged forth through their bodies reached its peak and was released in preparation for the great feat of magecraft which they were to enact. With each step, each deflection, they continued, the words echoing louder, resonating with power.

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

Archer raised his hand, and a seven-layered translucent shield appeared before them; Rho Aias, its multiple petals unfurling to intercept the more potent weapons that shot towards them. It shimmered with a bright, glowing light, holding strong against the onslaught. Shirou felt a rush of gratitude toward Archer, knowing that the bowman's protection allowed him the breathing room to finish the incantation.

"I have created over a thousand blades."

But from this verse, their words diverged.

"Unknown to death nor known to life."

"Unaware of loss, nor aware of gain."

Rho Aias held firm, despite Gilgamesh's annoyed scowl and continuous barrage.

"Have withstood pain to create many weapons."

"Have withstood great pain waiting for ones arrival."

"Yet, those hands will never hold anything."

"I have no regrets, this is the only path."

As they reached the final lines of their respective arias, the world around them rippled and twisted, reality itself being temporarily overwritten to bring forth their inner worlds. Illusory, heatless fire sprang forth and rapidly marked out a boundary.

"So as I pray, Unlimited Blade Works!"

"My whole life was Unlimited Blade Works!"

In a blinding flash, the two near-identical reality marbles manifested, merging together into a single domain that displayed aspects of both Archer's world and Shirou's, subtly flickering between details in the land and sky. Swords of every kind, shape, and size protruded from the ground in countless numbers, and the sky overhead was initially a dull crimson that cast everything in a sunset hue, but shimmering streaks of blue shone through intermittently. It was an endless expanse of blades that extended beyond the horizon, and in the centre stood both Shirou Emiya and his future self.

Gilgamesh glanced around the merged reality marble, a flicker of surprise in his crimson eyes. "Two Fakers sharing a single illusion… How quaint," he remarked, though his tone lacked the mocking arrogance it usually carried. He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Ultimately, it changes nothing."

Suddenly, a gale of wind swept through the reality marble, carrying with it a soothing, melodic chime. Lady Avalon stood behind the two Emiyas at the edge of the domain, her form bathed in a soft light as she invoked her own Noble Phantasm, Winds of Avalon. The gentle breeze wrapped around Shirou and Archer, reinforcing their defences, increasing their vitality and bolstering their strength, while simultaneously hampering Gilgamesh's effective use of his own Noble Phantasm.

Gilgamesh's irritation was palpable. "You dare interfere, half-breed mongrel woman?" he growled, but Lady Avalon only giggled in response, sending him a playful wink.

"Sorry, but I won't let you bully my darling Shirou," she teased.

Gilgamesh attempted to summon more weapons from his Gate of Babylon, intending to overwhelm the pair, but found himself on the defensive instead. Shirou and Archer began to draw out and launch weapons at a rapid pace, calling forth identical copies to counter each of Gilgamesh's treasures the moment they emerged. Each sword, spear, and halberd was met with its twin, colliding in mid-air and shattering upon impact.

Archer's voice cut through the chaos, steady and unyielding. "Within this world, we can call forth our weapons faster than you can draw them from your gate. Within here, our fakes can surpass even your originals."

Shirou nodded, his eyes furrowed with focus as he took a step forward, directing a dozen swords to crash into a barrage of incoming weapons. "Tell me, King of Heroes," he called out, his voice carrying the weight of his challenge, "do you have enough weapons stored in your vault to match us?"

Gilgamesh's head threw back as he gave a loud laugh, before his lips curled into an enraged smile. "Foolish mongrels," he snarled, "I shall destroy your counterfeiting skulls until they're nothing but dust!"

And with that, the golden king's composure shattered. He lashed out with a furious barrage of blades, each one launched with the full extent of his wrath. But Shirou and Archer moved like shadows, always a step ahead, deflecting, dodging, and reforming the married blades in their hands whenever they shattered. Slowly but surely, they began to close the distance.

When they soon reached Gilgamesh's position, Shirou and Archer worked in tandem to rush him. They attacked him in a variety of ways, in tandem with one another, individually from each other, and following up after the other. The blond man was still raining down his weapons on them to keep them occupied, but was still taking cuts and kicks (courtesy of Archer) every so often.

Realizing the Fakers were indeed steadily pushing him back, Gilgamesh's expression twisted with frustration. In this reality marble, they truly held the advantage, and loathe as he was to admit it, they actually possessed skill in fighting beyond simply shooting swords to counter his own. But he refused to let them best him just like that, and there was still the matter of unleashing the corrupted entity within the Grail to purge this putrid modern world. Thus, he decided to end this farce.

The King of Heroes summoned his treasury key into his hand and opened up a very specific portal. Reaching into his Gate, he began to draw forth his ultimate weapon. The air trembled as the handle of Ea emerged, crackling with an otherworldly energy. Archer's eyes widened in horror and alarm. Shirou felt his senses jar and simultaneously crash and go haywire as he glimpsed that... thing, a sword which didn't actually exist as a sword.

"Don't let him draw that weapon!" Archer shouted, immediately projecting and firing a rapid volley of blades at Gilgamesh to prevent him from drawing out his primordial Sword of Rapture.

Shirou joined in, extending his focus into summoning and launching countless weapons toward the golden king, but it wasn't enough. As the Gate of Babylon kept on firing to protect him, Gilgamesh gripped Ea firmly with his right hand, then fully pulled it out from the portal. Standing tall, he started raising it above his head, and the entire reality marble seemed to shudder under the mere presence of the sword which predated the very concept of a sword. The crimson sky grew dark and the wind shifted as the blade's segments began to spin in opposing rotations, distorting the air around it as spiralling crimson energy accumulated at the tip. Both ground and sky of the reality marble trembled violently, as if they were ready to start splitting at the seams.

"Rejoice, Fakers..." the golden king intoned with a dark glare marring his countenance. "You have earned enough of my ire to make me use my most prized possession, though I still refuse to sully it on you by using its full power. So be honoured, and perish!"

Then, he swung it down towards the two Emiyas.

"Enuma Elish!"

The crimson vortex of energy erupted from the weapon's tip, roaring forward with the force of an apocalyptic storm. Shirou gritted his teeth and, alongside Archer, unleashed every available weapon within their reality marble whilst rapidly tracing more, sending an overwhelming torrent of blades crashing toward the destructive beam. The clash was deafening, a cataclysm of steel and raw primordial power that shook the ground beneath their feet, which was already starting to break apart and crumble.

Inch by agonizing inch, the crimson blast slowly tore through their rain of weapons, breaking past their defences and encroaching ever closer. Shirou screamed as he poured every bit of mana he could into maintaining the endless stream of swords. Archer's face tightened with desperation, his Mind's Eye skill taking in everything before him to try formulating any possible route towards victory. In a final, reckless move, he disengaged and dashed to the side, then immediately sprinted forward.

The red bowman reached Gilgamesh's side in a blur of motion and, with a single decisive slash, severed the king's right arm. Ea fell from his grasp, its power dissipating into the air. "You… you dare?!" Gilgamesh hissed, but his red eyes reflected a reluctant respect. "You have proven yourselves worthy Fakers, even if only for this moment."

The countless weapons which had been acting as a bulwark against Enuma Elish clattered to the broken ground. Shirou, still boosted by Lady Avalon's lingering enhancements, dashed forward with a furious scream. He drove a sword straight through Gilgamesh's chest, the blade impaling him with an audible sound as it sundered his flesh. The King of Heroes staggered, his once proud, defiant expression faltering.

"You…" Gilgamesh whispered with a scowl, which was soon replaced by a faint, begrudging smile tugging at his lips. "To be unexpectedly defeated by fakes against all odds… how truly… ironic." He laughed quietly, as if the reality of his defeat amused him in his final moments. And then, with a flicker of golden light, he began to fade. "Congratulations, Fakers… you have earned your victory."

As Gilgamesh disappeared, the endless plain of swords flickered and shattered like glass, and Shirou felt his legs give out. Unlimited Blade Works faded, leaving him kneeling on the cold stone floor of the cavern. His chest heaved with every breath, and he could feel the crystal flower's reservoir of mana completely drained.

He turned to Archer, who stood with a small, tired smile. "We did it," Shirou murmured, still trying to catch his breath.

"Yes," Archer agreed. A ghost of a smile graced the man's face for a scant few seconds, before being replaced by a firm stare ahead. "But don't get too comfortable. There's still work to be done."

Lady Avalon walked on over to them and slung Shirou's arm over her shoulders with a giggle. "Well then, no time like the present, no?" She helped her spent Master get back onto his feet. "Let's not keep our friends waiting too long for us to catch up."

Omake

Throne of Heroes: Artoria's Wrath, Part 25

In the vast, unreachable expanse of the Throne of Heroes, where countless heroic spirits dwelled in timeless suspension, King Artoria Pendragon watched the most recent events of the 5th Fuyuki Grail War unfold in a rare display of fervour. She was standing, fists clenched tightly, eyes blazing with excitement, and her voice louder than any of her Knights of the Round Table had ever heard, as Shirou Emiya and his future self, Archer, fought side by side against the arrogant King of Heroes, Gilgamesh.

Her usually calm and regal demeanour was nowhere to be seen, replaced by the energy of a fan cheering at a championship match. "Yes! YES! Teach that pompous braggart a lesson, Shirou!" Artoria exclaimed, pumping her gauntleted fist into the air. "That's what you get for underestimating the resolve of a worthy true knight!" Her voice echoed through the area, her unbridled passion and cheer startling the knights gathered around her. "Fools, Fakers? More like FUTURE LEGENDS, you pompous, gilded buffoon!"

"Um… my king?" Bedivere ventured cautiously as he glanced at her from her side. "Are you… quite well?"

Artoria turned to him, her expression beaming with pride. "Of course, Bedivere! This is justice incarnate. That golden fool, Gilgamesh, has tormented countless lives with his arrogance and entitlement. Seeing Shirou and Archer give him his comeuppance is… is…" She paused, struggling to find words before blurting out, "Exhilarating!"

The Knights of the Round Table stood in various states of bewilderment and amusement. Mordred, Gareth, and Percival were huddled together as they gushed over Shirou's Unlimited Blade Works. To be honest, all of them were rather happy to see Shirou finally use his reality marble. And pleasantly surprised when they observed the two men combine them.

Next to Artoria, Mordred pumped her fists and nodded with an eager grin. "The way he just owned that golden prick with his own swords! Finally, someone's putting that shiny twit in his place! Did you see the two of them combined their reality marbles? That was badass!"

"Language, Mordred!" Artoria chided half-heartedly, the smile never leaving her face. She quickly turned back to the scene before her, where Shirou was unleashing another torrent of weapons to match Gilgamesh's barrage. "You show him, Shirou!"

Gareth clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "It's incredible, isn't it? Sir Shirou's fighting spirit is so pure! And the way he's standing tall alongside Sir Archer… it's like poetry in motion!" She clapped her hands together, cheeks flushed from excitement. "I hope he wins! I hope he wins!"

Percival nodded in agreement, his expression soft with a wide smile. "Indeed. To see such resolve and teamwork, paired with such skill and grace in battle… it warms my heart. Sir Shirou's determination is commendable. To face the King of Heroes and not falter…" He crossed his arms, a proud look on his face. "He has certainly grown compared to when we saw him near the start of this war."

Gawain stood with his arms crossed and a satisfied grin on his face. "It's marvellous. Sir Shirou has proven himself worthy of the title of hero."

Tristan strummed his harp to a mildly melancholic tune and let out a wistful sigh. "Ah, how bittersweet it is to see such valour. Sir Shirou is truly a knight worthy of song." However, a small, amused, smile played on his lips. "Though I must admit, seeing the King of Heroes humbled in such a manner is… satisfying."

Ignoring them entirely, Artoria grinning at the image of Gilgamesh, who was now struggling to hold his own against the relentless onslaught of projected weapons and alternating attacks from the two Emiyas. "Take that, you golden peacock!"

Lancelot nodded in agreement, a proud smile gracing his lips. "Indeed. Sir Shirou has grown far beyond what I expected. He may not be a knight in the traditional sense, but his courage and resolve are beyond question."

When the battle on the screen reached its climax, with Shirou and Archer unleashing everything available within their combined Unlimited Blade Works and countering Gilgamesh's Enuma Elish, Artoria and her Knights of the Round Table erupted into shouts of support. When Archer severed Gilgamesh's arm and Shirou delivered the final blow, Artoria let out a triumphant cheer. "YES! THAT'S HOW IT'S DONE! WELL FOUGHT, SHIROU! WELL FOUGHT!"

As they watched Lady Avalon cheerfully helping Shirou to his feet and holding onto him rather closely, Artoria's smile faltered with mild annoyance. She crossed her arms and huffed. "Though I must say, that… woman is getting a bit too handsy with him. Honestly, is she allergic to the notion of decorum?" Despite her words, there was no real malice in her tone.

"To Sir Shirou," Lancelot said, raising an imaginary glass. "May his journey through the last leg of this war end in victory."

"To Sir Shirou!" the knights echoed, their voices filled with respect and admiration.

Artoria leaned back in her place, a small, satisfied smile on her lips. "Well done, Shirou. Well done indeed."

Omake 2: A witch's castle

Shirou Emiya stood firm alongside his Servant, Morgan le Fay, who looked as regal and unbothered as ever. Her black and blue robes billowed dramatically in the wind as Archer shielded them with Rho Aias. She surveyed the golden king with a look of utter disdain, as if he were nothing more than a particularly irritating insect.

"Honestly, Master," Morgan drawled, her voice dripping with aristocratic condescension, "must we waste our time with this gaudy buffoon? I could have dealt with him hours ago."

Shirou sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. "Morgan, we've been over this. You can't just—"

"Oh, but I can," she interrupted, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "And I will. Now, if you'd be so kind as to use that ring I so graciously gifted you, we can put an end to this farce."

Shirou glanced down at the ornate black ring on his finger, its blue fae inscriptions glowing faintly. Taking a deep breath, he began the incantation for the aria that would manifest his reality marble. Archer chanted in time with him.

There was a flash of light as the illusory fire made a boundary and brought forth their inner worlds. The sky above was a rusted crimson, streaked with patches of blue light shining down. Bladed weapons of all kinds stood across the ground. But as the Reality Marble fully manifested, something new and entirely unexpected appeared—a massive, towering castle of black and blue stone, its spires piercing upwards into the sky. The castle loomed over the endless field of swords, its presence both majestic and ominous.

On an ornate throne at the pinnacle of the castle sat none other than Morgan le Fay herself, her gown trailing down the edges as she lounged with imperial ease. At her side, another throne had appeared—plain and simple in comparison. Seated upon it was a very confused Shirou, who glanced between Morgan and the surreal scene surrounding him.

"Morgan?" Shirou asked hesitantly, his voice tinged with disbelief. "What is all this?"

Morgan turned her head with an imperious air, the corners of her lips curving into a smug smile. "What does it look like, Master? A proper king requires a castle, of course. Did you think I would allow your domain to lack dignity?"

Archer's eyes widened as he took in the sight. "What the hell is that?!" he exclaimed, his voice overcome with incredulous disbelief.

Gilgamesh, however, was less amused. His crimson eyes flicked over the castle, the merged reality marble, and the thrones with barely concealed disdain. "Fakers creating illusions upon illusions," he sneered, gripping his golden key tightly. "Do you truly believe such theatrics will spare you?"

Morgan stood, her gown rippling like silken shadows, and extended a hand. A sceptre formed within her grasp, emanating an oppressive aura. She raised an eyebrow at the King of Heroes, her tone sharp. "Silence, fool. Your arrogance is tiresome."

Before Gilgamesh could retort, Morgan gestured lazily, and black tendrils erupted from the ground, entwining his legs. He roared in fury, summoning a barrage of weapons to cut himself free, but Morgan had already waved her sceptre again. A massive lance of shadow surged forth, impaling him and pinning him to the ground. His crimson eyes widened in shock.

Archer watched the scene unfold, his expression a mix of awe and dread. "Pendragon women are terrifying," he muttered under his breath.

Shirou nodded weakly. "Tell me about it."

Morgan glanced back at her Master with a smug, almost hungry look in her eyes. "You'll get used to it, Shirou."

Shirou blinked. "Wait, Morgan, I thought we were supposed to—"

"Enough prattling," she interrupted, brushing an invisible speck of dust from her sleeve. "I've resolved the situation for you. He was noisy, and now he isn't."

As Gilgamesh sputtered curses, his body began to flicker and dissolve. Morgan regarded Shirou with a satisfied smirk. "You can thank me later, Master."

Shirou sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'm starting to think you just enjoy showing off."

Morgan's expression softened, though her smile remained smug. "And you're only just realising this now?"

As the reality marble faded away and they returned to the cavern, Archer let out a long-suffering sigh. "Next time," he said dryly, "try summoning a Servant that's a little less... dramatic."

Shirou sighed, glancing at Morgan, who had returned to her throne and was now inspecting her nails with a satisfied expression. "Yeah," he muttered, "I'll keep that in mind."

Morgan's voice cut through the quiet. "Oh, Master, do come sit closer to me. We must plan our next move."

Shirou groaned. "Terrifying indeed," he repeated under his breath.

Morgan flashed him a knowing smile, her gaze glinting with mischief. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Shirou."